by Bob Nailor
“Are you sure?” Aaron asked, sipping his tea, taking in the peaceful scene. “What’s right at the head of the plaza.”
Ana gulped as the parallel struck her. “The Royal Oca and Itotia’s throne.”
All was skillfully melded into the bosom of the rain forest and bathed in the low flickering light that filtered through the soaring canopy over their heads. “I have never seen or heard of this level of organization and technology in any indigenous settlements,” he said. “It’s so European, yet here we are in the middle of the Amazonian jungle.”
Aaron set down his cup and raised his SLR camera to record what he saw. A hand shot from behind him to grab it before he realized what had happened. The crunch of a rock meeting electronics confirmed what he feared. Tinga had crept up from behind to cut his photography session short.
“Do you think I will steal your spirit?” he snapped at Tinga.
“We live for the moment,” she replied. “You do not need to capture today in your little box.” She turned to walk away, leaving both researchers with puzzled looks on their faces.
“If this is a lost tribe,” Aaron asked, “how in the hell do they know about the camera?”
Ana suddenly remembered Rossi’s words of warning on the tarmac in Singapore. “Aaron, what we see here may not be what we think we see.”
“We are scientists,” he snapped, still pissed about his Nikon®. “Are you suggesting we cannot trust our eyes, even after your little lecture?”
“What I am saying is we can trust nothing.” She glanced about the area. “Let me share with you some of Gianni Rossi’s words to me before we left.” She hesitated. “Do you remember that he and I went for a little ride just before we left Singapore?” Aaron nodded in agreement. Ana leaned in conspiratorially. “He said that the UWF serves a greater cause and what we see here, we may not understand.”
Aaron blinked and a stain of anger flashed across his face. “That means the asshole sent us into the lion’s den while he’s safe at home, back in Rome or Singapore.”
Ana could neither agree nor disagree. “Aaron, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for both of us. I’ve never heard of such a combination of the known and the unknown. There are enough books and papers here to make a dozen careers. I’m crazy to get inside these natives’ heads. To know what makes them tick. To figure out how they got here.”
He drained his tea, keeping his eyes calmly pointed at the aluminum surface of the table. “Maybe these aren’t heads anyone should get into, Ana,” he said softly in a serious warning.
She just closed her protocol manual and stood. “Come on, Dr. Aaron. Join me. Let’s dig up a few skeletons.” Ana pushed his shoulder in a gentle, camaraderie nudge.
The afternoon flew by like a day of studies before final exams. Not one corner of the village and its environs fit the model Ana and Aaron had expected to find. As they chatted through their observations on their way back to camp, Ana noticed Barbara and Megan were missing; she could see the rest of the teams. “Have you seen them?” she asked Nancy who had also just arrived.
“Megan said something about continuing her research of the village and how the huts were aligned,” Nancy replied. “I told her I’d go along but she was quite adamant she wanted to be alone.” Nancy looked at Ana and casually shrugged her shoulders. “I have no idea where Barbara went.”
“We should stay together in teams of at least two until we have a better idea of our location.” Ana frowned and nervously stroked her eyebrow. “We need to find them before we eat.”
“I can run ahead and tell—” Nancy stopped. “Oh, look, there’s Barbara.” Nancy pointed at the embankment to their right then started to wave frantically. “Barbara!” she yelled.
The rest of the group stopped and turned to see what Nancy was doing. Barbara waved back and sauntered down the hillside to the edge of the village. They waited for her to join them.
“I wanted to check out the village and the geoglyph,” Barbara said.
“Do you have any idea where Megan might be?” Ana asked.
“Oh, Dr. Carvalho...uh, Dr. Ana,” Marshall started. “I saw her wander off that way.” He pointed at a cluster of trees. “She said something about talking to someone who was watching us.”
Ana frowned. “You didn’t think to go with her?”
Marshall hung his head. “I was busy with my work and didn’t think about the possibility of any danger. I really didn’t think she’d go into the jungle alone.”
“Well, she did,” Wayne said. “I saw her when I went to take a leak.
