State Of Fear

"You just don't get it, do you?" Kenner said. "You think civilization is some horrible, polluting human invention that separates us from the state of nature. But civilization doesn't separate us from nature, Ted. Civilization protects us from nature. Because what you see right now, all around youthis is nature."

"Oh no. No, no. Humans are kind, cooperative amp;"

"Horseshit, Ted."

"There are genes for altruism."

"Wishful thinking, Ted."

"All cruelty springs from weakness."

"Some people like cruelty, Ted."

"Leave him alone," Evans said.

"Why should I? Come on, Ted. Aren't you going to answer me?"

"Oh, fuck you," Ted said. "Maybe we're all going to get killed here by these juvenile delinquent creeps, but I want you to know, if it's the last fucking thing I say in my life, that you are a major and unrelenting ass-hole, Kenner. You bring out the worst in everybody. You're a pessimist, you're an obstructionist, you're against all progress, against everything that is good and noble. You are a right-wing pig in amp;in amp;in whatever the fuck you are wearing. Whatever those clothes are. Where's your gun?"

"I dropped it."

"Where?"

"Back in the jungle."

"You think Sanjong has it?"

"I hope so."

"Is he coming to get us?"

Kenner shook his head. "He's doing the job we came to do."

"You mean he's going to the bay."

"Yes."

"So nobody is coming to get us?"

"No, Ted. Nobody."

"We're fucked," he said. "We're fucking fucked. I can't believe it." And he started to cry.

Two boys entered the room, carrying two heavy hemp ropes. They attached one rope to each of Bradley's wrists, tying them firmly. Then they walked out again.

The drums beat louder.

Out in the center of the village, people took up a rhythmic chant.

Jennifer said, "Can you see out the door from where you are?"

"Yes."

"Keep an eye out. Tell me if someone is coming."

"All right," Sarah said.

She glanced back and saw that Jennifer had arched her back and was gripping the pole between her hands. She had also bent her legs so her soles touched the wood, and proceeded to shimmy up the pole at a remarkable speed, like an acrobat. She got to the top, raised her cuffed hands clear of the top of the pole, and then jumped lightly to the ground.

"Anybody?" she said.

"No amp;How'd you learn to do that?"

"Keep looking out the door."

Jennifer slid back against her pole again, as if she were still handcuffed to it.

"Anybody yet?"

"No, not yet."

Jennifer sighed. "We need one of those kids to come in," she said. "Soon."

Outside, Sambuca was giving a speech, screaming brief phrases that were each answered by a shout from the crowd. Their leader was building them up, working them into a frenzy. Even in Ted's room, they could feel it building.

Bradley was curled in fetal position, crying softly.

Two men came in, much older than the boys. They unlocked his handcuffs. They lifted him to his feet. Each man took a rope. Together they led him outside.

A moment later, the crowd roared.

Chapter 81

PAVUTU

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 14

12:02 P.M.

"Hey, cutie pie," Jennifer said, when a boy stuck his head in the door. She grinned. "You like what you see, cutie pie?" She shifted her pelvis suggestively.

The boy looked suspicious at first, but he came deeper into the room. He was older than the others, maybe fourteen or fifteen, and he was bigger. He was carrying a rifle and wore a knife on his belt.

"You want to have some fun? Want to let me go?" Jennifer said, smiling with a little pout. "You understand me? My arms hurt, baby. Want to have fun?"

He gave a laugh, sort of a gurgle from deep in his throat. He moved toward her and pushed her legs open, then crouched down in front of her.

"Oh, let me go first, please amp;"

"No meri," he said, laughing and shaking his head. He knew he could have her while she remained cuffed to the pole. He was kneeling between her legs, fumbling with his shorts, but it was clumsy holding the gun, so he set the gun down.

What happened next was very fast. Jennifer arched her back and kicked her legs up, clipping the kid under the chin, snapping his head back. She continued the motion, crunching into a ball, swinging her arms under her hips and butt and then up her legs, so now her hands were in front of her instead of behind. As the kid staggered to his feet, she slammed him in the side of the head with both hands. He went down on his knees. She dove on him, knocking him over, and pounded his head into the ground. Then she pulled the knife off his belt and cut his throat.

