Blood Forest (Suspense thriller) (29 page)

Sam scoffed. People were more than just brainwaves. She held her opinion in check. Instead of speaking, she took another sip from her glass.

“Would you like more?” her captor asked, tipping the bottle in her direction.

She ran a hand through her hair, knowing she should refuse. She shook her head.

“In experiments on laboratory rats, pulsating radio frequencies have been shown to affect behavior. Certain frequencies increase exploratory behavior when the rats are placed in mazes and others feed their fear and inhibition. Their mood can be changed simply by turning a dial. The same is true with humans.”

Temba watched mystified as the baboons advanced on the leopard. It hissed angrily as it backed away through the thick green fronds. Soon Temba lost sight of the animal.

The buzzing in his ear persisted, but he had reduced the sound to background noise. The rest of his senses were on alert. Something pulsed through the forest and it felt very strong here, as if he stood on some mystical node. His teeth gritted and his fingers tore into the bark of the tree. His muscles yearned to break something, what didn’t matter.

Through the darkness and the pounding rain, Temba saw more shapes close in on him. He recognized the hunched forms bounding on all fours as baboons. The creatures meant to make a meal of him.

Let them try, Temba thought angrily. With his whole body ready for a fight, he felt like he might have the strength to rip each of the creatures in two.

At least a dozen surrounded him, cornering him against their sacred tree. Temba reached back and felt Kuntolo’s spear, but the long cumbersome weapon wouldn’t satisfy his rage adequately. A spear was a weapon of balance and control. He wanted to beat something. So his hand fell to the axe at his belt and thought of it thudding into baboon flesh.

This is insanity.

Insanity . . .

Such angry magic could not be good magic and certainly not wise. Temba resisted the urge to leap at the closest baboon. He assuaged his anger by promising revenge on them later, one at a time and under circumstances he could control. Why fight the creatures on their own terms? He needed to escape.

Temba glanced up the tree. It stretched out of sight, raindrops streaking past like deadly arrows. His palms gripped the ridges in the bark and the sides of his feet locked against the thick trunk. He scrambled up the first ten feet until he reached the first knot and got a good grip with his fingers. He looked down past one dangling leg at the baboons circling the tree. Their clawed limbs gripped the trunk easily; one-by-one they climbed after him.

He scrambled up the next stretch of tree. He realized the weight of his predicament when one of his palms slipped on the wet bark. The ground loomed far off, the small fumble reminding him how deadly a fall could be. Temba steeled his nerve, using his anger to fuel his adrenaline. He climbed the next length without looking down, his eyes fixed on the closest branch. Finally he looped his wrist around it and pulled himself up. The branch shuddered under the sudden weight.

A baboon closed quickly, already nearing his branch. It bared its fangs and barked at him. Temba pulled his bow from his shoulder and nocked an arrow. He took aim and released. He lost sight of the arrow immediately in the rain and the darkness, but he heard the thump as it struck the small primate.

The baboon stumbled for only a moment, before closing once more. Temba unleashed a second arrow, the tip striking the creature in the shoulder. This time it let go, and he watched it tumble to the ground landing among the roots with a heavy crash.

Temba shouldered the bow and climbed on.

As he climbed higher, the branches grew thicker. Soon he weaved among them, nearby leaves swaying with his movements. But although the branches made the climb less perilous, they also slowed his movements. A second baboon closed in.

Temba paused in a crook between two branches and nocked another arrow. He waited until the baboon climbed onto the nearest branch so he could see its angry yellow eyes, even in the stormy darkness. He released the arrow and watched the creature tumble out of view.

Another came up right behind it. This time, as he reached for an arrow, he found his small quiver empty. The baboon moved in, maw opened to rend his flesh. Temba struck out with his bow, beating the tender wood across the creature’s snout. The shaft broke immediately, and he jabbed the broken tip at the baboon’s neck.

Baboon and bow tumbled off the branch and out of view.

Temba continued up into the canopy where the rain drove down fiercely. A blinding flash arced across the sky, followed by equally deafening thunder. From somewhere nearby, he heard wood splinter and a heavy trunk crash to the ground.

Three parallel lines passed only ten feet overhead, connecting to a strange metal device at the top of the tree. Through the thick leaves, he spotted what looked like a dish turned on its side and stuck with a fork. The dish, it seemed, faced toward the river. The buzzing was unavoidable now. Although it seemed to originate inside his head, Temba felt he was near its source.

The baboons did not relent. As the branches spread out from the trunk, they too spread out. No longer could he battle them one at a time. Instead they moved in from all directions.

As the baboons closed in, he put his back to the trunk and wedged himself between a pair of branches.

“My grandfather came to this region of the Congo to conduct his research. Radio waves and mind control didn’t seem so far-fetched back then. We were just beginning to understand their significance, those mystical beams of energy. When colonial Africa ended, the work was forgotten and abandoned.”

