by Bear Grylls
Jaeger outlined to Narov what he had in mind.
The emergency chute that Narov had been forced to pull was a smaller, less substantial piece of kit than his own BT80. It looked to have been badly torn when she ploughed into the treetops, which was why Jaeger proposed getting them stabilised under both canopies, forming one strong point from which they could lower themselves to the ground.
After he was done explaining, they proceeded to cut their rucksacks free, which until now had been left hanging suspended on the lines below. The heavy packs crashed through the layers of vegetation, each landing with a clearly audible thud on the forest floor far below. There was no way to complete the series of manoeuvres that he had in mind with thirty-five kilos of kit hanging on a line below their feet.
Next he got Narov to swing towards him, and he did likewise, each using their canopy like an anchor. With arms gripping the lines above, they twisted this way and that, until each was able to grab for the other at the furthest reach of their pendulum-like oscillation.
Jaeger’s legs felt for Narov’s body, hooked around her hips and held tight. Then his arms grabbed for her torso and he clipped her chest harness tight to his. They were now locked together at the point midway between their two chutes.
But in contrast to the tandem jump, they were joined face to face, attached via a thick carabiner – a D-shaped metal ring with a spring-loaded clip. Jaeger found the position and the close proximity decidedly uncomfortable, particularly as he was boiling up in the heat – the thick and cumbersome survival suit plus the rest of the HAHO gear serving to roast him alive.
But hell, anything to get them down in one piece.
Using a second carabiner, he locked the parachutes firmly together at the base of their rigging – the narrowest point of each. He then took out a length of Specter paracord – a high-tensile khaki cord about as thick as your average washing line, but with an extraordinary strength. It had a 500-pound breaking strain, but Jaeger doubled it over anyway, just to be certain.
He threaded it twice through a belay device – a climber’s abseiling tool – to provide added friction, tying the upper end on to the parachutes. The rest of the paracord he uncoiled carefully below him, letting it fall the one hundred feet or so to the earth below. Finally, he clipped the belay device on to the carabiner attached to his chest harness, so that he and Narov were attached to the makeshift paracord rope.
They were now hanging in their chutes, whilst at the same time being attached to them independently via the paracord rig that Jaeger had just assembled. Now came the crunch moment: it was time to cut out of their parachutes, and for Jaeger to perform a free abseil, so lowering them to the ground.
Both he and Narov ripped off helmet, masks and goggles, letting them fall to the forest floor. Jaeger was sweating like a pig after all the exertion. He could feel the perspiration running down his face in rivulets, soaking the front of his clothing where he was clipped skin-tight to Narov.
It was like a wet T-shirt competition – only up close and personal – and he felt as if he could trace every minute contour of her body.
‘I sense that you are uncomfortable,’ Narov remarked. Her voice had an odd, matter-of-fact, mechanical ring to it. ‘Such close proximity can be necessary for several reasons. One: practical necessity. Two: to share body warmth. Three: sex. This now is for reason number one. Stay focused on the job.’
Blah, blah, blah, Jaeger thought. Trust me to end up trapped in the jungle with only the ice maiden for company.
‘So, you tricked me into your embrace,’ Narov continued flatly. She pointed upwards. ‘Whatever you next have in mind, I suggest you hurry.’
Jaeger looked where she indicated. Three feet above his head there was a gigantic spider. It was about the size of his hand, and it appeared semi-luminous and silvery in the half-light – its body plump, its legs like eight emaciated fingers groping towards him.
He could see its bulbous, evil red eyes glaring, the chomping moist maw of its jaws moving hungrily. It lifted its front legs, waving them aggressively, as it edged ever closer. Worse still, he could see its fangs – presumably tipped with poison – poised to strike.
He whipped up Narov’s knife, ready to slash it to pieces, but her hand stopped him.
‘Don’t!’ she hissed.
She pulled out her back-up blade and, without bothering to unsheathe it, slid the narrow end beneath the spider’s hairy body and flipped it into the air. It spun around and around, torso glinting as it caught the sunbeams, then tumbled downwards, jaws hissing in anger at having been thwarted.
