The Greystoke Legacy (6 page)

“I wanted to look for her straightaway,” said Robbie. He scowled at Mister David. “But they wouldn't let me!”

Archie looked between Esmée and the wreckage, stunned.

“We searched every building and the surrounding area last night,” Mister David chipped in, glaring at Robbie. “No sign of her.”

“The jungle . . . ?” Archie's voice came in a whisper.

“We looked as far we could. Since this morning I have the men out searching,” assured Mister David.

“They wouldn't let me go with them,” complained Robbie.

“Good,” snapped Clark. “Can't be doin' with you both lost out there.”

Robbie's cheeks burned with anger and embarrassment that even Clark thought he couldn't help search for Jane.

Archie looked Mister David in the eye. “And?” He knew the question was redundant, but it needed asking.

“Nothing yet.”

Archie felt weak, and leaned on the jeep's bonnet for support.

“Who did this?” demanded Clark. “Who was responsible?”

“We don't know,” replied Esmée. “Don't think it was no accident, though. We saw someone run away.” She looked at Mister David for confirmation.

“
Something
,” added Mister David in a low voice.

“The saboteurs struck again,” snarled Clark. “Just when we weren't here!”

“Could they have taken Jane?” asked Archie, his head in his hands. The Democratic Republic of Congo was not unknown for its human trafficking. People often vanished, put to work in the diamond, copper, or gold mines.

Clark laid a firm hand on his friend's shoulder. “We'll get her back, mate. Even if we have to turn over heaven 'n' hell. We'll get her.”

Before Archie could reply a group of excited voices spilled into camp. A party of four workers ran toward them, babbling in Swahili. Archie didn't understand. He didn't need to.

They were holding aloft his daughter's sneaker.

•••

The guttural snarl resonated through Jane's ribcage. She felt it through the sole of her naked foot. Her eye caught movement in the water—a crocodile? But that wasn't the immediate threat.

The lioness stepped from the dense foliage where she had patiently stalked her prey. She was far from her usual hunting ground, but the scent of Jane's blood had spurred her on. Powerful muscles rippled under the cat's sleek tawny fur. Her eyes never flinched from her quarry; ears pricked as she ignored any other distraction. Her wide paws sank slightly in the sand, lethal black claws extended, recently sharpened on the trunk of an Angouma tree.

Jane didn't dare look away from the predator, and her peripheral vision revealed no close branches or rock she could use for a weapon. The lioness was huge. One swipe of the powerful claws would be enough to eviscerate her. In her panic, Jane raised her hands and snarled back at the beast.

“GRRRAAGH!” her voice sounded weak and pathetic—but the lioness was startled. Jane took a brave step forward and inhaled to roar again, but the beast suddenly charged toward her.

Jane expected a roar, but there was nothing but heavy breathing and the dull thump of paws as they gained traction on the sand. The big cat pounced, jaws extended revealing yellow razor-sharp teeth.

Jane's final image would be the animal's gullet. But she wouldn't go down without a fight. She swung a tiny bunched fist at the lioness in a feeble attempt to save herself.

Then a volley of movement burst out from the left.

A huge shape cannoned into the lioness, knocking the killer aside—but not before a paw slashed Jane's thigh, tearing a strip from her jeans and drawing blood.

Jane fell with a shriek and watched in astonishment as a man tackled the lioness to the ground. Momentum carried both toward the river and they splashed about in a wild frenzy, the water frothing about them.

A claw struck the man on his bare chest—but he didn't seem to notice. He delivered a powerful punch to the beast's ribcage and they both toppled backward with a mighty splash. A terrible roar filled the air and Jane saw that the man had the animal in a chokehold from behind, pulling the beast upright and silencing it. Again they thrashed, water spuming beneath them. More wrestling, then the lioness flipped over and they disappeared beneath the water.

Seconds later the lioness sprinted out of the river, barreling straight for Jane. Jane's heart missed a beat—had her rescuer been killed? She braced herself for the violent attack . . .

But the lioness shot past, blood flowing from a torn ear, ignoring Jane completely as she retreated into the forest.

