Titanoboa (17 page)

28

Groggy and weak, Mark awoke sometime around midday. Sweat had soaked his shirt right through to the cot. He swung his legs over and sat still a moment, orienting himself. Then last night came to him. He ambled out of the tent, squinting from the bright sun overhead. The camp was busy, but no one seemed to pay him much attention. He went to the latrines then to the mess hall. His stomach growled, as he hadn’t eaten in somewhere around fifteen hours.

The mess hall was always open, it seemed, but if someone missed the designated times
, they apparently had to eat leftovers. Mark found some soggy sandwiches bloated with mayonnaise and grabbed a ham and cheddar with a bag of chips. He grabbed bottled water from an icebox, chugged it completely, and got another one before sitting down by himself.

He ate in silence, watching the other workers coming and going. Some were jovial
, but most were despondent. Looking like they were digging their own graves, he thought. And suddenly, he didn’t want to be here anymore. No amount of money was worth disappearing because of whatever the hell made Kapoor disappear.

It wasn’t just snakes.
Quicksand, venomous spiders, leopards, poisonous plants, any number of things that filled the jungles could’ve killed Kapoor. Whatever it was, it wasn’t Mark’s problem. This was a waste. He would inform Steven today that he was leaving.

“Hey.”

Riki was coming toward him. She grinned and sat down across from him. Despite the heat, she still looked lovely, her cheeks flushed red and her hair held up in a bun.

“Thought I’d find you here,” she said. “How was it?”

“One of our men disappeared not ten feet from us.”

“Disappeared? What do you mean?”

“I mean disappeared. We found his pack and it had blood on it. He was gone. I’m guessing he didn’t hightail it back here, either.”

She swallowed. “Was it…”

“I don’t know what the hell it was.” He looked around. “I’m getting outta here, Riki. This isn’t worth it. We need to leave, both of us. We don’t belong here.”

She shook her head. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Something’s going on here, Mark. Something deeper than searching for oil and disappearing workers.” She leaned close. “Remember those open IMs I found? There’s one linked to a senator from Alaska. Why would they possibly need that?”

He sipped his water. “I don’t care. This is, whatever the hell this all is, it’s bigger than us.”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. These people are doing something huge and I’m guessing illegal. I want to find out what. This is my job
; I can’t just leave.”

“Even if it means risking your life?”

“I don’t feel I’m doing that. I’m not going into the jungle, and I don’t have any plans to.”

He shook his head. Despite his desire to leave, somehow he couldn’t leave
her here. Not here. Not to Steven. He would be staying, too.

“
One day,” he said. “You’ve got one day to find whatever you’re looking for. And then I’m pulling you out of here. And if you fight me, I’ll tell Steven what you’re up to.”

“You wouldn’t… okay. Okay, that’s fair.
One day.”

29

Mark hadn’t seen Steven all day. A rumor had been going around the camp that he’d killed one of the snakes and was in the jungle using it as bait for more snakes, but somehow Mark knew that wasn’t true. Something else was going on.

Mark strolled
around camp with Riki. She talked to whatever workers would speak to her. Most didn’t have much to say, but a few did. Some told them they’d heard the hunting parties had all been killed; some said they’d killed all the snakes and it was safe to go back. Mark was curious how the other teams had actually performed and tried to track Steven down.

The administration tent was now buzzing with activity.
Steven slumped in a chair. Yesterday, he appeared nearly invincible, a man completely immersed in his element. Confident in his abilities to get everything done he needed to. But that wasn’t how he looked now. He appeared pale and defeated. His shoulders slouched, and he seemed like he could fall asleep at any moment. He was giving commands to some of the assistants but from a sitting position, as though too tired or too lazy to stand.

“Can
we talk?” Mark said, poking his head in.

“What do you need
?” he said.

“I was just curious how the other hunting parties did.”

Steven was quiet a moment. He looked at one of his assistants and barked an order about sending some documents somewhere. “Why are you curious? Don’t want to go out again?”

“I’d like to know what my chances are if I do decide to go.”

Steven exhaled. “We lost eight men total. One entire team and four from other teams, including ours.”

“Eight?
” Mark grappled with the number. Eight people dead, just like that. No animal he had ever seen would be capable of devastation like this. “Did anybody see anything?”

“No. One person thought he saw a shadow grab one of his men and pull him into the trees. That’s it.”

“Well, the hunt’s over, right? I mean, we’re not going back there.”

“Hell yes
, we are.”

“What? Are you insane? You just lost eight men. One of them right in front of you.”

