Part 45 (2/2)

Manny squinted. ”What is he-?”

Then several small bodies flung themselves out of the water toward the meat. They looked like little silvery eels, twitching up out of the water. The creatures grabbed bites from the meat with little jaws.

”The piranha creatures,” Camera said at Manny's side.

He nodded, recognizing the similarity. ”Juveniles, though. They've not developed their hind legs yet. Still in the pollywog stage. All tail and teeth:”

The Indian stood straighter and shook the meat from his spear. Each b.l.o.o.d.y chunk, as it plopped into the water, triggered a fierce roiling of the still pool, boiling its surface into a b.l.o.o.d.y froth. The tribesman observed his handiwork for a moment, then tromped back toward the pair who stared at him, stunned.

Again he nodded as he pa.s.sed, eyeing the jaguar at Manny's side with a mix of awe and fear.

”I want to get a closer look,” Manny said.

”Are you nuts, man?” Camera waved him back. ”We're out of here.”

”No, I just want to check something out:” He was already moving toward the nest of tangled roots.

Camera grumbled behind him, but followed.

The path was narrow, so they proceeded in single file. Tor-tor trailed last, padding cautiously through the tangle, his tail twitching anxiously.

Manny approached the root-ringed pool.

”Don't get too close,” Camera warned. ”They didn't mind the Indian,” Manny said. ”I think it's safe:”

Still, he slowed his steps and stopped a yard from the pool's edge, one hand resting on the hilt of his whip. In the shadow of the roots, the wide pool proved crystal clear-and deep, at least ten feet. He peered into its gla.s.sy depths.

Under the surface, schools of the creatures swam. There was no sign of the meat, but littering the bottom of the pool were bleached bones, nib-bled spotless. ”It's a d.a.m.n hatchery,” Manny said. ”A fish hatchery.”

From the branches spanning the pool overhead, droplets of sap would occasionally drip into the water, triggering the creatures to race up and investigate, searching for their next meal. Tricked to the surface, the beasts provided Manny with a better look at them. They varied in size from little minnows to larger monsters with leg buds starting to develop. Not one had fully developed legs.

”They're all juveniles;” Manny observed. ”I don't see any of the adults that attacked us:”

”We must have killed them all with the poison;” Camera said.

”No wonder there wasn't a second attack. It must take time to rebuild their army.”

”For the piranhas, maybe. . :” Camera stood two yards back, her voice suddenly hushed and sick. ”. . .

but not everything:”

Manny glanced back to her. She pointed her weapon toward the lower trunk of the tree, where the roots rode up into the main body. Up the trunk, the bark of the tree bubbled out into thick galls, each a yard across. There were hundreds of them. From holes in the bark, black insects scut-tled. They crawled, fought, and mated atop the bark. A few flexed their wings with little blurring buzzes.

”The locusts,” Manny said, edging back himself.

But the insects ignored them, busy with their communal activities.

Manny stared from the pool back to the insects. ”The tree . . :” he mumbled.

”What?”

Manny stared as another droplet of sap drew a handful of the piranha creatures to the surface, glistening silver under the gla.s.sy waters. He shook his head. ”I'm not sure, but it's almost like the tree is nurturing these crea-tures:” His mind began racing along wild tracks. His eyes grew wide as he began to make disturbing connections.

Camera must have seen his face pale. ”What's wrong?”

”Oh, my G.o.d . . . we have to get out of here!”

6:30 PM.

Inside the cabin, Nate sat hunched over the laptop computer, numb and exhausted. He had reread many of his father's journal notes, even cross-referencing to certain scientific files. The conclusions forming in his mind were as disturbing as they were miraculous. He scrolled down to the last entry and read the final lines.

We'll try tonight. May G.o.d watch over us all.

Behind Nate, the whispery sweep of the cabin's door flap announced someone's intrusion.

”Nate?” It was Professor Kouwe.

Glancing at his wrist.w.a.tch, Nate realized how long he had been lost in the laptop's records, lost to the world. His mouth felt like dried burlap. Beyond the flap, the sun was sliding toward the western horizon as the afternoon descended toward dusk.

”How's Frank?” Nate asked, dragging his attention around.

”What's wrong?” Kouwe said, seeing his face.

Nate shook his head. He wasn't ready to talk yet. ”Where's Kelly?”

”Outside, speaking with Sergeant Kostos. We came down here to report in and make sure everything was okay. Then we'll head back up again. How are things down here?”

”The Indians are keeping their distance,” Nate said, standing. He moved toward the door, staring at the sinking sun. ”We've finished setting up the treehouse as our base. Manny and Private Camera are scouting the area.

Kouwe nodded. ”I saw them crossing back this way just now. What about communications with the States?”

Nate shrugged. ”Olin says the whole system is corrupted. But he believes he can at least get the GPS to read true and broadcast a signal. Maybe as soon as tonight:”

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