Narov didn’t take her eyes off the treetops. ‘I kill only when I need to. And when it is wise.’
Jaeger glanced where she was looking. There were scores more of the arachnids crawling towards them. In fact, their parachute rigging seemed to be alive with the things.
‘Phoneutria,’ Narov continued. ‘Greek for murderess. We must have hit a nest as we came through.’ She glanced at him. ‘Rearing up with their front legs is a defensive posture. If you cut one, the body gives off a scent that warns its siblings, and then they really attack. The venom contains the PhTx3 neurotoxin. A nerve poison. Symptoms are very similar to a nerve gas attack: loss of muscle control and breathing, followed by paralysis and asphyxiation.’
‘Whatever you say, Dr Death,’ Jaeger muttered.
She glared at him. ‘I will fend them off. You – you get us down from here.’
Jaeger reached behind her with the commando knife and began to cut through the thick band of canvas-like material that joined her parachute harness to its rigging. As he sliced away, he saw Narov’s knife dart forward and flick a second and a third spider away.
She fended off more and more of the things, but he figured she must have missed one. It came pulsing towards him, front legs rearing up, fangs just inches from his bare hand. Acting on instinct, he flicked the knife towards it, the razor-sharp stiletto point jabbing at its underside. As the blade nicked it and drew blood, the spider balled up, rolling away and plummeting towards the forest floor.
The instant it did so, Jaeger sensed a clicking, clacking alarm signal pulse through its scores of fellow arachnids, as they sensed that one of their number had been blooded.
As one, they surged forward to attack.
‘Now they really come!’ Narov hissed.
She unsheathed her blade and lunged to left and right, stabbing at the hissing mass of arachnids. Jaeger redoubled his efforts. After a final few slashes, he succeeded in cutting Narov free, her weight dragging her down at an alarming rate before the carabiner locking her to Jaeger’s harness pulled her up short.
For a split second he tensed for his canopy giving way under the extra weight, but luckily it held fast. He reached above his head, hacked at his rigging savagely, and a moment later it too gave way.
Both he and Narov broke free, as if they were falling.
For a second or two he let them plummet – the paracord rope hissing through the belay plate – until he judged they were well out of reach of the army of deadly arachnids. Then he closed his grip on the length of paracord and snatched it vertically downwards, pulling it tight.
The friction against the belay plate served to slow and halt their fall. They were now dangling on the paracord line some thirty feet below their chutes, which were now a seething mass of enraged and highly toxic spiders.
Phoneutria. Jaeger would be very happy never to see another as long as he lived.
He’d hardly had time to indulge the thought before the first of the writhing silvery blobs launched itself after them. It plunged vertically downwards, trailing out its own rope – a thin thread of spider’s silk – behind it.
In response, Jaeger released the paracord and he and Narov plunged into the fall once more.
29
They’d barely dropped a dozen feet when they were brought to a halt with a sickening jerk. A broken strap in Narov’s HAHO suit had got trapped in the belay device, jamming it.
Jaeg
er cursed.
He grabbed the material with his free hand and tried to rip it free. As he did so, he felt something soft and bony land in his hair with an angry, bubbling hiss.
A razor-sharp blade slashed just millimetres above his scalp.
Jaeger sensed the knife tip tear into the Phoneutria – the arachnid balling up in agony, losing its grip and tumbling off his head into thin air. Again and again Narov’s blade chopped through the shadows as she fought off the spiders and Jaeger struggled to free the stubborn strap.
Finally, he managed to pull it clear of the belay, and they jerked back into the abseil.
‘They don’t give up easily,’ he grunted, as he let the paracord zip through the belay system.
‘They do not,’ Narov confirmed.
She held up one arm in front of his face. It hadn’t escaped Jaeger’s notice that she was left-handed. There was a horrible-looking reddish-black welt spreading across the upper surface of her left hand, and he could see two distinct bite marks.
