Savage Lands (6 page)

Robbie held his breath. He saw Archie and Clark were rigid with fear, hoping Jane knew what she was doing. Robbie guessed she was just as terrified.

The lion growled. It was as if an engine was idling close to Jane's head. Numa's breath blew her hair. Then, the aggressive sounds suddenly turned to a distinctive purr. He rubbed the side of his massive head against Jane, marking his scent.

Jane giggled with relief, and scratched Numa's head, her fingers digging deep into the flea-ridden fur, and Numa purred more contently as he paced around her. She stood, wobbling as the lion playfully jostled her.

“I think he remembers me,” she said with a broad smile.

Robbie slowly moved and the lion growled a warning. “I don't think he knows me,” said Robbie who had never been so close to a lion. Archie and Clark remained motionless.

“Can you tell him to go away?” said Archie, his gaze switching to Greystoke who was still bleeding, though his wounds didn't look so bad.

“Well, we are on
his
land,” said Jane giving Greystoke a meaningful look.

Robbie caught a flicker of movement in the grass—was it one of the Mbuti? Numa caught it too, but before Numa could react, a boom echoed across the valley as a huge helicopter swooped into it at high speed. The enclosing mountains reverberated the sound into a terrifying roar.

Numa bellowed, roaring fiercely, but backed into the grass. He knew better than to take on the forces of modern man. With a final roar, he vanished into the grassland.

The chopper circled around before hovering over them. The rotor's downdraft pressed the grass flat, kicking up dry debris into a whirlwind. Robbie crouched as the helicopter landed on the riverbank. He was forced to close his eyes to avoid the whirling dust, but not before noting the stylized Greystoke logo on the side of the machine. For the first time, he began to wonder just what resources Greystoke had at his disposal.

T
he opening between the lion's paws was bathed in darkness, and Tarzan didn't have enough light to make out any detail inside. He paused at the entrance, his keen senses alert to everything. The wind had changed direction, and the air now tasted unpleasant, like rotten eggs. Through the black mask of the jungle, he could see flecks of glowing red rock spitting from the cone of the volcano above. The wind carried a faint, constant rumble that made him anxious.

He turned his attention back to the cave. The stench of decay from within was stronger than ever, but he could still detect the scent of the Targarni and their captives, even if he couldn't see into the void. The dark offered no terrors for the ape-man, but walking blind was not something he relished either.

A few careful paces into the cave revealed stone steps leading down. He guessed they were man-made, but couldn't see anything. Through touch alone he discovered the crumbling stone had been worn smooth by passing feet and running water. Several steps down he glanced back to the entrance, his eyes adjusting to the subtle shades of darkness beyond the entrance.

As his eyes grew accustomed to the tunnel, Tarzan became aware of a faint glow. At first he thought it was his eyes playing a trick on him, but after several minutes, he grew accustomed to a faint green light clinging to the walls and ceiling. Closer inspection revealed it was some type of moss. He carefully continued down and the tunnel around him grew lighter, filled with soft luminescence.

The steps turned in a graceful bend and the tunnel widened. A cool breeze blew Tarzan's shoulder-length hair, and it seemed to increase with each passing step. Carried with it was an increasing scent of Targarni. Still he descended and it grew warmer. Tarzan judged he must be well under the slopes of Thunder Mountain. He pressed on until another jink in the passage revealed a stronger light ahead and a faint roar.

The tunnel came to a halt and Tarzan froze in the opening as he gazed beyond at a huge cavern. Green and blue bioluminescent fungus clung to the walls and ceiling in long trails that made it seem as if the stars had leaked underground. It was much brighter there, so much so that Tarzan could easily see across the cave.

Massive rock spires stretched from floor to ceiling some hundred feet above. The roof was a mass of slender stalactites—most much longer than the ape-man—through which flocks of bats raced at high speeds. The floor sported matching stalagmites, but most had been cleared to provide a thoroughfare across the cave to another tunnel. The opening to this one was some twenty feet in diameter and circular, crafted in stone to look like the mouth of a giant beast. The fangs were blunt from age, and the features worn to nothing more than a faint trace, but it must have once been a fearsome image. A pair of small lakes sat at either end of the cavern. Their surfaces were motionless, but Tarzan swore he saw something large move below the crystal-clear surface of one.

What impressed Tarzan most was the slender stone bridge that cut across the middle of the cavern. It was the width of a man, forcing creatures to cross in single file. Tarzan stood on it and gazed down. It spanned a whitewater river that cut through the rock a couple of feet below, appearing from one narrow cave and vanishing through another. The pale luminescence from the walls made the spume glow as it struck jagged rocks. There was no doubt—escape would be impossible for anybody unfortunate enough to fall in. Tarzan could see the lake connected to the river and guessed the water avenues were all connected in a gigantic network.

