The Jungle Warrior

by Andy Briggs

  The current forced the raft to twist and the front corner rose from the water as it became wedged on the branch. Robbie’s flashlight fell between the timbers as, with a final terrible cracking noise, the raft was torn in two.

  Jane and Tarzan splashed into the water but clung on to their half of the raft. Jane’s backpack slid off the deck, but one strap got caught on a broken bamboo spar, saving it from sinking.

  Robbie’s half of the raft was tangled on the stump and broke apart as the current twisted it. Robbie wrapped himself around the massive tree branch, determined not to fall in the river for a second time as the remains of his shattered raft were swept away beneath him.

  Strengthening his grip on the branch, Robbie looked around. Cloud partly covered the moon, but there was enough pale light to see that he was in the middle of the wide river and could just make out two figures in the water far ahead. He heard Jane call out, but her voice was faint as the fragment of raft they clung to spiraled away from him.

  “The boat!”

  What boat? Robbie recoiled as something brushed past his waterlogged boots. He lifted his legs higher over the water.

  Then lights slowly came into focus as his branch drifted around a sharp crook in the river. The lights outlined the deck of a rusty old freighter moored to the riverbank.

  Black smoke issued from the boat’s funnel and Robbie could see figures standing on the stern deck. From this distance it was too dark for them to see him, but he knew that it was only a matter of time before he was spotted. Judging from the rifles slung over their shoulders, it could be Rokoff’s boat and, if so, he was certain bullets would start flying.

  13

  “Glupyî!” snarled Paulvitch, as the satellite dish clattered to the deck. He smacked the Congolese crewman across the ear. The man was a head taller than the wiry Russian, but did not retaliate. The crew had already been on the receiving end of Paulvitch’s temper and there was now an atmosphere of tension on board the vessel.

  The crewman obediently set the satellite receiver upright and angled the dish as he had been instructed until an indicator light on the back turned green.

  “Move,” snapped Paulvitch, pushing the man roughly aside. Paulvitch was a bully, but he in turn was treated badly by Rokoff. As harsh as his boss was, Paulvitch didn’t want to lose this or the next job—the money was good, and he loved being paid to shoot things. So instead he vented his frustrations on the crew.

  He connected his laptop to the satellite dish and selected the images he had taken of the little ape. Whatever Rokoff had done to the gorilla had left it shaking and frightened when Paulvitch approached with his camera. But he still managed to take a few good shots. Okeke wanted evidence his prize was in mint condition and Paulvitch didn’t relish the idea of going back to the jungle to take a healthier specimen.

  The satellite transmission was slow, and Paulvitch impatiently watched the progress bar creep toward completion as he slapped mosquitoes whining around his neck. Then a dull thump on the hull caught his attention. He peered curiously over the rail and gazed into the dark water. It was impossible to see anything clearly but he could have sworn there was something near the prow. He listened intently, then heard another clunk against the metal.

  “Give me your flashlight,” he growled at the crewman. “Now!”

  The crewman unclipped the flashlight hooked to his belt and Paulvitch snatched it, shining the beam down the side of the boat. A large log was tangled in the anchor chain and the eddying current swung it against the hull. It wasn’t damaging the ship, so it wasn’t his problem. He tossed the flashlight back at the crewman, smirking when it struck the unprepared man in the chest. Paulvitch turned back to his laptop.

  •••

  Just above the waterline, Robbie clung to the anchor chain. He had tried to climb the links but his wet boots kept slipping off. He was desperate not to attract attention from the deck, but then he slipped again, banging his head against the hull, and almost falling into the river. Looking up, he saw somebody appear over the railings. Holding tightly to the chain, he sank to his chest in the water, willing the shadows to conceal him. He held his breath as light swept over the river. Were large shapes moving through the water around his feet? Or was it just his mind playing tricks? He dreaded to think what lethal creatures might be swimming around him.

  Something nudged his foot—it was a solid object and definitely alive. The light disappeared and he heard Paulvitch walking away. It was all the motivation he needed to hoist himself from the water. He climbed up the anchor chain, covering several decks. Luckily the hawse through which the chain passed was neglected and rusted chunks had fallen away over the years, creating a hole just large enough for Robbie to clamber onboard.

