by Bob Nailor
“Is that the stuff that gave you those great dreams?” Nancy asked. “I could be talked into a cup of that.”
“Me, too,” Wayne chimed in. “I mean, from a purely academic point of view. Right, teach?”
Aaron narrowed his eyes and let them burrow into Ana’s. She blushed uncomfortably as she realized how abysmal the example she had set.
“Look,” she retorted, “I had no idea what I was getting into. The old shaman insisted it was safe and I didn’t give it much more thought than that. Now, I’m not sure it was the best decision.”
“Well, it doesn’t seem to have harmed you,” Marshall added. “And, it gave you an insight into these people which you couldn’t have gotten any other way. I’m in, too.” The vote of confidence from the generally conservative student surprised everyone. “Me-too” sprung up from nearly everyone else.
“Then I suggest we take this on as a group experiment,” Aaron suggested. “Marshall, I’m afraid you’ll have to bow out. In case anything goes wrong requiring medical intervention.” The student’s eyes screamed, “Hey, that’s not fair,” but his head nodded in agreement.
“Shall I boil more water?” Moema asked. Everyone’s eyes flickered nervously, however, as the experience moved closer to reality.
“Please,” Ana answered. “Enough for everyone.” She looked back at the group, her eyes searching for an objection. They all just looked downward or fiddled nervously with their notebooks.
Barbara looked up, a suspicious sneer painting her face. “How did Ibiaci know what we would decide?” she asked quietly.
“Jeez, there you go again,” Wayne whined. “Now Paulo’s men are in on the conspiracy.”
Quickly the scent of molasses wafted through the air, adding to the melee of buzzing insects, night calls, and the occasional distant roar of a jaguar. Moema served all seven of them together, each waiting to sip the pungent liquid until everyone had been served. Marshall grimaced and quietly watched.
Aaron raised his cup in a toast. “To visions,” he proposed.
“To wisdom,” Ana added.
“And to kick-ass free drugs,” Wayne said, sincerely, as if he meant it. This time the entire table frowned back at him.
They finished their portions quickly, as if in a hurry to begin the test. Each wandered away to their respective tents.
Neville just cupped the warm mug with his hands then set it back on the table. “I wasted too many brain cells in Piccadilly back in the 60’s,” he finally said. “I’ll pass tonight. Maybe another time. Night, all.” His demeanor screamed of disapproval as he walked back to his tent.
Aaron stayed behind, more cautious in the way he downed the drink. “He’s not the sharpest arrow in the quiver, is he?” he asked Ana when everyone was out of earshot.
“If you mean Wayne,” she said. “No, he’s actually kind of a pain in the ass. How Rossi chose him for this expedition is a mystery to me.”
“Actually, not one of them is a stand-out,” Aaron continued. “Present company excluded.”
Until then, she had not let herself criticize the team, even to herself. “No, they’re not,” she finally agreed, her eyes fixed on the murky fluid in her cup.
“They all do have one thing in common, though,” Aaron said. “Other than speaking Portuguese.”
She squinted an eye and cocked her head. “What’s that?” she asked.
Aaron took his time to answer after a long draught of tea. “They’re all world-class athletes. Each is a champion competitor or has strong physical qualifications. Have you ever been part of a mission with so many strong, or fast students?”
Ana shook her head. “I never thought about it that way,” she said. “But you’re right.”
“Even old Neville,” Aaron went on. “He’s a marathon runner. He told me he took third place in the Surrey Over 60 this past spring.”
Ana’s eyes arched in surprise. “You sound like Barbara with a secret plot on every corner. Why would Singapore give me a bunch of jocks for an expedition of this importance?”
He drained his cup and stood to leave with a stretch. “Maybe they were expecting trouble right from the beginning,” he ventured. “Good night, Dr. Ana. Sweet dreams.” He strolled to his tent and left Ana alone with too much to think about.
