by Bob Nailor
Megan looked down, embarrassed. Barbara glared at Wayne. Nancy let a tiny grin escape to her lips. While Aaron echoed Wayne’s smile.
“Are you telling me you all dreamt the same thing?”
“This is crazy,” Neville added. “Now I’m beginning to regret my lack of participation.”
Ana felt slightly less exposed and slightly relieved as a red blush colored everyone’s face. “Okay,” she said. “What happened next?”
“I was on a small island,” Nancy said. “Not just me, but Barbara, Marshall, and Wayne. There was a long balcony on the other side of the water.”
“It was white and seemed to wrap around everything,” Barbara added.
Nancy’s eyes jolted open. “You saw it, too?” she asked. “But, I felt like we were inside a cave or a tent. Did you feel the same thing?”
Barbara just nodded her head in silent agreement.
“Not me,” Megan said. In the place of embarrassment, she wore a dark, troubled face. “There were no buildings or caves or anything — just me and that evil woman, Itotia. My dream ended when she left. It was like she used me up and tossed me to one side.” A shiver coursing down her spine said more than she was willing to put into words.
“I saw you on that balcony,” Aaron said to Ana. “I was on the same one, but further away. I was in the dark. I could see everyone on the island, together with that evil specter.”
In an instant, a pall fell on the group. Nancy’s playful smile disappeared. “His face was horrible,” she murmured. “As white as a ghost. When he came at me, I felt I was in the presence of death itself.”
“He went for you?” Wayne asked. “Just what did he want, as if I don’t already know?”
“Shut up, you pig,” Nancy snapped with a shiver. “I don’t remember anything else.”
“Just those eyes,” Barbara said. “Glowing red, like hot iron.”
“And those teeth,” Ana replied, her body shaking in shivers.” The three women fell into silence, seemingly terrified even though the sun shone brightly above the forest canopy.
“You all dreamed this monster had his way with each of you,” Aaron asked cautiously. “Because I saw him walking away from someone. I don’t know who she was, but he had definitely violated her. She lay on the ground, like the woman last night.”
“He strode away like the king of the world,” Ana added in a voice so low the others had to strain to hear. “And disappeared in a swirl of water.”
Wayne stood with a jolt to fetch more coffee for everyone. “Lighten up, girls,” he said. “I woke up feeling like a million bucks. Like I’d just gone the night with a half-dozen Playboy bunnies. Besides, it was just a dream.”
“It didn’t feel like one,” Barbara said quietly.
Ana continued pensive and withdrawn. There was much more to her dream than any of the others had mentioned. Aaron stared relentlessly at her as if he knew. “What else, Ana?” he asked.
“I – uh – I don’t remember,” she lied.
“You don’t remember or you don’t want to remember?” Aaron asked and cocked an eye in her direction, his eyebrows arched in question.
Ana bit her lower lip. “That bastard said I’d beg for the moment when he would take me.” She held her arms tightly folded in front of her, her hands clenched into fists. “Beg, he said. Me?”
”Is that all?” Aaron pressed. His aggressiveness surprised Ana, but she couldn’t find the strength to resist.
“I don’t exactly remember,” Ana said. “But, there were more eyes than just his in my dream. I do remember them blinking together against a deep red background, like a stage curtain. Red, blue and brown, blinking slowly in unison until they faded away, like the Cheshire cat.” She was relieved to have told more but stopped. The rest was too frightening. She tried to avoid even the memory of what she had seen.
Wayne ambled back with the coffee pot and poured for everyone. “Look,” he said in an almost apologetic fashion. “I didn’t mean to piss everyone off, but last night scared me too, just like it did for everyone else. I’ve done a bit of acid and this stuff was much stronger, somehow. More powerful.”
“It would appear most of us had the basic same dream,” Aaron said. “I think we’ll need to study this more closely. Let’s take this up with Ibiaci. He must know what happened.”
“Peculiar, I’d have to agree,” Neville said. “Different perspectives of one dream.”
