Page 44

CHAPTER 43

Democratic Republic of the Congo, 7 p.m.

KIRA SUCKED THE last drop of juice from a ripe mango and tossed the skin on the ground. A light supper. It was all her belly could handle in the heat. Time for a nap.

She climbed back up into the crook of one of her favorite trees and stuffed her backpack behind her head for a pillow. She was in deep cover, about a half mile from the mine and the human sounds that went with it. The air was filled with a chorus of cicadas and the bubbly rush from a nearby stream—her daily bath and fresh water supply.

As darkness closed in, she could hear monkeys screech and predators growl. Kira ticked off the binomial of each one in her head. It was a habit from her training. Always know what you’re up against.

Pan troglodytes… Panthera pardus… Cercopithecus pogonias…

The mental exercise was also her way of not thinking about Doc, and how much she was missing him. After she’d ripped him away from his humdrum university life, they’d spent six months together. She’d trained him. Molded him. She helped him see what he was capable of, and showed him the evil that was taking over the world. She and Doc had risked their lives together, nearly died together—more than once.

At the beginning, the professor wouldn’t have survived without her. By the end, she needed him just as much. Maybe more. Kira wasn’t crazy about that feeling. She’d always hated being dependent on anybody but herself.

But she loved Doc. She couldn’t help it. If that was a weakness, she’d decided that she was willing to live with it. And she wouldn’t give up on finding him.

Ever.

Kira tipped her head back and looked up through the crazy pattern of branches and vines in the canopy above her. She felt a slight tickle on her neck.

She froze.

Now only her eyes moved, darting sideways. The tickle intensified. Her heart was pounding. A slender green snake slithered over her shoulder.

Dispholidus typus. A boomslang.

It was one of the deadliest snakes in Africa.

Kira held perfectly still. The snake started to curl across her chest, tongue flicking. Kira tensed her muscles, then whipped her left hand over and grabbed it behind the head. The snake coiled furiously around her forearm. Its jaws gaped wide, exposing a pink mouth and pin-like fangs.

Kira unwrapped the snake carefully from her arm and dangled it at arm’s length, ready to drop it to the ground. But then she had second thoughts.

She pulled a nylon bag from a side pouch of her backpack and stuffed the squirming little killer inside.

Her new pet.

“Welcome to the jungle,” she whispered.