“No…we’re fine now.” She glanced at Dulce and Dexter. “No,” she said, shaking her head, still fighting for breath. He then retreated a few steps toward the narrow footpath and looked past her intently.

Ronin coasted to a stop and turned back to study DeeAnn. She held up a hand and continued sucking in air.

Her feet finally thundered to a stop, and she gasped for breath, looking back through the trees for any sign of the old man. Dexter and Dulce scrambled forward on his heels, and ahead of DeeAnn.Īfter several minutes, the trail opened into a wide, grassy area, where DeeAnn allowed her herself to slow. The dark-skinned man finally slowed to a stop near the area where Ronin and the primates had been waiting––defiantly hurling the rusted axe forward, where it struck the ground, and tumbled helplessly along the dirt path.Ī hundred yards further ahead and well out of range, Ronin pressed forward, running hard and pushing branches out of their way. But in his eighties, the man was already beginning to slow, which only seemed to incense him more. Shouts in Kinyarwanda spewed forth from the old man, who wielded what appeared to be a small axe above his head. Trailing at a distance behind DeeAnn, a frail figure rounded the trees, angrily chasing after her. A second later, Dexter leapt from the tree onto Ronin’s back as he too stumbled and began to run ahead of her in the same direction. With a start, Dulce dropped the flower and began stumbling backward, still watching DeeAnn. When she was less than twenty feet away, the computerized vest strapped to her midsection blurted out the translation in a loud mechanical voice. “I SAID RUN!” DeeAnn screamed and pointed again. Ronin suddenly stared at the two primates who both remained frozen. As fast as she could, huffing loudly and pointing frantically in the direction behind them as she barreled down the path. It was not until DeeAnn Draper appeared in the distance that they each jumped. His smooth, bald head gradually turning pink from exposure to the subtropical sun. The looks on their faces were strikingly similar to the expression of their alien companion, Ronin––unblemished but puzzled. Both turned and looked down a long narrow footpath toward the commotion. With a look of confusion, the small gorilla peered up at Dexter, a smaller capuchin monkey, who was perched nervously a few feet above her. The air was still and humid, leaving the vast expanse of mahogany and kapok trees almost motionless, save for the occasional movement of African snipes as they hopped between branches.Ī tranquil scene shattered abruptly when a deafening scream arose in the distance, followed by a barrage of unintelligible shouting and cursing.ĭulce looked up, startled, still clutching a soft pink bromeliad flower between her black fingers. The late afternoon sun rested well below the thick canopy of African trees, producing a rich pink-orange hue through the cloud-covered sky.

Mosaic michael c grumley