Darkness: Captain Riley II (The Captain Riley Adventures Book 2)

by Fernando Gamboa

  “Well,” Riley said, turning back to point at the house, lit from the inside by flames. “It at least partially worked, no?”

  Klein smiled cruelly. “Not enough to keep you from dying,” he said, showing his teeth.

  “No, not enough,” Riley sighed and shrugged. “Though it feels good to have made a nice mess for you.”

  Klein shot a look at his house. “Not an irreparable loss,” he said, unconcerned. “There are copies of almost everything, and of course, the most important things are here.” He pointed to his head. “That’s just an old house full of memories. I’m actually almost grateful you did it.”

  “Don’t lie. I saw the lab you have in there.”

  “Old experiments and trash I never cleaned out. But you saved me the work,” he concluded with a phony smile.

  “Shame we couldn’t burn all the trash,” Riley added, looking right at Klein.

  He shook his head with false disappointment. “Anyway,” he said, “if you’d listened to me from the start and left, none of this would have happened. But of course, it’s too late for that.” He seemed to think about it a moment before adding, “Though to show you I’m not a senseless monster, I’m going to let you say good-bye to each other. Go on,” he added, waving them on when he saw they didn’t respond to his offer. “Take advantage of the opportunity. Don’t you have anything to say?”

  Riley turned to Carmen, looking for the right words. “Sorry for bringing you here,” he said finally.

  “You didn’t force me,” she sighed.

  “Yeah, but it’s still my fault.” He nodded to himself. “I’m the captain and it was my duty to keep everyone safe, especially you.”

  “That is true.”

  Riley narrowed his eyes. “Sure, you agree with me there, huh?”

  “What do you want me to say?” she replied.

  “You know I did all I could.”

  “Well, it clearly wasn’t enough.”

  The flames inside the house had reached the living room, and the heat at their backs became almost unbearable, but Riley and Carmen both felt distant from it.

  Riley was about to tell Carmen that was a low blow when he remembered where he was, and when he turned, he saw Klein and the Mangbetu warriors following their discussion like spellbound audience members at a play.

  “Go on, please,” Klein urged, seeing them stop. “I haven’t been this entertained in a long time.”

  “Go to hell,” Carmen growled.

  “A woman with guts,” Klein said with an appreciative nod. “It’s a shame. It would have been a pleasure to get to know you better.”

  “I’d rather cut my own throat,” she replied fiercely, raising her chin in contempt.

  Klein smiled. “That could be arranged.”

  “The party’s not over yet, Klein,” Riley said.

  “The party isn’t . . . ?” the German asked, confused. “What are you talking about?”

  “Right now, Commander Hudgens is hidden in the shadows, aiming his revolver at you. If you try to keep Carmen and me from leaving, on my signal, he’ll fire at your head.”

  “Commander Hudgens?” he asked, looking left and right. “Are you sure of that?”

  Riley raised his hand as if preparing to give the signal. “If you want we can find out.”

  “That really won’t be necessary,” Klein answered calmly.

  He nodded at one of the Mangbetu to his left, who ran toward the village.

  Riley and Carmen exchanged an uneasy look. The arrogant smile that had just appeared on Klein’s face was not a good sign.

  The native quickly came back but this time carrying a raffia bag he handed to Klein.

  He took the bag and weighed it.

  Then he looked at Riley and without a word turned the bag over, letting its contents fall.

  Something like a fraying ball rolled over the grass to the bottom of the stairs of the house.

  But those strands weren’t frayed.

  And it certainly wasn’t a ball.

  It took a few seconds to recognize him through the thick layer of mud. Seized by a nightmarish sense of unreality, Riley realized it was a human head.

  “This Commander Hudgens?” Klein asked, showing a demented smile.

  56

  Riley took a wobbly step backward.

  Carmen covered her mouth to hold in a scream and keep from heaving.

  Hudgens’s head had stopped, face to the sky, and his light eyes, still open wide, looked at them, frozen in a moment of surprise.

  A sensation of unreality gripped Riley once more.

