The Amazon

by Bob Nailor

  “Did those bats have red eyes?” Neville asked.

  “They sure did,” Marshall replied. “How did you know.”

  Neville winked at Ana. “Just a hunch, lad,” he said. “Just a hunch.”

  Wayne stuck his head outside the open door then turned back toward the group. “We’re free,” he called. “At least, kind of free. We’ve got the place to ourselves.”

  Aaron charged out of the room, the rest of the team close on his heels. They found the balcony and courtyard empty. Thick iron bars blocked their escape but at least they had a tiny bit of freedom.

  At both ends of the balcony, staircases led downward to the ground floor beneath where they had slept. A bathhouse, much like the one in the village, spread out in all directions. Pools formed from stone were lined in pure gold. Showers and waterfalls sprinkled and cascaded here and there, catching them up in their peaceful sounds. Orchids sprouted from the walls in miniature fountains of color.

  The courtyard extended fifty yards into the sun, planted with every hue of azalea and explosions of brilliant tropical flowers. The grass was trimmed close and thick, emerald green under the blue Amazonian sky.

  “It’s paradise,” Neville whispered. “Heaven on earth.”

  “Or hell,” Aaron mumbled softly.

  The call of the gurgling waters was irresistible after days without baths. The team attacked the showers with gusto, lathering themselves with soaps impregnated with herbs and flower petals. Their anxiety soon drained away, to be replaced by the quiet conversation of friends at their bath.

  Ana, Aaron, and Neville scrubbed their bodies and, then, found a heated pool lined with gleaming golden benches. They stretched out and watched their students adjust to the new, naked reality. Moema was most affected by the transformation. Twenty years seemed to fall away from her face as she slipped back to her childhood along the river. She pulled her long hair back away from her face and chatted with the girls, helping them scrub the places beyond their reach. Soon she was unabashedly washing the two men as if they were her own sons.

  “I could get used to this,” Neville commented. “Gold-lined hot tubs. Never gets cold. Who needs grubby old London, anyway?”

  “You heard their description of what happened in the forest,” Aaron reminded his colleague. “Red-eyed bats the size of eagles. And, perhaps, we are to become the same.”

  Ana sat silently in the gentle swirl of warm water. The reality of what was about to happen to them all churned in her stomach with more turbulence than the bath. Aaron stared at her throat then reached to put a finger gently where Ejup had bitten her.

  “You have two little dimples,” he said. “I never noticed them before.”

  Without thinking, she covered the spot with her hand. “You never spent the day naked with me before, either,” she answered, finally with a smile.

  “Look how we’ve all adjusted,” Neville observed. “Even old Wayne with his – well, he seems to have gotten over his hang-up.”

  “Paradise, I know,” Aaron replied snidely.

  “If you want my opinion, Aaron, this situation is relatively simple,” Neville said. “These people are cannibals. They tell us to clean ourselves up and get ready for a feast. My take is that we’re the main course and this fancy soap is the marinade.” Neville splashed water on himself. “Answer this for me: if they’re so hot to trot to make us members of their tribe, why are there bars on every window?”

  “Maybe they just don’t like us,” Aaron went on. “You remember what happened up in Ecuador back in the fifties. Those five missionaries were cut down with spears and arrows by an unknown tribe just like this one. Turns out, the killer was just showing off for a jealous girlfriend.” Aaron snorted and shook his head.

  “Janiza killed her chosen last night,” Ana said without warning. The two men’s eyes opened wide in surprise.

  “What happened?” Aaron asked.

  “After their ritual orgasms, she simply turned on him and ripped his throat out with her bare teeth,” she continued. “She threw his body aside like a stuffed animal.” She paused before she could add, “Like Megan’s.”

  “And Tinga,” Neville asked. “What did she do?”

  “Her chosen survived,” Ana said. “She seemed to clamp down on his throat but, then, pulled away before she killed him.”

  “So, which will it be for me, Ana?” Aaron asked, half-joking. “Thumbs up or thumbs down.”

  She paused, then looked him in the face. “I don’t know, Aaron,” she said. “I don’t think I’ll know until it happens.”

