Kalahari (23 page)

E
veryone yelled and several of the men fired involuntarily, spraying the sand at our feet with bullets. The silver lion landed beside the mercenary who’d been smoking, his paws sending up a spray of dust.

“Go go
go
!” I yelled. “Under the trucks!”

As the mercenaries fired at the lion, we darted toward the trucks and dove beneath them, wriggling across the sand and then maneuvering around to see if we’d been followed. I kept myself well apart from the others, Sam on one side, Joey on the other. . . . “Wait! Where are Kase and Miranda?”

“They went the other way, toward the tents,” said Avani.

The lion had disappeared, presumably back into the bush, but I could still hear him roaring furiously from somewhere in the grass. He was moving fast out there, circling the camp. Abramo’s hired men ran amok, shouting and shooting at the bush.

Avani’s eyes looked wild. “How—”

She was interrupted by a deafening roar, and suddenly sand sprayed into our faces as four massive paws sprinted past the car—paws of pure silver. The lion bowled through a cluster of mercenaries, who scattered like pigeons. Gone was the regal, sorrowful lion I had met in the bush only yesterday. This Androcles was all fire and fury.

“—is it still following us?” Avani finished, wiping sand from her eyes.

“Bad guy, twelve o’clock!” yelled Joey.

One of the Afrikaner mercenaries had regained his composure and headed toward us, lowering his gun to line up a shot at Sam.

“No!” I shouted.

Before he could shoot, Androcles came galloping from behind a tent. I gasped as the lion sprung, and the man never even saw it coming. The giant paws, flashing with light, struck him at the base of his neck, and he fell face forward into the sand. Avani shrieked and covered her eyes as the lion’s jaws closed on the man’s head. The mercenary’s screams pierced the air louder than even the shots being fired at his feline attacker.

I could see several of the bullets strike home, tearing gouges into Androcles’s hide. From the wounds poured scarlet blood, but the lion wasn’t slowed. I remembered what Dr. Monaghan had said about Metalcium’s intended purpose in healing wounds, how it had taken a hailstorm of bullets to bring down the infected scientists. That must have accounted for why the lion seemed only slightly affected by the bullets. He shook himself, his tail curling and uncurling silver hair floating free of his shimmering mane. Then he snarled, showing rows of gleaming pearly teeth, and sprinted away in a spray of sand, at once terrifying and bizarrely beautiful.

“Now’s our chance,” Sam said. “While they’re distracted, we can steal a car and get away. I’ll go look for Miranda and Kase. See if you can get into one of the trucks.”

He backed up and was off while Avani, Joey, and I crawled out and tried the doors.

“Locked!” Joey exclaimed. “Why would they lock them?”

Avani was already running to the next vehicle in the line, but when she reached the door, she shook her head.

“They’re all locked!”

The gunmen around us seemed to hardly care what we did. They were too busy firing at every blade of grass that moved, calling to one another, “Over here!” or “There! There!”

“Look out!” called Avani. “Chopper!”

A helicopter set down in the grass just outside the camp, and before it even touched the earth, the door opened and Abramo, followed by a cluster of mercenaries, jumped out. They ran straight in Sam’s direction.

“Sam!” I yelled, taking off at a sprint. I slipped between two of the tents, then froze. Sam was standing behind the tents with his hands spread at his sides, facing Abramo, who had a pistol aimed at him. I hadn’t been seen, and I backed up just enough to conceal myself and get a partial view.

“Please!” Sam pleaded. “Sarah needs medical attention. Let me take her to a hospital and—”

“Where are the rest of you?” Abramo demanded, glaring.

“They—
Lion
!” Sam yelled suddenly, pointing behind Abramo, who spun and raised his gun. Androcles wasn’t there, but Sam used the opportunity to disappear into the grass. Abramo turned back and cursed when he saw his quarry had vanished.

I needed to do something. There had to be another gun lying around somewhere—these guys had them coming out their ears. I backed up slowly, almost bumping into Avani, who had caught up. The close call made me dizzy, and I stepped hastily away.

“Search the tents,” I whispered. “Find a gun.”

She nodded and immediately ducked into the first tent, and I charged into the second.

When I opened the flap, someone jumped out at me and I shrieked and fell backward, almost toppling over.

