by Bob Nailor
THE RAINS
The tropical storm pounded the foreigners and drove them to the nearest hut. It was unoccupied, even though its shelves were lined with dried fish and meat. They huddled in the center as torrents of water gushed down from the roof around them outside.
“Theft must not be a problem here,” Dr. Hastings said, noting the row of empty shops.
“Not if she administers the punishments,” Paulo replied. “Who was she?”
“Remember the native from our camp in the forest?” Ana asked. “Her name is Itotia and she is queen around here.”
Paulo snorted and shook his head. “Indians don’t have queens, gringa” he said. “They have chiefs. Fat old guys who sit around all day smoking weeds. Now, you’re the one dealing in legends and gossip. There hasn’t been a matriarchal tribe in this forest for centuries. You’re in the Amazon, not Buckingham Palace.”
“That’s what I thought, too,” Ana replied, her voice still thick with emotion. “But this one has a queen.”
“I wonder if there’s a king,” Aaron asked, already jotting notes in his oilskin journal.
“Paulo’s chap is a goner,” Hastings added. “He’ll be dead by the morning, if not by sundown,”
One of Paulo’s men ran into the hut gasping for his breath. He was soaked to the bone. He and Paulo spoke quickly and they spoke hastily. Finally, Paulo stepped forward.
“The men have located a campsite on the edge of the forest. There isn’t much they can do until the rains let up. One of the natives offered Moema an empty hut and she should have a meal ready shortly. I suggest we eat now to be ready for when the skies clear.”
“If he dies, we can’t just leave his body here to rot,” Ana said.
“I’m afraid we’ll have to, for the time being,” Dr. Hastings replied. “It’s cooler in that little hut and we’ll need to find a way to protect his corpse.”
Ana was clearly upset. Her face pulsed with anxiety and she paced in frustration. “How can one of our people have ended up like this?” she asked to no one in particular.
“I dare say it could have been any one of us,” Hastings said.
“Not on my expedition,” Ana snapped back. “Somehow, I let this happen.”
Aaron stepped up behind Ana and pulled back a lock of hair over her ear. “Ana, you’ve done the best you could,” he said quietly. “Things happen in the field. You know that.”
Ana slapped his hand away, stepped back, and shot him a furious glare. She said nothing, but her look had been enough for everyone to understand, including Aaron. She pulled a field hat out of her knapsack and dashed out into the rain. Paulo gave Aaron a wink who just shook his head and muttered, “Women.”
“Itotia,” Ana called, stepping into the large hut. “I have a request of you.”
Ana found the Royal Oca hut empty, as desolate as the rest of the village. Ana stepped back out into the dwindling drizzle of rain and the bright light of the mid-day sun. The village was desolate; not a soul could be seen. Out of the corner of her eye, Ana picked up nearby movement and noticed Megan wandering through the village. The girl was drenched. Ana dashed to catch up with her just as she noticed Tinga slip into a small hut.
“Shit,” she snapped. “Megan can take care of herself.”
Ana stuck her head into the low, round door where the native had disappeared.
“Tinga, please excuse me,” Ana said. “Do you know where Itotia is?”
Tinga shook her head. “She has left the village. She will only return at night when the fire is high.”
“We’ll need a place to bury our dying crew member,” she said. “Where do you bury dead tribespeople?”
Tinga’s face wrinkled in confusion. “Dead? Buried?” she repeated. “Itotia will be here tonight. Only she can answer your questions. Until then, let him rest in his hut.”
She knelt before a small altar of clustered stones. “Please excuse me now. I must prepare for the ceremony that is to come.”
“Ceremony?” Ana questioned.
“I am one of the twelve chosen. When the moon is full—” Tinga stopped. “I’ve already said more than I should.” She bowed her head, her eyes tightly closed. “Please, I need to be alone to prepare.”
“But, please, we have to prepare for the worst. We can’t just leave my worker in the forest for the animals to tear apart.”