“I was paid to do a job, and I’m gonna do it. You were paid, too. If you want to cut your losses and run, go ahead.”

Something in Mark wanted to lash out. To show Steven
he wasn’t the type of man to back down from a fight. It was almost like a playground dare, one that had to be completed or the cowardice never forgotten. But no way Mark was going out just to get killed. Especially since he was planning to leave tomorrow with Riki.

“You got anything I can do around the camp tonight?”

“Around the camp? Like throwing away trash or something?”

Mark
blushed. “Never mind.”

He turned to leave
, and Steven said, “I think there’s some maid outfits at the supply tent.”

Mark ignored the comment and kept walking.
Unsure whether his anger was directed at Steven or himself, the number eight kept going through his mind. Eight men dead in a flash.
What the hell was out there?

Mark spent most of the day sleeping, eating
, or walking with Riki. He’d found out she was a French major in college, along with journalism, and they spoke briefly in French. Mark’s father had been French, and he’d actually lived in Bordeaux for a few years as a child. The little French he remembered was exactly something a child would recall. Nothing substantive, just terms related to play, food, and basic conversation.

At
dusk, Mark was sitting in his tent on the cot, debating what to do. Riki stated she could only get into the administrative tent late at night when no one was there, so they were definitely here one more night.

The thought of going out into the jungle again filled him with dread. Not that he was cowardly, but just that it was so futile. Last night, a man was taken right in front of them. They’d been outsmarted and outmaneuvered. Only a fool
went up against greater forces knowing he was going to lose.

Millard, the herpetologist, poked his head into his tent. “Hi,” he said, upbeat.

“Hi,” Mark said. “Something you need, Craig?”

“I’m, well, I’m going out with your team tonight
, and I was wondering if—”

“Are you crazy?
Do you know how many people disappeared last night?”

“Well, no, but I thought that—”

“We don’t even know what’s causing it. But whatever it is, it’s smart. It outsmarted Steven, anyway. You’re not coming.”

“Well, no offense, but I don’t work for you. I just came to ask if you knew where an extra pack was? We don’t seem to have any
more.”

Mark scoffed. “There’s one with blood on it out in the jungle. Help yourself.”
He rose and brushed past the man. He made a beeline for the administration tent and found Steven sucking on a cigar outside of the tent. “You can’t let Millard go,” Mark said. “He’s inexperienced.”

“So are you. You did just fine.”

“It’s different. He’s going to get himself killed.”

Steven shrugged. “He’s a big boy. Let him decide for himself.”

Mark stepped close to the man. “What the hell is really going on?”

Steven blew out a puff of smoke then looked to the horizon. The sun was nearly set, just a shimmer
ing orb quickly disappearing behind pink clouds. “Come tonight, and you and I will talk. I’ll tell you everything.”

“No games? No company talk?”

“No games. I’ll tell you exactly what’s going on here.”

“Okay, I’ll come.”

As he walked back to his tent to pick up his pack, the last of the sun’s rays lit the sky before darkness fell.

30

The pack seemed heavier than it had last night, but it was actually lighter. Mark took out anything superfluous and kept the essentials. He didn’t know whether he’d hike back through the jungle at night by himself, but the plan so far was to learn what was really going on then get the hell out of there. Assuming Riki obtained everything she needed.

He slung the pack over his shoulders and trudged through camp. It was quieter than usual. No
one was playing games, and though the men drank, they drank in silence.

Riki
was waiting for him near the gathering teams. Though only eight had disappeared, at least two-thirds of the men from last night were absent. Steven was yelling at some men in a different language.

“What’s going on?” Mark asked.

“Apparently the men are refusing to go back. They’re demanding triple the pay,” she said.

Mark watched the argument
for a moment then said, “I’ll be heading back myself tonight. And we’re leaving. We’ll try and take a Jeep if we can, but if not, we’re walking.”

“Walking through the jungle at night by ourselves?”

“I’ll take my chances in the jungle over these people any day. Just be ready.”

After a few minutes,
the men reached some sort of resolution. About half left, and half stayed. Steven waited until all the other teams left before walking up to Mark. “Just the three of us,” he said.

Millard
strained under the weight of a pack. He was already sucking breath and was wearing shorts.

“You can’t serious
ly be taking him out,” Mark said.

“He’s a set of hands, that’s all we need.”
With that, Steven began tramping up the path into the jungle.

Mark looked back
to Riki. She had a look of concern on her face and said, “Hurry back.”

“I will.”

