by Matt Rogers
“Wonderful.”
“Don’t worry,” Sam said. He came up behind the two of them and slapped Felix on the shoulder. “We’ve done this before, haven’t we, brother?”
Felix ignored him. “Sleep with your machete tonight, Jake. Just in case.”
“That’s the spirit,” Sam said, winked and walked off.
“How does he keep such a good mood all the time?” Jake said. “I’m having trouble stringing a sentence together.”
“He’s always been like that,” Felix said. “It’s nice to have some sanity in amongst all this chaos.”
Jake strode over to his tent and checked the interior. He had thrown his hiking pack inside and now there was just enough space to squeeze in. There was a sleeping bag stretched out inside, but he was still sticky with sweat. He would much prefer to sleep on top of it tonight.
Back in the middle of the clearing, Sam and Felix were sitting on top of an overturned log.
“What’s for dinner?” Jake asked.
“Survival rations,” Sam grinned and pointed to a small pile of metal containers next to his bag. “Dehydrated meat and rice. We’ve brought enough to last us ten days, so we’d better be either out of the rainforest or dead by the time we run out.”
“What about water?”
“We have a few litres left, but there’s enough purification tables to last us months, bro.”
“That’s good.”
Sam stood up. “I’m going to go dig a toilet hole.”
“Don’t venture too far out,” Felix said.
“Yes, Mummy,” Sam said in a falsetto tone, and strode off.
Felix and Jake chuckled. When the laughter died off, they found themselves alone, listening to the ubiquitous calls of rainforest animals. Link was sitting solitarily on the other side of the clearing. He was resting against his tent and twirling a machete on his finger. Even from here, Jake could see he was out of it.
“What’s going on with Link lately?” he asked quietly.
“I’m not sure,” Felix said. “He’s barely opened his mouth since Wolfe was taken.”
“I think he feels guilty. He was lookout. It was his job to cover for us, and he didn’t see Archfiend take off with Wolfe. He probably blames himself.”
“It’s not his fault.”
“You want to go tell him that?”
Felix shook his head. “If he feels that way, it’s not something that you can just shrug off. Nothing I say is going to change his mind.”
“He looks sick, too.”
“He’s never been into the Amazon before.”
“Neither have I.”
“You don’t look like a supermodel either.”
Jake sat there, brooding, wanting to say something but not quite sure how to say it. Felix sensed his hesitancy.
“What’s up?”
“It’s Wolfe,” Jake said. “Why is he alive? This all seems surreal. Why hasn’t Archfiend killed him yet? Archfiend is a savage monster, for Christ’s sakes. You told me he would stop at nothing to snap each and every one of us in half. And now he’s toying with us.”
“That’s exactly why I was unwilling to come,” Felix said. “I don’t like this one bit. But as long as that tracking dot keeps flashing, it means Wolfe still has a pulse. And that means we have a chance of saving him.”
“Do you really think we can do this?”
Felix looked at him. “I don’t know. But I’ve been trying to kill Archfiend for seventeen years. He’s an elusive little snake and I’m going to find him and put a bullet through his skull. Then it’s done. All this slayer hunting business – it’s all over after we clean up the stragglers.”
“I hope so. But what happens to me, after that? I’m going to be a wanted man all my life, Felix.”
“New identities aren’t all that difficult,” Felix said. “Don’t worry, kid. We’re all ex-military. We have connections. We’ll take care of you.”
Jake silently reflected. Nothing was ever going to be the same. He had changed. His life had changed. If he made it out of the rainforest alive, there would be a thousand new opportunities available. Opportunities he would have never even considered before. Whether that was good or bad, he couldn’t decide. All he knew was that there was no going back.
With that, the conversation ended. Felix began to scrape the bark off the log with his machete. He was lost in thought. Jake took that as a cue to leave. He met Sam in the middle of the clearing, who dropped a shovel at his feet.
“That’s much better.”
Jake smiled. He motioned to the survival rations. “Mind if I have one?”