  He clucked his tongue and shook his head playfully. “You don’t think you could kill me with your bare teeth, do you?”

  Her look remained serious and distant. “As I said, I don’t know,” she replied.

  Ana leaned back and stretched her long, white legs out toward the two men. She closed her eyes and rested her head against the golden trim on the edge of the pool. She knew they were looking at her body; the dark triangle above her womb was only inches away from them. She enjoyed their stares and felt her nipples harden in response. She had never before felt the exhilaration of attraction; of controlling their bodies without as much as a word.

  Ana stood to leave the pool, while the water flowed down her skin. She pulled her wet hair back and tied it in a gentle knot above her head. “I want to stretch my legs,” she said. “I’ll be right back.” She glanced back to see Aaron begin to harden under her eyes. She smiled. Her hips swayed gently as she walked away.

  “She’s a fine woman, old chap,” Neville said quietly when she was out of earshot. “You’ll be a lucky man tonight.”

  “If I survive,” Aaron replied with a chuckle. “Tell me, what do you really think is going on here? Do you think they’re simple cannibals?”

  “If they are, we’re in the clear if we become tribal members,” Neville replied. “Cannibals never eat their own.”

  “But, the maidens killed their mates,” Aaron retorted. “I’ve never heard of this ritual before today. And what about this Ejup character being five hundred years old? The more we talk, the more your UnDead theory seems to fit what we see.”

  “It’s not my theory,” Neville said. “I simply mentioned the similarities. I’d be laughed out of the British Society if I ever suggested such a thing. But, my mind’s still open.”

  Aaron stood to follow Ana, still more rigid than he would have liked. “Be careful how open you keep your mind, my friend,” he said, turned, and smiled at Neville. “You never know when your brain might fall out.”

  The cool of the tropical evening had just fallen around them when Zreia returned, again, surrounded by her manservants. The group had broken into couples and quietly chatted about what life might be like for them after that night. She walked directly to Ana, seemingly avoiding the stares of the others.

  “Your feast is prepared,” she announced. “But, Itotia requires your presence first. Follow me.”

  Ana fell in between the four men while the rest of the team stood to join her.

  “Only she is required,” Zreia snapped. “Await her return.” They left and ascended the stairs as the last light of day was swallowed by the thick forest canopy.

  Zreia led Ana to the opposite end of the corridor to a small room where the door stood open. She bowed slightly and left, leaving Ana to enter on her own. Inside, she found Itotia and Ejup reclining on a luxurious raised chaise scattered with pillows woven from fine fibers of buriti. The room had several other chaises which were strewn with cushions and flasks of wine. He lay behind her, his hand on her hip tracing fine caresses along the curve of her legs and back. When Ana entered, he blinked twice but never stopped the flow of his fingertips on her skin. The shadows enveloped them both but Ana could see clearly.

  “You are Dr. Ana Carvalho,” he said in a muffled voice. “Daughter of Beograd and of Florence.”

  Ana was reminded of Zeus, Thor, and the Phantom of the Opera, all rolled into one terrible visage. Her face fel
l into confusion over what he had said. “I am from Belgrade, yes,” she said calmly, though her stomach rumbled with fright and confusion. She had only visited Florence once when she was a child.

  He smiled, the two prominent white incisors pressing down on his lower lip at each side. “Your ancestors live forever in your blood, my daughter. Please forgive my rudeness. Our last meeting was all too brief. My name is Ejup Mikić, a Serbian nobleman indebted to the Pizarro brothers for my current good fortune.” He made a tiny bow with his eyes in the manner of one who had no use for humility.

  Ana stood her ground even though her head swam in terror. “Then you served under Đurađ Branković in the Fortress of Kalemegdan in Beograd?” she asked quickly and directly.

  Ejup’s glowing eyes narrowed to two slits of red light. A slight smile formed on his face, but his hand stopped its wandering caresses.

  “You told me she was beautiful, my queen,” he said in Serbian. “You didn’t tell me how smart she was.” His eyes narrowed and he growled, “Cover her.” The last order resonated with the tone of a wolf hunting in the night.