Ana took her time to retire to her tent, quietly nursing her mug in the cooling air. She sat still in the nocturnal concert with Itotia’s words from the ceremony resounding through her memory. Chosen for what? she thought. “You will see her no more,” Itotia had said of Tinga. Why would they eat raw meat in that mock Eucharist ritual? And I didn’t even know they made wine in the rain forest.
As she sipped, her eyes shot open as a horrific thought flashed through her mind. Ana drained her tea and dashed out into the night. I hope I have time before the vision takes over, she thought.
The full moon was bright enough for her to make her way back to the village, even through the dense canopy. She jogged as fast as the moonlight would permit, winding through deserted streets which now had become familiar. What remained of Lúcio’s hut still smoldered in the darkness, a shimmering blanket of embers glowing where just hours before he had lain.
She remembered roughly where the old woman had tossed the libation of wine near one edge of the flames. Most of the contents of the golden bowl had landed in the fire. Ana knelt next to where the woman had stood and searched in the packed dust for even a few wayward drops. She flicked on the miniature flashlight she always carried and combed the ground as would an archeologist.
She came up empty-handed until she moved in closer to the warmth of the embers. Just before the stream of fluid had sloshed into the flames, a few ounces had fallen onto the dry ground. They stained the packed red clay an even darker crimson, dull and dried from the heat. Ana scooped up the crusty stains with the blade of her pocket knife. I’ve never seen wine that dried like this, she thought. She separated as much as she could from the dirt and lifted it to her tongue, grimacing at the realization of what she was doing.
The substance was neither sweet nor sour but was salty with the flavor of iron. She rubbed the caked substance between her fingers and lifted it to her nose. A deep breath confirmed what her sense of taste had told her. It was not wine, unless grapes in the rainforest were engorged with blood.
Ana walked slowly back to the campsite and her tent, her head down deep in thought. The thought had never crossed her mind the world of instant global communication could still hide cannibals. She knew the practice had always been part of human experience, but now that it stared her in the face, her stomach roiled in profound nausea. Gnawing at the back of her brain was anger at Rossi and his organization who had thrust her into a danger that even they were unwilling to confront. Maybe this was why he warned me, she thought as she recalled the conversation at the Singapore airport. Suddenly the probable fate of Lúcio rushed through her mind. She slammed her head between her knees and vomited onto the packed clay path.
Ana waited in her hammock, still reeling from her discovery. She longed for her eyes to close and for the dream to take her away and lead her through visions she was unsure she wanted to see.
Itotia slipped silently into the tent and hesitated by the netting before moving it aside to crawl in next to Ana. Ana held her breath, yet is amazed at the native’s sudden audacity. Itotia nuzzles Ana’s ear, then scratches the small wound. Ana freezes with fear, shock, and shame…at once aroused, repulsed, and intimidated.
Ana sighs while Itotia’s lips suckle her ear lobe, slowly drawing the blood from the open puncture. Her breathing intensifies and a warmness flows through her body, her skin tingling at the slightest stimulation. Itotia’s hands roam over her body, pausing here and there to titillate and caress. Ana finds her hands have joined in the exploration. They gently form to the Amazon’s swells and curves, growing bolder with each passing second. Her legs stretch to find Itotia’s and she pulls her closer. They move together, now freed from fabric and fiber. Ana’s b
reath shortens then stops. Her eyes close and her back arches. She no longer breathes or thinks, but is swallowed by the all-engulfing sensation.
Itotia’s face is no longer hers but is that of a man, perhaps Aaron’s with his blue eyes. He leans down in preparation for a kiss when his image fades and the deep, tanned face of Edson appears. His dark brown eyes are afire and he smiles, and her heart races with anticipation.
Suddenly, Ana is no longer in her tent, protected and safe. She is alone and stands almost totally naked on a balcony with a lake of clearest aquamarine water below. A lake she knows whose frigid waters she can feel on her skin. Beside her, smiling with a lecherous look is the strange, unknown man with dark hair. He strides toward her, his golden armor clanking loudly. Ana steps back and feels a stone table block her way.
“Sit,” he orders. “Tonight we feast as only the gods themselves could possibly dream.”
He reaches out his bare hand to encompass her naked left breast.