“All yours, man.”
He grabbed one and huddled down by the fire that Link had constructed from the branches they had hacked off the trees. It was still blazing strong. The food tasted like cardboard, but Jake was famished. He wolfed it down like it was his last meal. Sam and Felix ate with him. Later, Link joined them.
“How you feeling?” Sam asked him.
“Okay,” Link said. “Just tired. I need a good night’s sleep.”
“Well, you’ll get sleep,” Felix said. “Not sure if it will be a good night’s worth, though.”
They ate the rest of their measly dinners in silence. Jake checked the time after they finished. It was just after eight, but he could barely keep his eyes open, whether it be from the fatigue or the warmth of the fire.
“Get as much sleep as you can, kid,” Felix said. “We have an early start tomorrow.”
“Sunrise?”
Felix nodded. “We’re hoping to cover more distance than we made today. At that rate we’ll reach Wolfe in a couple of days.”
Jake went over to his tent. It was pitch black inside. He groped around in the dark until he found the right end of his sleeping bag, and collapsed into a pile on top. It was surprisingly comfortable if he ignored the cramped confines, the humidity, the sweat, the way his skin clung to the sleeping bag material, the shrieking of animals and the rocks pressing into his back.
He wished he was anywhere else. He wished Zoe was next to him. He longed for her. She had been a breath of fresh air, a normal teenage girl. As soon as she had been whisked out of his life, the madness had resumed.
He hoped she was safe.
Jake drifted into an undisturbed sleep, thinking of her touch.
*
Ten kilometres to the west, Crank and Thorn sat with their backs pressed up against a sheer cliff-face. They watched the moon rise above them. Crank was disassembling his Snowdog, checking it was still in order. Thorn twirled his machete mindlessly between his huge fingers. They hadn’t made a fire. They were too tired. The past seven hours had been hell, no matter how fit they were. They had kept a jogging pace through the rainforest for the better part of the day. It had pushed them past their limits. But every step they took got them closer to Wolfe.
As they rested, they talked.
“What are we going to do if Wolfe doesn’t make it?” Crank said.
Thorn turned. “In regards to what?”
“You know what. Jake.”
“I suppose we’ll have to tell him.”
“He won’t believe us.”
“No, he won’t. And when he realises we’re telling the truth, he’ll know we’ve been deceiving him the entire time. He’ll never be the same kid again.”
“Were we even supposed to keep it a secret this long?”
“I don’t know, Crank. I don’t know. Wolfe was going to tell him, after the warehouse operation. Then he was gone. So until we get him back, we don’t say a word. The other three know that too. They wouldn’t tell him. Yet.”
Crank nodded in satisfaction and the two grew quiet again.
CHAPTER TWENTY
A soft thump against the dirt roused Jake from a deep sleep. He couldn’t be quite sure, but it sounded like it came from within the clearing. Then again, semi-consciousness was constricting his senses. It could have come from anywhere.
He briefly noted he was lying in
a puddle of his own sweat. It was cold against his skin, but he was more focused on what he had heard to care. He unzipped the flap of his tent, making as little noise as possible. The zip cut through the air, making a harsh sound. Jake rose up out of the material and stood up. He looked around. The fire was long dead. There was nothing left but smouldering ashes.
And behind the ashes, a slayer crouching in the middle of the clearing.
His stomach dropped all the way to his feet.
Its torso was bare, exposing warped musculature, and it wore a pair of faded khakis. It looked at Jake inquisitively, head cocked to one side. An easy target, he could feel it thinking. Unarmed and drowsy. Fresh meat.
“Guys!” Jake roared at the top of his lungs. There was no use being quiet anymore. They had been discovered.
The slayer pounced. Jake charged. He vaulted over his tent and met it halfway across the clearing. The two clashed. The slayer hit Jake like a steam train. He was thrown onto the grass, but his manoeuvre had disrupted its motion and it hadn’t brought its claws up in time. He was unscathed, but now vulnerable.
