Medicine Cup (11 page)

And feel better he did.

When he awoke, he was pain free. The next thing he noticed was that he was no longer bleeding from his ass. He hadn’t felt this good in years. As the days passed, Baxter seemed to feel more energetic and healthy. After a week, he was traversing the jungle like an Olympic athlete.

Something remarkable had happened. Something he needed to learn, to obtain, to master. The possibilities were endless! But would the medicine man share his secrets? Perhaps, perhaps
not.
He might require ‘persuasion’.

*   *   *

Now, as Baxter shook himself free from the past, he realized that his world was in jeopardy. He would not, could not let that happen. Paul Grant and Jennie Bradford had no idea of the forces they were dealing with.

Unfortunately, for them, they were about to find out.

T
he river twisted and turned in a series of curves, and to Jennie, it was an extraordinarily peaceful experience to sit in the front of the boat, watching the jungle on both sides of them glide past them in timeless, hypnotic silence. The only thing that spoiled it was the memory of poor Findley. That, and the relentless black clouds of mosquitoes that seemed to bite every second. Paul pointed to the river’s muddy banks, where alligators basked in the sunshine, indifferent to the boat’s approach.

They had traveled an hour, and Jennie figured they had at least another hour of river to traverse before they got back to the small village where the plane was hidden. That thought was obliterated by the sudden, thundering rotors of an approaching helicopter. A second later, bullets whizzed by Jennie’s head.

Paul angled the boat toward the riverbank, and in a moment, it settled into the mud and stopped dead. A deafening roar rose above them and Jennie dove into the water with Paul following right behind her.

Bobbing to the surface, she spit out a mouthful of murky water. “Paul, where are you?”

Paul floated to the surface beside her, gasping for breath. She grabbed him by the wrist just as the chopper made another pass, lower this time, barely above the tree line. Water was rushing around Jennie’s chin and she stretched her neck to keep her nose and mouth elevated. She could hear Paul’s frenzied breathing.

“Don’t panic, stay with me. It’s only a couple yards to the bank.”

Paul nodded.

Jennie grabbed Paul’s wrist and together they fought the current and struggled toward the riverbank. They had only gone a few yards when they heard a plop in the water. Then, as if choreographed for a Tarzan movie, a huge alligator floated toward them, black eyes fixed on their bodies.

“Oh shit!” Paul said.

Just feet from the shore, the giant reptile launched itself out of the water, open jaws poised to strike. Jennie felt the river suddenly become solid under her feet, and she yanked Paul up and away from the gator just as it hit the water with unimaginable force. Paul rolled onto the river’s edge behind Jennie, and instantly they were up and running, just as another drama unfolded above them. The chopper was hovering and the Viper was hanging out the side, pointing a rifle in their direction.

“We’ve got to get into the jungle,” Jennie said.

They headed for a break in the vegetation, visible against the jungle blackness. Their wet clothes and general weariness tried to slow them down, but pure adrenalin gave wings to their feet.

The Viper was yelling instructions to his pilot, excited that his prey was in sight.

“Which way?” Paul asked.

The choices were limited. If they went into the open, they’d be shot. Behind them was only river.
And the alligators!

“Straight,” Jennie said.

Paul sprinted into the jungle blackness with Jennie on his heels. As they ran, Jennie scanned the woods, looking for an opening, but the trees grew closer together and impenetrable vines and brush blocked the way. Finally, after what seemed like an hour, the trees ended suddenly and a path plunged through a still-smoldering, burned-out field.

Jennie looked around. “I think we’re close to the village. I remember this.”

Paul nodded. “Looks like someone burnt down part of the forest to farm.”

Since it didn’t seem to make any difference, they darted across the field and, in the distance, Jennie could see a row of huts.

They were close to the plane.

Jennie was feeling a modicum of relief–with only a little further to go–when she heard the
thrum
of the helicopter rotors coming up behind them. It was a few hundred feet in the air and moving toward the shanties across the field.

Damn!