“You are perfection,” he whispers, then gently cups her chin in his hand, and holds her eye in a trance while time stood still.
Suddenly, his armor is gone and he is fully naked. His body is well toned, his arms and chest bristling with dark hair. He slowly takes a deep breath, his chest swells. He wraps an arm softly about her waist and draws her closer to him. His skin, as white as snow, is just as cold, yet she feels him pressing against her, strong and ready. She attempts to turn away. He laughs crudely.
“Not tonight, my dear?” He shrugs. “There will a night when you will beg me.”
He lets her go and his laughter echoes in the shadows of the balcony. She turns her head aside and sees the rear wall — there is a window with bars. Beyond it stands Wayne, his hands straining at the bars, desperately seeking freedom. The strange man cups her chin again, this time more roughly and pulls her look back to him, back to a ruby red, hypnotizing gaze. She pushes to the side and is away from him. Yet, she is strangely attracted.
Ana walks to the balcony’s handrail and stares down at the water below. An escape? She sees a man on one side of the lake and a woman on the opposite; then they are gone. A noise catches her attention to the right. Itotia walks toward her with two other native women. All three carry heavy golden goblets. Itotia lifts hers in a toast while the two women offer their goblets to Ana and the man.
“To eternal death,” the man says and lifts his goblet. Ana blinks and he is no longer naked, but partially covered by a large, flowing black cape cascading from his shoulders.
Ana stares at the dark red contents of her goblet. She swirls the fluid and watches the heavy, viscous liquid roll and slide around on the gleaming metal. She shivers in her belly.
“To life eternal,” Itotia says and lifts her goblet in a toast. She drinks deeply, not stopping until her goblet is empty. One thick droplet remains on the edge of her sumptuous lips. She gently slides the back of her hand across her lips then places the empty chalice on the table with a resounding clunk. Itotia turns to Ana, her eyes vibrant, glowing red embers. She smiles and Ana is repulsed by the crimson stain lingering on her teeth.
Itotia notices Ana’s sudden aversion and tips her head upward revealing a slender neck, letting her long, dark hair cascade down over her back. She growls, a long and haunting sound, sending shivers down Ana’s spine.
The man drinks the contents of his chalice, slams it down on the stone table then steps back. He is once more in armor. He sniffs the air, narrowing his eyes in his search. He snarls loudly and then sniffs again. His eyes widen and he glares at Ana.
“Two days,” he blurts, and a smile curls one side of his lips, his incisors terrifyingly long and dripping with blood. His mouth is slightly open and the canines glisten in the moonlight. He points at the moon and turns to Itotia. “When it is full, bring her to me then.” He turns and stomps away, his armor clattering in the still of the night.
Ana is suddenly back in her tent, sitting up in her hammock with Itotia beside her.
“Please,” Itotia whispered and placed a hand on her shoulder to draw her back down to sleep. “You must rest.”
Her face glides into Ana’s ear and she suckles the small wound, now tender and moist with blood. An exquisite ecstasy builds in Ana’s belly and swells through her body like spreading flames.
“Tomorrow we will talk. There is much to do,” Itotia said softly. She put one leg outside the hammock to leave.
Ana took her hand and pulled it back to her breast. “No,” she pleaded. “Stay just a little longer.”
Suddenly, Aaron is beside her and it is his hand that caresses her body. She moans, lost in the delirium of passion. His tongue explores her ear. She reaches to pull him close, but suddenly, it is Edson’s powerful back beneath her fingertips. She writhes in lust, her legs locking around him, urgently pulling him closer and closer. Her head tilts back, her breathing stops and the form again shifts to a woman’s curves, hard and cool against her pulsing skin. Ana’s entire body tenses until she can no longer stand the swell of energy. She is carried away by waves of intense pleasure until the colors fade into the velvety blackness of sleep.
Chapter Eighteen
THE MORNING AFTER
“Dr. Ana?” Barbara called softly. “Are you awake yet?” Her soft voice from outside the tent wrestled Ana from the grasp of the soundest sleep she’d had since they left the Vera Cruz. Her body glowed in a relaxation she’d never experienced before that night.
