Dahl was already moving, anticipating it. The heavy shot slammed into the fork of a tree, sending twigs, branches and foliage scattering in all directions. Dahl bent low and came up like a charging beast, ramming the American at mid-chest level and lifting him off his feet. There was a gasp of pain, a painful smashing together of teeth and the shotgun arced away. Dahl plowed on, keeping the advantage and driving his opponent into the nearest tree. Staggered, smashed from two sides, the hunter wavered in place for a moment. Dahl finished the job with a pounding to the ears.
Without pause he raced off again, picking up the quarry’s trail and closing the gap. Quiet as a snake gliding on ice he approached the man’s blind side and then stopped him by scooping him up in a bear hug.
Screams ensued. Dahl clamped a large hand over the man’s mouth and met his eyes. “Quiet,” he breathed. “I’m here to save you not hurt you.”
Confusion and disbelief followed, but Dahl let go, holstered his gun and took a breath. “Come with me,” he said. “I’ll take you to safety.”
More crashing resounded from the undergrowth and Dahl saw the six-man team approaching through a nebulous pattern of trees. His face urged Ramses’ prey to action.
“Okay, help me. Please.”
Dahl herded him into dense jungle, squeezing through branches for almost a minute before finding another trail and pausing to reset his bearings. He remembered the small stream from earlier and, for the first time, wished for a heavy downpour. Of course, when required nothing happened so the Swede set to a more reliable means of escape. Treading lightly they both crept among towering trees, avoiding all paths until the Swede’s sense of direction brought them back to the stream. Stepping straight up to their knees in it they increased the pace, now following the rushing water toward the big river.
Dahl stopped as the high banks came into view.
“Now we swim,” he said. “And hope anything with teeth, suckers or abilities to swim up a urethra are fast asleep. You ready?”
“To be honest I’m ready to drop.”
“Never give in,” Dahl said. “Or admit defeat. Hold out, my friend. Hold out until your very last breath.”
Drake stumbled at the head of the pack, seeing the sloping banks of the river ahead and hoping to gain the Swede a few more precious moment of time. They were downriver from where he would be, but still dangerously close. Alicia and Akatash had caught up to them a moment ago and they had also managed to incorporate the six-man team. One look back at Ramses’ dour face and Drake knew the Arab was starting to regret this imperfectly organized hunt.
He caught himself by placing a hand to the ground, ran up the slight incline and then came to a sudden, abrupt halt at a gap in the overgrowth that bedecked the muddy bank.
“Oh shit. No!”
He turned fast but Alicia, in her eagerness, was trying to catch up with him and couldn’t stop herself. Next came Kinimaka, never one to avoid a mishap; his solid impact sent the three of them tumbling down the slope, right into a writhing mass of black caimans.
Drake heard shouts from above, saw two members of the following six-man team also rolling down the bank and Ramses standing watching with interest, and then his world was a splashing, seething mass of scales and teeth. He needed purchase, and to help save both Alicia and Kinimaka. His fingers scraped across hard scales. Water splashed into his eyes as his sunglasses dislodged, dark and fetid, and he spat leaves from his mouth. The river’s sloping side gave purchase to his feet and he rolled. A dragon-like tail flashed across his vision. A caiman lay immediately to his left, terrible eyes unblinking, making no movement as limbs flailed all around it. Maybe it was wondering who the hell ordered such noisy takeout, but its brethren were another matter. Drake’s vision filled with teeth as a caiman squirmed up the bank toward him, teeth bared and already mere inches from his feet. Again he rolled, slamming into one of the strangers, grabbing his vest and using sheer adrenalin to hurl him in the direction of the approaching beast.
“Oh, ha, ha, ha!” boomed Ramses’ voice. “Look at it chasing down that bone!”
Drake felt revulsion at himself and at the terrorist, but that feeling soon passed as the second of the strangers confronted him. An elbow, its impact lessened by a heavy jacket, smashed into his cheek, sending him onto his back.
Alicia scrambled across them both, the encrusted nose of a predator at her heels, its mouth closing fast close enough to make her squeal. The caiman turned its attention to an easier prey — Drake and his opponent. Drake saw it first and struggled up the bank using his elbows to get purchase. The caiman brushed up against the other man with its heavy snout, sending droplets of water flying. If that wasn’t enough, Mano Kinimaka then came into view, standing upright, bellowing and holding a caiman close to his chest, its belly exposed and its vicious mouth snapping at the Hawaiian’s face.
“Now this is what I call a little friend!” he roared.
Drake focused on his own caiman, but then saw yet another sliding over this one’s body as the two marauders battled for the right to kill. This new threat clamped down viciously onto the stranger’s exposed leg, inducing a terrifying, bloodcurdling scream.
A gunshot rang out. Yorgi stood halfway down the bank, Glock clutched unsteadily in one hand. The slug came closer to Drake than his attackers and sent Ramses into almost uncontrollable guffaws. Drake gasped then as Kinimaka body-slammed his own caiman right down on top of the other two, shocking all three beasts who had never known such impudence.
As one, they writhed. Drake saw a chance.
Kicking the stranger in the face he crawled backwards and then twisted around as he managed to grab a thick branch. Alicia slogged beside him, and Kinimaka leapt over the mass of bodies. Drake never took his eyes from the scene below so wasn’t entirely surprised to see the stranger they’d left draw a pistol of his own.
What did surprise him was that it was deliberately pointed straight at him.
“Are you joking? Your friends aren’t about to save you, asshole.”
The gun wavered. The caiman bit deeper and started to move, trying to drag its victim into the water. One of the other nightmarish monsters clambered across the man in an effort to latch onto his upper torso. Drake’s gaze never wavered.
Sharing in the terror of the man with the gun. That bullet is your only escape.
Drake gained the top of the bank, helping Alicia with one hand. Kinimaka stumbled past them, dripping and covered in rotted vegetation. Now, the lowest of their number was Yorgi, who still held the Glock sighted below.
“Sir,” Drake had no clue how Kinimaka managed to stay in character but was glad he managed it. “He’s not worth saving. He tried to kill us.”
“They’re all worth—” Yorgi began, and then stopped and turned his head, staring with dread at Ramses. The stare then turned to cold stone and a shrug as he reverted to character. “Maybe you’re right. Really, I don’t care.”
Ramses eyed him closely. “And that’s the first time I’ve seen the superior risking himself to save the subordinates,” he said. “Why would you do that?”
The Russian shrugged indifferently. “They are my guard,” he said shortly. “And for my wife. The answer is obvious.”
“Maybe,” Ramses mused aloud. “Maybe.”
A gunshot interrupted them. Drake winced as the man caught below chose to blow his own head off. The caimans squirmed and twisted, smelling blood and tearing at flesh. Drake winced again and turned away.
“Shall we go?”