The adrenalin suddenly vanished, leaving Jane more exhausted than she'd ever felt. The cut on her leg was painful, and she could feel her grip on consciousness slipping.

She watched in a dreamlike state as the man strode from the river. He wasn't too much older than she was. He looked perfect, an Adonis, like the sculptures she'd seen in a museum. Every muscle was defined across his tanned physique. He wore only a pair of ripped shorts that had seen better days. As she started to lose consciousness, she saw that he was bleeding from the gash on his chest and his hands were bloodied too. He bellowed a terrifying warbling cry, a symphony of power and triumph as he beat his chest with one hand. It was the sound of a feral animal, not a man. Darkness clouded Jane's thoughts: Was he her savior or another danger she had to face?

Then she blacked out.

•••

Jane's next waking moments were a confused strobe of images, sounds, smells, and senses.

She regained consciousness to a gentle swaying motion. Every muscle in her body ached and, judging from her position, she was slumped over her savior's shoulder. Her eyes fluttered open and she saw a sun-beaten back that sported a network of scars. She just had time to register how far away the ground looked, before she lost consciousness again.

A more violent motion awoke her. She blinked several times, not quite comprehending why the ground was racing beneath her—far beneath her. Then it became apparent—she was being carried­ through the towering trees a hundred feet above the ground. Branches became a blur as the pace increased. Daylight was fading­ when she got a clear view from the canopy—the far-off treetops looked like broccoli, extending for countless miles and bathed in a crimson sunset.

She closed her eyes and accepted the fevered dream.

•••

Daylight. She could discern that much through her closed eyelids and the heat on her face. She could hear more birds than she'd ever heard before, their varied calls blending into a natural harmony. There was a background thrum, possibly machinery like the generator back in Karibu Mji, and she could smell something like sweet onions.

She opened her eyes and looked straight into the face of her nurse. They were brown, intelligent eyes . . . but the rest of the face was confusing. A broad flat nose sat above a wide protruding mouth, the leathery skin as black as midnight. Coarse black fur surrounded the face and a massive black hand gently scratched its cheek. The beast was huge, twice as large as Jane.

Jane bit back a scream. The creature was almost nose-to-nose, sniffing her golden hair. She knew what it was: a mountain gorilla. She'd seen them on TV.

The gorilla was satisfied she was awake and backed away, sitting on its haunches as it reached for a large plant frond and delicately began eating it, flexible lips selecting the choicest shoots.

Jane gathered her courage and sat up, taking in her surroundings.

“I've got to be dreaming,” she muttered.

She was in a low curved cave with layers of dried grass and branches bunched to make a rudimentary bed. The gorilla was not the only occupant; a small ape, the size of a human toddler, was rolling in the grass. It lay upside down, studying Jane quizzically. The likeness to a human child was incredible. The youngster blew a raspberry with its lips then picked at Jane's remaining shoe, which he had managed to remove.

A large opening ran half the length of the cave and gave a spectacular view across the jungle below. The opening was lined with snaking vines and brightly colored flowers that attracted large, vivid butterflies. Jane crawled to the edge of the cave moving slowly so as not to startle the gorilla. The small ape followed her.

She stepped out of the cave onto a large plateau of rocks. The view took her breath away. Massive tree branches curled around the furthest section of the cave that stood on the edge of a fifty-foot sheer drop to a small lake below.

The lake was formed by a circular caldera. The crystal-clear water glistened in the midday sun, fed by a waterfall that cascaded not far from the cave. Water plumes shimmered in the sun, creating ethereal rainbows.

Further along the plateau the drop gave way to a steep tree-lined trail that snaked down to the lakeshore. Beyond, Jane could see nothing but jungle and occasional clouds that hugged the treetops, giving it a magical appearance. Behind her, the wide platform was surrounded by dense forest that was alive with a myriad of colorful birds. The peak of the mountain towered above, puncturing the blue sky. The only word Jane could think of was “paradise.”

Dozens more gorillas sat around the oasis. Females, with youngsters, sat at varying points along the leafy trail and several male blackbacks lolled in the sun, eating whatever they could reach.