Above the noise of the river, he heard a faint scream followed by shouting. The Targarni's female prisoner was awake. Tarzan sprinted across the bridge and raced through the open maw of the stone beast, deeper into the unknown sanctuary.

• • •

J
ane's
stomach lurched as the helicopter banked sharply left, following the path of the meandering river with reckless speed. The jungle below was an unfamiliar blur. Robbie clung on to a handle mounted just above the door and was grinning like a fool as the chopper suddenly banked right.

Archie and Clark sat in flight seats opposite and didn't say anything, although Jane suspected her father was enjoying the ride too. She hated it and was fully aware that Greystoke was taking them far deeper into the jungle, away from their camp. Without any recognizable landmarks, it would prove very difficult to return home in a hurry. Where Greystoke had previously relied on the loggers, the balance of power had now firmly shifted in his favor. Jane wondered if the others had realized that yet. Until they did, she would have to continue quietly sabotaging Greystoke's plans.

Greystoke sat in the copilot's seat and hadn't said a word to them since they'd taken off. The pilot had tended to his wounds, which proved to be nothing more severe than shallow cuts. Fortunately for Greystoke, Numa had been in a playful mood.

Jane heard a crackle in the headset she was wearing to minimize the rotor noise. Greystoke's voice filtered through. “We're almost there. Get ready for landing.”

Jane was unsure how to get ready, and the quizzical look of the others showed they were thinking the same thing. The chopper suddenly rose, causing Jane's stomach to plummet as they climbed up the steep banks of a mountain. The jungle canopy was closer than ever and she couldn't shake the thought that the pilot was going to crash. But he was skillful, and pivoted the helicopter over the gray shards of stone that poked from the mountaintop and revealed the vista beyond. Jane craned to get a better view through the cockpit canopy between Archie and Clark. What she saw made her heart sink.

A huge swathe of jungle had been cleared for several miles, exposing the red clay beneath like an ugly scar in the landscape. The ground was laced with dirty brown streams that fed polluted water back into the rivers, and everywhere she looked bulldozers and excavators tracked to and fro, open-pit mining the landscape. Clark peered through the window as they flew over the site, impressed at the scale of the operation. A couple of boats and a floatplane were moored on the river, adjacent to a pair of large metal fuel tanks. It seemed as if Greystoke had everything he needed to stay in the wilderness.

The helicopter pivoted over a landing pad, nothing more than a slab of concrete set into the mud a hundred feet from a set of portable cabins that fanned out across the site like a shantytown. The scale was greater than Karibu Mji and the devastation was above and beyond anything they had achieved even after months of logging.

They landed so smoothly that Jane didn't feel a thing. The rotors quickly wound down and a pair of ground crew rushed over to help Greystoke out. They kept their heads bent down as they passed under the slow-spinning rotor blades, despite the fact that there was more than enough clearance.

The side door cranked open and the ground crew gestured for them to exit. One of the crewmembers wore a perfectly white shirt that looked out of place in the dirty mine around them; he looked like the poster boy for a corporation with more cash than morals. He walked ahead with Greystoke, and the group caught the name Edward from a snatch of conversation. The other was a woman with flame-red hair. She didn't look happy to see them, but was apparently under orders to be hospitable.

“Welcome,” she said with an Australian accent.

The smell of dust and diesel struck Jane. Every breath she took tasted of dirt. “What are you mining?” she asked. The woman ignored her and helped Archie, who grinned at her with all the charm he could muster, out of the helicopter.

“An absolute pleasure. Lovely to meet you. I'm Archie.”

“Idra,” acknowledged the woman.

Jane rolled her eyes and hurried over to Greystoke and Edward. Greystoke was gesticulating, his voice raised: “Don't let any more of those damned pygmies in here. How hard can that be?” He shot a scathing look in the direction of a dozen barefoot Mbuti men carrying heavy machinery. Unlike the people they had encountered in the jungle, the men wore grubby Westernized clothing and their faces bore a pale unsmiling mask. Jane thought they looked more like slaves than workers.

“What are you mining here?” she asked, pushing herself between Greystoke and Edward and looking around. She noticed Archie was still chatting to a bored-looking Idra as Robbie and Clark took in the site, Clark occasionally pointing to huge pieces of digging machinery.

Greystoke hesitated, obviously not used to being spoken to so casually in front of staff. He shot Edward a look before answering. “Coltan.”

“Never heard of it,” said Jane crossing her arms and turning to face him. “I guess it's pretty valuable, otherwise you wouldn't be poisoning the land?”