  When Itotia stood, Ana saw Ejup was aroused. His eyes traced their way from her throat to her loins and returned to her breasts. She felt herself respond in kind.

  “My blood lust rises,” he said, surprisingly calm. “When that happens, I won’t be able to control myself. You shortly must learn this for yourself. You will feel it build in your loins and rush to your heart and teeth. We learn to use our lust when we wish and quench it when it is necessary.”

  Itotia slipped a silk robe over Ana’s shoulders and tied it at her waist. Ejup never took his eyes off her breasts until they were hidden. Itotia returned to her place on the chaise and snuggled her body in close to her husband’s. She reached behind for him, her eyes closing in pleasure.

  “Đurađ Branković was despot a century before I came to live with my queen here in Vamazonia,” Ejup said in a low, even tone. His speech seemed totally unaffected by his slow, regular movements that kept Itotia gasping in pleasure. “And I could not have served him in Beograd since he built his fortress and capital at Smederevo. But, you knew that, didn’t you, my Serbian princess?” He stared while Ana nodded her head in quiet obeisance. “He was the richest man in Europe and a good friend. My mentor.” He paused as the memory caused a smile to curl across his lips.

  “Come here, Ana Pavlović Carvalho,” he barked. “Give me one more taste more of your exquisite blood.”

  Itotia held out her arm in invitation and Ana slowly walked toward them, the room pungent with the fragrance of love. She lay close to Itotia and Ejup’s powerful arm pulled her even closer. Their three bodies pressed together and the heat of their passion burned into Ana’s belly. She lay her head back, closed her eyes, and let him have his way with her.

  When he had drunk his fill, Ana collapsed, unconscious on Itotia’s arm. He licked his incisors slowly and returned to his caresses. “We shall enjoy this one,” he said. “But, I fear she will also cause us trouble. Her essence is spoiled by a foul taste I would prefer to forget.” He stood, spit on the floor, and marched away into the darkness.

  Ana awoke a moment later as Itotia’s hand glided gently over her hip, just as Ejup’s had caressed hers. Her scent was intoxicating for Ana, a primal aroma mingled with perfumes refined from tropical flowers. She stayed still, trying to draw the moment out as long as she could.

  “Go,” Itotia said and sat. “Perhaps tonight you shall become my sister.”

  Ana hesitated, captivated by the luxurious sensuality of her touch. Itotia nipped her ear and whispered, “Go, I said.”

  Zreia had waited quietly in the corridor and quietly slipped into the room. When Ana stood, she removed the robe from her shoulders and returned it to her queen.

  “Is it always like this?” Ana asked as they walked silently across the balcony to where her team feasted.

  “No,” Zreia answered softly. “For some reason, you are special.”

  The sounds of a party reached their ears long before they arrived at the room. Wayne’s voice rose shrilly above the others in the universal tone of a poor drinker. Her hand covered the spot where, moments before, Ejup had drawn out her blood. It had healed again without leaving even the tiniest droplet of blood.

  “Hey, the doc’s back,” Wayne called out. He lifted a gold goblet in her direction. “Have a drink, doc.” Gold vessels the size and shapes of Roman amphorae stood around the circle where they sat.

  “What are they drinking?” Ana asked Zreia.

  “The men have wine which we ferment here in the city,” she said. “It’s made from fruit and berries only found here. Our master tells us it’s better than anything in Francia.”

  “Yes, France,” Ana said with a smile.” And the women?”

  “It’s the same, yet different. For you, it will open your spirits and make your blood lust easier to emerge. Drink lightly, Dr. Ana,” Zreia advised. “You will want to remember this night for all of eternity.” She quietly left, but two of her men remained at the door.

  Aaron stood to guide her to a space at his side. “Come. Sit, Ana,” he said. “Eat heartily because you’re going to need your strength tonight.” His face wore a silly grin and he made a pumping motion with his fist.

  “You’re drunk, Aaron,” she said with disgust. “If I were you, I’d be careful. You really don’t want to fail tonight.”