  The anchor chain coiled around a large capstan on the deck, which Robbie ducked behind for cover as he peered down the length of the ship. Near the stern he spotted Paulvitch crouched over a laptop and satellite dish, with a muscular crewman standing close by.

  Between them the flat deck was broken only by a huge pair of closed hatch doors, which led to the hold below. Robbie guessed that was where he’d find the kidnapped ape.

  The rest of the boat was quiet, but Robbie was cautious. For a vessel this size, he reckoned there would be at least a fifteen-man crew somewhere belowdecks. The boat’s bridge was dark, and he could see no other lights from any cabins. All he had to do was wait until the Russian went inside and he would then be free to sneak around. He had successfully stowed away on a busy freighter across the Atlantic, so he didn’t see the riverboat as a challenge.

  After a great deal of swearing, Paulvitch clouted the other man across the chest with his laptop, then stormed inside leaving the snarling crewman to carry the portable dish after him. Robbie waited to check that Paulvitch didn’t double back, then he sneaked across the deck to the hold doors.

  The doors were fastened with new chains and a padlock bound them together, foiling Robbie’s plan to break in and rescue Karnath. He would have to go down into the boat to access the hold. He looked around, half hoping to see Tarzan loom from the shadows, but there was no sign of him. He started worrying about Jane, but shook the thought from his head. He knew she would be safe.

  He crept toward the door in the bulkhead that Paulvitch had disappeared through. It was partially open, beckoning him inside.

  Stale, hot air hit Robbie as he entered the corridor. The cream paintwork peeled from the walls like a rash, lights flickered erratically, and he could hear the dull throb of the engine vibrating through the floor. Another corridor crossed up ahead at right angles and Robbie cautiously peered around the corner. There was no sign of where Paulvitch had gone. He began to feel uneasy; he had no desire to run into the boat’s crew. Working on a freighter like this, in the heart of the Congo, attracted only hard-nosed, cut-throat men.

  A nearby door was held open on a metal catch and beyond it a stairway led below. He slowly climbed down it, more than aware that his boots squelched with every step.

  On the lower deck he listened intently; again, nothing but the thrum of the engines. He reckoned there was one more floor before he could enter the hold. A short corridor ran off from the main one and another companionway led down. He carefully descended to the next deck. Here, heavy pipes were bolted to the ceiling with a snarl of electrical cables running between them. It was hotter than outside and the noise from the engines was even louder.

  Robbie headed in the opposite direction from the engines. The hatchway ahead was closed. He strained to turn the locking wheel. With both hands and all his strength he managed to turn the rusted mechanism and shoulder the door open.

  The air in the darkness beyond was stiflingly hot. Robbie’s eyes refused to adjust to the blackness and he groped for a light switch around the door. He found one and received a biting shock as his wet hands flicked it on. He sucked in his breath to stop yelling aloud in pain.

  A single fluorescent tube blinked into life—revealing a small cage against
one wall. Robbie slowly walked toward it. At first he thought it was empty, until Karnath moved inside, the ape’s black fur blending him into the shadows.

  Robbie knelt and Karnath’s sensitive brown eyes met his own. The look of fear in the gorilla’s face was almost human. Its entire body shook with fright. Images of finding his sister, Sophie, flashed into Robbie’s mind. He had found her shaking like this once, frightened and injured, in her room. It had taken days for her to tell Robbie that their stepfather had shoved her down the stairs, the first of many violent acts that led to her death.

  “Don’t worry, little fella, I’ll get you out of here.” Robbie was surprised by the conviction he felt.

  Only then did he examine the cage’s lock and saw that it might not be quite as easy as he thought.

  •••

  Nikolas Rokoff’s CD skipped again over the same three seconds of music. He stopped the disc the very moment he thought he heard a deep rumble. He froze, closing his eyes, and listening intently.

