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  “Just do it,” Jerry ordered.

  “Wait, Agent Foster,” Vogan said. “I think your greater responsibility is to get word out about the virus. We should return to Kinshasa.”

  “Believe me, I want to, but I can’t,” Jerry replied. “Are you coming with us or not?”

  “You’ve got the communications gear,” Vogan replied. “And you seem determined to use it. I guess I’ll tag along and see if my theory is correct.”

  Angel led them through the trees. He bent down and occasionally stopped as he followed the tracks, but he set a fast pace so that they could overtake their quarry.

  Vogan and Jerry jogged along behind him. Jerry was winded within minutes; he stumbled along, panting and wheezing, despite his best efforts to be quiet.

  Their guide led them swiftly through the trees. Finally, he stopped to allow the other two to catch up. “Boss, this isn’t good,” he voiced.

  “Why, what’s up?” Jerry panted back.

  Angel looked up and grinned. “These assholes are heading back to Gatou.”

  “We should really turn around,” Vogan suggested.

  “Can’t do it,” Jerry answered grimly. “Let’s hurry, maybe we can catch them before they reach the village, I don’t want…”

  “Quiet!” warned Angel. He pulled the other two men back and retreated into the trees, away from the trail they had been following.

  “What is it?” Vogan whispered.

  “The Kindu!” Angel hissed. “They are all around us.” He pulled his rifle up and stepped back towards the trail.

  “Wait, don’t fire!” shrieked Vogan, grabbing at his arm.

  “Too late!” growled Angel.

  Jerry looked around in growing horror. They had blundered right into a large group of the dead, and rotting cadavers were slowly advancing through the trees from every direction. Their horrible stench reached him.

  “Come on, you mother-fuckers!” Angel bellowed. He jerked up the huge rifle and fired at the closest cadaver. The 800 Wildcat went off with a terrific roar. The corpse’s upper torso exploded into a cloud of black mist and flying rotten chunks as the twelve-hundredgrain bullet slammed into it. The severed legs and a shattered arm fell into the brush.

  Angel turned and fired again. Another cadaver exploded, its upper body torn away. A severed head rolled, and thrashing body parts rained into the mud. What was left from the waist down flipped onto the path, the legs kicking spasmodically. The guide broke the big rifle down, ejecting the huge smoking shells. He slammed two more into the breach and snapped the rifle shut again. He fired the gun twice in rapid succession; the 800 Wildcat belched fire and lead, destroying two more cadavers.

  Jerry took his hands away from his ears long enough to scream, “Angel, over here!” He backed slowly away from the cadavers approaching behind him.

  Angel snapped the gun open, reloaded it, and closed the breech in seconds. He raised the gun and pointed it directly at Jerry. Looking down the barrel of that rifle was like peering into two dark tunnels that both led to Hell. The gun frightened him even more than the pair of cadavers that were reaching out to grab him from either side.

  Before Jerry could even flinch, Angel fired the rifle to the left and then to the right, utterly annihilating each of the cadavers. Gory chunks of blasted flesh splattered Jerry’s clothing.

  Jerry opened one eye, and felt for the huge bullet hole he was sure had just been blasted through his body. Angel was calmly reloading his rifle.

  Vogan stood just to his left. The biologist held a forty-five automatic in his hand; he stood in the classic shooter’s stance and calmly shot off the head of an approaching cadaver. As the decapitated body stumbled past him, he tripped it and pushed it away into the brush. He calmly turned and dispatched another clutching corpse in the same manner before ejecting his empty magazine, and slamming in another.

  Angel twisted around and fired the Wildcat at a cadaver approaching on each side. The concussions rocked Jerry; he could actually feel the gun each time it fired. The eviscerated corpses collapsed into twitching piles of rotted human wreckage.

  “Time to go!” Angel shouted. He pushed an approaching cadaver violently aside with the smoking gun barrel and led the other two through the closing ring of walking corpses. The shot-up body parts littering the ground reached out for their feet as they fled the killing ground.

  Angel led them pell-mell through the trees; they quickly left the pursuing corpses behind.

