"Rebecca?" Brandt spat out. As much as he swore he wouldn't just repeat things, he couldn't help himself. "What the fuck would Rebecca be doing here?"
"Sarge," Lopez interjected, stepping between Brandt and Davidson, "she was like Bridezilla on steroids. There was no keeping her off the plane."
Brandt's fury rose, threatening to blind him. He wanted to lash out, but all that came to the tip of his tongue was swear words. Lots and lots of swear words. A litany of them. Yet they stalled there, unable to pass his lips.
He could still hear her words as he was lifted into the Disciples' helicopter. "We are right behind you." Not "The men are right behind you." Or "They are right behind you," but "We are right behind you." He should have known Rebecca would find a way to tag along. Not even his Death Star gaze could have stopped her. And on her wedding day?
Maybe he did need to cut his men some slack. Just a little.
"Fine," Brandt snapped. "Where is she, then?"
Again, Davidson became obsessed with a patch of moss on the ground.
"Davidson..."
"Look," Lopez said, "there was a plane crash, and then some crazy tribesmen-"
"Where?"
"We don't know," Davidson finally admitted. "I couldn't hold on...And she went down somewhere in the forest."
Brandt wanted to strangle the sniper, but something about the way his voice hitched with shame kept Brandt from fulfilling his desire. As a matter of fact, all the men seemed equally upset that Rebecca was missing.
Which didn't fucking change the fact she was missing.
"But hey, we sent our best tracker, Levont, out for her before we hoofed it here," Lopez explained.
"And?"
Lopez frowned. "Um, we haven't heard from him."
Brandt didn't bother repeating that. No point.
"And what exactly is Command doing to locate both of them?"
The moss kicking again. Talli actually turned to look deeper into the forest as if keeping sentry. Yeah, right.
"What the fuck are they doing?" Brandt demanded.
Davidson sighed. "They tried to reassign us, so we kind of went AWOL."
Brandt tried to keep his temper in check. Unfortunately, that usually meant grinding his teeth, and well, one of them was fucking missing at the moment.
"Please specify what 'kind of' AWOL means?"
"Hey," Lopez jumped in, "they weren't sending anyone after you. We had to come."
"Which would simply make you AWOL," Brandt added.
"Right, and they cut us off," Davidson said. "But once we were here, they hooked us up with thermal imaging of the village."
"Which would then make you on active duty."
"Yeah." Lopez sighed. "Then they cut us off. Not sure why."
Brandt glared at each of his men in turn. Including the back of Talli's head.
"Let me get this straight," Brandt said as calmly and cautiously as he could. "You brought my bride to Africa, lost her in the jungle, and now have no way to find her?"
"True, all," Lopez said, nodding. "But I've got great video." The corporal must have felt the wave of rage coming his way as he raised his hands in surrender. "Sorry, sorry." When Brandt backed off a step, Lopez continued. "Too soon?"
A glare shut him up.
"Silver lining here," Davidson added. "Levont was supposed to gather Rebecca and take her to the spot we dropped the little girl. So we do have a secondary staging point."
Brandt just picked up a pack-he didn't even know who's it was-and set off north. Lopez trotted to catch up with him.
"Come on, Sarge, I know you are worried, but this is Dr. Monroe we are talking about. Rebecca and the jungle are BFFs. Remember Ecuador?"
That was the problem. The first time Brandt had laid eyes on his bride-to-be was seared into his brain. At the time, she had gotten herself tied to a stake with an anaconda about to squeeze the life from her.
So he would consider their relationship a little more on the frenemies side. Vicious, cold-blooded frenemies.
He hoped the jungle knew what it was doing when it messed with Rebecca.
Frellan breathed in through his nose and whistled the air through his teeth as he stared down at the blip on the screen, which was supposed to give him the exact location of Brandt. It was the only reason they had allowed the man to escape. The Master had thought that Frellan would take too long in his ministrations. She had put them on this path.
Of course, the Master had not counted on the rest of his team arriving so rudely unannounced. Why have someone placed so highly in the US government if they were not forewarned of such things?
Across the clearing, Mikhal glared that glare of his. The sniper was still angered that he had been taken out of the equation. But how exactly were they to allow Brandt to think he'd run off on his own if they had revealed they had the sniper with them?
Had the sniper taken a single shot, Brandt would have known he survived only by the Master's good graces. And another, more closely held reason burned in Frellan's chest. He would not allow the sniper to share in the glory of finding their Savior. That alone was reserved for Frellan. He alone must atone for his family's sins.
But now, now here he stood, staring down at a tooth. The white enamel glistened brightly against the deep-green ground. The words Fuck You dug into the loam.
Usugo kicked the thing deeper into the forest.
They were not without their resources, though. He turned as one of their trackers trotted up to him.
"There is a clear trail for the SUV heading due east."
Even someone with half of Frellan's experience would know that there was a clear trail east. It was not Brandt's ultimate path. Frellan looked through the trees to the position of the moon. They would not have the British satellite feed for another half an hour. Brandt was in no shape to make a speedy escape from the region. This escape attempt reeked of desperation.
There was no reason to linger here. He gave the signal to return to the village.
Frellan let his body shift side to side as it navigated the treacherous road back to the village. Closing his eyes, he let the rhythm bring him closer to God. He did not resist the rough course that He had put him upon. As they made the last hairpin turn into the village, Frellan opened his eyes to find Monnie standing on the wooden stoop of a dilapidated hut. She bent her head in supplication as he exited the Jeep.