Tinga broke herself away from her devotions to stand and glare at Ana. “Perhaps you are part of the test,” she whispered, bewildered. “You must leave, now.” Tinga pushed Ana to the opening. “If I do not prepare I won’t be ready. I’ve already received the kiss of our god.” She brought her hand up to cover her throat, quivered, and closed her eyes as if something shot through her thinking. “You do not understand what I must do. Leave.” She pushed Ana out the opening and propped a stick across the doorway on the inside.
Ana had studied enough of human mannerism to know when she was being locked out. The rain had subsided so quickly it seemed someone had turned off a gigantic spigot. The village was still totally lacking in activity. Ana ambled to the hut where lunch was being set up and mulled over Tinga’s sudden rudeness.
The team was seated at their camp tables chowing down a beans-and-rice meal when she arrived. Paulo’s men squatted at the periphery, eating the same food in silence. It was Dr. Hastings who greeted her to offer a seat. Aaron chatted with Paulo, oblivious to her arrival.
“So, do we have a hole in the ground for Paulo’s man?” he quipped. Ana frowned at the disrespect.
“The village is empty,” she answered. “Itotia has taken off and no one is willing to speak for her. I saw Megan studying the village. Where are the other four students?” Lunch seemed more important to everyone than her preoccupation with the dying crewman.
“Dr. Theodouros, may I have your attention please?” Ana glared at Aaron as he slurped from a tiny coffee mug. His eyes still looked in Paulo’s direction. “Would you please round up everyone after lunch? We need to put our heads together and figure out what’s going on here.”
Without looking her way, he gulped down his coffee and poured another cup. “Sure. Whatever,” he replied and launched into a story of his own with his table partners.
Chapter Thirteen
ANALYZE AND INVESTIGATE
Ana sat at the table, sipping her coffee while reviewing a copy of the UWF protocol manual. She flipped through sections on emergency procedures and could find nothing covering their situation. Her team wandered in, two by two, chatting over their observations of the past hour. Paulo had taken off with his crew on a firewood hunting expedition. The entire forest dripped after the rain and Ana doubted kindling was the main reason for the hunt.
Wayne rushed to plunk himself across the table from her, bubbling over in youthful enthusiasm.
“Dr. Carvalho, did you pick up on the two strains of Indians in this tribe?” he asked. “Most of the red-eyed natives are tall and whiter than you. The rest are typical South American indigenous people, short, dark-skinned with brown or black eyes. We’ve got to get some DNA samples. There’s something really strange going on here. They’ve been separated from the world for so long they’ve developed their own special physical traits.”
Ana shut the procedure book and looked up in surprise at her student. “You hit it right on the head, Wayne,” she answered.
Hastings slipped in next to Ana. “The languages are the strangest mix I’ve ever heard,” he added. “Their Portuguese is peppered with words that disappeared centuries ago. And that supposed second language," Hastings whipped his hand in a circular motion. "The one of the gods? I think I heard it, just not sure.”
Ana held her hand up with a broad smile. “Hold on, both of you. We need to collect more data and analyze everything before we draw any conclusions like these. Is everyone here?”
The table just fit the eight members of the group. Aaron sat at the far end furthest from Ana, his arms crossed, leaning back in a camp chair. His body language screa
med loud and clear he was still pissed.
“OK, team,” Ana began. “Let’s summarize our situation. We find ourselves a day and a half from the river without the most basic communication to connect us back to the UWF ops center. I’d like Wayne to continue research for a viable solution. Until that time, does anyone have a signal on their cell phone?” They all checked and shook their heads in unison “No.”
“Aaron,” she said, looking across the table. “Would you please take meeting notes in your daily journal?” Her smile begged a peace but his eyes still broadcast hostility.
“I want each of you to note observations in your journals. Use our standard format: date, occurrence, subject observed, and so forth. Again, no gossip or wild theories. We are a scientific team, not a gaggle of blue-haired biddies at the beauty salon. Am I understood?” Each returned a cheerful nod in agreement, including Aaron. She realized the severe admonition was as much for her as for the rest of the expedition.
