The Ripple Effect

by Alex Standish

  Brendan shook his head. "It's not ours."

  Carson leapt out of the back seat, standing by the side with Brendan, and tried not to get in the way while Jackie and Jarod examined the camp carefully.

  "Something definitely went wrong," Jarod finally said. "They didn't finish making camp. They gathered wood, but didn't use most of it. They made a fire, but from the looks of it, put it out before the wood had time to fully burn. Their belongings are stacked away by those rocks, but their weapons are missing, and I've never seen this backpack or the suitcases before." He opened the backpack and one of the suitcases and browsed inside. "Food, water, a map of Jawara, family photos, men's and women's clothes... Tourists."

  "They could've found the Rover, saw that there was no one here and decided to check it out," Jackie guessed. "And whatever happened to the tourists, happened to them as well."

  The ground near the vehicles provided more information. Not that Carson knew the first thing about tracking, but both Jackie and Jarod showed him what he was looking at. There were definite signs of a struggle; the deep marks of bare feet overlapping shod ones, the uprooted vegetation, the broken branches.

  "Where did you learn how to read tracks?" he asked Jackie.

  "Vivian's been teaching us. Sometimes we've got to split up for a job, and it helps if we know a little of what the others know. Brendan taught us first-aid, Jack and Roger taught everyone how to fight, hand-to-hand, with knives... Pretty cool stuff. They also taught us how to handle firearms. My father's been with the army all of his life, and I picked up a lot of shit over the years, but what they taught us certainly helped save our asses on more than one occasion."

  "I bet. What did Jarod teach you?"

  She chuckled. "Diplomacy. Or he tried to. So far it doesn't seem to be working. For every tribe we befriend, another tries to either have us for lunch, torture us or tear us into little pieces. We're a group of misfits; what the hell do we know about sociological behavior?"

  Carson regarded her curiously. "Why do you stay? I mean, I can understand wanting to help. But from you're saying, these people don't seem very friendly."

  Jackie grinned. "Damned if I know." She paused, expression turning wry. "Nah. I know why I stay, why we all stay. Sure, a lot of tribes are pretty hard to deal with, but it's their way. It's not like it's personal, you know? And yeah, they're the ones that usually keep us busy. I took this job because I was at loose ends and I had the qualifications. Plus, it meant traveling, seeing a different part of the world, how the other half lives, so to speak." She shook her head. "First week here I was ready to jump ship and leave this hell-hole behind."

  "What happened to change your mind?" Carson asked, his tone hushed.

  "We met Kit and Vivian. They took us to visit a few of the tribes they were more familiar with." Jackie's smile was self-depreciative. "And we fell in love. I wish you could see what they're really like, Carson. How humble and warm and how fucking brave they really are. They have nothing but each other and still they're happy. They face adversity every day with a smile on their faces. And once they know you, you're part of the family, always welcome with open arms. No way any of us is going home any time soon. This is home."

  Seeing Jarod waving him over, Carson patted Jackie's arm then walked over to the older man. "What's up?"

  Moving closer to the clearing's edge, Jarod showed Carson the way three different sets of footprints seemed to run over the barefooted ones.

  "This doesn't look good," Brendan said, his expression one of trepidation. "According to Vivian, some of the tribes around here are the worst in the country. Not only hostile towards the 'white invader', but brutal and blood-thirsty as well." He shuddered. "Some of the stories she's told us..." His voice faded away with dread.

  "So you think Jackie's right? The owner of the unknown Land Rover was taken by one of those tribes, and Jack and the others got caught themselves?" Carson said anxiously.

  "I don't see another possibility. If they'd been delayed for some other reason, they should be back by now," Jarod replied tensely. "Or at least made camp before they left. But they obviously didn't spend the night here."

  Heart in his throat, Carson was faced with a devastating possibility. If he were to believe everything he was hearing from his new friends, if Jack, Roger and Vivian had been attacked by a warrior tribe, then they would have had little chance of surviving. Remembering his own brief, but frightening fight with the fierce tribesmen, Carson closed his eyes. Was Jack still alive? Was he wounded or dying? Carson wouldn't even consider such a possibility.