  Years of hunting in the bush had finely honed each of his senses. He prided himself on being able to isolate the different scents in a herd, picking out a zebra’s trail amid a hundred migrating wildebeests. He tuned out the generator noise and heard a deep metallic resonance. It lasted only for a second, but he had no doubt that it wasn’t part of the ship’s normal operations.

  He picked his small Smith & Wesson 317 pistol from the table and secreted it in the folds of his suit jacket. It was small and lightweight enough to go unnoticed. Then he walked out onto the deck.

  Rokoff immediately stepped into a pool of shadow, out of the range of the deck lights. He paused to listen, closing his eyes so they adjusted more quickly to the dark. With his eyes closed his other senses were heightened—and he immediately felt it. The boat was moving.

  He opened his eyes and peered into the jungle. The clouds that had been obscuring the moon slid away to allow enough light for him to see that the boat was not only moving at quite a pace in the darkness but it had slewed sideways.

  Rokoff noticed the anchor chain was coiled on deck. It normally took a diesel motor to lift the heavy chain, but somehow this had been carried out in utter silence. An act of sabotage that meant that the boat was now dangerously out of control. He knew he should alert the captain, but Rokoff hadn’t survived as a hunter by panicking. His eyes scanned the boat for any sign of the intruder, any irregular shape against the sharp angular lines of the vessel.

  Then he noticed wet footprints heading through a hatch, into the hull of the boat. Rokoff slipped one hand into his jacket, his fingers wrapping around the sculpted hilt of his pistol and carefully he followed the prints inside.

  14

  Tarzan clung to the narrow ladder rungs bolted on the side of the freighter’s smokestack. The deck perimeter was illuminated, but the main structure in the middle was dark and lifeless. He had raised the anchor chain intending to cause chaos, but was disappointed that none of the crew had spilled onto the deck in panic.

  He bristled when he saw Rokoff emerge from his cabin. His instinct to attack was strong, but Tarzan was no fool. He needed the Russian to lead him into the belly of the steel beast so he could find Karnath. He watched intently as the hunter disappeared through another door.

  Tarzan jumped lightly onto the cabin roof; before he dropped to the deck he caught a sound in the distance. The river’s voice was changing into a roar. Time was against him, but he still paused. Tracking quarry should never be rushed. Then, Tarzan silently leaped to the deck and followed Rokoff inside.

  The stench in the claustrophobic corridor hit Tarzan hard. Civilization, sweat, engine fumes, sickening food aromas, and stale cigarette smoke. It all churned his stomach.

  He zeroed in on the gentle creak of a closing hatchway ahead. He had ventured into underground cave systems before, but there was something about the man-made corridors that made him feel trapped. He stopped at the top of steel steps descending to another dark deck below and sniffed the air. Something was not right. He placed one foot on the hard steel step—then heard the noise behind him and whirled round in a low crouch, ready to fight.

  Rokoff stood in the middle of the corridor. The open door next to him revealed where he had been hiding. He held Robbie around the throat with one arm. His other hand pressed a gun to the boy’s head. Robbie was pale, although he didn’t look frightened. If anything, Tarzan thought he looked angry. The Russian smiled as he studied Tarzan.

  “So, we meet at last,” said Rokoff in a low voice. “Look at you. A legend . . . and here you are.”

  Tarzan judged the distance to Rokoff—it was too great. The Russian could easily kill Robbie and turn the gun on him.

  “Can you speak, ape-man?” taunted Rokoff. “Have you come for your little friend below? I assumed a mighty predator like you would have made more challenging prey. I expected more. You are a disappointment.”

  Rokoff’s words dripped with sarcasm, intended to push Tarzan into a reckless attack. But the words had no effect on him and failed to invoke any emotion other than the one Tarzan was already feeling toward Rokoff—pure hatred.

  “Where Karnath?” Rokoff didn’t see Robbie’s gaze flicker toward the causeway leading to the deck below, but Tarzan did.

  “So you give them names, do you? Like pets?” Rokoff taunted. Again, Tarzan didn’t rise to the bait. The Russian renewed his grip on the pistol and pushed it hard against Robbie’s temple. “I want to know if you are human or an animal. Are you going to save your friend here before I blow his feeble brains out all over this boat? Or will you save your little ape down below? Either way you will be responsible for . . .”