She sat on his body while he shivered and spasmed and the blood poured from his throat and onto the bare earth. It seemed to take a long time. When the body was finally motionless, she got off him, and rifled through his pockets.

Sarah watched the whole thing, her mouth open.

"Damn it," Jennifer said. "Damn it."

"What's the matter?"

"He doesn't have the key!"

She rolled the body over, grunting with the effort. She got blood on her arms from the flowing throat. She paid no attention to it.

"Where are the damn keys?"

"Maybe the other kid has it."

"Which one cuffed us?"

"I don't remember," Sarah said. "I was confused." She was staring at the body, looking at all the blood.

"Hey," Jennifer said, "get over it. You know what these guys are going to do? They're going to beat us up, gang-bang us, and then kill us. Fuck 'em. We kill as many as we can and try to get out of here alive. But I need the damn key!"

Sarah struggled to her feet.

"Good idea," Jennifer said. She came over and crouched down in front of Sarah.

"What?"

"Stand on my back and shimmy up. Get yourself off the pole. And hurry."

Outside, the crowd was screaming and roaring, a constant and ugly sound.

Ted Bradley blinked in the bright sunlight. He was disoriented by pain and fear and by the sight that greeted his eyes: two lines of old women, forming a corridor for him to walk down, all applauding him wildly. In fact, beyond the old women was a sea of facesdark-skinned men and young girls and kids hardly waist high. And they were all yelling and cheering. Dozens of people, crowded together.

They were cheering him!

Despite himself, Ted smiled. It was a weak smile, sort of a half-smile, because he was tired and hurt, but he knew from experience that it would convey just the right hint of subtle pleasure at their response. As he was carried forward by the two men, he nodded and smiled. He allowed his smile to become broader.

At the far end of the women was Sambuca himselfbut he, too, was applauding wildly, his hands high in the air, a broad smile on his face.

Ted didn't know what was happening here, but obviously he had misunderstood the meaning of the whole thing. Either that or they had figured out who he was and now thought better of their original plan. It wouldn't be the first time. The women were cheering so loudly as he was carried forward, their mouths gaping with excitement, that he tried to shake off the men who were holding him, he tried to walk unaided. And he did!

But now that he was closer he noticed that the applauding women had heavy sticks resting against their hips as they cheered. Some had baseball bats and some lengths of metal pipe. And as he came closer they continued to shout, but they picked up their bats and sticks and began to strike him, heavy blows on the face and shoulders and body. The pain was instant and incredible, and he sank down to the ground, but immediately the men with the ropes hauled him up again, and dragged him while the women beat him and screamed and beat him. And the pain streaked through his body and he felt a vague detachment, an emptiness, but still the blows came, merciless, again and again.

And finally, barely conscious, he came to the end of the line of women and saw a pair of poles. The men quickly tied his arms to the two poles in a way that kept him upright. And now the crowd fell silent. His head was bowed, he saw blood dripping from his head onto the ground. And he saw two naked feet appear in his line of vision, and the blood spattered on the feet, and someone lifted his head.

It was Sambuca, though Bradley could barely focus on his face. The world was gray and faint. But he saw that Sambuca was grinning at him, revealing a row of yellow pointed teeth. And then Sambuca held up a knife so Ted could see it, and smiled again, and with two fingers grabbed the flesh of Ted's cheek and sliced it off with the knife.

There was no pain, surprisingly no pain but it made him dizzy to see Sambuca hold up the bloody chunk of his cheek and, grinning, open his mouth and take a bite. The blood ran down Sambuca's chin as he chewed, grinning all the while. Bradley's head was spinning now. He was nauseated and terrified and revolted, and he felt a pain at his chest. He looked down to see a young boy of eight or nine cutting flesh from his underarm with a pocket knife. And a woman raced forward, screaming for the others to get out of the way, and she hacked a slice from the back of his forearm. And then the whole crowd was upon him, and the knives were everywhere, and they were cutting and yelling and cutting and yelling and he saw one knife move toward his eyes, and felt his trousers tugged down, and he knew nothing more.

