The Chimera Sequence Read Free Page A

with it. Cole hoisted a large backpack out of the helicopter’s open bay and settled it onto his shoulders.
    “Doesn’t sound like we have much time for exploring.” Marna hopped out of the cockpit, then turned to rub a hand affectionately against the helicopter’s shiny green finish. “You guys know I can’t risk damaging this little beauty!”
    “What,” Cole said, “you’re worried she can’t handle an adventure?”
    He knew the Eurocopter’s thin fiberglass fuselage wouldn’t stand much of a chance under fire, unlike the armored skins of the Blackhawks and Chinooks he was used to flying around in. But no reason to get Marna more worried than she already was. This early morning excursion across the border was not exactly internationally sanctioned, and he was fully aware of the potential repercussions of being apprehended by one of the rebel groups camping out in the park. Cole swore under his breath as he imagined what might be in store for Marna as the only woman on this somewhat reckless outing. The odds of coming away from a confrontation unharmed were not in her favor. Maybe the politically savvy warlords would understand her value as a bargaining chip, but those teenage foot soldiers high on superglue would have only one thing on their minds.
    “Oh she’d do just fine, thank you very much,” Marna said. “It’s just that this two million dollar flying machine is technically still on loan from South African National Parks, and she’s definitely not supposed to be in the Congo this morning. Don’t want to take any chances.”
    “I gotcha, don’t you worry.” Cole looked back into the helicopter for the final member of their group. “What do you think, doc?”
    “Just loading the last dart.”
    Dr. Antoine Musamba’s stocky frame was hunched over a large backpack full of the expedition’s medical supplies, the Pneu-Dart 389 tranquilizing rifle already slung over one shoulder. He pushed a fogged up pair of wire-rimmed glasses onto the top of his smooth bald head, adding to the aura of intense concentration. Cole watched as he injected a potent combination of two anesthetic drugs, tiletamine and zolazepam, into a long silver dart. He knew the cocktail would quickly and safely immobilize a five-hundred pound full-grown silverback, and that Musamba would already have other darts in the backpack pre-loaded with the right volumes for average adult females and juvenile gorillas. The Congo-based veterinarian for the Gorilla Doctors—the organization hosting Cole in central Africa—was an expert in the field anesthesia of large primates, his skills developed over many years working among these volcanoes.
    Musamba started putting the filled dart into its carrying case, but then paused, letting the rifle swing down off his shoulder.
    “Always ready, right?” Cole said.
    “Exactly.” Musamba loaded the powerful dart into the rifle and climbed out of the helicopter. “Let’s get going.”
    Cole knew how much this long-awaited return to Virunga meant to Musamba and the Kambale brothers. The rebel fighters controlling the park had been messing with their country’s future for too long. There was a hardened resolve in his colleague’s dark eyes that Cole hadn’t seen before. Sure, they were there first for the gorillas, but the expression made him realize Musamba probably wouldn’t be completely opposed to using the Pneu-Dart in his own defense. Only difference between shooting a gorilla and shooting a human was that the much smaller rebel might never wake up.
    “I will stay here with Marna to watch the helicopter.” Proper Kambale’s French-accented English was surprisingly good, given its status as the fourth language in his repertoire. “You three must go now to discover what has died and find our gorillas. We will stay on the radios, yes?”
    “Yep, sounds good,” Cole said. “We need to get our eyes on some gorillas and then hurry on back out of here. You good, Marna?”
    “We’ll be