The helicopter made its first pass and turned back toward them. Luckily, the haze of smoke from the still-smoldering field had obscured them from the Viper and his henchmen.
But now...

The helicopter moved closer.

With Paul beside her, Jennie took off with the speed of a cheetah, racing toward a row of shacks in the small village. She could feel the downdraft as the chopper executed a tight right turn and came back over the field. They crouched in the obscuring haze until the helicopter passed. A minute later, they broke out of the smoke and ran behind a dilapidated shack next to the trading post. They flattened themselves against the wall just as the helicopter started a landing approach fifty yards away.

“Now what?” Paul whispered.

Jennie heaved a sigh. “I’m open to suggestions.”

O
n board the chopper, The Viper Hans Brinkman cursed at his pilot. “I told you stay at the tree line. Now you’ve lost them.”

The pilot sat the chopper down and two natives jumped down, blowguns in hand, and sprinted toward the trees. Brinkman screamed to them in their native tongue and they nodded. He grabbed his cellular phone from his belt clip and dialed a number. Phillip Baxter would have to be told.
They may have gotten away.

*   *   *

Jennie turned and saw the helicopter land about fifty yards away. At the same instant, she eyed an old Vespa leaning against the building next door. She grabbed Paul and ran toward the motorbike just as the boy who’d rented them the boat emerged from the trading post. They ran up to him.

“How much for that Vespa?” she asked the boy.

He just stared at her.

“Oh, never mind. Here.” She yanked a soggy hundred-dollar bill from her pants pocket and stuck it in his hand. He smiled, seeming to understand.

Paul looked at the fuel gauge. “It’s okay. There’s gas in it.”

A minute later, Jennie fumbled with the choke and jumped down on the starting lever.

Nothing! She jumped hard on the starter again, but nothing happened. Paul tapped her on the shoulder. “Jennie, look.”

Twenty yards away, the Viper had spotted them and began to run toward them.

“Let me try,” Paul said. He stomped down on the starter and the little bike coughed, sputtered, then sprang to life. He climbed on the seat and Jennie jumped behind him as they bounced across the grassy embankment and wobbled onto the dirt road.

Enraged, the Viper raced toward them, and fired two shots that went whizzing past Paul’s head. Seconds later, they left him in a cloud of dust.

P
hillip Baxter held the phone in stunned silence as Hans Brinkman explained to him how Paul Grant and Jennie Bradford had gotten away.

“What happened?” Baxter asked. There was an electric silence.

“It’s not that easy to maneuver a chopper in the jungle,” Brinkman told him.

“And did they find out everything?”

“I think so, yes,” Brinkman said. “It was that fucking Yohagi chief. But don’t worry. We’re going to take care of that bunch tonight.”

“What about my shipment?”

“It’s on the way.”

“Thank God.” Baxter felt the tightness in his chest start to subside.

“You want me to come up there and deal with those two?”

“No... no, I think I’d like to deal with them myself.” Baxter hung up.

J
ennie hung on for dear life as Paul throttled the small motorbike for all it was worth. Behind them, Jennie could see another scooter gaining on them. She put her chin in Paul’s shoulder.

“If this thing can go any faster, do it. We’ve got company.”

Paul glanced behind them.
“You’re fucking kidding me!”

Jennie turned sharply and looked again. Two natives with blow guns in hand were rocketing down the dirt road toward them at a speed that, to Jennie, looked a lot faster than she and Paul were going.

Fifteen minutes later, with the other motorbike still closing in on them, Jennie could just make out the image of the plane in the distance ahead.

Suddenly Paul slowed down and was rolling to a stop.

Jennie nudged him. “What are you doing?”

“Trust me.”

As the other bike got within twenty feet of them, Paul jerked back the throttle full force and the Vespa lurched forward, digging out a blinding cloud of dust, rocks and smoke. Jennie looked back just in time to see the other bike careen out of control and flip over, throwing the two men off in different directions.

“Good thinking,” Jennie yelled over the buzz of the motorbike’s engine.

