Page 54 of Hunter's Mission

“Shit!” I tried to duck down, but it was impossible.

Standing on an enormous branch, Hunter clutched his rifle, sweeping his aim toward the dense bushes around us. Shaking his head, he waved me forward. As another shout drifted to us, we scrambled over the mammoth tree and hid behind a bush covered in purple flowers which was a species that I hadn’t seen before.

Hunter pointed ahead, nodded at me, then clutching his rifle ready to shoot, he led the way through the bushes. I kept right on his tail and as the shouts became louder, the smoke dominated all other jungle scents.

Ducking behind bushes, we peered through the thick greenery toward a small jetty and a derelict building on the edge of the water.

“Looks like an old church,” Hunter whispered.

“It probably is.” I kept my voice low. “For decades, missionaries have been using the river to find the jungle tribes who they try to convert to religion.”

A boat appeared beyond the building, carving through the muddy water and as it neared the decrepit jetty, the sound of the motor cut through the silence.

“We need that boat.” Hunter’s stern expression matched the determination in his tone.

The boat’s engine was turned off as it pulled up alongside the jetty. A man jumped off the boat onto the rickety timber and a rope was tossed to him from another man in the boat.

Hunter stiffened beside me. “They’ve got weapons. I need a better look. Let’s get closer.”

As we crawled through the underbrush, my heart pounded in my chest.

“Stay low.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “And keep your eyes open. There could be more of them around.

Every sense was on high alert.

Crawling through the bushes was brutal on my battered legs, and adrenaline coursed through my veins.

Hunter raised his fist, and I stopped. I shuffled beside him and with our shoulders together, he peered through binoculars. Shaking his head, he handed them to me.

I adjusted the binoculars to see better, and my bones just about turned to Jell-O. “Oh, my god. That’s Neville. I thought he was dead. That bastard is with those men.”

Hunter grabbed the binoculars off me.

“He’s the only Caucasian man amongst them.”

“I see him.” He lowered the binoculars to look at me. “Any idea what they’re doing in that old church? Or this area?”

I took the binoculars off him and studied Neville. He had a rifle across his chest just like all the others did. I didn’t recognize any of the other men. None of them were from any of the tribal villages that I’d been invited into since I’d been here.

“I don’t know.”

“Think, Layla. What’s in this area that they would want?”

The shouts grew louder, and the scent of smoke hung heavy in the air. As my mind raced with thoughts of what the hell Neville was doing, smoke drifted over the rooftop of the old church.

“They must have a fire on the other side of the building,” I said.

“Yes, I figured that,” he said. “What would they need that for? What could they be burning?”

“What about coffee beans?” I blurted.

Hunter looked at me like I’d lost my mind.

“I’m serious. Those coffee cherries that we ate . . . they roast the beans that were inside to make coffee.”

“Okay, I’ll buy it. Why do they need weapons?”

Frowning, I peered through the bushes in time to see the men disappear inside the church.

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