Dark Storm Read Online Free PDF

was something altogether different—a soft, persistent noise, a low frequency that jangled every nerve in the body. She’d awakened to the strange noise the very first night they entered the rain forest.
    Strangely, Riley couldn’t identify the low, irritating buzz, nor could she tell if it was outside or inside her head. She’d observed several others—including her mother—rubbing their temples as if their heads ached, and she feared that same low frequency of whispers one couldn’t quite catch was invading insidiously, adding to the danger of their travel. During the day the whispers were gone, but the effects lingered.
    Her senses, since entering the rain forest, seemed to have blazed to life and were working overtime. She noticed every little suspicious glance toward her mother. Jubal Sanders and Gary Jansen were armed to the teeth and she was very envious of their weapons. The two moved in silence, kept to themselves and watched everyone. She came to the conclusion that they knew a lot more about what was going on than they let on.
    Don Weston and his friend Mack Shelton were a pair of idiots as far as she could see. Neither had ever made the trek into a rain forest, and clearly they were afraid of everything. They blustered, complained and bullied the porters and guides when they weren’t leering at Riley or feeding the rampant distrust among the travelers.
    Ben Charger seemed much more knowledgeable about the rain forest and the tribes occupying it. He’d done extensive research and had come prepared. He didn’t like either Weston or Shelton, but had to work with them and clearly wasn’t happy about it. He spent a lot of time talking to the guides and porters, asking questions and trying to learn from them. Riley couldn’t really fault him for anything. Perhaps she was just nervous about everyone at this point.
    The archaeologist and his students were very excited and seemed completely oblivious to the tension running through the camp, although she noticed they were uneasy at night, sitting close to the fire. They seemed driven, amicable and very focused on their mission. Dr. Henry Patton and his two students, Todd Dillon and Marty Shepherd, were more excited about the ruins they’d heard about than interested in whether or not a woman in their company was bringing bad luck to the travelers. They seemed young and naïve, even the professor, who was in his late fifties. His entire world revolved around academia.
    Riley felt a little sorry for all three archaeologists, that they were so clueless, and more grateful than ever that she’d chosen to concentrate her studies on modern languages rather than dead ones. She enjoyed traveling, talking with people and living life too much to be locked in an ivory tower, poring over dusty tomes. Of course, she’d studied ancient languages as well, but primarily as a window to the evolution of languages and their impact on various cultures.
    Riley glanced toward Raul and Capa, the two porters who had shared the boat with them coming upriver. She didn’t like the way they whispered and sent surreptitious glances toward Annabel’s sleeping hammock. Maybe that terrible buzzing in her head was making her as paranoid as everyone else, but in any case, there was no sleeping. She didn’t just have to worry about the men in her camp; the insects and bats and every other night creature seemed to stalk her mother as well.
    She’d gone four nights without sleep, watching over her mother, and it was beginning to show, fraying her nerves so that she found it nearly impossible to tolerate Weston’s snide, leering presence. She didn’t want to add to the problems by being ugly to him, but she was definitely at that point. The fire blazed bright. Just outside the ring of fire, a jaguar coughed. He seemed to follow them, yet when the guides went out to check in the morning, they couldn’t find tracks. It was impossible not to be affected by that sawing, grunting cough.
    She