Lost Contact (The Bridge Sequence Book One), Nathan Hystad [primary phonics books .TXT] 📗

“I can’t believe this,” Marcus said. “Do you see the heat they’re packing?”

I did now. Two of the men opposite us were carrying submachine guns, and I flinched, picturing this ending in a shoot-out. I glanced into Tripp’s pack and spotted an M240. I quickly closed it and caught Veronica eyeing it suspiciously.

“Some friends you have, Rex,” she whispered.

“You’re telling me.”

Haja and Hasin met a skinny older man halfway, the two machine guns close behind him. I noted how Tripp stood beside Hunter’s door protectively. It was clear who he was hired to shield, not that I blamed him. The team was being paid handsomely for this mission, even if they didn’t understand what the end goal was.

Haja handed the other guy the bills, and he smiled, sniffing the cash. He barked an order, and his escorts turned around, lowering their weapons. I relaxed, glad the meeting hadn’t ended in violence, but the old guy didn’t follow his friends. He was staring at the truck. He asked something else in a clipped dialect I couldn’t quite hear from my position. He pointed at us and started walking forward. Judging by Haja’s expression, he was worried about something.

“Tripp, what do we do?” Marcus asked him.

Tripp didn’t take his eyes off the incoming man. “Have you ever fired a gun?”

“No. Well, yes, but only at the range with Rex…”

“Rex, in my pack. There’s two P226s. Take one, give Marcus—”

Veronica already had one in her hand. She released the magazine and slapped her palm on the end, clicking it back in place. She spun the other around and passed it to me. “Don’t worry. I won’t shoot myself in the foot.”

This was a weapon I was familiar with, and it gave me confidence as I waited, still sitting in the box of the truck.

The skinny guy Haja had paid off was closer, and he whistled, catching the attention of his armed escorts. They both turned around, lifting their guns, and I saw Tripp stand straighter. He was prepared for anything.

He started to reach for his gun when I overheard the man speaking in French. “One of their tires is low. Give them a hand.” I translated it in my head, but Tripp clearly didn’t speak the language. I climbed past Marcus and hopped to the ground, leaving the Sig behind.

I was right on time. I told him what they said as Tripp started to swing his arm around, and he stopped, turning to face me. “Are you sure?”

“They’re changing the tire.”

Hunter was still inside the truck, and at my words, he exited, stretching his back. “As good a time as any for a quick break, don’t you think?” he asked, dabbing sweat with his handkerchief.

The armed guards set their weapons on the dirt track and glanced at their boss, who nodded and pointed to the low tire. He grunted something about earning their share and laughed with Haja. Our escorts seemed nervous at first but were warming up.

They pulled a tire from beside the bench Veronica and I had been seated on, and made quick work of the swap. Once the jack was lowered, the skinny man whispered something to Hasin and walked off, whistling while his two companions shuffled after him. Haja returned to the driver’s seat and waited while the two vehicles drove by us with a honk of the horn.

“How close was that?” I asked Hasin as he sat across from me.

“You never know with him. But he’s interested in money, and we give him good business.” That was the end of it, and the truck started up. We continued on, toward the ever-thickening jungle ahead.

____________

By five o’clock, the sun was behind the canopy of trees, and we drove on for another hour, until it was almost impossible to make out the rough jungle passing. I wondered if this trail had been physically cut by local poachers over the years, or if some part of it was natural.

Lemurs called out everywhere, and they were an eerie soundtrack to the journey. I’d never seen so many as they sat in treetops, nimbly moving between branches with ease. Their voices intermingled with bird songs, and I searched the surroundings for the source, unable to spot any feathered friends in the dark.

Marcus stared at the lemurs, his interest in the exotic animals waning after hours seated on the uncomfortable wooden bench. I felt his pain and banged a palm against the truck as Haja began pulling off the road. “What’s the plan? I thought we were getting there today.”

“No. We cannot go on without light. Too dangerous.”

“Great,” Marcus mumbled.

“Buck up. A night in the jungle never killed…” Tripp stopped. “Well, that’s not true, but if you’re stuck outside, there are worse places in the world to be. I was in Mosquitia twenty years ago, looking for the White City with some foolhardy intellectual type.”

“And what happened?”

“Damn snake killed our doctor. Can you believe it?” Tripp grinned, and Marcus glanced at the nearby bushes.

We hauled out of the truck, retrieving our supplies. The trees opened up to a clearing, and I stared at the darkening sky, watching the pinpricks of light blink to life.

“What happened after the snake bite?” Veronica asked him.

“I never did reach the city. Only a complete lunatic would bother—” Tripp glanced at a skittering sound from the trees.

“You have to be slightly mad to scour a jungle in search of a lost city, don’t you?” Veronica prodded.

“Sure, I’d agree with that.”

“And the expedition?”

“The man that hired us died two weeks in. We warned him to wear his snake gaiters, but he whined that they chafed his ankles.” Tripp didn’t have to finish the story. I glanced at my feet and into the jungle, and hurried after the two locals as they led us into the clearing.

“We stay here. Put the tents close together,” Hasin said.

“Can we have a fire?” Marcus asked.

“Yes. There are predators, but we don’t have much to worry from the