“Oh, it’s you.”

“Miranda! Why’d you leap out at me like that? Never mind. Move.”

I stepped around her and into the tent. Kase and Miranda blinked at me like a pair of owls.

“Are there any guns in here?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” said Kase. “But there’s some kind of off-brand Gatorade.”

He held up a bottle of blue liquid, and I’d never seen a sight more beautiful. I took it and drained it in seconds, feeling my body come alive, cell by cell.

When I lowered it, I saw the two of them staring in shock at my arm. In my haste to drink, I had let my sleeve slide back and the silver plate that stretched from my elbow to my palm was in plain sight.

“Oh,” said Miranda softly. “Oh, Sarah . . .”

“Forget it,” I said, shaken but determined to stay on track. “We’re getting out of here while everyone’s distracted. Go help Sam and Avani look for guns or keys to the cars—anything that can help.”

“How long have you been like that?” asked Kase, his eyes still fixed on my arm, even though I’d rolled down my sleeve.

“Just go!” I urged them.

There were still random shots being fired all around us, and I didn’t like sending them out into the middle of that, but it would be worse if the men managed to kill the lion and turned their attention back to us.

I began searching through the tent. There was only one cot, against the far wall, and from the look of the place I imagined it was Abramo’s. There was nothing personal about any of the items, not so much as a photograph or a souvenir. There was, however, a box of spare batteries, likely for their handheld radios and other devices. At first, I tore my eyes away, but they were drawn back to the box as if magnetized. I grabbed two AAs.

In a quick, practiced motion, I popped open the back of Mom’s recorder and replaced the old batteries. Then, my stomach in knots, I pressed play.

The noise outside seemed a thousand miles away. I barely noticed Kase and Miranda sneak out of the tent, hissing for me to follow. With my teeth clenched so hard that I could feel my pulse in my cheek, I held the recorder to my ear and listened.

Her voice crackled to life. “—one thing Monaghan doesn’t know. I’m infected.”

I forget entirely about the gunfight outside. The tent could have burned down around me and I wouldn’t have noticed.

“I touched one of their silver rats. I didn’t mean to—I thought it was dead, and I opened the cage. . . . I realized I was infected this morning. It matches the symptoms the scientists described in their notes: interminable itching. All over, like being covered in lice. I’ve half a mind to tell them, but then what’ll they do? Keep me, that’s what. They’ll let me die in agony like their poor test subjects, while they take down notes. But if they don’t find out, they’ll simply get rid of me. There’s a man coming, Monaghan told me, a professional. Abrams or Abramo or something.” My blood turned to ice. My fingers locked like steel bands around the recording, as I hardened with cold rage. Mom’s voice went on, “He’ll want to stage my . . . my death like an accident, which means he’ll likely leave me somewhere Ty . . . Oh. I can’t believe I’m saying this.” She let out a long, rattling breath. “He’ll leave me where Ty can find my body. If I disappear without a trace, Ty will search deeper and deeper until he finds this place, which they don’t want. So. They’ll leave me somewhere in the savanna, but the joke will be on them.” She emitted a dry, humorless laugh. “Because even if my skin hasn’t turned silver yet, my autopsy will reveal the abnormalities that could lead the authorities back to Corpus.”

Except that the autopsy had showed no such thing. Had she been mistaken? There hadn’t been a spot of silver on her when we found her.

“I’m going to die either way,” she said. “So I’d rather it be on
my
terms. If . . . if someone finds this recording, please take it to my family: Ty and Sarah Carmichael. They’re camped in Acacia Valley, in the central Kalahari in Botswana. Ty, I have loved you ever since I first saw you plunge neck deep into the Zambezi River, running to rescue me out of a sinking canoe. We’ve lived a wild and wonderful life, my love, and I have no regrets. And Sarah . . .”

I sank to my knees on the floor of my mother’s murderer’s tent, numb to my bones.

“My beautiful Sarah, so full of light. You are my life’s greatest adventure. When you feel the wind on your face, smile and think of me. My heart is with yours. Keep it safe.”

The recording ended with a short beep.

Keep it safe.

I turned over my wrist and stared at the plain black bee tattooed there, barely visible through the patchwork of silver that was slowly erasing it, the way it had erased Mom.

The bees are a fail.