Her eyes were awash with pain. ‘If you cut one Phoneutria, they all attack,’ she reminded him. ‘Victims describe the pain of a bite as like having fire running through your veins. It is quite accurate.’
Jaeger was speechless.
Narov had been bitten by one of the spiders that had dropped on them, yet she hadn’t even cried out. More to the point, was he about to lose one of his expedition members, and before they’d even got started?
‘I’ve got the anti-venom.’ He glanced downwards. ‘But it’s in my backpack. We’ve got to get you down, and fast.’
Jaeger jerked his right hand upwards as far as it would go. The paracord rope hissed through the belay device faster than ever, and the two of them plummeted towards the ground at full speed. He was glad of his gloves, for the doubled-over paracord was still razor-thin to hold.
He made sure his boots hit first, taking the impact for the two of them. Normally he’d have used the rope and belay system to slow them to a halt before they touched down. But it had been a race against the Phoneutria, and they were out of time. He had to get his hands on the venom antidote.
They landed in the sullen gloom.
Very little of the sunlight that filters through the jungle canopy makes it to the forest floor. Some ninety per cent of the available illumination is sucked up by the mass of hungry vegetation layered above – making it semi-dark at ground level.
Until Jaeger’s eyes adjusted to the low light levels, it would be hard to spot any dangers – like spiders.
He was pretty certain no Phoneutria would be able to follow them the full length of the fall, but – once bitten, twice shy. He glanced upwards. In the odd shaft of sunlight that penetrated the forest depths, he could just make out a score of silken threads glinting ominously, each lowering a glistening bundle of venomous death.
Unbelievably, the Phoneutria were still coming, and by the looks of it, Narov was pretty much incapable of moving out of their way.
As the spiders zipped downwards, Jaeger dragged her a few yards away from the abseil line. Then he unstrapped his shotgun, levelled it in the general direction of the Phoneutria and opened fire. The repeated retorts of the blasts in quick succession were deafening: Kaboom! Kaboom! Kaboom! Kaboom!
The Benelli had a pump action and a seven-round magazine, each loaded with 9 mm lead shot. A tidal wave of pellets tore into the arachnids.
Kaboom! Kaboom! Kaboom!
The last rounds erupted with the horde of Phoneutria practically sitting on the end of Jaeger’s gun barrel, the shot turning them into instant spider purée. That was what Jaeger loved about the Benelli: you just pointed it in the general direction and let rip – although he’d never once envisaged using it against spiders.
The last echoes of the thunderous blasts reverberated around him, the sound thrown back from the massive tree trunks to either side. He could hear the panicked screams of what sounded like a troop of primates, high in the treetops. Very quickly the monkeys made themselves scarce, moving fast through the branches in the opposite direction.
The noise of the gunshots had been deafening and strangely ominous.
No doubt about it, Jaeger had just telegraphed their arrival to anyone or anything that might be listening . . . But to hell with it – he’d needed something with real firepower to deal with the tide of Phoneutria, and the combat shotgun was most definitely built for the job.
He threw the weapon across his back and cut Narov free from the abseil line. He dragged her out of the way, boots scuffing through rotten leaf matter and thin sandy soil, and laid her against the wall of a buttress – one of several inverted V-shaped roots that snaked out from the base of a massive tree.
The rainforest was a castle built upon sand – the soil below the jungle being wafer thin. In the intense humidity and heat, dead vegetation tended to rot swiftly, the nutrients released being rapidly recycled by both plants and animals. As a result, most of the forest giants sat on a web of buttresses, their root systems penetrating just inches into the poor soil.
Having propped Narov against one, Jaeger ran back to fetch his backpack. He was a qualified medic – one of his specialist skills learned in the military – and he was familiar with the effects of a neurotoxin such as this: it killed by attacking the nervous system, doing so in such a way that the nerve endings were permanently being fired, hence the horrific twitching and convulsing that Narov was starting to exhibit.