Despite her fear, Jane couldn't help but smile . . . a smile that faltered when she realized a huge silverback male was standing at the end of the plateau, staring at her. If she thought the female had been huge, this specimen was massive. He stood on all fours, his front shoulders hunched to his ears. The mouth hung open, displaying lethal canine fangs. Jane looked into the unfriendly eyes that were surrounded by a network of scars from battles long ago.

A bad mistake.

The silverback took the eye contact as a challenge and it coughed twice, posturing to show off his incredible bulk. The small gorilla that had followed Jane outside now ran back into the cave, frightened. The silverback barked and thumped its chest with a loud flat sound that carried over the lake, then it charged forward like a locomotive. Jane was petrified; standing at the edge of the cliff she had nowhere to go. Instead she held her ground and diverted her eyes, waiting for a powerful fist to strike her.

But it didn't come. The silverback barked louder as it stopped inches from her. She could smell the wild garlic on its breath, and her hair ruffled as the ape bellowed. Its fists pounded its chest with a distinctive POK-POK-POK! Then it tore up clods of earth round her, tossing them into the air as it furiously hooted. It was a frightening display of power and Jane's entire body trembled. She suddenly heard chuckling that sounded almost human.

“
Kerchak!
”

The gorilla immediately stopped ranting. It gave Jane one last hoot, before retreating into the undergrowth with a slow arrogance. Jane turned to see who had spoken—and was doubly surprised.

It was her savior. Now he was clean, his wounds bathed. An unruly mop of shoulder-length black hair framed a chiseled face and his gray eyes studied her with interest. A dagger and a coil of vine rope hung from the waistband of his shorts. Every inch of his sculpted physique was muscled.

He crouched on top of the cave, which Jane now realized was no natural refuge—it was an airplane some eighty feet long that had crashed into the plateau, tearing a huge gash in the fuselage, which now functioned as the exit. One wing had been torn off against the mountain, the other extended over the cliff top, forming a perfect diving board into the lake below. Time had covered every inch of the jet with moss and creepers, so, from the air, it was flawlessly camouflaged.

Jane jumped as the stranger threw a dead bush pig at her feet. It had been killed so recently it was still bleeding. Jane automatically crawled away from the carcass.

The man jumped gracefully down with only the faintest rustle of leaves. He took a cautious step toward Jane, crouched on all fours, his eyes appraising her.

Jane brushed her matted hair from her face; her fingers grazed the wound on her forehead. It felt different. A quick check revealed she had been cleaned, and the wounds on her head tended to with a thick sap-like substance that glued the skin together. The slash on her leg had been cleaned and stapled together with unusual small beads. He had saved her from certain death and treated her injuries, so she forced herself to relax. Surely he meant no harm, even if he had just thrown a dead pig at her.

He was tall and broad; Jane only came up to his shoulders. She noticed a network of long-healed scars across his body and a circular patch of skin around his shoulder that had not healed properly. Jane could only imagine a gorilla had taken a chunk long ago.

“You,” he said, staring at her intently.

Jane frowned. “Me?” The response only served to confuse the man. Jane groaned inwardly, perhaps he was a little simple.

“
Ninyi
?”

Jane shook her head. “I don't know what you're saying.”

He peered at her a little longer. The intensity of his gaze was frightening; the eyes of a killer. However, his expression was neither hostile nor friendly. The gorilla that had nursed Jane in the aircraft appeared in the cave entrance to watch, while her baby capered up and down the fuselage.

“Tana,” said the man, pointing to the female gorilla. He indicated to her baby. “Karnath.” He stabbed a finger to the trees where the reprimanded silverback sat alone. “Kerchak.”

He gently took Jane's trembling hand and pressed it to his chest: “Tarzan.” Jane suddenly understood as he pressed her own hand against her chest and said “You?”

“Oh, my name? Why didn't you say?” Tarzan blinked in confusion. “I'm Jane.” She indicated to herself. “Jane Porter.” Tarzan echoed. “Jane.” Then he pointed at the pig. “
Horta
. Eat.”

“I couldn't possibly . . .”