Night fell so quickly Mark had to fumble in his pack to find the night-vision goggles. He hadn’t anticipated having to use them this early. He flipped them on and saw two bright figures in front of him.

Millard was breathing heavily now and constantly sipping out of his canteen. His boots were high-end
, but the laces were undone on one of them, and he walked in them as if he was unaccustomed to them. As though new and never worn before.

“One of your laces is undone,” Mark said.

“I know. I keep it that way. For luck.”

“How is that lucky?”

Millard shrugged. “Just something I’ve done since I was a kid. Don’t really remember how it started.”

Soon, the jungle
completely enveloped them, and only a slit of moon was out tonight. Gray-black clouds covered it, and only the faintest glow of white was visible on the edges.

The heat was even more unbearable than the previous night. It
came from everywhere; the sky, the trees, the ground, surrounding Mark on all sides and pressing in on him. Sweat made his shirt cling to his back, and it rolled down his forehead. He had to stop several times and drink from his canteen. Only after about an hour did he realize he didn’t have enough water to last the entire night.

One hour turned into two. By the end of that second hour, Millard was struggling. Even in the green tint of the goggles, Mark could see that sweat
soaked him. Each man carried three canteens, and he’d already gone through all three, foolishly dumping some water out on his head to cool off a few times.

“You okay?” Mark asked, himself breathing hard.

“I didn’t expect it to be this hot.”

“Here.” Mark handed him one of his canteens. “Don’t dump it out on your head. Just sip it slowly and only when you have to.”

They looped around the same path they had on the previous night, but at a fork in the trail, they took another route. Mark didn’t say anything, thinking Steven knew what he was doing and they’d all end up in the same place again eventually.

Another twenty minutes passed
, and Mark was obsessively checking the time on his phone. Service was almost non-existent.

“Right here,” Steven said. “It’s as good as anyplace.”
Steven unloaded his pack but kept his rifle slung over his shoulder and his goggles on. Mark dropped the pack as Millard did the same. Millard found a fallen tree to sit on, and he groaned as he stripped off his boots and stretched his legs.

“Mark, I think I saw something over there,” Steven said. “We better check it out. Let Craig rest.”

“Okay.” He figured it was just an excuse to talk. He followed Steven about thirty yards farther up the path. They came to a small precipice, maybe fifty feet from the jungle floor. Below them the trees and shrubs were so thick he couldn’t see what lay beyond.

“I will say this, brother, this is the damned prettiest jungle I ever been in.”

Mark’s legs felt weak and sore. He sat, placing his rifle down next to him. Steven took a few paces around before coming to rest beside him. He gazed down at him and took off the goggles as Mark did the same. The dim sky was beginning to shine as the clouds moved on, and the stars sparkled like gems, providing just enough light that they didn’t need the goggles anymore.

“So what is it?” Mark said. “What’re you guys really doing here?”

Steven slipped the rifle off his shoulder and removed the safety lock. He was glaring at Mark, unblinkingly, a frozen expression on his face. “Well, see,” he said quietly, “about that. They’re doing some interesting stuff here on your little island. And I just can’t have reporters and ex-cops looking into everything, now can I?”

Mark’s
heart raced, and he began to reach for the weapon next to him. Steven lifted his rifle, pointing it at Mark’s face.

“That’s a damn shame that Kapoor died last night,” Steven said. “It was supposed to be you.”

Mark swallowed. He had to buy time any way he could. “That’s why you brought me out here? To die?”

Steven chuckled. “You think I’d bring you on a hunt with me?
Some washed up cop hiding in a shack? No, brother, you were not my first choice.”

“What’s going to happen to
Riki?”

He shrugged. “
Ain’t no women around. Maybe I give her to the workers as part of their incentive package to keep hunting with me.”

“You can’t beat whatever’s out here. You know that.”

Mark desperately scanned the area around them. If he reached for the rifle, Steven would fire. He didn’t have enough time to get to his feet and run. That left one option, but even that would take a second or two, and Steven could get off some rounds.

Footsteps behind them
, and Millard appeared. “What the heck you guys doing?”

Steven looked over. As he did so, Mark jumped.

He leapt from the precipice, slamming into the side of the canyon and sliding down on his butt. Debris and pebbles flew up into his face. He snagged on something sharp, and it spun him. He went head over heels, smashing his head into a tree stump before he rolled to his side and stopped only when he hit level ground.

His head was cut and bleeding. Above him, he heard shouting and shots fired before Mark closed his eyes
, unable to stand.