“Until you came along.”

“Precisely. When he passed I was able to examine his lab notes, the ones he left back in Europe. I became convinced that, in light of the recent studies that I just mentioned, there was evidence that this forgotten field had merit. I came here and found the power station in place and four radar dishes facing toward one river.”

“You use the river as a sounding board.”

Guy tilted his head, obviously impressed. “Yes, the electromagnetic field is enhanced by the presence of the water. The hardest part was experimenting with different frequencies. Many produced no noticeable effect. I stumbled upon one that increased levels of cortisol and serotonin in the brain. You see? I was able to increase aggression, and to exceptional levels.”

Sam attempted to bite back her disgust.

“You’ve seen them. The animals are far more aggressive. They attack at a much higher degree of regularity. Maybe you’ve even experienced it yourself. You might become agitated or quick-tempered. When someone enters this forest that is not welcome, I can dial up the waves and ensure that the jungle is hostile.”

Raoul crawled back from the dangerous brawl, slipping in the mud.

Delani rolled on top of Gilles, trying to pin him down. His wrist locked against the arm that held the pistol and pushed it out wide and to the ground. His knee drove into Gilles abdomen, stealing the man’s breath. As Gilles gasped for air, Delani raised a fist over his head and swung down. Knuckles connected with cheekbone with a firm crunch.

Brandon watched Delani pummel Gilles. Overwhelmed with anger, the South African did not relent, even as blood coated his swinging fist. Brandon saw the danger. He watched the pistol too, wary that a sudden gunshot might kill someone or alert the militia.

If the soldiers found them in such disarray and without Ike to help them, they wouldn’t stand a chance.

Distracted by the two mercenaries, Brandon didn’t notice Raoul slipping away until he crawled into a pair of bushes and stood up. The Frenchman looked back one final time before sprinting away.

“Raoul, wait!” Brandon cried, darting after him.

He caught up to Raoul before the man collected his balance enough for a run. Brandon planted both hands against Raoul’s back and drove him to the ground. Raoul collapsed to his belly, coughing as Brandon pushed down on him. Suddenly feeling guilty for attacking the man, he relinquished the hold.

Raoul elbowed Brandon in the ribs, cursing in French and jumping to his feet. He recovered from the blow and started after Raoul again, certain he could overtake the older man who was drunk and out of shape.

He put his arms out meaning to grab Raoul around the shoulders. They caught only empty air. Stunned by the quick move, Brandon didn’t have time to react as a fist struck him in the abdomen. He doubled over onto Raoul’s waiting shoulder and then flailed helplessly as the Frenchman flipped him over his back. He fell headfirst and rolled into the mud.

He lay there, stunned, as raindrops poured onto his face.

He heard a subtle click and a slight flash to his right. A short blade had appeared in Raoul’s hand. The Frenchman leapt on top of Brandon, bringing the knife toward his throat. Brandon’s forearm blocked the attack as the sharp metal sliced the air inches from his cheek.

Raoul gritted his teeth and pushed the blade down, easily overpowering Brandon in his prone position. The look in the Frenchman’s eyes was chilling. Instead of crazed anger, like Gilles or Delani, there was patient, calculated aggression.

The knife drove downward, until it pressed into the skin of Brandon’s neck.

“My eventual goal is to produce the opposite: pacification. Imagine a prison with no need for bars,” Guy said. “Violent criminals can live in peace and harmony with each other as they await the end of their sentences. No need for guards. No prison fights. Virtually no security except for the radio waves that pass through the air.

“Areas of high crime can be virtually eliminated without invasive police patrols. With aggressive tendencies reduced or eradicated we could see an end to violent crime altogether.”

“That would never happen,” Sam argued. “Nobody would ever agree to it. No government I mean. It’s too . . .”

“Too what?”

“Unethical.”

“You think that it is unethical?”

“You said you can only cause aggression,” she reminded him. “You can’t get rid of it. Is that why the animals?”

He nodded. “As I said before, you have already witnessed the results of my research. Perhaps you’ve even experienced the influence on your brain first hand. That puts you in an excellent position to understand it.”

“I remember seeing things and hearing voices.”

“Those are side effects,” he assured her. “An American scientist has performed experiments on the human brain, subjecting them to intense electromagnetic fields. His theory is that certain supernatural events, alien abductions, ghosts sightings, and even encounters with mystical beings such as angels, can be caused by the presence of geo-electric signals.

“When an electromagnetic field interferes with the one inside your mind a form of disassociation occurs. The disruption throws off your brain patterns until your mind can no longer recognize its own thoughts. Feelings and ideas originating in your brain seem to come from someplace else. This results in a feeling of paranoia and also the distinct impression that you are not alone.