  Two goblets sat before her. One was filled with a thick, viscous fluid as red as Ejup’s eyes. The other was half-filled with a dark but thinner liquid. It was the first goblet that commanded her attention. Its scent called her as the sirens summoned Odysseus. In one motion, she picked it up and drained it as the others watched. The gulp warmed her body from her mouth to her loins. She knew it had come from a native, perhaps from someone in the tribe. Its taste was as exotic and splendid as anything she could remember.

  “Slow down, doc,” Wayne called out. “Pace yourself. You got a lotta celebrating to do tonight.”

  She set the goblet down, satisfied to the bottom of her soul.

  “It’s you who needs to slow down, young man,” she snapped back. “This time you’ve got only one chance to perform, and it had better be your best.”

  “Hey, professor,” he said with one eye half-closed. “I may not have an Atlas rocket like old Doc Hastings, but I’ve never had a failure to launch.” He lifted his goblet toward the ceiling, splooshed out the sound of a rocket launching, and actually pried a laugh from the group.

  Ana drew in the bouquet from the second goblet as she would have done with a fine wine only a number of days before. She recognized alcohol, to be sure. But the berry-and-molasses scent of ayahuasca lurked in the background, calling her to drink deeply. She debated only briefly then gulped down the heady liquid. A wave of ecstasy engulfed her mind and her vision in swirls of green and blue.

  The intoxicants were having the desired effect. The men were macho and animated, ready to plunge ahead no matter what they might encounter. The women were laid back and dreamy-eyed, their bodies aroused in preparation.

  Zreia returned after just a few minutes but, this time, her goons remained outside. “I have come to give you instructions about what will shortly take place. I will lead you to the Island of Knowledge where you will pass through your ceremonies in pairs of couples. First, the younger initiates, then the older.” Sober silence replaced the bravado that filled the room when Ana had arrived.

  “You will complete your rituals, one couple at a time, from beginning to end. Our god, Ejup, may he bless us forever; will stand in the center of the island, awaiting those who wish to attempt to pass through the Eye of Knowledge. The woman will walk to him and receive his first kiss, should he be willing. Immediately, you will kneel before his terrible presence. You will arouse him until he growls in readiness. If you do not succeed, you forfeit your attempt and your life.” She paused briefly amid a weighty silence.

  “He will lead you to a stone slab where he will giv
e you his second kiss and lay you down. You are to prepare yourselves to receive his attention. He will enter you and take your maidenhead, if you are still intact. If he finds you desirable and acceptable, he will grant you a third kiss and leave. May you prepare yourselves to please him, through whom we live.

  “If you pass to this final stage, your chosen is to complete the holy act of creation. You must allow your blood lust to rise to meet his desire. If you resist, the glorious instant will pass and you will not enter into oneness with us. Your body and your spirit will instruct you what to do after that supreme moment.” She paused again and turned toward Wayne. “The men are of little importance. You are here to mate with the one who has chosen you. It’s your seed she is interested in, not you. If you speak or in any way break our traditions, your lives will be immediately forfeit. Are there any questions?”

  “You mean that’s all we get?” Wayne blabbered. “Sloppy seconds?”

  “You will receive what the woman desires,” Zreia snapped. “No more and, perhaps, less. If she decides to allow you to live, you will owe her eternal gratitude and subservience.”

  Zreia motioned for an attendant to approach. He carried a gold tray with jewelry and fine fabrics. “You are to wear these,” she said to Ana. “Stand and dress yourself.”

  She handed Ana a covering so fine it seemed only to be a breath of wind. It was woven from fine strands of gold and weighed no more than the flimsiest of gauze. “Our god, his name be blessed, requires you to cover yourself to limit his blood lust,” she explained.

  Ana slipped the garment over her head and let it fall to her shoulders. The room fell into silence from the vision it created, a golden wave washing over her body. The filaments brushed against her breasts and hips like wisps of a feather. Her arousal was obvious to everyone and a rapid response rushed through the room like a gust of sultry air.

  “Now place this around your shoulders and hips.” The attendant carried a necklace of thick, solid gold, inset with rubies on all sides. When he placed on Ana’s shoulders, she sagged under the weight and felt her legs begin to buckle.