  Rokoff trailed off in amazement. Tarzan quickly headed down the steps toward Karnath. Even Robbie gave a startled gasp at Tarzan’s choice to abandon him.

  At that moment, Paulvitch and two crewmen came slouching around the corner to see Tarzan quickly vanishing belowdecks, and Rokoff holding a prisoner.

  “What’s going on?” Paulvitch spluttered.

  Then the lights went out.

  In the pitch black there was a sudden rush of movement and Rokoff felt something heavy slam across the back of his head. He involuntarily pulled the trigger and the muzzle flash briefly illuminated a crewman’s startled face. He felt a crushing weight against his stomach and Robbie slipped from his grasp.

  “The lights!” Rokoff screamed.

  He groped blindly along the corridor, navigating toward the deck by instinct alone. He needed to get outside before Tarzan discovered what he had done with Karnath.

  Then he heard an inhuman bellow reverberate through the ship.

  •••

  Tarzan stared at Karnath’s empty cage. Jane and Robbie crouched in front of it examining traces of black hair that had fallen where Karnath had struggled. Tarzan could smell the ape’s scent and his fingers touched flecks of blood in the cage. He roared again.

  “Rokoff’s men must’ve taken him the moment they found me,” said Robbie, massaging his temple. “I managed to get away. Made it up one level before bumping into Rokoff. Karnath can’t be far.” He was still in shock from their ambush. The moment Tarzan turned his back on rescuing him, Jane had switched the lights off from where she’d been hiding and hammered Rokoff across the head with a fire extinguisher. Then she pushed him down the steps a second before the gunshot went off. Robbie was pretty sure Rokoff had killed one of his own men in the confusion.

  Tarzan raced for the door as Robbie spoke. Before he could reach it, it suddenly clanged shut and the locking wheel spun closed. Tarzan strained to open it. His muscles tensed until Robbie thought they would pop from under his skin, but the door held fast.

  Jane looked around, realizing that was their only exit. “They’ve locked us in!”

  “Great,” snarled Robbie. “Did you actually have a plan for this rescue?”

  Tarzan ignored them and examined the hold doors several feet above them. The hold’s walls were smooth and featureless. Desperate, Tar
zan ran for the corner, trying to bounce from one wall to the next to gain height, but it was no use. Time and time again he dropped back to the floor.

  There were voices overhead and footsteps running across the deck. Even though the conversations were muffled, panic was unmistakable. Then the boat shuddered with a high-pitched squeal of tearing metal. The entire vessel slammed to a halt with such force they were all thrown across the hold—along with an array of Rokoff’s hunting equipment. They hit the wall as the vessel shook furiously once more.

  The boat rose and fell as if a giant hand had plucked it free from the water, then hurled it back down with terrible force. Jane found herself sliding up the wall as the room rotated around them—the boat was listing. A jagged rock suddenly punctured through the steel close to her head. She screamed as water poured through.

  Tarzan stabilized himself on all fours, then scrambled toward Jane—but had to leap aside as another rock slammed through the hull just inches from his head.

  Robbie lost his footing and slipped along a wall, which was now the sloping floor. The boat stopped rolling and remained tilted at an extreme angle. Another rock sliced effortlessly through the metal hull and passed between Robbie’s legs, narrowly missing him.

  Torrents of murky brown water poured into the boat, rapidly filling the room. Robbie groped for the hatch, but the angle of the room put it beyond his reach.

  “Help!” Jane yelled.

  Robbie joined in. “Let us out of here!” Water was already up to their waists.

  Tarzan studied the situation with the calmness of one who had looked death in the face so many times that he felt no fear.

  The sloping room had positioned him slightly closer to the edge of the hold doors. With a powerful jump, Tarzan rebounded from the wall and sailed high into the doors. They buckled from the impact and it looked like he was about to fall onto the jagged rocks and twisted metal below. But he somehow edged his fingers in the gap between the doors. Now hanging, he pulled himself up with his powerful arms and braced his legs against the other door intent on pushing it open.