The slayer was recovering a few metres away, knocked off-balance by the counter-attack. It was faster than him. He watched as it darted over and struck out, both claws aimed at his face. He brought a foot up and planted it square in its torso, halting it in its tracks. It let out a grunt and slashed at his leg with rage. Two of the claws sank deep into his skin, running deep red lines down his thigh.
He twisted his torso and brought the other leg whipping round in a roundhouse kick. His foot connected with the slayer’s jaw. Desperation lent him power. It flew off to the side, its cheekbone smashed to pieces by the kick.
It howled. Jake picked himself up. He tried putting weight on the leg the slayer had clawed, but his quad flared up in pain. He wasn’t going to be able to defend himself much longer. He squared up to the slayer, at the same time brushing his hand over his waist. His fingers touched something metal. Surprised, he looked down to see he was still wearing his belt, complete with all its holsters. He hadn’t bothered taking it off before falling asleep.
A combat knife was resting in its leather sheath, only a hand’s breadth from his fingertips.
The slayer pounded towards him. It was bringing a fist up towards Jake’s chest. In less than a second, it would connect.
Quick as a whip, Jake ripped the knife out and severed the slayer’s hand in mid-air. The appendage spun away in a spray of black blood. It had been a perfect strike. The slayer froze for a split second, shocked, staring at the stump. Jake dove forwards and plunged the knife into its left pectoral, right into the heart.
The lunge brought him down on his bad leg. Both of them collapsed into a pile on the ground. The major difference between the two was that he was alive. With his pulse skyrocketing, he scattered away from the limp body on all fours and sat down, panting. He bowed his head low and took giant breaths.
There was a roar from the edge of the clearing. Birds cried out, startled awake, and took off from their perches.
Jake looked up.
There were more.
Three slayers stood side by side, hunched over slightly. They were ready to kill. Jake’s heart skipped a beat. He was dead.
“Guys!” he screamed once more, enraged by the absence of help. Where was everyone?
The three slayers began to bound across the grass. He closed his eyes and leant back, accepting that he was about to die. The only sound came from their heavy footfalls, growing closer and closer with each passing second. It was quiet, almost peaceful …
… and shattered by the roar of spent ammunition. Jake’s eyes shot open to reveal the slayers jerking back, like wild marionettes on strings. They were being pumped full of bullets. When it finally ended, they all dropped like the sacks of meat that they were.
Felix was standing on the opposite side of the clearing. There was a smoking Snowdog resting in his arms.
“What the hell took you so long?” Jake yelled. He was angry. He needed some way to release the tension that had seized him. “I almost bloody died!”
“I left the Snowdogs all the way over here last night,” Felix said. “I didn’t anticipate we would need them.”
Sam had disentangled himself from his tent flap.
“Whoa,” he breathed when he saw the dead slayers. “Everyone okay?”
“Where’s Link?” Jake asked.
Link came strolling out of the rainforest, rubbing his eyes. He was blissfully unaware.
“What’s everyone doing up?” he said, smiling. When he looked up from the forest floor and saw the slayers lying motionless around Jake, he froze in his tracks.
“Oh my god,” he muttered. “I must have walked right past them.”
“Where were you?” Sam said.
“Taking a piss. I drank a lot of water yesterday. What the hell just happened?”
“I heard a thump,” Jake said. “Like something landing on the ground. I got out of my tent and there was a slayer, staring right at me. I killed it, and Felix shot these three just afterwards.”
“It must have dropped out of the tree,” Felix said. “That’s why we didn’t hear it moving through the leaves.”
“That’s exactly what happened on Operation Shield,” Sam said. “Seventeen years ago. Remember? They came out of the trees.”
“We should have known.”
“We need to get out of here,” Link said. “We don’t know how many more there are around here. If one hot-tailed it away, then Archfiend knows we’re here. Jesus Christ, I can’t believe I walked right past these four.”
“You’re right,” Felix said. “It’s nearly dawn anyway. Let’s pack up.”
