The Jungle Warrior (3 page)

“So you're saying you're free to wander into the jungle, but not to drive me to town?”

“I'm saying . . .” Robbie trailed off. She was on guard already and any further conversation would just inflame her suspicions. Instead he feigned hurt. “I was just trying to help, but I guess you don't need it. Goodnight.”

He headed off without looking back.

•••

Jane glowered in the corner. Robbie was obviously trying to keep her away from the town, but why was he so keen on exploring the jungle with her? He'd never had any interest in doing so before. She wondered what had triggered this change in attitude but decided that she was going to go to Sango regardless of what anybody else said. She was a free spirit. She smiled to herself—at times like this she wondered just how much of Tarzan's wild behavior had rubbed off on her.

T
he next morning, Robbie had a lot less maintenance to do now that most of the equipment had been replaced. Instead of using his mechanical skills, he had been asked to keep an inventory of equipment going in and out of the camp. He'd much rather be out with Mister David and the crew, felling the valuable hardwoods, but he suspected that Clark was keen to keep him out of harm's way. He reminded himself that it was either this or a study session with Esmée. Robbie preferred this on-the-job training to sitting in the shade learning from her battered books, and at least working the inventory made him a useful member of the team.

He ticked off the items on the supply list. Nothing was missing and nothing was sabotaged. Tarzan had apparently stopped wrecking the equipment like he used to do in his attempts to scare them off.

The hut door burst open and Esmée leaned in. She was out of breath and drenched from the downpour that had quickly turned the ground to thick mud.

“You gotta come quick now,” she said, gasping for breath.

“What's wrong?” Robbie asked, suddenly on edge. Esmée didn't answer but darted quickly along the raised wooden walkway that had been constructed a few inches over the mud.

“She won't listen,” she finally said.

Robbie rolled his eyes. “Jane? And you think she ever listens to me? Tell Archie.” As he spoke he heard the growl of an engine as a foot pressed too hard on the accelerator. Robbie felt a sense of dread—surely she wouldn't? He ran past Esmée, around the back of the bar where the jeep was parked.

Or should have been.

The vehicle lurched forward as Jane crunched into second gear.

“Jane! No!” shouted Robbie running after the jeep. He saw Jane glance at him in the mirror and deliberately accelerate. She brought the vehicle round in a wide U-turn. The jeep's rear end fishtailed out in the mud, but Jane spun the wheel and regained control. She grinned at him.

“It's OK. Promise I'll return before it gets dark!”

“Come back here!” Robbie quickened his pace but the jeep was moving at speed now, jouncing over the potholes. The engine screamed as she redlined it. Robbie slipped and fell sprawling into the mud. He was furious with Jane for sneaking off without him and also for the way she was torturing the engine.

“Go into third!” he yelled after her.

With a grating crunch, Jane shifted gear and the vehicle disappeared down the dirt track. Robbie had no idea how he would explain this to Archie.

•••

Jane was pleased with herself. She had taken quickly to driving and had to admit that Robbie was a surprisingly good teacher. With him, she'd completed a few circuits around the camp without too many problems but this was the first time she had been behind the wheel on her own. She thought she was doing a pretty good job.

The engine purred now she was in the right gear, and despite the boneshaking trail, but the jeep's suspension could handle it. Even so the sat phone on the seat next to her fell on the floor and she noticed several missed calls on the screen.

Windshield wipers fought the rain and Jane made sure she slowed a little as the track curved. She had borrowed a map from Archie's cabin when he wasn't there. A blue highlighter pen showed which of the sprawling network of tracks led to Sango. She was pleased with her plan. This was the only jeep in the camp, so they wouldn't be able to follow her and, when she returned, what could her father do to punish her?