Just then Paulo walked up to the table. His crew stood in a group near the edge of the kitchen area, chatting amongst themselves and looking away from the group. “My men no longer wish to stay here,” he declared. “Seems there is bad magic here. Again, they are talking of mulher morcego.”
“Damn them!” Ana yelled while standing up. “How many times do I need to tell everyone there is no such thing as vampires?” She stood there, fuming, her lips tightening in anger. “How many want to leave? All of them?”
“Yes, Dr. Carvalho,” Paulo said switching to a formal attitude. He hung his head. “All the men wish to leave this place.” He stood there silently staring at the ground. “I have asked Moema to pack up the kitchen as soon as you have finished with breakfast. We will leave immediately.”
“All of us? I don’t think so,” Ana snapped. “This is totally preposterous — fully grown men worried about an old wives’ tale. We are not going anywhere, Paulo, and we have more important things to deal with right now. Could you call Ibiaci over here, please?” Paulo’s face clouded over in a way Ana didn’t like. He hurried off, seemingly preoccupied, and returned with the old man. Then, he quickly disappeared, leaving the shaman alone with the group.
“Tell Ibiaci what you saw,” Ana instructed the group. “All of it.” One by one, they repeated what they had discussed earlier. Everyone cautiously added a few more details, leaving Ana sure each person had their own secrets.
“Why has this left us feeling so bad?” Megan blurted out. “I thought drugs were supposed to be fun.”
Ibiaci’s face clouded with distress from their accounts. He paused in silence and thought before he raised his eyes toward Ana. “I am sorry I gave you ayahuasca without instruction,” he said. His Portuguese was simple with a dense indigenous accent. “For sure, ‘the vine’ is a drug, but not in the way you outsiders are used to. It isn’t for enjoyment or recreation, as you put it. It is part of our life and our story. For thousands of years, our peoples have opened their minds and futures with its power. You must prepare yourself for where the visions will lead you.” He paused again, fiddling with his beads, his eyes gleaming with insight.
“Why did they all dream the same dream?” Neville asked, an intense curiosity spread across his face.
“It is because your futures are bound together, like a great tree encompassed by a vine,” Ibiaci answered, his fingers intertwined in front of him. “You will never be free of each other, even if you go your separate ways.”
“Then why didn’t I see the same things?” Megan asked. She fought against tears threatening to erupt through the panic staining her face. “Aren’t I part of this group? What will happen to me?”
The shaman dropped the beads that rustled between his fingers. He clasped his hands behind his back, hidden from Megan. Ana could see his fingers twisted and turned while he quietly answered the frantic girl.
“It’s not for us to determine what is true or what will come true, my daughter. I am not a fortune teller. I am a simple guide to help you along the path the vision opens in the forest.”
Megan could no longer remain still. She rushed away as tears streamed down her face.
Nancy stood to follow, but Ibiaci grabbed her arm. “We all must find our own way, my child,” he said. “There is a reason this dream has stabbed into her soul. She needs to let the vision lead her into her destiny.”
“Did anyone else see the eyes?” Ana asked. “The ones at the end of my vision?” The remainder of the group shook their heads quietly, seemingly glad to have escaped that part.”
“Again, Dr. Ana, I am not a tarot reader,” Ibiaci said. “I cannot tell you what will happen. But, you saw a portal into the future through which you will step whether you believe the vision, or not. The eyes are the windows of the soul and the spirit. In some way, your inner destiny will be bound to three others. Perhaps they surround you even now. Perhaps not. But, you no longer are free and independent on your own path.” He blinked in the morning light as if a weight had lifted from his shoulders. “Now you see why I am sorry I opened your eyes to the future.” Even Wayne was silent as Ibiaci walked away into the forest, leaving the atmosphere heavy as if something awful were about to happen.
Ana stood to leave the table. “I knew this was a bad idea. But, after all, these were only dreams.” She leaned over the table and placed her outstretched arms on it. “Right now, we need to find out what happened with poor Lúcio.” She left them in a hurried stride, trying to put distance between herself and what she had dreamt.
