The Greystoke Legacy by Andy Briggs

increased in ferocity; fat drops clattered off the corrugated-­iron roof sounding more like hailstones.
    â€œAs soon as the storm passes, we leave,” said Archie without looking at Clark for confirmation.
    â€œAnd the camp?” Clark asked as innocently as he could, indicating the camp around them. Everything both men had was tied up with the business.
    â€œTo hell with the camp,” hissed Archie. “We find them, then we worry about all this!” Clark nodded in understanding. “Esmée is making packs and Mister David is organizing the men. We’ll leave some here on guard.”
    â€œAnd how much will that cost?” Clark knew the men would only risk life and limb in a search party if they were being paid handsomely. The dangers of the jungle were great.
    Archie laughed cheerlessly. “More than we’ve got right now.”
    The storm raged and the two men didn’t say another word as they waited for the chance to begin the search.
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    Nervous grunts came from the trees as the thunder ferociously boomed through the mountains. It woke Jane from the deepest sleep she could remember. Tarzan had brought her some fresh branches and laid them on the floor of the fuselage as a mattress, which was surprisingly comfortable. Then he had left as night encroached. The grunts from the band outside felt reassuring, and the rain battering her shelter was soothing.
    Now that she was feeling safe, she allowed her mind to wander. Her first thought was of how she would get back to camp. That would be something she would try to communicate to Tarzan in the morning. Thinking about her strange savior, she reflected on who he was and how he came to be living with wild apes. She desperately wanted to search the aircraft for clues to Tarzan’s identity, but the darkness within was absolute. She tried to stand, but felt a wave of dizziness that forced her to lie back down. She clutched her head wound. Tarzan had done his best to tend it, but she was certain he was no medic, although he had done an excellent job with her leg. She wondered what the tiny beads were that held the wound together. She’d never seen stitching like it, and she’d seen a lot when her father had been a doctor. Where had Tarzan learned that skill?
    Tiredness washed over her, and her eyelids felt leaden. She tried to combat the fatigue when Tana poked her head into the shelter, little Karnath clinging to her. Both were wet from the downpour and looked agitated as thunder rumbled again. They edged into the artificial cave and settled down at the foot of Jane’s nest. Despite their presence, Jane could no longer stay awake and drifted back to sleep.
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    It was dawn, and Robbie had barely slept. The storm had curtailed, but the rain continued. And he was wet through to his skin. He climbed from the tree, falling the last seven feet because his leg was still numb. He hadn’t brought a change of clothes and wondered if it was possible to get hypothermia in the tropical climate. His neck itched from the numerous insect bites and it was a battle of will not to scratch them. He decided to leave breakfast until he had dried out, so grabbed his pack and continued following the river.
    Hours passed as he hacked his way through the verdure and he began mumbling half-forgotten lyrics to spur him on. Just as he was starting to doubt that Jane could have possibly drifted this far downriver, the bushes cleared and he found himself on the banks of three converging tributaries that merged into one huge river that carved through the jungle.
    â€œDAMMIT!” he screamed to whoever would listen. Several parrots cawed in reply.
    Robbie slumped on the riverbank, feeling disheartened. He felt stupid. The wilderness was too vast to track Jane down singlehandedly. She was still out there, alone, possibly injured. Or worse. And so was he.
    The unwelcome image of his sister barged into his mind’s