She was determined to find out more information about Tarzan's real family. Her research so far had revealed his real name was Greystoke. Since then she had been debating whether she should contact the aristocratic family who still owned substantial property in England, and held a seat in the House of Lords, to tell them that the rightful heir to the family fortune was still alive. Although it felt like the right thing to do, she wanted Tarzan to decide for himself. She had tried to explain that he had a real family in a far-off land, but he didn't understand. She couldn't explain the concept of money to him either; he simply couldn't grasp why he needed money for a home or food when he had everything he would ever want around him in the jungle free of charge. Maybe he didn't care?

One mystery that nagged at her was why the Greystoke family hadn't tried to find out the truth about their lost cousin. Jane knew the French UN officer D'Arnot had emerged from the jungle and told the world about Tarzan—only to be branded a sensationalist by the world's press. D'Arnot had approached the family to tell them, but they immediately rejected his claims. Is this what D'Arnot had been coming back to tell Tarzan before he was killed in the jungle? Or had he unearthed something more disturbing?

Jane was so caught up in her thoughts that she wasn't paying much attention to the track ahead and the windshield wipers were not very effective at clearing the glass. Through the blur, she watched as a chunk of the waterlogged embankment on one side of the trail suddenly gave way. A mini landslide of clay rolled down blocking her path.

Jane hit the brakes. The wheels locked and the jeep skidded forward through the mud, heading directly toward the landslide. She turned the wheel, desperate to avoid a collision, but that just made the vehicle slew sideways.

Something under the jeep gave a loud bang and the vehicle jumped in the air. Jane was shunted from her seat, banging her head hard against the roof. Branches whipped the windshield, then a huge tree limb smashed through the glass, forcing her to throw herself flat against the seat to avoid it.

The engine spluttered then stalled and the jeep came to a sudden lurching halt. All Jane could hear was the rain drumming on the roof. Her heart was pounding, her arms shaking from shock. She rallied her thoughts, annoyed that she hadn't been paying attention to the tricky and dangerous track.

She tried to sit up, but the branch poking through the windshield was in the way. She crawled along the seat. The door was jammed so she scrambled through the open side window and fell out, head first into mud. She got up and tried unsuccessfully to wipe off the dirt as she assessed the damage.

The jeep had bounced off the trail and careened straight into a tree. The branch that pierced the windshield was so sturdy that it supported the weight of the jeep, suspending it inches from the ground. Jane could see that a shock absorber from the rear wheel was dangling free, but other than that she was surprised there was no other major damage.

“Great. How am I going to get you down?” she said aloud, to no one.

She tried pulling the jeep in the hope that gravity would help dislodge it from the branch, but it was too heavy and her feet just slipped. The vehicle wasn't going to budge.

Jane forced herself to relax and take stock of the situation. She had only been driving for about thirty minutes, so the town was still too far for her to make it on foot without any provisions. She sighed, her plan in tatters. Glancing back the way she'd come, she judged the walk back to the camp wouldn't be too much trouble although her heart sank as she imagined her father's reaction to her crash.

Thinking about her father made her suddenly remember the satellite phone. She looked inside the vehicle and found it on the floor, the screen cracked and useless. She had never had the chance to use it, and that was something else that would annoy her father. She threw it into the jeep, resigned to the fact that she would have to trudge back to camp and explain her actions.

Despite the warm air, the rain still made her cold and a shiver shot down her spine. She pulled her safari jacket around her for warmth, but it offered no protection for her head. Her hair was already plastered across her face, her jeans and sneakers were soaked through and uncomfortable to walk in, but she couldn't just stand around. Taking a canteen of water, a flashlight, and a machete from the back of the jeep—basic supplies they carried on every trip—Jane reluctantly headed back toward the camp.

The ground was waterlogged, causing her to stumble through deep red puddles that had quickly formed in the tracks. Even covering a mile was an effort. The monotonous sound of the rain pattering across the jungle dampened any other noises but some kind of sixth sense convinced her she was being watched. Several times she stopped and turned, scanning the trees for any movement. One hand clutched the machete to her side.

