Tents made to look like wooden structures. And pretty good ones, too. It was no wonder they had fooled the aerial survey, Evans thought.
As they watched, men emerged from one or another of the tents and shouted to others down the beach. They were speaking English, but it was difficult to make out what they were saying at this distance. Most of it seemed to be technical.
Sanjong nudged Evans again. Evans saw him make a kind of pyramid with three fingers. Then he began to wiggle the fingers.
So, apparently they were tuning the generators in the tent. Or something like that.
The others in the group did not seem to be interested in the details. They were breathing hard, catching their breaths in the soft breeze, and staring down at the bay. And probably thinking, as Evans was, that there were a lot of men down there. At least eight or ten. All in jeans and work shirts.
"Christ, there's a lot of those bastards," Bradley muttered.
Jennifer nudged him hard in the ribs.
He mouthed: Oh, sorry.
She shook her head. She mouthed: You'll get us killed.
Bradley made a face. He clearly thought she was being melodramatic.
Then, from the jungle below them, they heard a cough.
They froze.
They waited in silence. They heard the buzz of cicadas, the occasional call of distant birds.
It came again, the same soft cough. As if the person was trying not to make noise.
Sanjong crouched down, listening hard. The cough came a third time, and to Evans there was the strangest sensation of familiarity about it. It reminded him of his grandfather, who had had heart failure when Evans was a kid. His grandfather used to cough like that, in the hospital. Weakly. Little coughs.
Now there was silence. They had not heard the cougher move away--if he had, he was truly noiseless--but the sound stopped.
Kenner looked at his watch. They waited five minutes, then he signaled for them to continue moving east, curving around the bay.
Just as they were leaving, they heard the cough once more. This time, there were three, in succession:uh uh uh. Then nothing.
Kenner signaled. Move out.
They had not gone a hundred yards when they came upon a path. It was a clear trail, even though the overhanging branches hung low. It must be an animal trail, Evans thought, wondering vaguely what kind of animals they might be. There were probably feral pigs here. There were pigs everywhere. He vaguely remembered stories of people being surprised by pigs, gored by the tusks of an aggressive boar that charged out of the underbrush--
The first thing he heard, however, was a mechanicalclick. He knew instantly what it was: the sound of a gun being cocked.
The entire group froze, strung out in single file. Nobody moved.
Anotherclick.
And another. Click!
Evans looked around quickly. He saw nobody. It seemed they were alone in the jungle.
Then he heard a voice:"Dai. Nogot sok, waitman. Indai. Stopim!"
Evans had no idea what it meant, but the meaning was clear enough to them all. Nobody moved.
From the bushes ahead, a young boy emerged. He was wearing boots without socks, green shorts, a "Madonna World Tour" T-shirt, and a baseball cap that said "Perth Glory." A half-smoked cigarette stub hung from his lips. He had an ammunition belt over one shoulder and a machine gun slung over the other shoulder. He was five feet tall and could not have been more than ten or eleven. He pointed his gun with casual insolence."Okay, waitman. You prisner biulong me, savve? Bookim dano!" And he jerked his thumb, indicating they should move forward."Gohet!"
For a moment, they were all too astonished to move. Then, from the jungle on both sides of the path, other boys emerged.
Bradley said, "What is this, the lost boys?"
Without expression, one of the kids slammed the butt of his rifle into Bradley's stomach. Bradley gasped and went down.
"Stopim waitman bilong toktok."
"Oh, Jesus," Bradley said, rolling on the ground.
The kid hit him again, this time in the head, and kicked him hard. Bradley moaned.
"Antap! Antap!"the kid said, gesturing for him to get up. When Bradley didn't respond, the kid kicked him again."Antap!"
Sarah went over and helped Bradley to his feet. Bradley was coughing. Sarah was smart enough not to say anything.
"Oh, nais mari,"the kid said. Then he pushed her away from Bradley.
"Antap!"
But as they trudged forward, one of the kids went over to Bradley, and squeezed the back of his arm, the triceps. He laughed."Taiis gut!"
Evans felt a chill, as the words sank in. These boys were speaking a version of English. He could decipher it, if he thought about it a little, and played the words back in his head. Nais mari was "Nice Mary." Maybe Mary was a word for woman. Antap was "And up."
Andtaiis gut was "Taste good."
They walked single file through the jungle, the kids at their side. Kenner was in the lead, then Ted, who was bleeding from his head, and Sarah, and Jennifer. Then Evans.
Evans glanced over his shoulder.
Sanjong was not behind him.
All he saw was another ragged kid with a rifle."Antap! Antap!"
The kid made a threatening gesture with his rifle.