Free Project Apex by Michael Bray Page A

grow even more. The strain on his body forcing Genaro’s medicine to work harder. Even though sight and sound were beyond him, he could sense the world, and within it his brothers, others like him, others who knew what had to be done. He could feel their presence, glowing entities out there in the world.
    As he lay there, he imagined he could almost hear them marching towards him, coming to catch a glimpse of the father of the new world. Before he had entered his coffin, such a title was an idea, something he strived to be. But now after lying in the ground for... he hesitated.
    How long had it been? Days? Weeks? Years? Perhaps even centuries? Maybe it had only been minutes and he still had a thousand lifetimes to wait.
    No.
    He didn’t think so. He could feel the change. He had entered the hole as a man with something inside him to which he was a host. Now he felt no distinction between the two. He was it, and it was he, and together they were growing stronger and morphing into something incredible. He heard them again, the marching feet of a thousand men, his kin. His brothers.
    Only....
    It wasn’t marching. The sound wasn't in his mind, it existed in the real world.
    It was the sound of digging, of shovels scraping on the wood of the coffin. That revelation had only taken seconds to sink in when the black veil lifted, and for the first time in almost two weeks, he saw the world.
    They had come for him.
    Strong arms lifted him from his exile and set him gently on the ground next to the grave.
    He lay unmoving, feeling his body slowly come back to life. Blood forced its way through starving veins, muscles which had atrophied started to twitch as his body repaired itself from the inside. He blinked, his vision swimming into focus. There in the dark, he could see his brothers. His disciples, the two now twelve. It should have been impossible, and the look on the faces of his loyal followers suggested they agreed. Declining assistance, he stood, taking a moment to steady himself. His sunken eyes and gaunt face stared at them, each, in turn, making sure they understood.
    "I am born again," he whispered, then staggered, almost toppling back into the hole. They steadied him, taking his weight as they led him to their sanctuary.
     
    CHAPTER SIX
    YUCATAN JUNGLE
    MEXICO
     
     
    DRAVEN KNELT IN THE dirt, hunched over a small burrow in the ground. The sun was fierce against his back as he peered at the tiny ants scurrying around the jungle floor. Sweat gathered on the tip of his nose, which he wiped against the grubby sleeve of his t-shirt. As he knelt there with his knees and back screaming for mercy, Draven realised he wasn't a young man anymore. Or at least not quite as young. Years of exposure to the sun had turned his skin into a tough, leathery hide, and had bleached his hair into a not quite blonde, not quite brown mass which was wet with sweat and clinging to his face. Because of this, people thought he was older than he actually was and when he told them he was in his mid-thirties, eyebrows were raised in disbelief. He exhaled, trying to ignore the stifling humidity.
    The Bullet ants went about their business, each inch long creature possessing a sting which delivered a potent neurotoxin which, in large enough dosage could cause paralysis and death. They were an aggressive species and the subject of Draven's current research. Until recently, they had only been known as native to Nicaragua and Paraguay, so to see them in the Yucatan was a surprise. 
    He had seen the aftermath of stings from these ants. The Satere-Mawe tribe, an indigenous group who live deep in the Amazon rainforest, have a unique use for the ants, one which Draven witnessed for himself.  The rite of passage for a Satere-Mawe boy to become a man involves locating a bullet ant nest. Often they are found nesting at the base of trees (like the one Draven was currently observing), the ants swarming up into the tree in order to forage in the overhead leaves