  For the first time in his life he was in a situation he didn’t understand at all and surrounded by an enemy whose motives and ways of reasoning were also unknown. Nothing in his experience as a sailor, soldier, or smuggler had prepared him for anyone like Klein or the Mangbetu. If they were Martians with tentacles on their heads who communicated in whistles, the chances of understanding them would be about the same.

  “Son of a goddamn bitch,” Riley muttered through clenched teeth, looking at Klein. “Fucking murderer.”

  The light rain had given way to a growing downpour that stifled the native’s torches one by one, though the flames of the fire reaching through the doors and windows of the house provided more than enough light.

  Klein, far from offended, smiled with satisfaction. “And your other friend, a Mr. Alcántara?” he asked. “Yes, that’s it, Jack Alcántara.” He pointed backward with his thumb toward the river. “It seems he tried to steal Verhoeven’s ship. Can you believe that?” He smiled maliciously and added, “Before you showed up my friends were debating whether to roast him or braise him. What do you think? I suggested a nice grill with herbs and spices.”

  “Jack,” Riley mused, too horrified to say anything else.

  “Oh, Alex, I’m sorry,” Carmen said, squeezing his hand.

  Riley turned toward her, seeing the same fear reflected in her eyes that was clawing at his heart.

  She looked at the fire behind her, which was enveloping the room and would have made it unbearable to stand there if not for the rain soaking them.

  “Don’t let them catch me,” she added, looking at the handle of the knife Alex had stuck in the back of his pants.

  Riley needed a moment to understand what she meant and another to know he couldn’t do it.

  No matter how much she wanted it, he would not be able to press the knife into the flesh of the woman he loved. Even if she begged, even if it saved her terrible suffering, even if he had no choice. He wouldn’t do it.

  Still, he nodded.

  Without words, he’d lied to Carmen for the first and last time in his life. Then he looked away, ashamed, knowing he was a coward.

  In front of them, Klein was relishing the moment. So much that he seemed hardly bothered that his house was in flames. Riley wanted to beat that satisfied smile off his face and make him swallow his teeth one by one.

  He instinctively reached behind him until he felt the handle of the knife, which he gripped tightly with his healthy hand.

  Carmen watched the movement and took a deep breath, thinking he was going to fulfill his promise.

  But Riley had another idea.

  He took the knife out quickly and before anyone could react, he threw it at Klein as hard as he could.

  For a second that seemed to stretch on longer than it should, the knife flew through the air, turning over and over, crossing the ten feet between it and its target in a straight line.

  Unfortunately, that weapon wasn’t designed to be thrown, and the greater weight of the handle made it unbalanced enough for its flight to become erratic. Thus when it hit Klein, it did so with the handle, bouncing harmlessly off his immense belly and falling to his feet like a dead bird.

  When Klein realized what had just happened, he let out a deep laugh. “I swear,” he shouted, incredibly amused, double chin jiggling. “I haven’t had this much fun in years. It’s a shame I can’t waste any more time on
you two.”

  He gave an order in Lingala and pointed emphatically at Carmen and Riley.

  You didn’t need to know the language to understand what was said.

  Just then a piercing cry of agony came from inside the house, and a second later the guard Riley had left unconscious rushed out the door, his loincloth and hair burning like torches. Fire had burned his bonds but also his skin, which had turned into a large, red, steaming blister.

  The poor man flew between Riley and Carmen like a spark, howling in pain past Klein and through the middle of the Mangbetu, his arms to the sky as everyone, including Klein, turned toward him.

  Riley knew that was a chance that wouldn’t come again, so he dropped the gun and ran forward. He reached Klein in three strides. The man happened to turn right when Riley rushed him like a mad bull, tackling his knees and making him lose his balance and fall into the mud like a colossal statue.

  Klein shouted in surprise and asked for help, but Riley turned and grabbed the dagger he’d thrown and held it right under Klein’s jaw, a second before the nearest warriors reacted and surrounded Riley with their sharp spears.

  “Tika!” Klein shouted, raising his hands for them to stop. “Tika!”