Ana turned to jog in the direction Wayne indicated.
“You’re not going there alone,” Aaron yelled and started to follow.
Ana was only a few yards from the narrow forest path when Megan struggled through the overgrowth, disoriented and weak. “Megan!” Ana shouted as the young girl ambled her way. “Whatever possessed you to leave the camp?”
Megan stretched then massaged her neck. “I saw somebody, a man. He waved at me so I went to check him out. You know, talk to him.” She stumbled, slightly confused. Her normally rosy cheeks once again had a gray pallor and her eyes seemed glazed.
“So who is this mysterious man?” Ana asked.
“I don’t know. I remember walking to the jungle’s edge and then…” She shook her head. “I really don’t remember anything after that.”
“Well, you’re back now,” Ana said while putting an arm about the girl. “Let’s get some food into you. You appear absolutely famished.” She led the frail girl back to Moema’s kitchen where the others were already eating. Ana shivered when she realized Megan’s color reminded her of Lúcio’s. She led her straight toward the scrumptious smells wafting from the campfire.
“Moema,” Ana said, “give Megan a double portion of beans, rice, and meat tonight.”
The girl rolled her eyes and tried to escape Ana’s grasp.
“You will eat, young lady,” she scolded, “or tomorrow you’ll be restricted to your tent. The choice is yours.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Megan whined and accepted a loaded plate.
Ana grabbed Neville and Aaron and hustled them down a path, out of earshot of the rest of the group. “Did anyone at UWF mention to either of you that Megan had health problems?” She watched the two of them for any indication. “Anemia or mono? Maybe an eating disorder?”
The two men remained still, puzzled. “Nothing,” Neville replied. “In fact they made it clear to me this was the most physically qualified group they’d ever put together.”
“What about AIDS?” Aaron suggested. “Perhaps they couldn’t mention an HIV+ status because of the American laws?”
Neville continued to shake his head. “No, there was no mention of any problems. Ana, while we were waiting for you to arrive from Sumatra, Megan and I went out on a run together. She kept up with me for the whole 10k. She’s as fit as any of us.”
“Well, right now she’s no more fit than her grandmother, if that,” Aaron said. “We need to keep close tabs on her. We don’t need a student falling seriously ill out here in the middle of nowhere.”
“Then we have to make sure she’s eating and drinking,” Ana concluded. “Neville, could you please jot down what she eats at every meal?”
“I’d be glad to, Ana,” he replied. “But, we’re not nannies. If she’s got her finger stuck down her throat behind a bush somewhere, she’ll continue to get worse.” They walked back, sobered from the possibility of bulimia or worse lurking in their team.
When Ana joined the table, Megan’s plate was heaped with more than generous portions and the conversation started up where it had left off.
“Barbara, did you figure out anything about the village?” Ana asked.
Barbara stared at her blankly. “Not really. There is symmetry, but no logic, nothing. There are huts and they are just there. No rhyme, no reason; a baker beside an archery booth next to an empty one with nothing.” She shrugged.
“Do you think it means somethi
ng?” Nancy asked.
“No,” Barbara replied. “The huts are new. I doubt they have been here that long. It doesn’t make sense.”
“As I said earlier,” Megan said between chews. “I don’t think these things are much older than three or four months old.” She cleared her mouth. “Definitely less than six months.”
“In archeological terms,” Barbara chimed in. “They’re brand new.”
“Once we have studied the natives and village properly, I am sure it’ll all make sense,” Ana said. “Maybe they had a fire devastate the original village and they needed to rebuild.”
“I’d love to get some pictures, but haven’t found my cameras,” Megan said. “Imagine, a photographer without a camera. Doesn’t make any sense, does it? I’ll have to ask Paulo where he may have put them.”
“That is all very interesting, m’dear, but Moema has been winning my heart with her stove,” Neville said and patted Megan on the shoulder then smiled and glanced about at his companions. “Anybody for seconds?” He smiled at the young cook and headed for the kitchen from which wafted the heavenly scent of a well-prepared meal.
