Carpathian 23 - Dark Storm

and anyone in the group could
     know about. Anyone could be responsible for these attacks on her mother. Weston fed
     the superstition, although both he and Shelton appeared to be sleeping restlessly
     in their hammocks, unaware of the unfolding drama.
    Time ticked by in slow seconds. Raul continued doggedly forward. Jubal didn’t blink.
     He could have been carved from stone. The bats shuffled toward Riley, closing in on
     the flaming torches and the circle of light around Annabel.
    “Hän kalma, emni hän ku köd alte. Tappatak naman. Tappatak naman.”
    Her heart slammed hard, beat after beat, that same menacing rhythm of the porter’s
     diabolical chanting. She realized immediately that even the bats were dragging themselves
     toward Annabel at that same exact pace. Everything around her, from the bizarre swaying
     of the trees to the dancing of the flames in spite of the stillness of the wind, leapt
     to the porter’s chant. That chant was emanating from inside their heads. Someone in the camp had to be targeting Annabel, using hallucinogens
     and casting suspicion on her. The fact that the plants and trees responded to her
     only fed superstition. It made no sense at all.
    Miguel and Pedro closed in on one side of Raul. Their brother, Alejandro, came in
     fast from the other side. All three frowned in concentration, shaking heads to get
     that wicked chant out of their minds while they tried to save the porter from Jubal’s
     gun. He was related to them in some way, Riley remembered, but many of the villagers
     were related. Their affection for him thankfully overcame the terrible hallucination
     Raul seemed trapped in.
    As they closed around him, grabbing his hand to keep the machete out of play, the
     porter continued to try to walk forward, ignoring the three guides hanging on to him.
     He kept up his macabre chant. Riley swept her torch across the ground as the first
     line of bats came too close to her mother, even as she tried to puzzle out the meaning
     of those strange, guttural sounds emerging from Raul’s mouth.
    The scent of burned flesh permeated the air. Bats scrambled back as she swung her
     torch again in a circle, low to the ground, driving the creatures back and away from
     her mother’s hammock. Two were already starting up the tree trunk. She jabbed at them
     both with the business end of the torch and then, when they caught on fire, knocked
     them to the ground, kicking at the fireballs to get them away from Annabel.
    She heard the scuttle of the wings dragging through vegetation behind her and she
     whirled around to find the bats had circled to the other side of the hammock. Ben
     Charger caught up a torch, the flames throwing his face into sharp relief. Deep lines
     cut into his face, making him look maniacal. His eyes blazed with a kind of fury.
     For a moment she was afraid for her mother, but he took the torch and swept it over
     the approaching vampire bats, driving them back, setting the persistent ones on fire.
    Gary battled more on his side of the hammock. She raced around behind Jubal and swept
     her torch across the line of bats sneaking their way beneath the hammock from that
     direction. The smell was horrible, and she couldn’t stop coughing as black smoke rose
     around them. Annabel never woke, but twisted and fought in her hammock as the three
     men helped Riley protect her.
    Miguel and Pedro dragged Raul away, through the thick vegetation, as he refused to
     stand, refused to retreat, trying desperately to continue forward in spite of the
     threat of the gun. The porter continued to repeat the same phrase over and over. The
     others growled commands at him, but he didn’t hear, so far gone into his hallucination.
     Alejandro retrieved the machete, keeping it well clear of Raul’s seeking hands.
    They dragged him to the far side of the camp and held him prisoner there. The archaeologist
     and his students hesitantly came across the ground to study the mess of dead and dying
     bats and to watch the others retreat from the flames ringing the hammock.
    “Are you all right?” Dr. Patton asked. “This is bizarre. Did that man seriously try
     to kill one of you with a machete?”
    He seemed as if he was waking from a daze. He looked so shocked Riley had an unexpected
     urge to laugh. He’d been tramping through the rain forest with them for four long
     days. He’d heard the stories of snake and piranha attacks over and over thanks to
     Weston, who didn’t seem to