  Riley, straddling Klein, pressed the edge of the knife against his neck. “Tell them to drop their weapons and step back,” he demanded through his teeth.

  “They won’t—”

  “Tell them!” The edge of the knife slid an eighth of an inch, and a trickle of blood began to run down Klein’s neck.

  It took Klein a few seconds to realize he had no option if he wanted to keep his life. “Mbeli kende,” he said, and when he saw the Mangbetu weren’t going to obey, he repeated in an authoritative tone, “Mbeli kende sikoyo!”

  Though somewhat hesitantly, they finally followed the order and meekly put down their weapons.

  “Very good,” Riley said, glancing at them. “Now tell them to leave.”

  “You can’t run,” Klein said weakly. “They won’t let you go.”

  “Tell them to leave,” Riley repeated, ignoring him. “I’m not going to say it again.”

  Klein snorted, then shouted loudly. “Kende kima!” He gestured expressively, and the Mangbetu stepped back a couple of yards.

  “Now stand,” Riley ordered, jockeying to get behind the German while he stood with great effort, not taking the knife from his neck for an instant.

  When they were both upright, Carmen gathered the Martini-Henry and a spear from the ground, then came to stand next to Riley.

  Dozens and dozens of warriors had formed a circle around them, their tense faces full of fury. It wasn’t a situation they could accept easily, and there was no doubt that they would rush the intruders and tear them apart with their bare hands at the first opportunity.

  “And now what?” Carmen asked, turning with spear and rifle in her hands.

  “Now,” Riley said, “we get out of here.”

  With unnerving deliberation, the three of them descended the slight hill in the direction of the riverbank, trying to stay calm.

  Riley held Klein in front of him with his bad arm, while his right hand held the sharp blade against the German’s neck. Carmen walked behind, watching the Mangbetu, who had so far obeyed Klein and stayed next to the burning house. It looked like a giant torch, and despite the increasingly dense curtain of rain, its light nearly reached the riverbank, allowing Riley to make out the silhouettes of two canoes less than a hundred yards away.

  He headed toward them, Carmen close behind, Klein pushed along in front.

  “What are you planning to do?” Klein said jokingly, apparently guessing his intention. “Take me like this to Léopoldville?”

  Riley pushed the knife blade against his throat without slowing down. “Be quiet.”

  “And what if I don’t?” he asked defiantly. “Kill me? If you do they’ll hunt you like dogs and do unimaginable things to you.”

  “It’ll be worth it if I don’t have to listen to you anymore.”

  A few steps farther Klein added, “I’ll offer you a way out.”

  “What way out?” Carmen asked.

  “Don’t pay attention to him,” Riley said. “He’s trying to confuse us.”

  Carmen looked at Riley, then at Klein. “What way out?” she repeated.

  “Let me go,” he said, “and I’ll convince them not to kill you.”

  “You’re lying,” Riley said as he bent his arm.

  “I give you my word,” Klein replied, almost choking, “that you can leave in one of the canoes without anyone following you.”

  “Bullshit,” Riley said, without stopping. “You’ll tell them to kill us as soon as you get free.”

  “Alex,” Carmen begged. “Please.”

  “I give you my word,” Klein said, almost convincingly.

  “The word of a psychopath,” Riley snorted.

  “But he’s right,” Carmen said in Spanish so Klein wouldn’t understand. “We can’t take him with us.”

  “He’ll go back on his word as soon as we let him go,” Riley said in the same language.

  Carmen held his arm so he’d stop. “He might,” she argued, “but it’s still our best chance to get out of here alive.”

  Riley stopped finally. They were only twenty yards from the canoes. “Do you swear on the memory of your deceased wife,” he muttered in Klein’s ear, “that you’ll let us go in peace?”

  “How—”

  “Do you swear?” Riley interrupted, without easing the pressure of the knife.

  “I swear. I swear.”

  Before he finished, Carmen pointed in the darkness and shouted, alarmed, “Someone’s coming!”

