The Canopy by Angela Hunt

Author:Angela Hunt [Hunt, Angela]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: ebook, Book
Publisher: Thomas Nelson Inc.
Published: 2012-09-30T14:00:00+00:00

12 APRIL 2003

8:15 P.M.

Michael swiped his hand through his hair as Alexandra shielded her daughter from the sight of Lauren’s mad flailings. The executive’s woman was going off in a full-fledged tantrum, beating her man’s chest and shrieking so loudly that even the insect chatter faded.

He flinched as something splashed in the lake. Bancroft must have heard the sound, too, for the arm holding his gun tensed. The guard stared toward the lake, then caught Michael’s eye. Lifting his free hand, he pointed toward the outer rim of the camp and drew a circle in the air, signaling that Michael should walk around and check things out . . .

Armed with what? Michael’s brain protested even as he turned to obey. He had a knife strapped to his belt, but it was only a six-inch blade, not a machete. Still, his hand sought the reassuring solidity of the handle.

Moving quietly so as not to arouse the others, he crept toward the hammock where Louis Fortier lay with open, glassy eyes. The sedative had not yet had time to work, but perhaps he had quieted under a placebo effect . . . or the fellow had slipped into shock. Michael couldn’t fault him if the latter were true. He’d be in shock, too, if he’d gone to relieve himself in the grass, tripped, and fallen on the half-devoured face of a friend.

Glancing over his shoulder, Michael saw Milos Olsson hand the Indian dart to Emma Whitmore. “What do you think about this?” The botanist’s deep voice growled through the darkness. “You know about jungle people—what does this mean?”

Emma took one look at the dart, then dropped it back into the Swede’s palm. “I think it’s a warning, no more. We are uncomfortably close to their village, and this is a warning to stay away. Though many tribes are nomadic, they still consider the surrounding environs their own territory.” Her eyes moved out into the dark, looking toward the lake and the island beyond. “Yet I doubt this tribe is nomadic. They have found security on that island, and they may have lived there for generations. If so, they will be determined to protect it.”

Michael moved past Fortier’s hammock, treading as silently as he could through the tangling vines and broken shrubs. Holding tight to his knife with his left hand, he used his right to bounce the beam of his flashlight from tree to shrub, investigating the foliage along the edge of the camp.

“I say we establish a perimeter beyond the hammocks,” Bancroft called, his voice strong and reassuring. “We station guards at the north, south, east, and west. Though we’ll keep the fire blazing through the night, we’re in luck because the moon is bright and right above—”

Michael froze in mid-step when the big man’s voice broke. Glancing through the hammocks toward the fire, he saw Bancroft’s eyes widen until they appeared to be in danger of falling out of his face.

Michael’s feeling of uneasiness turned into a deeper and more immediate fear when Bancroft pitched forward.

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