“Where is Megan?” she called out. “Has that little idiot wandered off into the jungle yet again?” Ana disappeared down the trail with Nancy close in tow.
“Man, is she being a bitch or what this morning,” Wayne whispered to Aaron when she was out of earshot.
“It was something from her dream,” Aaron replied. “Something she doesn’t want us to know.”
“You mean, like a little hide the salami with Mister Red Eye?” Wayne asked. “If you ask me, she just needs to get laid.” He added a wink and a pair of hip thrusts for emphasis.
Aaron shook his head with an ugly frown. “You really are a pig,” he said and jogged off after their leader with Neville close on his heels.
Chapter Nineteen
THE BATHHOUSE AND CHIMNEY
The village was still and empty, except for two natives who aimlessly wandered near a pottery shop where an old woman puttered. The plaza in front of the Royal Oca was deserted.
“Where is everybody?” Neville asked Aaron. “Every housewife in the rest of the world is out shopping at this hour, and these booths aren’t even open yet.”
“You’re right,” Aaron replied. “Where is all the boiling manioc we saw the other day?”
They caught up to Ana as she stood staring at the blackened circle of ash where the burned hut had stood. She was silent and lost in thought.
“Dr. Ana,” Nancy called quietly.
Her face contorted in thought, Ana whirled around to see her team. “We have to find Itotia.” She took a deep breath. “I’ve got a horrible feeling about Lúcio.”
She dashed to the native at the pottery hut and rudely confronted her. “I need to speak with Itotia immediately.” She was greeted with a hostile frown.
“We are not accustomed to outsiders demanding an audience with our queen,” the native said frostily. “She sees people after the rains.”
“She’ll see me now,” Ana snapped. “Take me to her.”
Without a word, the old woman led her in the morning shadows to a broad stone structure behind the row of shops on the village street. The team followed behind, their eyes wide open from what they saw. Just inside a wide opening, they could hear the sounds of splashing water and women at their bath.
Aaron grabbed Ana by the elbow. “Do you see what this is?” he whispered as they entered. “It’s a public bath.” He waited. “An ancient Greek idea.” Ana looked at him with one squinted eye. “And Roman, as well,” he added.
The gentle sounds of running water surrounded them as their eyes adjusted to the filtered low light caused by the lush jungle growth and intertwining vines. At one end, the smooth and rippling giggles of a water cascade splashed into a knee-deep bathing basin. Pools of various sizes filled the large tree-formed grotto. Steam rose from some pools. Others shimmered, crystal clear in their depths, deep enough for swimming. Here and there, gigantic leaves hung over the hidden grotto’s waters, dripping moisture from the collecting mists and steam.
Itotia stood in a broad, square pool, surrounded by three young women. She remained still, straight and tall, while her handmaidens washed her hair and face. The sight was overwhelmingly sensual, nearly spiritual, and it stopped the men in their tracks. The women were no different.
Ana walked quietly toward Itotia. She and her attendants seemed to be unaware of Ana’s presence.
Ana spoke first. “Excuse me for disturbing your bath, Itotia.” Her face was red and warm. Butterflies flitted about in her belly. Itotia said nothing. “Your bathhouse is beautiful,” she managed to finally mutter.
“You are still learning our ways, Ana,” Itotia finally said. Her hair glistened in the low light reflecting off waves in the pool. “We are a clean people. Sometimes we will bathe ten times a day. We cannot tolerate filth on our bodies or in our village. This, our Master did not understand when he first came to live with us.”
She finally looked at Ana as her servants tended to her breasts and stomach. She giggled. “He smelled like a capybara. The first thing I did after we became one was to throw him in the river. The tribe burned much of his filthy covering. We scrubbed him until his white skin was the color of a pink orchid. Only then would we let him into our camp.” The nearby maidens cracked smiles at the story. “His reluctance to journey to the river...” She closed her eyes, leaned her head back, and slowly stroked her neck. “I made him build us this place to wash. Now, even he has learned the joy of cleanliness.”
“Then why do your people smear mud over their bodies in the camp?” Ana asked.
