Carpathian 23 - Dark Storm

themselves and watched everyone. She came
     to the conclusion that they knew a lot more about what was going on than they let
     on.
    Don Weston and his friend Mack Shelton were a pair of idiots as far as she could see.
     Neither had ever made the trek into a rain forest, and clearly they were afraid of
     everything. They blustered, complained and bullied the porters and guides when they
     weren’t leering at Riley or feeding the rampant distrust among the travelers.
    Ben Charger seemed much more knowledgeable about the rain forest and the tribes occupying
     it. He’d done extensive research and had come prepared. He didn’t like either Weston
     or Shelton, but had to work with them and clearly wasn’t happy about it. He spent
     a lot of time talking to the guides and porters, asking questions and trying to learn
     from them. Riley couldn’t really fault him for anything. Perhaps she was just nervous
     about everyone at this point.
    The archaeologist and his students were very excited and seemed completely oblivious
     to the tension running through the camp, although she noticed they were uneasy at
     night, sitting close to the fire. They seemed driven, amicable and very focused on
     their mission. Dr. Henry Patton and his two students, Todd Dillon and Marty Shepherd,
     were more excited about the ruins they’d heard about than interested in whether or
     not a woman in their company was bringing bad luck to the travelers. They seemed young
     and naïve, even the professor, who was in his late fifties. His entire world revolved
     around academia.
    Riley felt a little sorry for all three archaeologists, that they were so clueless,
     and more grateful than ever that she’d chosen to concentrate her studies on modern
     languages rather than dead ones. She enjoyed traveling, talking with people and living
     life too much to be locked in an ivory tower, poring over dusty tomes. Of course,
     she’d studied ancient languages as well, but primarily as a window to the evolution
     of languages and their impact on various cultures.
    Riley glanced toward Raul and Capa, the two porters who had shared the boat with them
     coming upriver. She didn’t like the way they whispered and sent surreptitious glances
     toward Annabel’s sleeping hammock. Maybe that terrible buzzing in her head was making
     her as paranoid as everyone else, but in any case, there was no sleeping. She didn’t
     just have to worry about the men in her camp; the insects and bats and every other
     night creature seemed to stalk her mother as well.
    She’d gone four nights without sleep, watching over her mother, and it was beginning
     to show, fraying her nerves so that she found it nearly impossible to tolerate Weston’s
     snide, leering presence. She didn’t want to add to the problems by being ugly to him,
     but she was definitely at that point. The fire blazed bright. Just outside the ring
     of fire, a jaguar coughed. He seemed to follow them, yet when the guides went out
     to check in the morning, they couldn’t find tracks. It was impossible not to be affected
     by that sawing, grunting cough.
    She could hear the slow fluttering of wings over Annabel’s head. Vampire bats landed
     in the trees, brushing the leaves and filling the branches until the tree groaned,
     trying to support the weight of so many. Riley swallowed hard and slowly turned her
     head toward the leaping fire. The porters and guides stared at the tree filled with
     hanging bats. The creatures had gone from interesting to sinister in a matter of seconds
     for the fourth night in a row.
    Pedro, the guide, and Raul and Capa, the two porters from her boat, moved a little
     into the shadows. All three gripped their machetes. The looks on their faces as the
     flickering flames revealed their expressions frightened her. For one heart-stopping
     moment, the men seemed every bit as threatening as the bats. Riley sat up slowly.
     She’d left her boots on, knowing she’d be protecting her mother.
    Annabel slept restlessly, groaning at times. Her mother had always had acute hearing,
     even in her sleep. A cat walking across the floor would wake her, but since entering
     the rain forest, she seemed exhausted and weak. At night she twisted and turned in
     her hammock, sometimes weeping softly, pressing her hands to her head. Even when the
     bats dropped to earth and surrounded her, using their wings to propel them through
     the thick vegetation, Annabel never opened her eyes.
    Riley had