  Jerry finally shouted for Angel to stop. He stood half-bent over, gasping for breath. “This shit had got to cease,” he complained. The agent looked at Vogan, who still had his automatic in his hand. “Where did you get that thing?” he inquired.

  “I told you, everyone in Africa has a gun,” Vogan replied, sliding the pistol back into a shoulder holster inside his safari shirt. “You are the only person I know who doesn’t own one; even the kids in this country carry guns.”

  Angel sadly shook his head in agreement. “Well, what now, boss? Do we still follow your Chinese?” he asked.

  “Yea, let’s catch up to them,” Jerry replied.

  Angel picked the trail back up and led them quickly onward. They made their way forward through the trees, trying to put some distance between the cadavers behind them while simultaneously staying alert for the Chinese ahead of them. Angel slowed slightly as they drew closer to Gatou. He paused from time to time to listen, and peered intently through the trees ahead of them.

  As the track led through a small clearing, the guide bent down to examine the tracks closely. He abruptly stopped and softly cursed as he shook his head. He slowly turned to face Vogan and Jerry. “We have walked into a trap; I am sorry, Jerry,” he stated.

  “What?” Jerry demanded.

  “They must have realized we were following them,” Angel explained. He pointed down to the trail. “Their tracks end just ahead. Right here, they stopped and walked backwards in their own foot-prints, and then they stepped off the trail into the trees.”

  “Where did they go? Can you pick up their trail again?” Jerry asked.

  “No need,” Angel replied. “They are still here.”

  Angel strode forward, his rifle slung, and his hands held out empty beside him. Jerry and Vogan watched him advance with some trepidation. The big guide walked a short distance away and then stopped and waited.

  A man emerged from the undergrowth beyond Angel and slowly walked toward him. The men could have been brothers, except for the fact that Angel was the larger of the two. The man advanced until they were a few feet apart. They studied each other for a moment, and then clasped hands, and began to talk like old friends. Angel waved Jerry and Vogan forward.

  “This is Madduk, he, too, is a guide. We know each other from the old days,” Angel explained. “He is working for your Chinese.”

  Jerry looked the guide over. The big man was scarred and heavy set. He wore heavy gold hoops in both his ears, and had a Gurkha knife thrust through his broad leather belt. An AK-47 was slung across his broad back. He smiled at them, displaying many broken teeth.

  “Where are they?” Jerry asked.

  “Right there,” Angel answered.

  Men began to emerge from the trees all around them, a rough dozen Chinese men in olive drab uniforms carrying AK-47s in their hands. They didn’t look friendly.

  “Stay relaxed,” Angel warned. “At least I know their guide. Why are you working for the yellow devils, Madduk?”

  “Their opium is the best,” he answered.

  One of the Chinese walked forward, the others spread out in a rough semi-circle around them, covering them with their guns. The man was dressed no differently than the others, but Jerry could tell he was in charge.

  “Who are you?” the man asked in excellent English.

  When Jerry hesitated, Vogan spoke up, “I’m Doctor Vogan, a biologist and research scientist. This is Jerry Foster, of the American Foreign Service, and our guide, Angel Jebo. A pleasure to meet you.”
r />   The man’s face remained inscrutable. He replied quickly, “I have heard of you, Doctor Vogan, and I certainly know who Agent Foster is. I have even heard of your guide. I did not expect to meet any of you here.” He bowed slightly. “I am Mr. Xiou. If you would be so kind as to surrender your weapons?”

  Angel flexed his hands and replied calmly, “I will kill the first man who reaches for my rifle.”

  His meaning was not lost on the Chinese. The men around them tensed.

  “Angel, we can’t do anything if we’re dead!” Jerry demanded. “Quit being so mother-fucking macho and give them your damn gun. They’ll give it back. Those Kindu are still chasing us; they’ll be here eventually if we just stand around arguing in the jungle.”

  Angel slowly brought the big rifle around by its grip, the twin barrels pointed to the ground. He handed it and his machete to Madduk. “I’ll want those back,” he growled.

  “Here is mine,” Vogan cheerfully offered. He carefully extracted his pistol and handed it over to one of the Chinese.