“You and Link go ahead, man,” Sam said. “I need to take care of Jake’s leg.”
While Felix and Link worked on disassembling the tents, Sam came over with a small med-kit and sat down next to Jake. Jake rolled his pants up and looked at the wound. There were two deep gashes running down the side of his leg. They were tricking blood, but the pain had subsided to a dull throb. Sam soaked a cloth in antiseptic and ran it over the cuts several times. Jake clenched his fists into tight balls and rode out the pain. Next, Sam bandaged his leg with thick cloth and tied it off.
“How’s that?”
“Better. Still hurts like a bitch, though.”
Jake tested his leg with a quick walk around the clearing. It was painful, but it wouldn’t stop him from hiking. By the time he had shoved his gear into a bag, Felix and Link had finished packing the tents. They had moved fast. Sam gave him a protein bar for breakfast, and he munched on it absently while the other three men clipped their gear onto their backs.
And then they were off, heading out of the clearing for the last time, leaving the dead slayers to decompose into the forest floor just as the first fingers of light crept into the dawn sky.
*
They moved fast, hacking through near impenetrable jungle. In the space of an hour, they dipped through huge valleys, traversed a flowing river and happened upon hundreds of wild animals – from sloths to monkeys and scorpions. The sun rose. There was a notable increase in the humidity. Jake sweated, gulped water, and sweated more. He had grown used to the discomfort by now, accepted it as a part of life in this region of the world, but it didn’t bother him any less. The bugs and the branches made him furious. Every kilometre covered came with the knowledge that there were dozens more to travel.
Two hours in, when the sun was high in the sky, Jake asked for a five-minute break.
Felix looked at his watch. “You get two.”
He unhooked a one-litre bottle of lukewarm water from his pack and gulped the liquid down. Sam and Link did the same, but Felix stood rigid, waiting for them like a sentinel.
“Done?” he asked after the three had stowed away their bottles.
Everyone nodded.
“Let’s go then.”
As Felix took a step forwards, there came a huge snapping sound from above. Out of the
corner of his eye Jake saw an entire log come crashing down to the forest floor. There was some kind of rope looping up from the log to the treetops high above.
Suddenly, Felix was thrown off his feet. His head hit the dirt with a wet thump and he was tugged up into the air by the foot he had started walking with. He came to a halt just out of arm’s reach, suspended by a thick, frayed rope. He twirled slowly. Defenceless.
Figures materialised from the jungle all around them. They came from the shadows, from behind tree trunks and under vegetation covering the rainforest floor.
They weren’t slayers.
Jake counted six men, all black, all clad in sleeveless combat vests. Their arms glistened with sweat. Each man carried a battered AK-47. Jake had seen enough of the guns in movies and television to recognise them instantly. They were crude, tough guns, perfect for the Amazon Rainforest.
Jake noticed Sam and Link slowly raise their hands into the air. He found himself doing the same. His Snowdog was attached to the holster on his back. Out of reach. All they had were machetes, but the savage-looking men were keeping well out of swinging distance. They formed a ring around Jake’s posse, encircling them, weapons raised. Nobody spoke for a long time. The ambushers glared at Jake with wide eyes. He broke out in a cold sweat.
“Drop the weapons,” one of them said in heavily accented English.
There was a pause. Jake turned and saw Sam gripping his machete with white knuckles. If he surrendered, they were dead. But he had no choice.
“Do it,” Sam said quietly, and let go of the handle. His machete fell to the ground. Jake and Link dropped theirs simultaneously.
One of the soldiers came up behind Jake and ripped the pack off his shoulders. His Snowdog was unstrapped and flung off to the side. Felix was still dangling from the rope. His Snowdog was still secured to the harness on his back, but he had no chance of reaching for it. Five AK-47 barrels were firmly trained on him. If he moved, he would be shot to pieces.
The man who had spoken stepped out of the circle and squared up to Sam, face-to-face.