“Dr. Theodouros, tell us about the village,” she invited. He flipped backward in his journal to review before answering.
“The layout and construction are atypical for South America,” he began. “Actually, for any primitive people. The commercial structures are more like tents than ocas. They’re made of woven fabric, not thatched leaves. The only typical structure is Itotia’s Oca.”
Ana smiled. She’d noticed exactly the same thing.
“Each flies a flag indicating what is for sale below. It reminds me of guild houses in medieval Europe. Flags are completely unknown in this or any other indigenous region.” He checked his notes before going on. “The tribespeople are exchanging colored seeds for their purchases. They seem to bear denominations, similar to Western currency. Again, it is totally unheard of in indigenous people.”
“The village is almost brand new,” Megan added. “It can’t be any more than a few months old. You can still see construction marks on the ground near the main posts.”
Again, Ana smiled. “You paid attention when you were out with your father, didn’t you?” she asked. Megan returned a weak smile and Ana looked to Neville. “Tell us about the languages, Dr. Hastings.”
The linguistics expert turned on a grin of pure pleasure. “Ah, the languages,” he began. “Here’s where things get interesting. Whilst speaking between themselves, they use Portuguese or their indigenous language interchangeably. For a tribe with no or limited contact with the outside world, this is most strange.” He pursed his lips and gave his head a tiny shake. “The indigenous language is unique but seemingly related to Ticuna. I expect they would not be able to make themselves understood to someone like Moema. As such, this is unexceptional since most tribes do not communicate easily between themselves.”
His eyes sparkled as he paused. “Now, on to their Portuguese. It’s not pure Portuguese, as some of you may have noticed. It’s more Galician, from the northwest corner of Spain. That’s where Portuguese originated before it split from Spanish. Many of their words are pure Spanish. Their pronunciation is ancient. I’m kicking over an idea that they may have learned it back in the early days of exploration and, then, became separated from mainline languages. Like Afrikaans in South Africa. Again, this is interesting, but not earthshaking.” Dr. Hastings paused. The group was silent in anticipation. He had his colleagues eating out of his hand.
“I observed the Queen, Itotia, speaking with the young woman, Tinga, when we arrived,” Hastings continued. “I would bet on my sainted mother’s grave and a pint of Directors® they spoke in a Slavic tongue. Czech, Croatian, Serbian, something like that.” A silence fell on the group, thick and hard.
“You mean like they speak in Transylvania?” Barbara asked. The group fell instantly into a murmur.
“I said none of that,” Ana barked back, throwing a nasty look at Barbara.
“Come on, Dr. Carvalho, get real,” Wayne piped up. “What’s the deal with these red eyes? And Paulo’s man? There isn’t a spoonful of blood left in his body. Somebody or something sucked the dude dry.” A hubbub ensued.
“Wayne,” Ana snapped. “Enough. We are objective scientists in our initial phase of data gathering. We haven’t even been here two hours and you’re already digressing into superstitions. No more of this,” she barked. “I’m serious.” A heavy pall fell over them as their eyes scurried away to avoid hers.
“There is another more objective possibility,” Marshall added. “South American indigenous peoples have always been cannibals,” he continued. “To one extent or another, they have consumed their friends and enemies in part or whole. Perhaps this tribe has continued in the old ways. That’s why other tribes are scared witless of them. It might explain what is happening with Paulo’s man. Maybe they were preparing him for a ritual ceremony of consumption.” A shiver shot through every one of them as they realized how exposed they were.
Ana paused and pursed her lips as she carefully considered her words. “I caught one of the natives bent over Lúcio a few minutes ago,” Ana said. “She told me he was ‘hers.’ Then she led me to believe that, perhaps, I would meet the same fate.” Ana was about to mention the teeth and the possibility of them being filed, then decided against it. “And, there’s a ceremony scheduled for tonight,” she added soberly instead. The news left everyone speechless.