  Everyone turned to look at Jerry.

  The agent lifted his hands in exasperation. “I don’t carry a gun,” he cursed.

  “Don’t play games, Agent Foster,” Xiou demanded. “You are a CIA agent in the Congo and you expect me to believe that you don’t have a gun.”

  “I don’t believe in guns,” Jerry stated.

  “Search him!” Xiou ordered one of his men.

  “He really doesn’t own a gun,” Angel laughed.

  The man thoroughly searched Jerry, even taking his day pack and comm gear, but found nothing else. He stepped back and shrugged his shoulders.

  “I can’t believe you really don’t carry a gun,” Xiou laughed. “Africa is a very dangerous place, Agent Foster. You really should get one.” He translated his admonishment into Chinese. His men broke into laughter.

  “I told you, Jerry,” Angel added.

  “Fine, I’ll get a gun, I promise,” Jerry grumbled. “I wouldn’t want to be captured and disappoint everyone all over again. How did you figure out we were trailing you, Mr. Xiou? You didn’t hear us shooting by chance, did you?

  “Actually, we did,” Xiou offered. “Touché, Agent Foster. I sent Madduk to investigate and he suggested we wait for you.”

  “Mr. Xiou, you know us, but I’m afraid I don’t know you,” Jerry offered.

  Xiou turned slightly to face him. “It pleases me greatly to learn that the CIA does not know of my presence here.” He smiled. “But I am only a simple businessman, here to expedite things, so to speak. My primary concern is with lumber exports, and they have been interrupted.”

  Jerry frowned, but quickly countered, “If you’re here, then you know of the virus, and the reanimated dead.”

  “Yes,” Xiou replied. “Perhaps we should speak of that. You said the Kindu were following you? Did you mean the dead?”

  “Yes,” Jerry agreed. “And that was you that we heard firing guns before.”

  “That is correct,” Xiou responded. “I assume that you, too, have learned that bullets have little effect?”

  “Yea, we figured that one out,” Jerry agreed.

  “What else have you, figured out?” Xiou inquired, looking first at Jerry, then at Vogan.

  “You must not use communications equipment of any kind,” Vogan warned. “The cadavers can detect electro-magnetic field disturbances. That is how they find you.”

  Xiou’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, and he frowned. “That is very convenient for you.”

  “It is true, I swear it,” Vogan responded.

  “We will see,” Xiou said. “We were on our way to the village of Gatou, perhaps you would care to accompany us, for both our mutual protection,” Xiou suggested.

  “Everyone in the village has died and reanimated. We just came from there; it is very dangerous,” Vogan cautioned.

  “I must insist,” Xiou urged. “We will remain together until I can ascertain what is occurring here. I may need your assistance, Doctor, and yours, Mister Jebo. I am quite sure we can come to some sort of agreement regarding remunerations. Agent Foster, I would not want you to become lost.”

  “And if we refuse?” Jerry asked.

  “Why would you refuse my invitation?” Xiou asked. “Come, Agent Foster, walk with me; we have much to talk about.”

  The Chinese spread out along the trail, half before them, half behind. Madduk disappeared through the trees ahead on point. Xiou walked along with Jerry, Vogan, and Angel, chatting amicably. Jerry grudgingly admired the Chinese agent’s style; they had much in common. Xiou was courteous and mild mannered; it was hard to reconcile the fact that they were prisoners with his friendly comportment. He and Vogan began to discuss the cadavers and the virus. Xiou soon knew as much as they did about the cadavers. Jerry wanted to urge Vogan to be quiet, but he decided against it. He simply walked along and tried not to be drawn into the conversation.

  Xiou finally addressed him, “What are you doing here, Agent Foster?” he asked bluntly. “You might consider telling me the truth, since both of our lives are in danger.”

  Jerry hesitated to consider his answer, but finally spoke. “Several American loggers went missing near Gatou. They were employees of GLC. Perhaps you’ve heard of that company?” Jerry asked. He watched Xiou carefully to gauge his reaction, but the man remained unreadable.