He attacked his plate with uncharacteristic gusto. He’d watched Paulo’s men load their food with the red pepper rocket fuel Moema brewed on the back of her stove. He grabbed a potful and dashed it generously on chunks of fried manioc while the students watched in horror. “So, Megan, did you really see a man?” Neville asked while he munched. “This is delicious, by the way. Much better than potatoes. And this pepper sauce will put lead in your pencil, no doubt about that.”
Chapter Fifteen
THE CEREMONY
The moon had stolen the sun’s place and glowed low in the early night sky. It seemed swollen with energy, fat and brilliant beneath two distant stars. A cool breeze drifted across the campsite and with it, the smell of burning wood.
A female native woman in an uluri sauntered silently into the campsite and stood watching them finish their dinner. She smiled and Ana couldn’t help but feel this stranger knew a secret and was not sharing the knowledge; it reflected in her face. When the native blinked, Ana immediately noticed the red eyes, unlike Tinga’s deep brown.
“My name is Zreia,” she said in Portuguese. “A bonfire has been prepared in your honor and Itotia calls you to attend.” She held herself upright, her vibrant young body glistening in the reflecting torches. She couldn’t have been more than eighteen years old.
“We will come,” Ana replied and stood.
Aaron noticed the two young men staring at Zreia. “You will remember who you are and who you represent,” he said, knowing his words fell upon deaf ears. “Gentlemen!” he yelled and slapped each of them on an arm as he walked between them. It grabbed their attention but had little effect on their eyes.
“Two things. Hands off.” He nodded to Zreia then turned back to the young men. “And do not consume anything you don’t recognize.” He raised a hand for effect. “The natives know more about the indigenous plants and what they can or can’t do. Remember how I told you NOT to pee in the rivers and the reasons why? Don’t participate if you don’t know what you’re doing — you may gain more than you expected, just like the parasite who wandered up into your penis when peeing.” He smiled at them. “I’m not kidding.”
Paulo strolled up to Aaron and placed a friendly arm over his shoulder. “Listen well to the doctor, my young friends; he speaks well.” He shook a hand at them. “Do not smoke or drink anything, unless we do.” He pointed to one of his men. “Five years ago, Heitor woke up married with four kids. He now has nine.”
The two young men laughed.
“Is there a reason you are only telling them?” Barbara asked, looking directly at Aaron. “Does that mean we girls can party hardy?”
“I’ve not seen that many men,” Ana said picking up on the conversation. “But, the same thing goes for you. Be on your best behavior and leave any men alone.” She glanced at Megan who flushed a little in embarrassment.
“I really don’t know what came over me,” Megan said.
Neville leaned over to Aaron and elbowed him. “Don’t you find it peculiar there are very few men?” he whispered. “Have you seen any?”
Aaron shrugged. “It could be our presence is keeping them at bay. I don’t remember a single one.”
“Well, we know Megan found herself one.” Wayne cocked a jealous eye her way.
“I saw a young man,” Barbara said then blushed brightly. “Yes, he was definitely a male but I am going to guess he was in his early teens, at most, maybe fifteen.”
“Why are you blushing?” Marshall asked. “Was he naked?”
Barbara nodded her head and once more turned a radiant pink in the dim light. “Definitely male. Definitely aroused. Very aroused.” She hung her head. “And staring at me while he—”
“Now there’s a pickup line I hadn’t considered,” Wayne said and snickered. He leered at Marshall. “At least there isn’t any springing a surprise on them later in the night when—”
“I think we understand,” Ana said cutting him off. “We don’t need much more of a description. Well, at least we know there is at least one horny, young male out there.” She stared directly at the three young girls. “Remember, hands off.”
Marshall and Wayne broke into a fit of laughter.
Ana frowned, realized the implication of her wording, and then glared at the two men. “Please attempt to act your age.” She smiled at Zreia who had stood quietly watching, listening to them speak English in fortunate ignorance. “Take us to Itotia,” Ana said in Portuguese and shook her head in disgust.