Aaron finished jotting notes in his journal, leaned forward with his forearms on the edge of the table toward the group. “For hundreds of years now, people just like us have honed the scientific method to avoid situations just like this,” he said. “We observe. We form hypotheses. We test them against objective data. We publish our results so that others can repeat and validate our theories. We do not speculate, conjecture, invent rumors or grovel in fear. Am I right, Dr. Carvalho?” His face and warning were stern.
Ana smiled in return, glad for the support and the cold water in her hot face. “Exactly right, Dr. Theodouros,” she said. “Your cannibalism hypothesis is more than reasonable. And, may I add, we have too little data to form any hypotheses at all.” She let her words sink in for a few seconds while they all scribbled in their journals. “I want three days of objective data gathering. I don’t even want you to conjecture among yourselves. Just do good old fashioned research through observation. Understood?” They nodded their heads while their noses were buried in their journals.
“One more thing,” Ana said. “I believe this is a unique opportunity for all of us. We may be able to contribute to the basic understanding of the Americas in a number of fields. There are enough unknowns here to keep us busy for a long time.”
“Lots of papers and conferences, huh, boss?” Wayne chimed in with a goofy grin. Ana slowly shook her head at his levity. “And there’s one other little thing.” He pulled his cell phone out. “A lot of my pictures didn’t come out. I get great shots of the shorter, brown-skinned natives but many of those tall, white hotties just don’t seem correct. Look.” He turned the cell phone around so everyone could see the screen. “There’s Tinga and she’s fine and this is of two short natives haggling in the village. Now look at this one of the queen. She barely appears; it looks like a double exposure.”
Aaron pulled the camera phone from Wayne’s fingers and stared intently at the image of Itotia. She was like a ghost floating on an image of the jungle. He quickly sifted through the images.
“It would appear your cell phone camera doesn’t work properly. Maybe it’s getting too hot or the batteries are about to die.” He handed it back to Wayne while casting a concerned glance at Ana.
“Dinner before sunset, people,” she said and then added. “Go forth and make me proud.”
Chapter Fourteen
MEGAN MISSING
Ana took in a deep breath of relief, her shoulders collapsing in exhaustion. After a few minutes, only Aaron remained at the table. He sat next to Ana and let her enjoy the silence.
“Are you okay?” he finally asked.
“I’m fine, Aaron. Thanks for your support in front of the others,” she
replied and smiled at him. “I’m seeing I’ve made some errors. I’m sorry.” She placed a hand on his arm. “You’re a friend.” She rubbed her temples where a headache threatened to erupt. “You needn’t worry about me right now. Itotia will return tonight and we will have a proper burial for Lúcio when it’s necessary. I know I’m obsessing over this but it’s the first time someone died on an expedition, and this time I'm in charge.” A small smile found its way to her lips. “A spot of tea and some rest is what I need right now.” He stood to boil water and returned quickly with two steaming cups of steeping tea.
“I’m very sorry about this morning,” Ana said. “Perhaps it was the ayahuasca. But, I wanted to make sure everything was kept on a strict business arrangement.” She grimaced. “I think I forgot we are all colleagues trying to accomplish the same thing. But, when I saw Lúcio—” Her voice trembled and a tear slipped out the corner of one eye. “I just kind of lost it.”
He softly patted her hand. “It will be okay.”
“No, it’s not about just me,” Ana said. “I want to tell everyone that from now we will be a family. We are scientists, but we are family and we will call each other by first names.” She smiled. “At least, we doctors will call each other by first names. I think the students will call us...” She gazed about. “Well, I like it when Paulo calls me Dr. Ana. There’s a ring of authority yet a personal flair. Thoughts?”
“Fine by me,” Aaron said. “In fact, I think it’ll be a relief to everyone.”
They sat in silence, sipping tea and watching absolutely nothing happen in the village spreading in front of them.
“Doesn’t it all remind you of something?” Aaron finally asked Ana. “Think Brueghel and Bosch. Think Caravaggio. Think Da Vinci.”
“Renaissance!” she blurted out. “The only thing missing is a church.”
