map.
'They're already out there,' Nate said. He reached the far wall, raised his machete, and began hacking through the woven palm and banana leaves. 'We have to leave now:'
Waxman nodded, then shouted and waved an arm in the air. 'We're hauling out! Now!'
Nate cleared a ragged hole through the rear wall, kicking debris aside.
Waxman waved Corporal Okamoto to take the point. Nate saw an unusual weapon in the soldier's hands. 'Flamethrower,' Okamoto explained, hefting the weapon. 'If necessary we'll burn a way through the bastards.' He pressed the trigger and a steam of orange fire shot from the muzzle like the flickering tongue of a snake.
'Excellent:' Nate patted the corporal's shoulder. After so many days on the river, Nate had grown fond of his boat's motorman, although the Asian corporal's off-tune whistling still drove him crazy.
With a wink to Nathan, Okamoto ducked through the arch without hesitation. As he passed, Nate spotted the small fuel tank strapped to the corporal's back.
Another four Rangers followed: Warczak, Graves, Jones, and Kostos. All had outfitted their M-16s with grenade launchers. They spread to the right and left of their point man. New alarms blared as the Rangers tripped the perimeter's motion-sensor lasers.
'Now the civilians,' Waxman ordered. 'Stay close. Always keep a Ranger between you and the forest:'
Richard Zane and Anna Fong hurried through. Next Olin and Manny followed, trailed by Tor-tor. Last, Kelly, Frank, and Kouwe passed.
'C'mon,' Kelly said to Nate.
He nodded, glancing back to the shabano. Waxman oversaw the last of the Rangers, who would guard their rear. Two soldiers were gathered over something in the middle of the yard.
'Let's move, ladies!' Waxman ordered.
The Rangers stood. One, a corporal named Samad Yamir, gave a thumbs-up sign to Waxman. The corporal seldom spoke, and when he did, his voice was thick with a Pakistani accent. There was only one other fact Nate knew about Yamir. He was the unit's demolitions expert.
Nate eyed the device left in the yard with suspicion.
Waxman found Nate staring. The captain pointed his rifle toward the opening. 'Waiting for a personal invitation, Dr. Rand?'
Nate licked his lips and followed after Frank and Kelly.
Again he found Private Camera marching behind him. She was now outfitted with a flamethrower, too. She studied the dark forest with narrowed eyes. Beyond her, Waxman and Yamir were the last to leave the shabano.
'Stay close!' Waxman yelled. 'Frag or fry anything that moves:'
Camera spoke at Nate's shoulder. 'We're going to make for a knoll about five klicks ahead:'
'How do you know it's there?'
'Topographic map:' Her voice sounded unsure.
Nate glanced over his shoulder questioningly.
Carrera lowered her voice and nodded to the side. 'The stream wasn't on the map:'
Kelly glanced over, looking sick, but she remained silent.
Nate sighed. He was not surprised at the inaccuracy of the map. The waterways through the deep jungle were unpredictable. While the boundaries of lakes and swamps varied according to the rainfall, the smaller rivers and streams were even more changeable. Most remained unnamed and uncharted. But at least the knoll was on the map.
'Keep moving!' Waxman ordered behind them.
As a group, the team fled into the jungle. Nate stared around him, his ears pricked for any suspicious rustle. In the distance, he heard the babble of the small stream. He imagined the Indian villagers racing up the nearby footpath, unaware of the danger lurking so close, oblivious of the death that lay ahead.
Nate tromped after Frank and Kelly. A flicker of flame lit up the jungle ahead as Corporal Okamoto led the way. Few words were shared as the group scaled up the gentle slope away from the river. All eyes watched the jungle around them.
After about twenty minutes of climbing, Waxman spoke to the soldier at his side. 'Light the candle, Yamir.'
Nate turned. Samad Yamir swung around and faced the way they had come. He shouldered his M-16 and loosened a handheld device.
'Radio transmitter,' Camera explained.
Yamir raised the device and pressed a button, triggering a red light to blink rapidly.
Nate frowned. 'What is-?'
A soft boom sounded. A section of forest blew upward in a ball of fire. Flames shot high into the night sky and mushroomed through the surrounding forest.
Stunned, Nate stumbled back. Shouts of surprise arose from the other civilians. Nate watched the sphere of flames die away, collapsing in on itself, but leaving a good section of the forest burning. Through the hellish red glow, a scorched hole in the forest was evident, every tree stripped of leaf and branch. At least an acre. There was no sign of the shabano. Even the motion-sensor alarms had gone silent, fried by the explosion.
Nate was too dumbstruck to speak-but his eyes, furious, met Waxman s gaze.
The captain waved them all on. 'Keep moving:'
Camera urged Nate forward. 'Fail-safe method. Burning everything behind us.'
'What was that?' Kouwe asked.
'Napalm bomb,' the corporal explained dourly. 'New jungle munition:'
'Why weren't we told . . . at least warned?' Frank asked loudly, walking half backward.
Captain Waxman answered, marching and waving them on. 'It was my call. My order. I wanted no arguments about it. Security is my priority.'
'Which I appreciate, captain,' Richard Zane called back from up ahead. 'I, for one, commend your actions. Hopefully you've annihilated the venomous bunch:'
'That doesn't appear to be the case,' Olin said with narrowed eyes. Their Russian teammate pointed to the stream, now visible due to the blaze. A section of the waterway on their side of the fires frothed with the leaping, racing bodies of thousands of small creatures. A roiling stampede climbed up the stream, like salmon spawning.
'Get moving!' Waxman yelled. 'We need to reach higher ground!'
The pace of the party accelerated. They scrambled up the slope, less concerned with watching the forest than with speed. The creatures were flanking them off to the right.
Flashes of fire marked the point man ahead. 'I've got water here!' Okamoto called.
The group converged toward him.
'Dear Lord,' Kelly said.
Fifty yards ahead, another stream cut across their path. It was only ten yards wide, but was dark and still. Beyond it, the land continued to rise toward the knoll, their destination.
'Is this the same stream?' Frank asked.
One of the Rangers, Jorgensen, pushed out of the forest. He had his
night-vision glasses in his hand. 'I've scouted down a ways. It's an offshoot of the other stream. This one feeds into the other:'
'Fuck,' Waxman swore. 'This place is a goddamn water maze:'
'We should cross while we still can,' Kouwe said. 'The creatures will surely come this way soon:'
Waxman stared at the slowly flowing water with clear trepidation. He moved beside Okamoto. 'I need some light:'
The Ranger fired his flamethrower across the waters. It did little to reveal what lay in the murky depths.
'Sir, I'll go across first,' Okamoto volunteered. 'See if it can be crosses safely'
'Careful, son:'
'Always, sir:'
Taking a deep breath, Okamoto kissed a crucifix around his neck, then stepped into the water. He waded into it, his weapon held chest high. 'Current's sluggish,' he said softly, 'but deep:' Halfway across, the waters had
