Benjie stared off into the jungle. “Right now, we seem to be the main target of the virus. It makes us dull and unresponsive, while ramping up the environment into a more hostile state. Though, perhaps I may be placing too much intelligence and forethought into a virus. Instead, all of this might simply be due to man’s encroachment into the virus’s normal biosphere. Through roads, construction, deforestation.”
Gray pointed ahead. “On the map, it shows a major mining enterprise—Kilo-Moto—at the northeast corner of the DRC, right on the border. It’s only a couple hundred miles from where we are now. I read that its operations have been slowly spreading deeper into the jungle.”
The mine had also caught Gray’s attention for another reason. It was a major gold-mining operation, established when nuggets were discovered along the Ituri River in 1903. Considering Gray’s team was hunting for a mythic kingdom tied to legends of King Solomon’s famous gold mine, he thought the current operation might further support an historical basis for a lost mine being established in this region.
Benjie stared off in the direction where Gray had pointed. “Maybe the uptick in local mining upset the virus’s natural environment, allowing it to break loose. But I don’t know.” He rubbed at the peach-fuzz scruff of beard over his jawline. “I’m not buying it. I still think we’re missing a main catalyst. Something more dramatic that immediately impacted the environment and loosed the virus on the world.”
“Like what?”
Benjie shrugged. “I have no idea. But if there’s an answer, it lies somewhere ahead of us.”
Gray returned his full attention forward.
Then we’d better find it.
5:02 A.M.
Forty minutes later, Gray rubbed the sweat from his eyes. The stream they had been following had grown steamy, heated to a near boil. It raised the humidity in the area and added a sulfurous stink to the air.
He was relieved when the waterway finally vanished underground. As he rode past the hot spring, its presence served as reminder that this entire rift area was geologically active, prone to frequent earthquakes, and home to volcanoes both dormant and active.
Unfortunately, while he was happy to escape the spring’s sulfurous heat, the jungle quickly closed in on both sides. To make matters worse, the terrain climbed yet again.
Gray slowed the ATV. Through breaks in the canopy—and with the clouds momentarily thinning to allow the moon to shine—he spotted the dark silhouette of peaks and cliffs cutting the sky in half ahead. He tried to judge the distance.
We must be close.
Gray drew to a stop and nudged Kowalski, who still snored next to him. When there was no response, he tried once more, with more fervor. After still nothing, he tried to elbow him in the ribs—only to have his arm caught in a large mitt.
“Hit me again,” Kowalski said, shoving Gray away, “and I’ll return the favor—only a lot harder.”
Gray ignored the threat. “Just grab my pack. It’s time we checked in. Maybe Painter and Kat are having better luck than us.”
Kowalski grumbled, retrieved the sat-phone from his bag, and resecured its battery. He handed it over to Gray. “I’d bet my left nut that Sigma’s as lost as we are.”
Gray placed more confidence in the others. He called up Sigma command. The connection was immediately picked up. Both Painter and Kat were on the line, clearly waiting for this call.
“We reached the highlands,” Gray reported in. “Any luck at your end?”
“I’ll let Kat answer that,” Painter said.
Gray heard the strain in her voice when she came on the line. “We weren’t able to pinpoint any single site with certainty,” she admitted. “Then again, the photo was taken over a century ago. Between erosion and landslides, the topography has likely changed significantly.”
Gray closed his eyes, his heart sinking in his chest.
Kat continued, “Jason and I were able to do some extrapolations. We searched for those areas that most closely matched the silhouette in the photo. We came up with eighteen possible sites. I’m transmitting them to you now.”
Cradling the phone at his ear, Gray pulled out his digital pad and brought up the topo map. As he watched, tiny blue squares appeared on the screen, dotting the highlands.
So many . . .
“You weren’t able to narrow them any further?” Gray asked.
“We’ve been a tad busy,” she said sharply.
He could guess the source of her irritability and tension. “Any word on Monk and the others?”
“Not yet,” she answered curtly.
Painter cut in. “Between the chaos spreading with the virus and a less-than-efficient chain of command in the DRC, it’s been difficult to get cooperation. Plus, the entire area is being pounded by thunderstorms. We’re hoping by dawn to be able to mount a more determined effort.”
Gray could only imagine Kat’s fear. “I have no doubt Monk will hold his own until then.”
“He damned well better,” she answered.
Gray studied the spread of blue dots on his map. Despite his own worries for his best friend, he set aside those fears, compartmentalizing them away. There was nothing he could do out here, and he had his own daunting task ahead.
Fearing to keep this connection open any longer, he signed off. He gave the others a brief account of the call. He passed the topo map around to show them the challenge ahead.
Kowalski returned the pad to him with a scowl. “Doesn’t give us much to go on.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
Kowalski settled back to his seat. “Well, at least I get to keep my left nut.”
Benjie stared out at the jungle. “Where do we go from here? Where do we even start?”
Gray got the ATV moving again. “We’ll head to the closest spot on the map—then search each site after that.”
Benjie leaned back. “We could be out here for weeks. Do we have provisions for that long?”
“No,” Gray admitted.
Still, with no other guidance, they had to continue. He aimed the ATV up the next ridge and set off across the jungle. The forest thickened with every mile, and the terrain grew ever steeper and more treacherous. Their pace became slower than a man could walk.
Gray became convinced that Benjie’s judgment of their timetable was a vast underestimate. It could take months, rather than weeks, to search all eighteen sites.
He grunted in exasperation as he reached a challenging ridge. The tires slipped, and dug, then slipped again. Their passage left a deep scar behind them. Still, considering how quickly the jungle filled in any open space, he knew their path would vanish in mere days.
That thought only unnerved him.
As he rattled and rolled deeper into this maze of rock and forest, he remembered the story told by Father Bailey, how back in the twelfth century, the personal physician of Pope Alexander III had vanished into this jungle, searching for the lost kingdom of Prester John, never to be seen again.
No wonder.
Gray glanced at the rearview mirror. He swore he could see the path closing up behind them. Maybe it was a trick of the vehicle’s jostling light, but it looked as if vines had snaked across the ruts and tears. On either side, ferns draped their fronds across their trail. He rubbed at his eyes and squinted, but he was focused the wrong way.
“Look out!” Benjie yelled.
He shifted his attention forward—then braked hard.
Kowalski was thrown against his seat restraints. “What the hell?”
Something shot through the open windshield and imbedded into the seatback between Gray and Kowalski. It was a spear. The shaft vibrated in place next to them.
Swearing loudly, Kowalski snapped off his seat belt and raised his Shuriken, shouldering it at his cheek.
Gray reached over and pushed the muzzle down. “Hold on.”
Ahead of them, lit by the headlights’ beams, stood a cluster of small figures. They were naked, except for loincloths, and armed with spears and bows. Gray was certain there were more hunters hidden in the forest, too.
He flashed to the stick figures sketched on the second-to-last photo in Sheppard’s collection. It had depicted a similar scenario.
Pygmies.