Mom’s last words. The mysterious sentence she’d thought important enough to write on her arm. Not
I love you
or
Remember me
or even
I’m sorry
but
The bees are a fail.

She had been infected with Metalcium, and intended to keep it secret, so that even in her death, she’d be bringing the criminals responsible to justice. But her skin hadn’t been silver, and the autopsy report had showed no signs of anything strange in her system. Instead, it had shown . . .

Keep it safe.

I saw her hands, her face, swollen with hundreds of stings.

The bees are a fail.

Abramo had known she set out to study killer bees. He knew we’d have no trouble believing the little creatures had killed her. After all, dozens of people died each year from these swarms. The scientists had been freezing hives in an attempt to quell the infestation of bees, so he had the murder weapon already on hand. All he had to do was leave Mom unconscious in the Jeep, throw in the angry, buzzing hive, and drive off, letting the bees finish the job. No wonder he’d gotten away so clean. It didn’t take many stings from an African honeybee to kill you.

The tent flap suddenly flew open. I jumped, dropping the recorder, as Avani poked her head inside.

“Sarah! We didn’t find any guns, but I got these.” She tossed something through the air, which I automatically caught: a set of keys. “Let’s go!” Her eyes dropped to the recorder, then to the box of batteries. “What are you—”

“Avani!” I jumped to my feet, waving the recorder. “I know what the cure is.”

H
ere they are!” shouted a voice. Avani and I whirled around to see the Nigerien in the tent doorway, pointing his rifle at us. I dropped the recorder and the keys into my pocket and raised my hands.

“Get out here,” he said, waving the gun.

Avani and I exchanged dismayed looks and walked outside. Abramo and his men were clustered around the collapsed form of Androcles the silver lion, staring down at the beast and muttering to one another. A little distance apart, Kase, Miranda, Joey, and Sam stood with their hands on the backs of their heads, with two armed men watching them.

It was over. We’d missed our window of opportunity. I cursed myself for giving in to temptation and listening to the rest of Mom’s recording. If I hadn’t let myself be distracted, maybe we could have escaped.

“I got them, boss!” said the Nigerien.

Abramo made no reply. He was busy studying the lion. Avani and I were left with no choice but to walk grimly toward him. I averted my eyes from Androcles’s grisly carcass; it had taken only the first glance to see that he was riddled with bullet holes. The shots must have finally overwhelmed Metalcium’s healing ability, or else it was the metal parasite itself that had felled the poor lion, the very thing that had kept it alive ultimately killing it.

Instead, I locked my gaze on Abramo. My fear of him had been burned away by anger that swept through me hotter than a bushfire.

“You killed my mother.” I strode toward him, hands clenched at my sides, crossing between his mercenaries and the lion; even the silver corpse frightened them, and they stood several feet away from it and made signs to ward off evil. “Not even having the guts to kill her yourself, letting a bunch of insects do your work for you.”

I stopped only when Abramo raised his gun, the barrel planted on my collarbone, holding me at arm’s length. He finally looked up from the lion and gave me a cold glare. I had to tilt my head back to look into his eyes. Sam was repeating my name, pleading with me to back off, but I barely heard him. I was too focused, too intent the wild plan that had popped into my head at the sight of the lion.

Abramo gave me a bored look. “It was one of my more creative jobs.”

I slapped him hard enough to leave an angry red impression on his cheek. In return, he struck me with the back of his hand, knocking me off my feet so that I crashed into one of the mercenaries. My face stung and I tasted blood on my lips. I landed awkwardly in the sand, dazed but no less emboldened by my plan.

“And my dad?” I asked. “Did you kill him too, like you killed Theo? Where is he, you bastard?”

“Enough of this,” he said, glaring at me. He made a sweeping gesture at his men. “Take them all, dispose of them and burn them with this.” He kicked Androcles and turned away.

I was vaguely aware of Miranda sobbing, of Joey begging for his life, of Sam shouting angry threats that did little good.

“Abramo!” My voice was sharp and focused as an arrow aimed at his back. One of the mercenaries had grabbed me by my shirt and was pulling me to my feet.

“I’m infected!” I called out. At once, all of the men took a step back and began muttering in alarm, perhaps asking one another if they’d touched me.

And of course, one of them had.

