“Maybe so,” Cooper said, still rooting behind the seat. Pierce expected him to produce a second long knife, but instead Cooper took out a pump-action shotgun. “Maybe other things.”
Without further explanation, Cooper headed out across the grass and soon located a well-traveled path that headed south into the forest. The temperature in the interior was hotter, and the air was more humid than in Monrovia. Cooper handed Pierce a one-liter bottle that looked as if it had been used in a soccer game—as the ball—but the seal on the lid appeared to be intact.
How do I want to die, Pierce thought, from dehydration or dysentery?
He thanked Cooper and jammed the bottle into his pocket. He knew he would eventually be desperate enough to take a chance, but he wasn’t quite there yet.
The trail took them through dense woods, where the shade offered no relief from the heat. The pace was urgent but the path was well-trodden. Pierce didn’t have to swing his machete even once.
After an hour of relentless trekking, Cooper signaled him to stop with a raised hand. Pierce raised his blade, ready to swing it at whatever had aroused his guide’s concern, but the forest was quiet.
Unnaturally quiet.
No birds chirping, no insects buzzing.
They waited there for several minutes, but the pervasive silence did not lift. Finally, Cooper indicated they should resume, but when he started walking again, his steps were softer and more deliberate. He offered no explanation for the eerie phenomenon, but his anxiety was palpable. And contagious.
Ten minutes later he stopped again.
“What is it?” Pierce asked, unable to suppress his curiosity any longer.
Cooper turned a slow circle, then pointed at the ground. “This plant. I do not know what it is.”
Because he was not familiar with the native flora, it had not occurred to Pierce that anything was out of the ordinary, but it was easy to see why the plant in question had caught Cooper’s attention. It was everywhere, blanketing the ground and partially obscuring the trail, climbing up tree trunks and smothering all other plant life. The dark green three-lobed leaves and coiling vines reminded Pierce of creeping kudzu, which had infested parts of the American South.
“I have never seen this before,” Cooper reiterated. “It should not be here.”
Pierce was not sure how to react. Of all the potential hazards he had been worrying about—cutthroat bandits and revolutionaries, predatory wildlife, infectious disease—the one thing that had not even appeared on his radar was an infestation by an invasive plant species. In hindsight, he should have added dangerous plants to the list, but risk of getting skewered by a thorn or developing a nasty rash did not quite rank alongside getting mauled by a lion or contracting hemorrhagic fever. But Cooper seemed genuinely alarmed by the situation.
“We should keep going,” Pierce said. “Find the WHO scientists. They might know what this is.”
The last statement snapped the guide out of his paralysis, and he started forward again with more urgency. As Pierce moved after Cooper, he felt something tugging at his feet. He looked down and discovered that his boot had become entangled in thread-like tendrils that sprouted from the stems of the strange plant. The vines broke apart when he lifted his foot, releasing a faint noxious odor that made Pierce’s eyes water.
He hastened after his guide, doing his best to avoid contact with the plant, but as they went along, the encroachment became more pronounced, with vines scaling every tree and covering every inch of open ground. The trail was completely overgrown, and the only hint of its existence was a faint depression where someone—presumably the WHO team—had crushed the plant down during their earlier passage. But even that was vanishing as the stems rebounded from being trampled. The acidic smell in the air grew stronger, and every glancing contact with the leaves released more of the stinging vapor. It was not quite strong enough to be painful; it was more like the effect of cutting onions, but each step forward took them further from fresh air. Pierce was about to admit defeat and suggest they turn back when Cooper gave a cry of triumph.
“This the place, bossman!”
For a moment, Pierce thought his guide might be hallucinating. There was no sign of a village, no buildings, not even a clearing. Just an endless tangle of the weird vines, covering everything. Then something moved in the corner of his eye. Through a blur of tears, he saw an astronaut emerging from behind a tree.
“You shouldn’t be here.” The astronaut’s sharp tone was audible despite being muffled by the suit.