“For many of us, the sun has become too strong during the day when it’s high above the trees.”
The three girls cleaned Itotia’s white hips and belly. Their skillful fingers darted in and out of her most private parts. The butterflies in Ana’s belly slowly descended. Her breath came in short gasps. She wondered if the others could see.
“I…uh…we would like to see my crewman. Where have you taken him?” she asked.
“He did not live through the night,” she said as the girls threw buckets of water on Itotia’s back and hips. “He has already been disposed of.”
The blood rising in Ana’s body fell instantly. “He’s dead? Why didn’t you come to get me?” she snapped.
Itotia was quiet, matter-of-fact. “He is gone. It is enough. Now, please leave me to the rest of my cleansing.”
She left the pool by three small steps, like Venus rising from the sea. The four walked to the cascade. Itotia entered the laminar stream. It swirled around her body and swallowed her as if she were part of the flow.
Ana, jolted from her trance, returned to the group. She hoped they hadn’t noticed. Aaron walked toward her. His gaze dropped to her breasts. He had.
“And?” he asked. “Where is Lúcio?”
“He died last night,” Ana replied, her gaze low and preoccupied.
“And where’s his body?” Aaron asked. The talk of death clamped a heavy hand on the electric atmosphere.
“She won’t say,” Ana replied. “But I’ve got a good idea where.”
The team burst out into the tropical sun and left Itotia in the quiet cool of the bath. The spell was broken, but Ana couldn’t shake the sight of Itotia’s perfect body in the churning cascade of water.
“Ana,” Aaron called. “Ana, did you hear me?” he repeated. She shook her head to send the image back to the shadows. “Where are we going?” he asked.
“Do you remember the smoke in the satellite shots, a little way from the village in the forest?”
“You don’t think they’ve already burned his body?” he asked.
“I don’t know what to think anymore,” she replied.
They left the village without the tribe noticing. For the time of the day, the streets and paths were, as the team had learned, empty and quiet. After a hundred yards or so, they could see a plume of grey-white smoke rising in the distance. The source was still out of view. A half-hour passed before they broke out into a small clearing in the brush, still covered by the canopy of towering tr
ees.
Ana had spent most of her life in Europe where old and ancient structures arose from every city block. Suddenly, she felt at home. A stone chimney, perhaps fifty feet in height, sprouted from the middle of a series of workshops and storage spaces. When she saw what two workers were doing, she took off in a run and shouted, “No, don’t!” She was too late.
To the horror of the group, they watched as two men pitched the lifeless shell that had once been Lúcio onto a roaring flame in the furnace below the chimney. They calmly picked up another corpse by the hands and feet and repeated their work. A pile of another three bodies waited for disposal, including the non-virgin from the ceremony.
Ana arrived at the furnace, breathless. Her crewman’s right hand drooped from the fire while flames lapped at his decimated body. “What are you doing?” she shouted.
The men finished the next corpse and stared at her in awe before dropping their heads in obeisance.
“I asked, what are you doing?” she demanded.
The one looked up and replied, “We burn our dead. This is our way.”
The rest of her team chugged up in a few seconds. Their mouths hung open in disbelief. In an open area next to the furnace lay piles of personal belongings. Lúcio’s simple clothing was still on the floor, waiting to be sorted into the piles of clothes, footwear, and eyeglasses.
“My God,” Neville said. “It’s Auschwitz.”
No one could disagree. No one could speak. They walked between piles of clothing and wallets. Rusted revolvers. Moldy leather shoes. Armor from an era long forgotten.
“You seem upset,” the older of the two workers said. “We use and re-use everything in our community. We have no need for these items. Perhaps, one day someone will.”
The men returned to their work, silent. It was just then that Itotia’s voice growled from behind. “You have no right to be here. This place is holy. Return to your camp.” The two workers immediately fell to the knees in obeisance.
Aaron held a small clay item in his hand. It was some sort of mold. There were dozens of them thrown into a pile overgrown with brush and weeds. “This doesn’t seem so holy to me,” he said. “It seems like a simple foundry. What did you make here?”