Chapter 82

PAVUTU

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 14

12:22 P.M.

Evans listened to the crowd cheering and yelling. Somehow he knew what was happening. He looked at Kenner. But Kenner just shook his head.

There was nothing to do. No help was coming. There was no way out.

The door opened, and two boys appeared. They carried two heavy hemp ropes, now visibly soaked in blood. They walked up to Evans and carefully knotted the ropes to his hands. Evans felt his heart start to pound.

The boys finished and left the room.

Outside, the crowd was roaring.

"Don't worry," Kenner said. "They'll let you wait a while. There's still hope."

"Hope for what?" Evans said in a burst of anger.

Kenner shook his head. "Just amp;hope."

Jennifer was waiting for the next kid to come in the room. He did, finally, and took one look at the fallen boy and began to bolt, but Jennifer had her arms around his neck. She yanked him back into the room with her hands over his mouth so he couldn't scream and she made a sudden, quick twist and let him fall to the ground. He wasn't dead, but he would be there a while.

But in that moment when she had looked outside, she had seen the keys.

They were out in the thatch passageway, on a bench across the hall.

There were two guns in the room now, but there was no point in firing them. It would just bring everybody on them. Jennifer didn't want to look outside again. She heard murmuring voices. She couldn't be sure whether they were coming from the next room or from the hallway. She couldn't make a mistake.

She leaned back against the wall by the door and moaned. Softly at first, and then louder, because the crowd was still very noisy. She moaned and moaned.

Nobody came.

Did she dare to look out?

She took a breath and waited.

Evans was trembling. The blood-soaked ropes were cold on his wrists. He couldn't stand the waiting. He felt like he was going to pass out. Outside the crowd was slowly becoming quieter. They were settling down. He knew what that meant. Soon it would be time for the next victim.

Then he heard a quiet sound.

It was a man coughing. Softly, insistently.

Kenner understood first. "In here," he said loudly.

There was a whacking sound as a machete blade poked through the thatched wall. Evans turned. He saw the slash in the wall widen, and a thick, brown hand reached in to pull the slash wider open still. A heavily bearded face peered through the gash at them.

For a moment Evans did not recognize him, but then the man put his finger to his lips, and there was something in the gesture that was familiar, and Evans suddenly saw past the beard.

"George!"

It was George Morton.

Alive.

Morton stepped through into the room. "Keep it down," he hissed.

"You took your sweet time," Kenner said, turning so Morton could unlock his cuffs. Morton gave Kenner a pistol. Then it was Evans's turn. With a click, his hands were free. Evans tugged at the hemp ropes, trying to get them off his wrists. But they were securely tied.

Morton whispered, "Where are the others?"

Kenner pointed to the room next door. He took the machete from Morton. "You take Peter. I'll get the girls."

With the machete, Kenner stepped out into the hallway.

Morton grabbed Evans by the arm. Evans jerked his head.

"Let's go."

"But"

"Do as he says, kid."

They stepped through the slash in the wall, and into the jungle beyond.

Kenner moved down the empty hallway. There were openings at both ends. He could be surprised at any moment. If the alarm went up, they were all dead. He saw the keys on the bench, picked them up, and went to the door of the women's room. Looking into the room, he saw that the poles were abandoned. He didn't see either of the women.

Staying outside, he tossed the keys into the room.

"It's me," he whispered.

A moment later, he saw Jennifer scramble from her hiding place behind the door to grab the keys. In a few seconds she and Sarah had both unlocked each other. They grabbed the boys' guns and started for the door.

Too late. From around the corner three heavyset young men were coming toward Kenner. They all carried machine guns. They were talking and laughing, not paying attention.

Kenner slipped into the women's room. He pressed back against the wall, gestured for the two women to go back to the poles. They made it just in time as the men entered the room. Jennifer said, "Hi, guys," with a big smile. At that moment, the men registered the two fallen boys and the blood-soaked earth, but it was too late. Kenner took one; Jennifer got the second with her knife. The third was almost out the door when Kenner hit him with the butt of the gun. There was the crack of skull. He went down hard.