He ignored her. His only want was to find a quiet hut and a subject to express his desires upon. As he went to pass, she whispered, "Master Frellan."
There was something beguiling in that soft tone. Beguiling enough for him to turn to her. "Yes, Monnie?"
"I believe I have found someone you should speak to."
Frellan had not even noticed the older woman huddled at Monnie's feet. You could smell the fear on the woman. Her dark eyes tried so hard not to stare at his piercings, yet they failed. He knelt beside the old woman, cupping her face. Ah, so many wrinkles to work with. Her sagging features a worthy canvas for him to work upon.
"She says she has information if we agree to not harm anyone in the village."
"And you agreed to such terms?"
Monnie would not meet his eye. "Yes, I thought it better to-"
He held up his hand. Her arrogance would be dealt with later. Perhaps she was used to such latitude, given her new position as a watcher of the word. In the sanctuary, the title held great power. In the African forest? She would learn. What message would it send the Master if he marred that smooth skin of Monnie's?
He let none of that show on his face, however. He simply nodded. The woman prattled on in a smattering of French and Lingala. Frellan, however, caught the salient points. The girl had been entrusted to a local witch doctor.
"There," she said in English, pointing up the mountain.
Frellan turned to Ugudo. "The helicopter." He turned to the next man. "Leave no witnesses."
"No!" Monnie cried out. "You promised!" she said as she went to slap his face.
Frellan caught her hand in midair. "No, Monnie. You promised that which you could not honor." Her hand shook as shots, then screams rang out across the village. His only regret that it would all be over so quickly. Frellan usually liked to take his time. Put true effort into the taking of someone's life. They deserved as much.
"So you will never speak for me again?"
Auburn eyes swimming in tears looked up at him. She had never been more beautiful as she sobbed. "No."
Rebecca chewed on the last of her portion, trying to suppress her gag reflex. How she wished that python tasted like chicken. It did not. Not at all. It tasted like...well, charbroiled snake. She would not recommend it.
But with some food, no matter how gross, in her belly, some fresh water, and a few more Kola seeds, Rebecca was feeling almost as good as new. And from the girl next to her's beaming face, she was feeling pretty darn good as well.
"Do you speak English?" Rebecca asked.
"Un peu," the girl responded.
Which of course was French for "a little bit."
And Lord knew Rebecca's French was a bit atrocious. She looked over to the older man, who had taken to butchering the rest of the python. All twenty feet of him. While she was grateful for all that the man had done for her, Rebecca had to look away. Besides, he didn't even seem eager to speak the native language, let alone English.
"Is that your grandfather? Grandpere?"
The girl shook her head. "Just lehrer."
Teacher. Rebecca knew that term in German. Hell, she knew it in just about every language.
"I am Rebecca," she said, extending her hand. The girl took her hand, then cupped her own elbow. A sign of respect across Africa.
Even though the gesture was usually used to show reverence to elders, Rebecca mimicked the action, nodding in synch with the little girl, whose smile radiated nearly as brightly as the fire.
"Vakasa," she answered.
"Thank you, Vakasa," Rebecca said, but when the girl looked confused, she added, "Merci beaucoup."
Vakasa shook her head, though. "Non. Guro."
"Thank you" in Filipino. "For what?"
The girl spoke quickly in like five languages. The words whizzed past so quickly that Rebecca wasn't sure if she'd translated properly. For what is to come.
Rebecca had started to ask the girl what she meant when she heard the distinct sound of helicopter rotors. Since they were not squealing in complaint, Rebecca could only assume it was not Lopez.
That wasn't good.
As the old man grabbed his spear, he seemed to agree. Their eyes met over the fire. Then his gaze slid from Rebecca to the girl. The message obvious. I will hold them off. You get the girl out of here.
Or at least that's what she meant, because that was Rebecca's plan.
Bunny watched as the screen bloomed to life. The green of the African jungle punctuated with orange blobs. A lot of them.
"What's going on?"
Prenner leaned against his fists on the desk. His eyes scanned the data. For a remote forest, there were a lot of blips. Some much smaller than a human. Some much, much bigger. The jungle seemed abuzz with activity. Given the aftershock of a few hours ago, it wasn't surprising. Then there were the human-sized blips. But which of those were Brandt's team, the Disciples, and which were just villagers going about their business?
In addition to the bright oranges, there were stark-yellow markers that slowly turned a light blue. The dead. So many of them too.
"There," he said, pointing northeast. "Those four blips. They are on the move. It's got to be Brandt and his men."
"You didn't order any air support, did you?" Emily asked the lieutenant.
"No," he said, shaking his head. "Everything we have is tied up in Somalia."
Bunny was about to inquire why Emily had asked. Then she noticed two fairly large blobs moving at a very fast speed toward the peek of the mountains.
"No," she groaned. They were helicopters. The damn Disciples were well outfitted. Too well outfitted. And here Brandt and the rest were traveling on foot.
"Looks like they are converging on these three figures," the tech stated as he drew a bright-red circle around a small hut in the middle of the jungle. That had to be Rebecca and Levont. But who was the third small blip? Bunny watched as the helicopters quickly made up the distance. "And it looks like those choppers are going to win the race."
Bunny gulped and turned to Emily. "And what are you going to do about it?"
Emily grabbed Bunny's hand and gave it a squeeze. "Pray."