Edward raised his hand and smoothly moved in between them, a job he was no doubt amply paid for. “This is a fully legal operation we have out here, miss.”

His tone irritated Jane, but she didn't let it show. Instead she forced a smile. “That's not what I asked,
Edward
.”

Greystoke nudged his spokesman aside. “Coltan is very valuable and we need it,” he said primly. “You use it all the time, everybody does. In your phone, car ignition systems, lights, computers—just about every electrical item uses coltan, and it just so happens that one of the world's largest supplies is under this jungle.”

“So you'll rip up the rainforest just to find it?”

“Ah, now you're a flag-waving eco-warrior are you? Spend a few months in this hellhole and you think it should all be preserved?”

“I've only just got here and I can see what you're doing is wrong.”

Greystoke laughed, his eyes narrowing. “Oh, the irony of such a statement coming from the daughter of a logger.” He shook his head condescendingly.

Jane tensed, ready for an argument, but Archie and Clark caught up with them.

“Nice operation,” said Clark casually. Greystoke didn't see the look he shot at Jane. It spoke volumes: Shut up. “You must extract a lot of ore from here.”

Greystoke sniffed at the idea and walked toward the cabins, forcing the others to keep pace with him. “It used to be a lucrative mine. My father set it up on the assumption the coltan reserves ran deep. Alas, he was mistaken. We've taken about all we can from this area.”

“Is that why you wanted the survey plans from the airplane?” said Robbie suddenly. “You think whatever's in the lost city of Opar is worth more than this?”

As he reached the cabin, Greystoke spun on his heel and glared at Robbie with deep-rooted annoyance. “Much more! But those plans alone cover a huge geographic survey of the region. My uncle spent millions surveying this land.” He waved his hand toward the jungle. “And with thousands of square miles still un­explored. Who knows what's out there, waiting for us? An inconceivable fortune …”

“And it's all yours?” said Jane sarcastically.

Greystoke opened the door of a cabin, pausing only to look back at her. “It is there for whoever takes it first,” he said with a sardonic smile. “Survival of the fittest.”

• • •

D
eep
underground, Tarzan sprinted along a straight tunnel that angled further down, following the sound of screaming. The temperature was increasing and sweat glistened on his skin. It was more cloying than the humid rainforest above, a dry unforgiving heat.

A light ahead burned with more ferocity than the luminous vegetation clinging to the walls. Tarzan slowed his pace, dropping to all fours and pressing himself against the smooth stone as he approached the opening.

There was a bigger cavern beyond, and the tunnel Tarzan was in offered a view from midway up. It was a colossal natural cavern. Steps led down to the massive floor below, carved from the stone by hand. Several single-story buildings, now nothing more than ruins, spread across the floor in what would have once been a subterranean town. Luminous lichen and half-moon fungi clung to the rubble wherever it could, giving an almost dreamlike quality.

In a wide area, like a town plaza, the Targarni had gathered—more of them than Tarzan had ever seen before. They were pale from spending too much time underground, but none as pure white as Goyad, who stood on his knuckles on an elevated platform. The apes appeared to be watching the captives. Tarzan could not see the humans as the few buildings remaining standing blocked his view. But he could hear the female's screams.

He edged closer to the top of the staircase. If he were seen, only his head start would prevent him from being torn limb from limb. Almost nothing frightened Tarzan, yet the thought of fighting an inevitable losing battle with the apes made him cautious. The steps fanned out in a graceful one hundred and eighty degrees, allowing Tarzan to edge down the side flanks, which offered better cover from prying eyes. Luckily, the Targarni's interest was focused on Goyad.

A quarter of the way down the steps, Tarzan was able to see around the buildings. Most of the light came from a pair of massive stone bowls standing on plinths, etched in strange pictorial symbols. He could only just see the tongues of flames licking over the edges. The flames provided dramatic under-lighting to a thirty-foot-tall pair of coiling snakes looming over the bowls, carved out of stone, their mouths open, ready to strike and revealing black stone fangs. Their features were harsh and finely detailed, unlike the carvings near the entrance, which had been dulled by time and weather. The snake's eyes seemed to sparkle with living malice.

Tarzan's gaze was dragged back down to the scene unfolding at the base of the snake's mighty stone coils. Two of the human captives lay on a massive slab of stone—the female and the man who had been struck by Goyad. Where the third was, Tarzan could not see; perhaps he was too late to save him. Narrow stone blocks across their hands and legs restrained the man and woman. The female struggled, but the man was still unconscious. Tarzan frowned, wondering what Goyad's intentions were. He placed a hand on the step below, intending to lower himself to the cavern floor—but froze suddenly as another figure appeared at the altar.