  They were alive and whole, they had to be. Jack MacKenzie seemed like the kind of man to stare death in the eye and win. All Carson had to do was to make himself useful and help extricate Jack, Roger and Vivian from the clutches of whoever had them. He had to keep the faith that everything would eventually work itself out.

  He couldn't believe how deep inside his skin Jack had gotten and in so little time. There was a connection there, something familiar that Carson didn't really understand but reacted to. And strangely enough, although the feeling was much stronger with Jack, he felt it with the others as well. He felt comfortable with them, he fit in. More, he genuinely cared about what might happen to them.

  "Come on, Carson. The only way to know for sure what happened is to follow those tracks. And that's what we're going to do," Jackie said, cutting through his thoughts. "But for that we need to be prepared for major trouble."

  Approaching Jack's Wrangler, Jarod opened the special storage compartment at the back, and Carson was relieved to see weapons stored inside. Jackie, Jarod and Brendan were armed, but Carson had been feeling somewhat vulnerable without his gun. He had promised Bruce to leave it behind for their vacation, something he had regretted more than once in the last days.

  He noticed a small brown bag inside the compartment. "What's that?"

  Opening the bag, Jackie wiggled her eyebrows at him. "Sticks of dynamite. Can create quite the bang. Want to take it along?"

  "Why not?" he asked. "We might need to cause a diversion."

  He reached for the backpack they had found at the camp, emptying it of everything. He tucked the sticks inside carefully, along with all the ammo for the rifle and the Uzi that Brendan gave him.

  "Take an extra weapon each," Brendan ordered. "The others might need them."

  Carson nodded. "Got it." He realized he was an item short. "You don't happen to have a lighter or some matches, do you?"

  Jarod handed him a lighter. "Here."

  "Aren't you a little old to be a boy scout?" Carson deadpanned.

  Jarod grinned. "It always pays to be prepared."

  Carson snatched the lighter from Jarod's hand, making sure it worked. He donned the pack and strapped the rifle to it, before taking the Uzi in hand. "I'm ready."

  "Then let's go," Jarod said, taking the lead.

  And with that, they ventured deep into the jungle, Carson fighting anxiety and fear and his traitorous mind with every step. He refused to listen to the little voice inside his head, saying he was already too late.

  # # #

  The council seemed to take forever to reach a decision, something Jack didn't know if he should be grateful for or not. But after what felt like an eternity, all arguments suddenly settled down and warriors and elders began to part ways, going back to their daily tasks.

  All but one.

  One of the warriors disappeared inside one of the shacks, only to return again, carrying Vivian's rifle. Smirking as he approached the four bound prisoners, he aimed the weapon at them, apparently playing a silent game of eenie, meenie, meinie, mo, as the barrel of the gun wavered from Vivian, to Roger, to Jack, to the still unconscious Novotny, before going back again. The movement was repeated several times, tauntingly, letting them know someone was about to die, but leaving them guessing as to who it would be.

  Just as Jack was beginning to think the tribesman was bluffing, his aim abruptly locked and a single shot was fired, hitting its m
ark with perfect accuracy.

  # # #

  They had been walking for a while when Carson spotted the bullet casings on the ground. It didn't take a tracker to see that a fierce firefight had taken place where they were standing, as evidenced by the devastation to their surroundings. Weapons had been discharged here; men had died. There was dried blood on the soil, signs of bodies being dragged away, but no way of knowing whose.

  Fighting his growing dread Carson forged ahead, eyes focused on the very visible tracks all around them. He felt sorely lacking, painfully aware of the fact that he didn't have the slightest idea what he was doing. He was used to the concrete jungle, but this was the real McCoy.

  A native suddenly jumped out of the woods and into Jackie's path, his deadly intent obvious. Before Carson could even blink, Jackie raised her arms, slamming the butt of her shotgun against the warrior's face brutally, watching with an unconcerned look as the man crumpled unconscious to the ground.

  "Wow," Carson mumbled under his breath.