Abramo froze, his back to me. All around us, activity ceased and my friends fell silent.

I stood, wiping blood from my chin with my sleeve, watching Abramo. His shoulders slumped slowly and then he turned around. His eyes looked more tired than I’d seen them yet. In fact, he looked ten years older than he had just seconds ago.

“Prove it,” he said in a tone that told me he already believed me, but that he couldn’t help asking.

Wordlessly, I slid my sleeve up and held my infected arm aloft. His eyes didn’t even flicker to it. Instead, they fastened on mine. For the first time, I had his full attention. His hand—the one he’d struck me with, skin to skin—closed into a fist. Other than that, he made no movement. He looked like a toy whose batteries had run out.

“And now you are too,” I said, unnecessarily perhaps, but I wanted him to understand the full impact of that touch. My cheek stung from his strike, but I’d be lying if I didn’t relish the justice that burned in that pain.

A part of me hated myself for holding this man, whatever his crimes, hostage against himself. I felt dirty and cruel having stooped to his level, drawing on manipulations I didn’t know I had. Of all the truths I’d had to face about myself in the last few days, this was the hardest—that I was capable of such ruthlessness.

Abramo said nothing. He watched me warily, as one leopard might eye another that had wandered into his territory, sizing me up to see if I was worth the fight.

“I know what the cure is,” I said.

“Let me guess,” said Abramo drily. “You won’t tell me what it is until your friends are safe?”

I nodded. “And not until the government has been alerted to the threat of Metalcium, and not until you tell me what happened to my dad. Not until we are assured that you and Corpus will have no reason to come after us.”

He was already shaking his head, and the motion made my heart sink. Bluffing or no, I at least had to get his cooperation on this. Even if the “cure” failed, my friends would be safe. So why did I get the feeling Abramo was about to refuse me?

“If you don’t do this,” I said, “you’ll die. Same as him.” I pointed at Androcles.

“I could shoot your friends, one by one, until you tell me,” he said musingly.

I tried to hide the panic that rocketed through me. “You’ll do that anyway.”

“I could torture them.”

“Go ahead!” called Sam. “You stick to your guns, Sarah! Don’t worry about—
Mph
!”

I spun to see one of the mercenaries clubbing Sam in the stomach with the butt of his rifle. Joey lunged sideways, going after the man’s ankles like a rabid terrier.

“Stop!” I yelled, not to the mercenary but to my friends. If they kept that up, they’d get shot for sure, whether Abramo willed it or not. Joey went still, at least, and so did the mercenary. Sam was doubled over, gasping, but he lifted his head just enough to shoot me an anguished smile.

My heart hammering, I turned back to Abramo. “I’ll tell you
only
if you meet my demands.” It took every ounce of willpower I possessed to keep my voice firm.

But still he was shaking his head, looking like a cartoon with a repeating glitch. “You’re just a kid poking a stick at a beast you don’t understand.”

I didn’t like the look of resignation on Abramo’s face. I’d expected him to fly into a panic, to reject my offer at first, but to ultimately come to some sort of arrangement with me. It wouldn’t make sense for him not to. He knew what Metalcium did, how fast it worked, how inevitable death was—he knew that better than anyone, perhaps. So why wasn’t he jumping at the one, slim chance of a cure? Even if he doubted it was real, he couldn’t afford to gamble.

“You
will
die,” I said, my tone taking a pleading edge. “I’m offering you a chance.”

“The world is not so simple,” he said. All the rancor was gone from his voice. Now he seemed only sad and wearier than ever. “I won’t bargain my life for yours or your companions’.”

My hopes popped like soap bubbles, leaving me bewildered. “But why? If there’s a chance—”

“I have a job to do,” he said, cutting me off. “And I will do it. I’m sorry. Really, I am. It’s nothing personal.” He lifted his gun, aimed it at my chest. A glimmer of movement over his shoulder drew my eye. Someone was in the bush, running toward us, camouflaged by khaki clothing. My breath caught in my throat.

“You see, Sarah,” Abramo calmly went on, “there’s only one thing I fear more than death—”

My eyes connected with Dad’s for a heartbeat, and I saw his mouth open in a desperate shout.

“—and that’s Corpus.”

“DADDY!”
I screamed. Too late.
Too late.

Abramo fired.