Children of the Dusk by Berliner Janet & Guthridge George

Author:Berliner, Janet & Guthridge, George [Berliner, Janet & Guthridge, George]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction.Dark Fantasy/Supernatural, Fiction.Horror, Fiction.Historical, Acclaimed.Bram Stoker Award, History.WWII & Holocaust
Amazon: B003YJEXF2
Publisher: Macabre Ink Digital
Published: 2010-08-04T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY

"Do not do this, Mister Germantownman," Bruqah said, stepping more hastily than usual out of the jungle.

The trainers looked at him, then at Erich. There was a sadness in them and in the dogs, Bruqah thought, but like good and proper soldiers, they had put aside their grief and looked ready to begin whatever maneuver their commander ordered.

"Search and seizure," Erich repeated confidently.

Dogs and men moved toward the Kalanaro, who disappeared at once into the rain forest.

Erich glared at Bruqah. "Don't you ever do that again," he said, his voice tense with anger.

"Do what, Germantownman? I did not do anything. I merely advised. Is that not my job?"

"Your job is to give advice when asked, not to interfere with my orders. Besides, I don't see the big problem. There seems to be an endless supply of the little bastards."

"They be like rain forest. You cut, it come back more and stronger." Bruqah did not allow his voice to reveal how appalled he was by Erich's callousness. The full truth was that the chase itself would antagonize the Kalanaro, but they would not be captured. The dogs and men would thread their way down the hillside. Reaching the mangroves and the tiny strip of beach, they would erroneously conclude that their quarry had paddled to the mainland, and return here frustrated with the insects and the fruitlessness of the search. "Jungle sometime like alligator. She like to swallow men and dogs." He grinned, deliberately showing his teeth. "Swallow Kalanaro too, maybe."

"We'll find them," Erich said.

"Maybe. They be glowworms. Here, yet not here. Sometime you no-see-um. Other time they full of light." Bruqah remained placid, his smile in place. The Kalanaro were perfectly able to take care of themselves, and the thought of agitating the Germans charmed him. The trainers were a different matter. He thought of them as apart from the others, and could not revel in their frustration. He had seen too much futility for that: burning off the central highlands for planting, then watching the thin red soil wash to the sea; warning his people not to hunt the giant flightless birds and pygmy hippos, gone now from the face of the land; pain piercing his heart each time a Malagash slaughtered an aye-aye because he feared its power.

"So you're telling me that we can't find them?" Erich's temper had cooled. He looked more amused than angry.

"I saying you do not wish to find them, maybe."

"Obviously what you are not telling me is more important than what you have said."

"Ob--viously." Bruqah had trouble pronouncing the word.

"I think that in future I should only ask you what I do not want to know." There was a hint of a smile in the colonel's eyes, as if the verbal sparring pleased him. "You will be surprised to hear that I believe you," he said. "But this time it does not matter if they find nothing. Sometimes it's the looking that's important. Sometimes, that is more than enough."

With a wave of his hand, the colonel turned his back on Bruqah and walked toward the road that led to the beach.

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