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him, thick with muscle and damned familiar. Thesilaris , the poisoned ones.
Ben backed a step away from the threshold, giving himself room to raise his
rifle. Just as he shouldered the weapon, something slammed into the back of
his head. He collapsed to his knees, a spray of lights dancing across his
vision. He fell forward across the entryway, his rifle falling from limp
fingers.
Pain squeezed his vision to a tiny dot. But it was enough to see the scrawny
physique of Sin'jari step over him. He wiped Ben's blood from his staff,
leaned over, and stared into Ben's eyes. He smiled in triumph as Ben's world
faded to black.
* * *
"I'm telling you," Ashley said, pacing the dimensions of the cell, "that
damned Sin'jari meant for everything to happen the way it did. He plotted the
whole thing."
Michaelson studied the guards at the threshold to their prison cell. "From
the way those guys keep eyeballing us, I don't think they're gonna be in any
mood to listen to reason, even if we could speak their tongue."
Ashley glanced over to the fourmimi'swee guards. "You know what the worst
thing about this situation is? It's that these people will always view us as
murderers. And I'm to blame. I've been an anthropologist for close to a
decade, and this is how I handle first contact with a new tribe."
"Ashley, quit kicking yourself. The situation's extraordinary. And it was
Sin'jari that screwed it up. Not you."
Ashley spoke between gritted teeth. "If only there was some damned way to
correct it. If we could "
The sudden prattling of the guards interrupted Ashley's words. She took a
step forward to see who the guards were addressing and recognized the scarred
face of Tru'gula, the leader of the hunters and a good friend of Mo'amba's.
This didn't bode well.
Tru'gula snapped at the guards, his fellow hunters. They moved aside for
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their elder. He stalked into the chamber, his knuckles white on his staff.
Stopping in front of Ashley, he just stared at her, his eyes wounded. He
seemed to be weighing her, judging her.
Ashley knew she should not waste this moment. Maybe Tru'gula would listen.
She turned to Michaelson and grabbed his shoulders.
"What the " Michaelson began.
"Hush," she said to him. "I'm gonna try to make him understand. This may be
our last chance to win an ally." She turned Michaelson so he faced her. Then
she craned her head toward Tru'gula. She pointed to the Major. "Mo'amba." She
again grabbed Michaelson's shoulders and repeated, "Mo'amba."
Then she took a step back and pointed to herself. "Sin'jari." She pantomimed
his mincing gait and pointed to herself again. "Sin'jari."
Tru'gula just stared blankly at her.
Ashley rolled her eyes but proceeded to imitate Sin'jari. Stepping in front
of Michaelson, she pretended to remove a knife from an imaginary scabbard,
then pantomimed plunging the knife into Michaelson's chest twice. Then she
stepped back and fingered her chest. "Sin'jari!" she said fiercely.
Tru'gula's eyes narrowed, his wounded face tightening with rage.
Ashley stepped away. Did he understand? If he did, did he believe her? She
had just accused one of his fellow elders.
"Sin'jari," Tru'gula hissed. "Sin'jari!" He stepped toward Ashley.
She resisted the urge to step away, knowing instinctively that she needed to
stand her ground, to proclaim the truth. She stared him in the eyes, never
flinching, as he stopped toe-to-toe with her.
He stared for what seemed like several minutes, then spoke, obviously
struggling with his words. He pointed to his head. "Mo'amba . . . wise." He
grabbed Ashley's shoulder. "Mo'amba . . . trust . . . you."
She nodded, encouraging him.
"Harry's obviously been working with him," Michaelson mumbled.
The leader of the hunters turned to the Major. "Blood brother." He clenched
his arms around his chest. "Trust." He then turned back to Ashley. "Tru'gula .
. . Tru'gula . . . trust . . . you."
Did she hear right? Understand correctly? He believed her! In her relief, she
reached over and hugged Tru'gula, tears coming to her eyes.
Tru'gula broke free of her embrace. "Dan . . . ger. Here. Go! Now!" Tru'gula
tried to tug her toward the entrance.
"Wait." She resisted, pulling her arm free of his grip. "If you trust us,
then you could tell the others. There's no need to run."
He just stared back at her in confusion. He didn't understand. He glanced at
the doorway, then back at her. He sighed in frustration. "Tru'gula . . . trust
you." He waved as if to encompass the entire village around them. "No trust."
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Ashley realized he meant to help them escape from here. To run from her
accusers. He didn't believe her innocence would be accepted by his people. The
villagers were too suspicious of the strangers.
"Go. Now." Tru'gula repeated.
Ashley stood still. "No."
Michaelson stepped next to her. "I think we'd better accept his help."
"If I run, it'll be as good as admitting my guilt. I can't leave these people
thinking we're just cold-blooded murderers."
"But Ashley. The risk."
She shook her head. "You mentioned a plan earlier. A way to prove my
innocence. I thought it was a pipe dream. But with Tru'gula's help it might
work."
"Might? Those are long odds when you're gambling with all our lives."
She stared him in the eyes. "I have to try."
Linda's legs felt heavy. She stumbled after Khalid, on autopilot, one leg
following the other. She stared at Khalid's back as he weaved his way toward
the distant elevator. She knew she should hate him, despise him.
But she was numb.
She had failed Jason. She had promised him she'd be back. She pictured his
eyes as she bound him to the column. He had known he was going to die. Somehow
she should have been able to stop it, but her fear had broken her. Fear of
Khalid. Fear of death. Through her own inaction, she had sealed his fate.
A single tear rolled down her cheek.
Fear had always ruled her life. Whether it was her cloying claustrophobia or
some other anxiety, fear had been her constant companion. Finally, her
crippling weakness had resulted in the death of a boy.
With Jason's death, her fear was vanquished. Now all she had left was her
guilt.
Khalid had stopped ahead. "Listen. Do you hear something?"
Linda heard nothing. She didn't answer him, finding words too difficult to
form.
Khalid pointed. "There!"
Linda looked to where he pointed. Across the length of a football field,
spotlights still speared the darkness above, highlighting the towering
elevator shaft. Something moved up there. It was an elevator cage, descending
toward the floor. Someone was coming.
As she watched, she could make out rifles and other weapons bristling through
the bars of the cage, like some armed porcupine. Reinforcements were arriving.
Khalid's eyes narrowed to black slits. "So damn close. Just a few more
minutes."
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Linda allowed a smile to come to her lips, enjoying Khalid's consternation.
"I guess you're not leaving that way."
Khalid glared at her, slipped out of his backpack, and began rummaging
through it. He removed a transmitter from his pack. It was different from the
one that controlled the bombs she had helped set.
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