“I’m fine,” she called back. “I’ll be out in a moment.”
Ana suddenly realized the state she was in after her visions. She jumped from the hammock and crawled around the tent, gathering up articles of discarded clothing. The last thing she wanted was somebody to stumble in and find her au naturel. She stepped into her panties and blushed as she remembered how they had come to be flung from her hammock. The flush on her face spread to her chest as she remembered the rest of Itotia’s visit. She dressed quickly and patted her face to quell the heat in her cheeks before stepping out into the light of day.
Around her, the camp slowly returned to life. Nancy staggered from her tent and shielded her eyes from the bright morning sunlight. “Boy, that shit knocks a wallop and a half.” She sat down in her chair and struggled with a boot. Megan stood nervously to the side, self-consciously chewing on a thumbnail.
“Is everyone fine?” Ana asked with a cheery smile.
Barbara raised her eyebrows and let a grin spread across her lips. “More than okay,” she replied. “I wish reality were as good as those dreams.” Her comment coaxed cautious smiles of agreement from the other women, except one.
“Not me,” Megan said, quietly. “I’ve never messed with stuff like this and now I know why.”
Ana touched her shoulder in concern. “Are you okay?”
Megan wrapped her arms around her torso as if searching for warmth. “Not completely,” she said with a shiver.
“Come with me, girl,” Ana said and slipped an arm around her waist. “We’ll compare notes and let the morning sun drive away the shadows.” They headed toward the camp kitchen just as Moema came toward them with a plate of food for each of them.
“Dr. Aaron seemed to find our ayahuasca a bit overpowering,” Moema said and offered her a plate with a knowing smile. “He said you would need nourishment.”
“Oh, did he?” Ana snapped back. “Contrary to popular belief, he doesn’t know everything.” She turned to her female companions. “Ladies? Do you want to eat here or with the rest of the group? I’m for the group.”
All three students nodded in agreement, preferring not to disagree with her or her current temperament. “We’ll join the men, Moema, thank you.” Ana grabbed the plate from Moema and stomped off toward where the men had gathered for their meal.
“Ah, Dr. Ana,” Neville said while quickly jumping up to give a small bow. “How pleasant of you to join us. Breakfast is wonderful today. Moema, what is this delicious meat?” Their plates were heaped with rice mixed with lentils, f
ried manioc, and small chunks of shredded meat sautéed with onions.
“Morcego, Dr. Neville,” Moema answered without facing them.
Wayne shoved his plate to the center of the table. “Bat meat?” he snapped. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“Well, I find it absolutely wonderful,” Neville said and stabbed the last chunk from Wayne’s plate.
“We all slept very well, thank you.” Ana slid her plate onto the camp table directly opposite Aaron. She glared at him. “It was just another night.” She turned to her companions. “Right, ladies?” They hastily nodded in agreement but were far from convincing.
“So, did you dream?” Aaron asked nonchalantly, unruffled by her bristly manner. “I mean, what did you dream?”
Ana remained still while she poured herself a coffee. She sipped. It’s sweet intensity slowly brought her back to the land of the living. “Okay,” she finally said. “I’ll go first. But, then we’ll work our way around the table to compare our experiences.”
“We’re way ahead of you, doc,” Wayne interjected. “Both Dr. Aaron and I had the same visit from your queen. How about you?”
“You, too?” Ana answered. Her eyes shot between Wayne and Aaron. “How can that be? She slipped in and out of my hammock just as I was going to sleep.”
“Mine, too,” Nancy blurted out.
Ana picked up on a look of embarrassment on Barbara and Megan’s faces. “Both of you, too?” she asked. They nodded their heads sheepishly in return.
“And her visit was of a — uh…” Ana paused, her face flushed from the memory. “A sexual nature?” Her question wasn’t really directed to anybody in particular but floated in the air between them all.
“Very,” Wayne said with a salacious smirk and a wink. “And, she left my tent with a smile on her face.”
