"The animals?"
"They went away. You know," Eakins said, "maybe this thing doesn't work on humans. Maybe—"
"What?" Sorensen asked. "What's happening now?"
There was a long silence. Then Eakins' voice, low-pitched and calm, came over the walkie-talkie.
"We'll speak with you again later," Eakins said. "We must take consultation now and decide what to do with you."
"Eakins!"
There was no answer from the other end of the walkie-talkie.
IV
Returning to their camp, the men were in a mood of thorough depression. They couldn't understand what had happened to Eakins and they didn't feel like speculating on it. The ravaging afternoon sun beat down, reflecting heat back from the white sand. The damp jungle steamed, and appeared to creep toward them like a huge and sleepy green dragon, trapping them against the indifferent sea. Gun barrels grew too hot to touch, and the water in the canteens was as warm as blood. Overhead, thick gray cumulus clouds began to pile up; it was the beginning of the monsoon season.