  “A rival logging operation,” Xiou suggested noncommittally. Jerry decided he wouldn’t want to play poker with him.

  “I was ordered to ascertain their whereabouts,” Jerry continued. “Believe me, I am not pleased to be here in the jungle.”

  Xiou ran an appraising eye over Jerry’s clothing. “Yes, you look most uncomfortable,” he agreed.

  “You said you were here to expedite lumber shipments,” Jerry stated. “Might I inquire what company you represent?”

  “Let us say that I represent Chinese interests in this region,” Xiou answered.

  “Is that why you are traveling with a PLA Special Forces Unit?” Jerry inquired.

  “Africa is a very dangerous place, Agent Foster, as you well know. One can never be too careful here. My men are simple bodyguards, hired in China. Would you not trust Americans over the local Congolese to protect you here?” Xiou asked.

  “I hired a local guide,” Jerry replied.

  “As did I,” Xiou retorted. “You did not answer my question.”

  “I suppose,” Jerry admitted.

  “The local military forces are notoriously corrupt, and care little for outsiders,” Xiou added. “Only a fool would trust them.” He addressed Angel. “How much does Agent Foster pay you, Mr. Jebo?”

  “Enough,” laughed Angel. “But one can never have too much money or too many good friends.”

  “Very true,” Xiou agreed.

  They continued to walk towards Gatou, Xiou drawing information from their conversation as he could. Vogan was very talkative, but only about the virus and the rain forest. Jerry clammed up, and Angel would only speak of the area around them; he seemed wary of Xiou’s motives.

  Madduk came back to them after a short time to tell them they were very near the village. The column came to a halt.

  Vogan warned the Chinese again. “Please, Mr. Xiou, the village is very dangerous! Have your men scout it out before you enter. You will see, the villagers are dead. They are badly decomposed and highly contagious. You must avoid contact with them!”

  Xiou listened politely to Vogan. He rattled off orders in Chinese, and three of his men walked away through the trees.

  “Do not be concerned for their safety,” Xiou said casually. “We will wait here for their report. I was to meet a local leader here to discuss some business. We will wait for them also. This should prove most interesting to you, Agent Foster,” he laughed.

  Jerry was sure he would be interested, but he probably wouldn’t live to report any of it.

  The Chinese dropped their packs and spread out, forming a perimeter around their location. The men fanned
out and disappeared into the undergrowth. Jerry knew he could have walked right by the entire force without ever seeing any of them.

  Xiou sent Madduk out to locate the locals they were supposed to rendezvous with, and hasten them back.

  Jerry could tell that Angel wanted badly to take back his rifle. The big man watched the rival guide walk away. Jerry laid a hand on his friend’s forearm and shook his head. Angel grinned savagely at him.

  Xiou, Angel, Vogan, and Jerry remained behind with the gear. Xiou seemed totally unconcerned for his safety among them. One of the Chinese watched over them from the trees, his rifle at the ready.

  “Mr. Xiou, you must not detain us,” Vogan urged. “We were trying to reach Kinshasa in order to warn the US government about the virus. It could easily become a pandemic, and threaten the populations of both our countries.”

  “You mean you were following us,” Xiou countered. “You needn’t deny it.”

  “Yes,” Vogan admitted. “We were following you. We were trying to figure out what is going on in this region. But I had urged Agent Foster to return to the capital.”

  “He should have listened to you,” Xiou pointed out.

  “We could still go there,” urged Vogan. “Let us go. I give you my word we will return there immediately. Whatever you are doing here, I assure you it is insignificant compared to the virus. You must believe me!”

  “You will remain my guests until I learn more,” Xiou replied. “Please refrain from doing anything stupid. My men are highly trained and very proficient marksmen; you may ask Agent Foster. They will shoot you if you attempt to flee, or harm me.”

  Vogan sighed. “You are making a mistake; time is precious. The virus will spread.”

  “Confucius say, patience will reveal all things,” Xiou stated. “We will wait.”

  Xiou pulled out a pack of cigarettes, shook one out, and lit it. He offered the pack to his guests, but only Angel took one. Jerry examined the package; it was the same as the one they had found upon the trail.