  He knew these people were good. They wouldn't have survived this long in Jawara otherwise, especially with mercenaries like Geils and these wild tribes around. But to actually see Jackie in action... He felt like a rank amateur, a city mouse visiting the country.

  They waited with bated breath for further warriors to emerge from amongst the trees. As seconds tricked by and nothing happened, Carson forced himself to relax. It appeared the tribesman was alone; a watchman perhaps. Maybe that meant there was a settlement nearby. Or maybe the guy was just lost, he thought a little whimsically. After all, what the hell did he know? He was starting to feel like he had been thrown right in the middle of an action movie and nobody had bothered to give him a script.

  Brendan signaled him to remain quiet, and Carson nodded his understanding. Okay, maybe there were others nearby after all.

  Feeling a small flicker of hope at the thought they had to be close to their destination if there were more natives nearby, Carson started walking again, trying to keep up with the others. He had to resist the urge to run, wanting nothing more than to find Jack, find them all safe and sound and leave this place.

  The shot, when it came, caught him by surprise. It echoed all around him, freezing the blood in his veins, paralyzing him with fear. It took him a timeless moment to realize the bullet wasn't meant for them, that it hadn't even been fired that close to him. And that meant...

  "Jack!" he breathed in anguish.

  He broke out into a run, careless of the branches that tore at him, careless of the others calling out his name. He knew with sudden clarity only that he had to move, to reach the source of the gunshot, that the seconds were ticking by. He made it to the edge of a clearing, barely having the presence of mind to crouch down to avoid being seen.

  "Are you out of your mind, Carson?" Brendan hissed in his ear, as the others joined him. "You'll get us in trouble acting like that. A herd of elephants would've made less noise!"

  "Oh, my God," Jarod whispered in low desperation.

  Carson's breath caught at the sight before him. About fifteen feet away, Jack, Vivian and Roger were tied to pillars in the middle of a village. Next to them a redhaired man was bound to a fourth pillar, bleeding from a wound to the chest. Probably the victim of the shot they had heard. A native was holding a rifle in his hands, aiming it alternatively at his three remaining captives, his smirk enough to make Carson want to stride over to him and beat him to a pulp.

  "Carson," Jarod hissed in his ear. "The dynamite."

  Carson didn't need to be told twice. Unshouldering his pack and letting it slide to the ground, he reached for a stick of dynamite and lit it. With a gleeful smirk of his own, he threw it as far as possible, taking care that it didn't hit too close to any of the little abodes. He might want revenge on the warriors, but there could be women and children inside the huts.

  The dynamite detonated with a loud clamor, disturbing the false peace in the jungle. The tribesfolk were in an uproar, running and screaming in terror, the warriors attempting to discover the menace while the elders gathered the women and the young ones and led them to the relative safety of the trees on the farther side of the encampment. Two more sticks of dynamite instilled complete confusion among the tribe.

  By his side, Jackie whooped. "Way to go, Carson!" She turned to Jarod. "Your turn, man."

  Jarod lifted his rifle, aimed it carefully and fired once, his bullet hitting the warrior who had been threatening their friends, taking him out with a headshot.

  "Done. Let's move!"

  They took full advantage of the chaos in the village. Donning the pack anew and grabbing the Uzi, Carson followed the others to the pillars where Jack, Roger and Vivian were imprisoned.

  "Carson!" Jack exclaimed as he saw him. "What the hell are you doing here?"

  "Helping to save your ass, MacKenzie," Carson said with a growl, letting the Uzi spew a round of fire aimed at some of the bravest--and stupidest--warriors, who had dared to try to approach them.

  "You look like shit," Jack said with a wide grin.

  Carson realized his bruises would be more visible now, and he hadn't showered, shaved or changed clothes in about twenty-four hours. Looking at Jack, who didn't look much better, he raised a sarcastic eyebrow. "Pot calling the kettle, Jack. You look just as bad."

  He watched from the corner of his eye as Jarod pulled a bowie knife out of his belt and cut Vivian's ropes. Carson threw Vivian the Uzi so she could cover the others as well, keeping the rifle to himself. To his right, Jackie was busy shooting at the warriors, her occasional giggles making him shake his head. She seemed like a nice girl, but she was definitely a little weird.

