Deadfall: Agent 21 by Chris Ryan Page A

layer of the vine was coming away in sections, like damp wallpaper. Raf would cut strips of vine from the plant and hand them round. Zak soon learned the trick of throwing his head back and holding a cut end of the vine above his mouth, then letting the water trickle in. It didn’t totally relieve the burning thirst at the back of his parched throat, but it was better than nothing.
    At 16.00hrs, Raf raised his hand again. All four of them stopped. Raf inclined his head slightly. ‘I think I can hear water,’ he said.
    Zak listened very carefully. Sure enough, he could hear a distant trickle somewhere off to their left.
    They changed direction, but moved more slowly now. Each time he passed a tree, Raf carved a notch into the bark. Zak didn’t have to ask why. Each patch of rainforest looked identical to the next. If they didn’t mark their path carefully, they’d never find their way back.
    After ten minutes of careful trekking, the water source came into sight. It was a stream about twometres wide, but fast flowing. A gap in the canopy above let beams of sunlight in, which reflected off the water like twinkling diamonds. It was beautiful and Zak couldn’t stop looking at it. The others were right by him, all three of them equally stunned.
    Then Zak heard a roar.
    It was a terrifying sound. Low, throaty and snarling. It shattered the stillness of the jungle and made him start violently. His brain screamed at him to run, but it was as if his muscles had turned to ice. His stomach was in his throat. He looked desperately around, trying to find out what animal had made that ferocious, angry sound. It had come from the opposite side of the stream, but at first Zak couldn’t see anything. Whatever beast had just snarled its warning at them, it was too well camouflaged . . .
    ‘
Don’t move a muscle . . .
’ Gabs hissed.
    Malcolm was either not listening or had decided to ignore her. He turned away from the stream and was obviously about to run.
    Gabs grabbed him and held him fast. ‘
Do what I say.
’
    And while this was going on, Zak’s eyes finally picked out the creature. He had only ever seen leopards in pictures. But he immediately recognized the shape of the head and the distinctive spots. Itwas crouching low, mostly covered by foliage, so that only its head and its lean, muscular shoulders were really visible about five metres from the far bank of the stream.
    Zak felt his eyes lock with the cat’s, and in that exact moment the leopard roared again, revealing a full set of adult teeth, like white daggers set in the pink hilt of its jaw. And again, Zak’s brain screamed at him to run.
    But Gabs was speaking again, her voice little more than a breath. She sounded like she was trying not to move her lips any more than necessary.
    ‘If we run,’ she whispered, ‘it
will
chase us. It’s a hunter. That’s what hunters do. Stay
absolutely
still. Don’t frighten it, or startle it. And don’t maintain eye contact – it will take that as a challenge.’
    Instantly, Zak ripped his gaze away from the leopard. He could still see it from the corner of his eye, though – a yellow and black blur nestled in the dark green foliage.
    Seconds passed. They felt like hours. Zak forced himself to breathe, slowly and steadily, but he could feel the tremors as he inhaled.
    The leopard stayed perfectly still. So did the humans.
    The only noise was the rushing of the stream.
    Movement.
    Zak couldn’t help his eyes flickering towards the leopard. He saw the lithe, sinewy body turning 180 degrees as the big cat slunk away into the forest.
    Nobody moved or even spoke for a good thirty seconds.
    It was Raf who finally broke the silence. ‘We need to drink and wash, then get away from the water,’ he said very quietly. ‘It’s obviously a watering hole, and that leopard won’t be the only animal that uses it.’
    ‘What if it comes back?’ Malcolm had an edge of panic in his voice. His glasses were wonky on his face,