Screeching monkeys echoed through the trees. In the past she would have relaxed and continued walking, but Tarzan had taught her to listen. He had explained that every noise was the jungle's breath, made by all living things around her. It held a steady rhythm that was only broken when something was amiss. The slightest change was an indication of something bad waiting for the unwary. She listened carefully before understanding that the monkey calls were not their usual playful banter—they were serious warnings.

Something was stalking her.

She was pretty sure it wasn't a lion. Sabor and her pride lived in a secluded valley where the jungle met savannah. They seldom came this far for food.

“Tarzan?” she called out hopefully.

The trees trembled in the rain. She could see no sign of the ape-man and dreaded to think what might be lurking in the branches, staring back. Jane decided it might be safer to shelter in the jeep and hurried back up the trail. In her haste she stumbled on a rock, splashing loudly through a puddle. She caught her balance, thankful she hadn't twisted her ankle, but then spotted something on her hand, a slimy black slug that pulsed steadily. Even as she watched it started to grow—a leech. Jane shivered in revulsion and plucked the creature from her skin. The soft tube exploded between her fingers and blood splashed across her hand.

“Disgusting!” she yelped.

The leech's head was still anchored to her hand, blood dribbling from it. Jane dug in her fingernails and removed the head. The leech's razor sharp teeth pricked her skin. She was about to mutter again when she saw that another four leeches were tangled in her laces, their ugly black bodies squirming to reach the flesh beneath. The puddle must have been full of them.

She was trying to flick them off with the tip of the machete when she noticed something was moving under the leg of her jeans. With slow trepidation she hitched up the denim—and swallowed a scream. Her leg was covered in leeches, all gorging on her blood. Even as she watched, a pair had swollen to twice the size of her thumb and fallen back into the puddle. Jane felt faint from nausea.

Suddenly she heard movement behind her. The leeches were instantly forgotten.

R
obbie jogged down the track, weighed down by a backpack filled with provisions and camping supplies that would see him through the three-day trek to Sango. He seriously hoped that Jane would honor her promise to return by nightfall as he had no desire to sleep outside just to catch up to her, but he needed to be prepared.

Clark jogged beside him. The older man was already panting and beneath his wet rain poncho his shirt was dark with sweat stains. He insisted that they slow down. He was carrying the same heavy pack as Robbie, with the added weight of a rifle slung over his shoulder.

“Won't that girl ever learn?” he growled between breaths.

Archie had been furious when he'd heard what Jane had done, but his anger had quickly subsided after she'd failed to answer her sat phone. Alarmed, he blamed himself for forcing her into acting so rashly.

“Why did I bring her here?” he kept repeating to himself.

Robbie had grown up without a father figure, at least not a decent one, and he hated seeing Archie like this. It just reminded him of Jane's lack of awareness about how she affected the people around her.

“We'll go an' fetch her,” Clark had volunteered.

Robbie had been surprised to find himself included in Clark's offer. He was quite happy to wait for her to return, since she was more than capable of looking after herself—she was a quick learner and stubborn delete, he thought. But Archie wasn't convinced Jane could manage driving the off-road route. The deciding factor had been that Sango was simply too dangerous a place for her to be walking around on her own. She might as well throw herself to the savages of the jungle.

They pressed on in silence, heads bowed, through the relentless rain. Trees either side of the track arced above them, forming a tunnel. Ahead, branches hung across the track, freshly snapped in half by the passing jeep.

Robbie was paranoid that Jane had been going to the Internet café in Sango to dig up more information about him online. When she had told him that his stepfather had survived his impulsive attack, he had briefly felt elated. To learn he was not a murderer lightened the weight of guilt that had been smothering him since he fled home. The euphoria lasted for several days before reality sank in that he would still be wanted for attempted murder—then the dark moods that descended upon him were worse than ever.

Attempted
. That was the word that burned in his mind. The man who had slowly killed his sister with his callous brutality, the man who hadn't peeled himself off the sofa while Sophie was dying in the next room, was still alive. Not only alive—he had now turned Robbie into the bad guy.