  Carson cocked the rifle, as Jarod cut Roger's bonds next, and finally Jack's. Carson and the two women fired at the tribesmen whenever they tried to come closer, keeping them at a distance, while Brendan made sure the others were well enough to make an escape. Jarod touched his fingers to the redhaired man's neck, then shook his hand.

  Carson followed the others' lead, firing over the warriors' heads, or at the ground, wanting to intimidate, not kill. Even so, they were being forced to shoot some of them. It should have been warning enough, but the tribesmen kept coming, as if the dead bodies of their warrior brothers meant nothing to them.

  "How did you get here?" Jack asked, helping himself to the gun at Jarod's waist as soon as his hands were free.

  "Santa dropped us off," Carson quipped, grinning at Jack, more than a little relieved to see the other man alive.

  "Are you done, ladies?" Jarod laughed at Jack's mock glare. "Then, I suggest we run for our lives."

  "No arguments here," Roger said as he fired a few shots from his handgun.

  Carson didn't waste time on small talk; he turned around and raced out of the village with Jack by his side, hearing the warriors' angry cries not far behind.

  They made it to the clearing and Carson was relieved when Jackie, Vivian and Roger jumped into the first jeep and drove away.

  "Carson, catch!"

  He started at Jack's shout, having barely enough time to snatch the keys to the Wrangler from midair. Carson climbed into the driver's seat, acknowledging Jack's intense look with a breathless chuckle. It was amazing how exhilarating fighting for one's life could be. Not to mention arousing; he felt like bending Jack over the hood and fucking him until neither of them could walk straight. Sternly ordering his libido to shut up, Carson turned the key in the ignition and followed Jackie's jeep as close as possible.

  He watched through the sideview mirror as a small group of natives reached the clearing, their angry faces showing their ire at not being able to keep pursuing. He crouched down defensively as several spears flew through the air, some hitting the earth all around them, a couple even slamming against the hood of the jeep, although thankfully none pierced it. From the back seat Brendan and Jarod were firing their weapons, Jack doing the same from the passenger's seat.

  Both jeeps kept going for a while, until they were certain
they were no longer in range of the natives, then they parked on the side of the dirt road. It had been a narrow escape.

  "Not bad," Jack said with a smile. "You're almost as good as Jackie behind the wheel."

  Carson chuckled faintly, still high on adrenaline. "I'm not sure that counts as a compliment, Jack. She drives like a maniac."

  Jack gave him a relaxed smile as both climbed out of the jeep. They leaned against it, their shoulders touching lightly, while they waited for the others to join them. Carson wanted nothing more than to hug the man, make certain he really was all right, but he returned the smile instead, content to feel Jack's warmth by his side.

  "What the hell were you thinking?" Brendan asked Jack in a pissed off tone of voice.

  "Not our faults, doc," Jack said with a slight shrug. "Shit happens."

  "Yeah. We ran into slavers on the way back from Idrissa," Vivian explained. "It was too late to drive back to town when we were done with them, so we decided to camp in that clearing back there."

  "We saw the Land Rover, realized the owners had to be in trouble, decided to investigate and got caught," Roger added. "Same old, same old. What are you guys doing here, anyway? Not that I don't appreciate the rescue or anything."

  "We got worried when you didn't show up yesterday," Brendan told him with a scowl. "We decided to come looking for you. Good thing we did too, or you'd be dead right now."

  "Way to state the obvious," Jackie laughed. "Ease up, Brendan. I think they know that."

  "You okay?" Jack asked Carson. "What happened to you?"

  "Collins," Carson said dryly. "I had a run-in with him yesterday. Apparently Geils wanted me back."

  "And?" Vivian prompted.

  Jarod chortled gleefully, wrapping an arm around Carson's shoulders. "Carson here knocked Collins unconscious. Thanks to him, we collected another reward."

  Roger blinked at those words. "Wait a second. Are you telling me that in the last two days this guy knocked both Geils and Collins unconscious and killed Bloom?" He looked Carson up and down, a teasing smile on his lips. "Man, appearances can be deceiving."