Zreia nodded and in Portuguese asked a strange question. "The language you speak I am not familiar with. Is it the language of your god?"
Ana furrowed her eyebrows in thought before replying. "One of them."
Zreia wove a long, disorienting path through the dark village. Soon they were standing before a raging fire with flames leaping high into the night sky. Something niggled at the back of Ana’s mind. The jungle was to the west and three huts covered the north, east and south sides of the fire.
Some fifty natives formed a loose circle around the building flames. They were all tall women in uluri. Feathers and beads, either black or red in color hung from their hair and necks. They stood still, their hands at their sides facing toward the dancing flames. Their concentration seemed distant, their brown eyes round and glassy.
A single drum beat sounded from behind where they stood. It was followed by another and another until drums on all sides joined the cadence. The rhythm began simply but quickly grew complex. The sound built until its intensity echoed in Ana’s head, powerful and primal. She sensed each beat in her stomach and chest as well as her ears.
In an instant the drums stopped and, together, the natives turned outward and raised their hands in unison. Four powerfully built young men stepped into the glow, a litter on their shoulders. In a single, well-practiced motion, they placed the elaborate vehicle on the ground, stepped back and dropped to one knee, their gaze to the ground together with those of the women in the circle.
Itotia stepped from the litter, her skin glowing white in the moonlight. She wore a gold uluri, heavier and more luxurious than the last one Ana had seen. Clear, polished gemstones were set into the gathered filaments. They can’t be diamonds, Ana thought. They were polished into the shape of an eye and twice the size of the rubies she had seen before. Her shoulders were high and proud, her eyes glowing red. Her hair seemed on fire as fine strands of gold intertwined with her black tresses caught the dancing flames. She could be my queen any day, Ana thought, her objectivity forgotten.
The tall native closed her eyes and lifted her head to the sky above; her long, beautiful neck revealed in the moonlight. “I invite Ejup, our god, to watch over this moment,” Itotia commanded.
A large bird-like creature swooped into the opening, flapping its wings and making a quick circle. Ana watched, fascinated. The bird disappeared behind th
e dancing flames of the large bonfire on the opposite side from the UWF group. Suddenly, a tall man stood where the bird had been; his back to Ana. Two young men dashed to his assistance, one with a cloak, another with a head mask. The man donned the items and turned to the assembled group, raised his hands in supplication then folded them before him.
Ana noted the gold facial mask the man wore but frowned at the similarity of the helmet to a Roman officer’s Gallic helmet with the red and black feathered crest. The cloak shimmered in the firelight.
Itotia bowed in acknowledgment of her god then walked directly to Ana, taking no notice of the rest of the group.
“Tonight we invite you to join in one of our most intimate and sacred ceremonies,” Itotia said. “You will be the first outsiders to see this ritual in almost five hundred years.” Ana’s chest swelled with anticipation. They would share a moment others only dreamed of. The bitterness from the morning on Sumatra evaporated in the glow of pride like mist under the morning sun.
“My God!” Neville whispered. “Do you realize the implications this has? Five hundred years?”
“Quiet,” Itotia snapped. “Only I may speak, that is the law. To violate our law will mean…” An arrow hissed through the night air and implanted itself into the ground less than an inch from Neville’s right shoe.
“A warning,” Itotia sneered.
Damn! So that is where the men are, Ana thought.
An older woman stepped from the shadows and handed Itotia a golden platter laden with food. There was a look of despair in her brown eyes.
“Allow the Chosen Twelve to come forward,” Itotia commanded.
Twelve young women including Tinga proudly stepped out of the ring and approached Itotia. Ana studied them, noting they were all approximately the same age, perhaps eighteen, definitely less than twenty. The group formed a small semi-circle around Itotia and stood there with their heads bowed in reverence.
“Today you met with our god and received his first kiss.” Itotia spoke but no longer in Portuguese but in a strange tongue. Barbara raised a hand and moved slightly forward as if to start talking, then stepped back and remained silent. Ana sighed in relief.
