Drake Sisters 04 - Dangerous Tides

to climb swiftly up to the crotch of a tall evergreen tree that was particularly heavy with foliage. From this view, he could easily see the forest floor. It looked bare, but he knew it was teeming with insects, like a living carpet over the poor soil. He waited, knowing the rebels would come swarming through the jungle. Major Biyoya would be furious that Jack had escaped. Biyoya would have to answer to the general, and General Ekabela wasn't known to treat anyone failing him kindly.

    Shouted curses and orders, anger and fear in the voices drifted with the smoke through the trees. Jack hoped one of the burning logs he'd kicked out of the fire pit had lit on fire the small leaf-covered hut the major liked to use.

    Jack took stock of his weapons. He had two assault rifles with limited ammunition, a machete, two knives, and sewn into his pants were several garrotes. More than guns and knives, Jack had his psychic and physical enhancements, products of experimentation enabling him to become a member of the covert GhostWalker team.

    Around him, the heavy foliage kept him hidden and the vines enabled fast travel up and down the trees should he need it. The sound of the rain was a steady companion, but the heavy drops barely penetrated the thick canopy above him. The moisture that did touch him helped to ease the oppressive heat.

    The soldiers entered the jungle in a standard search pattern, each man spaced no more than four feet apart, but spread out to cover a wide area. That told him the major was on scene and directing his men, establishing order in the midst of chaos. Jack hunkered down, rifle in his arms, and watched the rebels emerging through the broad leafy plants and giant ferns. They thought they were quiet, but he heard the steady gasp of breath as air moved through their lungs. Even without that he would still have spotted them easily. To his GhostWalker-enhanced vision, the yellow and red heat waves of their bodies glowed neon bright against the cooler jungle foliage. He smelled the excitement oozing from their pores. It should have been fear. They knew they were going into the jungle after a wounded predator, and he would be hunting them, but they had no way of knowing what kind of man he was.

    Jack had moved fast across the bare ground of the camp, but once under cover of the shadows, he was certain he'd hidden his tracks. He'd been careful not to disturb the plants on the trees as he'd gone up, leaping most of the way, landing lightly on the balls of his feet so as not to smear moss or lichen to give away his presence. They expected him to run toward Kinshasa, to get away as quickly as possible. None of them looked up, certainly not into the high canopy, and he sat quietly while the first-wave of about thirty soldiers passed him by.

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    He examined the weapons thoroughly, familiarizing himself with the feel of each one. He took his time weaving a sheath for the machete, using a vine for the sling. All the while he watched and listened, hunting in his mind, picking his trails from his vantage point, listening to the whispers of the men as they passed directly under his tree. Thirst was a problem, and as soon as the last of the stragglers had passed, he stashed one of the rifles in the crotch of the tree branch and made his way back toward the edge of the camp in silence. Using the vines to spider across the treetops, he cut a succulent vine containing replenishing liquid and held it to his mouth, careful to keep from spilling a drop.

    A howler monkey screamed a warning a few hundred yards to his left and he froze, gradually allowing the hollow vine to slide back into the tangle with the rest. Inverting his body with slow precision, he moved like a wraith, head first, down the vine toward the forest floor. Dangling a few feet above ground, he made a graceful turn to set his feet carefully in the damp surface, landing in a crouching position, weapon up and ready. He froze when the two perimeter guards looked directly at him, his body blending in with the trees and foliage around him. The two lone soldiers looked around them warily and then exchanged heated comments, culminating in one handing the other a joint.

    Smoke billowed from one of the huts, and he caught glimpses of small flames still flickering in the remains. Two soldiers worked to stack the bodies of the dead while a third and fourth helped the injured.
    Jack skirted