“Maybe not,” Gray said.
He reached to his pack and retrieved his sat-phone. He replaced its battery. He had disabled the device at the start of this journey, fearing someone might use it to track them. With the U.N. camp ambushed and the university attacked, the enemy had proven themselves resourceful. To orchestrate those strikes, they must have deep pockets throughout this region.
Kowalski noted what he was doing and exhaled a stream of smoke. “What’re you up to, Pierce?”
“Possibly making a mistake.”
The call was a gamble, but a necessary one. Still, he needed to keep it brief. While the sat-phone could scramble the transmission, make it impossible for anyone to eavesdrop, the signal could still be traced. After a brief pause, weighing whether this was a smart move, he tapped in the code for Sigma headquarters.
The connection was made immediately. “Commander Pierce,” Painter answered, speaking curtly. “What’s your status?”
Gray debriefed him on their situation, speaking rapidly, trying to keep this call as short as possible.
Painter also updated him. “The situation in Kisangani is growing worse by the hour. Lisa reports that there are hundreds of cases now. Many already dead. More flowing into the city. Panic has set in. Looting and chaos. There are also reports of outlying villages being overrun with wild animals—although those are sketchy.”
Gray looked at Benjie. “Those animals may be more than just wild.” He shared their concerns about what else the virus might be doing to the Congo. “If we could consult Dr. Whitaker, the virologist . . .”
“Can’t expect that anytime soon. There’s still no word from Tucker. So, if there are any answers to be found out in that jungle, we need them ASAP.”
“That’s why I broke radio silence. I need help.” He explained about their dilemma and the hope of skipping over Sheppard’s last clue and driving straight to the end. He transmitted a copy of his marked-up map, along with the reverend’s last photo. “That cliff. Its jagged escarpment against the sky. It wasn’t unique enough before, not when we had the entire Congo as a possible location. But if we focused our search, narrowed it down—”
“Along the line you drew into those mountains,” Painter said, immediately understanding.
“Exactly. With satellite mapping, maybe that cliff could be pinpointed, or at least, other areas ruled out.”
“We can try. I’ll get Kat right on it. But it will still take hours to complete such a detailed scan.”
“Understood. Until then, we’ll continue along the path I transmitted. I’ll go radio silent and reach out again when we get there.”
“Very good.”
Gray signed off and cut the connection. He snapped the battery out of the phone and returned them both to his pack.
Kowalski frowned at him. “So, we’re continuing blind from here.”
“Better than just sitting on our asses.”
Kowalski turned back around and gunned the engine. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
11:36 P.M.
Seated in the back, Benjie tugged at his ear as he studied the topographic map shining on the screen. He hunched over the pad on his knee. He zoomed in and out on the map. His other hand continued to yank on his earlobe. Hyperfocused on the map, it took him several minutes to realize what he was doing. He forced his hand away from his head.
His ear still ached from the persistent attention.
Hadn’t done that since I was at uni.
He licked his lips, accepting the repetitive tic—the tugging at his ear—as part of his autistic behavior. Likely triggered by stress. That, and his focus on the map. He had often hurt his ear back at uni, when he was lost in his studies, especially if a difficult test was coming up.
He stared out at the passing swamplands.
This certainly counts as that.
He turned off the digital pad, fearing to waste the battery needlessly. His efforts had failed to glean any further insight. Then again, they had plenty of time to chew on the problem. It looked like it would take most of the night to reach the highlands.
He leaned back, knowing he should try to sleep, but recognizing that would never happen. Instead, he listened to the rumble of the engine and the patter of rain. Thunder boomed in the distance. He rocked with the sway of the ATV as the giant tires churned the waters.
How much longer will we be in these swamps?
From the map, he knew the terrain rose ahead. They should be onto drier land before long. Confirming that, he spotted rocks in the water. They hadn’t been there earlier. The granite boulders offered some hope that the ground was rising under them. He set about counting those he could see, to distract himself from his anxiety.
Fourteen to the left, maybe another eight on the right.
He kept searching for more—then one of them moved, rising higher, lifting a set of ears that flapped in agitation.
Those weren’t rocks.
He sat upright. “Mates! We need to be careful.”
Gray had been leaning forward, talking to his partner in the front seat, likely strategizing. “What’s wrong?”
“We’re entering a bloat of hippos.”
Kowalski scowled. “A what?”
“A group, a nest, whatever.” Benjie pointed forward. “Those gray humps are hippopotamuses. Probably even more submerged.”
As if summoned by his words, another handful of backs lifted into view. Steamy fountains of exhalations marked their rising.
So many of them . . .
“Can we go around?” Gray asked.
Kowalski turned the wheel. “I can try, but this vessel ain’t no speedboat.”
The ATV lumbered to the side, moving at a snail’s pace. Hippos floated in every direction. By now, the beasts had noted their presence and began gliding toward them. Some vanished away, likely sweeping faster underwater toward the trespassers. Hippos might look slow and ponderous on land, but in water, they were swift killers.
Gray turned to Benjie. “Could they be altered, like the jackals?”
“I don’t think so. The genetic alteration must occur in utero, after an adult is infected. Which means a full generation would have to be born and grow.” He shook his head. “A hippo’s gestation is over eight months. And their calves are slow to mature.”
“Which is too long.”
Benjie nodded. “Not enough time has passed since the virus had begun to spread. These hippos couldn’t be corrupted already.”
Gray looked behind them. “But what about the changes in the jackals?”
Benjie gulped down his fear, leaning on his studies to temper his panic. “Their gestation is only two months. By eight months, they’re full grown. Plus, jackals have a wide territorial range. They normally inhabit the Congo’s grasslands and savannas. But not always. The pack we encountered could have drifted from the source of the virus, where it could’ve been brewing for who knows how long. But hippos—they stick to their own territories.”
Gray understood. “So, those beasts out there can’t be corrupted.”
“But they can still be infected. If they are, the virus might make them hyperaggressive. Like what happened with the baboons, who are normally timid. Though, in this case, hippos are already naturally combative.”
“Great,” Kowalski said. “So super-angry hippos. Then we’d better—”
A wave of water burst across the windshield. A massive bull reared up, jaws wide, exposing its throat and two-foot-long tusks. It slammed those teeth into the glass, shattering through, sending a web of cracks across the windshield. The entire ATV jolted backward. As the bull dropped away, its two-ton bulk ripped the windshield clean off.
Benjie searched around.
Hippos closed in from all directions, ready to challenge the intruder.
Kowalski struggled to get his weapon to his shoulder. “Get ready! We’re about to play the worst game of Hungry Hungry Hippos.”
Gray yanked Faraji from the front seat and shoved the boy toward Benjie. “Both of you get to the back.”