Death usually resulted from the inability of the muscles involved in breathing to keep functioning properly. Your body ended up literally suffocating itself to death.
The treatment required the nerve agent antidote ComboPen to be injected three times in quick succession. That would treat the symptoms of the poisoning, but Narov might also need pralidoxime and avizafone to help get the muscles that controlled her breathing functioning properly again.
Jaeger grabbed his medical pack and felt around for the syringes and phials. Luckily it was well padded, and most seemed to have survived the fall. He readied the first shot of ComboPen, raised it above his head and thumped the big needle of drugs into Narov’s system.
30
Five minutes later, the treatment was done. Narov was still conscious, but she was nauseated, her breathing shallow, and she was twitching and spasming badly. It had been only a matter of minutes from her receiving the bite to Jaeger getting the antidote into her, but even so, there was still a chance that the spider toxins could kill her.
Having helped her out of her bulky HAHO gear, Jaeger urged her to drink as much as she could from the water bottle that he placed at her side. She needed to keep herself hydrated, as the fluids would help flush the worst of the toxins from her system.
Jaeger himself stripped down until he was wearing just a pair of tough cotton combat trousers and a T-shirt. His clothes were soaked in sweat and still it was pouring off him. He figured the humidity here had to be plus-ninety per cent. Despite the intense tropical heat, very little perspiration would ever evaporate, for the air was already saturated with water vapour.
For as long as they were in the jungle they’d be soaked through, and it was best just to get used to it.
Jaeger paused to collect his thoughts.
It had been 0903 Zulu when they’d plunged into the canopy at the end of the monster freefall. They’d been a good hour getting down from the treetops. It was around 1030 Zulu by now, and by anyone’s reckoning they were in a whole world of hurt – one that he’d never even come close to envisaging when he’d sketched out the worst-case scenarios prior to departure.
One of his SAS instructors had once told him how ‘no plan survives first contact with the enemy’. Shit, that was true – and especially when it came to freefalling into the Amazon from 30,000 feet with a Russian ice queen strapped to your person.
He turned his attention to his rucksack. It was a seventy-five-litre green Alice Pack – a US-manufactured Bergen designed specifically for the jungle. Unlike many large packs it had a metal
frame, which kept it a good two inches or more off the back, allowing for the worst of the sweat to run off – so reducing the risk of prickly heat, or hips and shoulders rubbing raw.
Most large packs tended to have a wide body and pouches sticking out the side. As a result, they were broader than a man’s shoulders, and would tear and snag on undergrowth. The Alice Pack was thinner at the top and wider at the bottom, with all pouches attached to the rear. That way, Jaeger knew that if he could squeeze through, then his pack would follow.
The pack was lined with a tough rubber ‘canoe bag’, which rendered it waterproof and gave it enough buoyancy to float. As an added bonus, it provided an extra layer’s cushioning to help deal with a hundred-foot drop like the one it had just suffered.
Jaeger rifled through the contents. As he’d feared, not everything had survived the fall. His Thuraya satellite phone had been stuffed into one of the rear pockets, for ease of access. It had a cracked screen, and when he tried to power up, nothing happened. He had a spare packed in one of the para-tubes that Krakow and Kamishi had jumped with, but that wasn’t a great deal of good to them right here and right now.
He pulled out his map. Fortunately, as maps tended to be, it was pretty much indestructible. He’d had it laminated, to semi-waterproof it, and it was already folded to the correct page. Or at least it would have been the correct page: trouble was, he and Narov had put down anywhere up to forty kilometres or more away from their intended landing point.
Using his rucksack as a seat, he propped himself against the buttress root, and rearranged his map to what he figured had to be the correct page. Folding your map was actually a big no-no in the military. It instantly let the enemy know what your focus was, if you were captured. But Jaeger wasn’t on operations here; this was meant to be a civilian jungle expedition, after all.
From his wrist GPS he retrieved the waypoint that he’d fed into it just moments before he’d plunged into the jungle canopy.
It furnished him with a six-figure grid: 837529.