As they neared the plane, Paul slowed and pulled alongside the cockpit. Jennie jumped off and in one quick motion jerked the pilot-side door open. Paul dropped the bike to the ground and clambered around and into the other seat. Poison-tipped arrows clattered on the plastic windows and rang against the metal.

Jennie quickly checked out the controls then jammed the ignition button. The engine coughed a couple of times but failed to start. She adjusted the throttle and tried again. This time, the engine roared to life, amplified by the dense jungle on either side of them. Paul was still buckling his seatbelt as Jennie gunned the engine. The Cessna began to pick up speed, advancing down the dirt runway, a line of purple exhaust trailing behind it. Jennie tried to maintain a gentle touch on the controls, but on the bumpy dirt runway, the jarring motion slowed the plane’s acceleration. The Torabo came running out of the forest brandishing spears and arrows. Pale white arrows sliced through the air, but fell short of the fuselage, arcing back down to the ground.

Knowing that if the plane didn’t reach takeoff speed soon, it would crash into the trees at the end of the airstrip, Jennie willed herself calm and let the plane do the work. Soon, it picked up speed and she gave the yoke a slight pull. The wheels left the ground and the plane began its ascent. At the same time, she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. She looked out her window and stared in disbelief.

“Oh my God, Paul. One of the natives is on the wheel well.”

“He must have jumped on as we were taxiing.”

“I’ll fix that,” Jennie said.

She jerked the control stick hard to the left, then back again hard to the right.

When she looked again, the native was plummeting to earth. “Take that,” she shouted. Looking over, she saw Paul’s face had lost all color.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, but next time you decide to do an air show, give me a heads up.”

Jennie laughed. “Sorry. How bout we go home, now?”

“Please.”

*   *   *

Five hundred feet below, Hans Brinkman cursed silently as the plane disappeared beyond the trees. He caught a blur of movement and then saw the two pygmies that had accompanied him were running into the jungle.

What the...

Brinkman stared toward the tree line, then staggered back a few paces. Something very large...
no huge...
lumbered out of the jungle.

The Viper couldn’t tell if the thing was an oversize ape or a demon from hell, but it cast a shadow that completely engulfed him. Brinkman had to use all his will just to avoid pissing himself.

The Mapinguary grabbed The Viper and lifted him as if he weighed mere ounces. He felt the triangular head clamp down on his upper arm with unimaginable force, slicing through muscle and bone. A flash of white-hot pain exploded as the thing shook its head violently, tearing Hans Brinkman’s arm from his body. He had no breath to scream as it tore huge chunks from his torso.

The last thing Brinkman saw was a crescent shaped mouth and a gorge of teeth clamping down across his face.

Then blackness...

S
hortly after five o’clock, the residents of Harbor View ended their day by heading back to their dormitories to await further instructions from their leader, Charles Baxter. Several of the residents were complaining about their ‘treatment’ being late, but Baxter had assured them it was forthcoming.

Ainsworth Abbott, the oldest living resident of harbor View, gazed at his reflection, hardly recognizing the face in the mirror. His face was ghostly pale, his hair lank and straggly. Even though Abbott knew about the mysterious workings of the Yohagi herbs, the logical part of his mind had never accepted them. It was somehow easier to push the truth out of his conscious. He had also known the other ingredient needed in order to roll back eighty years of aging, something Baxter had confided to him years before. “The life-extending formula requires a sacrifice of human blood,” Baxter had told him. Abbott found that distasteful, but within an hour of his first treatment, everything that had been wrong with the elderly Abbott had disappeared.

Now, as he stood staring at himself, fear descended on him like a lead blanket. He did not want to die. Abbott summoned Baxter to his room, and a few minutes later, a light tap sounded on the door. Baxter entered, and Abbott could see he, too, was suffering the ravages of the accelerated aging process.

“What is it, Ainsworth?” Baxter asked.

“What is it?” he said, slamming his hand down on the table next to him. “Look at me. Look at the rest of the residents. And for that matter, look at yourself. We’re dying, right before our own eyes. I don’t want to die, Charles. You promised that—”