  Riley looked in the direction she was pointing and saw a man coming toward them with a sickle-shaped machete in his hand.

  “Tell him to stop,” he ordered Klein.

  “Tika!” the German demanded. “Wembé nie!”

  But the native ignored him and headed right for them.

  “Tika! Tika!” Klein repeated. Same result.

  The stranger got close enough for them to see his face, and Carmen recognized him first. “Mutombo!” she shouted jubilantly. “It’s Mutombo!”

  But Mutombo didn’t seem to recognize her as he headed straight for Riley and Klein.

  “But what—” Riley started to ask as he saw the Roi des Boers’s coxswain approach, his face twisted with rage.

  Then he raised the machete over his head, and when Riley realized what he was about to do, it was already too late.

  “No!” Carmen shouted, reaching toward him.

  “C’est pour Verhoeven,” Mutombo announced as the curved blade of the machete traced an arc through the night.

  57

  In the silent, dark night the only sound that could be heard over the dull patter of the rain on the river was the irregular splash of three oars.

  Then came a man’s voice, stifled by exertion. “Come on,” he encouraged the other two crew members from the bow of the narrow canoe. “Don’t slow down.”

  “I think I heard something,” Carmen warned, still rowing. “I think they’re coming.”

  “Maybe they find Klein,” Mutombo added from the bow with open satisfaction.

  “Maybe you better be quiet,” Riley responded, furious.

  Mutombo’s slash had split Klein from top to bottom like a pig, mortally wounding him.

  Meanwhile, Mutombo had simply enjoyed the moment with a sadistic smile on his face, crouching in front of Klein to make sure his face was the last one Klein would see in his life.

  The deed had been done, so it was pointless to reprimand Mutombo. The motive was clear, and though it surely meant a death sentence for all of them, Riley had to admit that Verhoeven’s assistant was the only one among them who had done the right thing. The fact didn’t keep him from wanting to strangle him, though.

  After making sure Klein was dead and that the Mangbetu hadn’t seen what happened, they left the corpse on the beach, sin
ce it’d be impossible to move it. Then they went right into the canoe and paddled desperately with the little strength they had left.

  Riley looked up at the clouds overhead, which had started to turn the indigo that marked the first lights of dawn.

  In a matter of minutes the light of day would appear.

  Minutes. The measure of their time to live.

  The pain in his left hand was unbearable, as much for the trauma of the severed finger as for the horrible burning of the venom that had spread beyond the cut. Once the adrenaline rush died down, the pain appeared like a hot nail in his brain, and worse, he could feel how the small amount of venom that had entered his blood supply made him dizzy and weak, exacerbating his exhaustion from effort and the improvised mutilation’s blood loss.

  Every time his awkwardly bandaged stump brushed an oar or the edge of the canoe, he had to bite his lip to keep from letting out a cry of pain that would have given them away. Though the Mangbetu were certainly not far off, as long as darkness covered the river, they couldn’t be sure exactly where they were. A slight advantage that would vanish soon, and when it did, they’d hunt them like rabbits. “Day’s coming,” Carmen said without needing to state the implied question.

  “I know. I’m thinking.”

  Carmen must have seen the doubt in Riley’s eyes, or maybe she guessed correctly that there was no way out of that conundrum, so she turned back and rowed hard again. She knew from experience that despite what goes on in novels and movies, there are dead ends in real life, and if you fall off a cliff, you just smash into the ground, no matter how inconvenient that may be.

  The captain’s head bubbled with increasing pain, keeping him from thinking clearly. Still, his mind kept looking for a way out, a chance to cling to, however remote.

  But rowing was all they could do. Row as fast and as long as they could. Get away from those Mangbetu on that river boxed in by jungle walls as impenetrable as cliffs. They were rats in a maze with no exit, Riley thought, fleeing a pack of starving cats.

  Then, from behind him, beyond the last bend, he heard a piercing scream that hardly seemed human. A scream that was immediately followed by many more, in an eerie chorus of wails like he’d never heard. Wails that slowly transformed into wild shrieks and raging roars for vengeance.