Eight

by WW Mortensen

  “You can’t be serious,” Ed said. “The Rebecca Riley I know is a creature of habit—she likes to stay in control, plan ahead, give thought to consequences. How was I to know you’d up from your job and come down here? Far too risky, too impromptu.”

  The frank assessment momentarily silenced her.

  “In any case,” she said finally, “I’m bothered by something else. I mean, you’re out here for a vastly different reason; something you’ve devoted your life to… just like your grandfather.” She paused, the words hanging between them longer than she’d have liked. “My point is, now that you’ve found what you’re looking for, I just can’t buy that you’ve happily sat around wasting your time listening to me go on about what is, essentially, just a big, hairy spider you happened across in your travels. You could have preserved the thing and sent it to me in New York when you were through down here. Instead, you send me some enticing photos—guessing there was a good chance I’d make the trip—and wait days for me to arrive just to hear the analysis.” She stared him in the eye. “So, what aren’t you telling me?”

  Ed reached into his breast-pocket to pull out a lighter and a pre-rolled cigarette. He lit up, and grey smoke swirled between them. “There’s more, yes, but trust me, it’s easier if I show you.”

  Rebecca opened her mouth to press for an explanation, but after searching his eyes, held back. At the best of times, Ed could be insurmountably stubborn, and his expression suggested she’d get nothing further out of him. Suddenly he appeared tired and drawn, his features weighed with more than simply a lack of sleep.

  She was intrigued, but her questions could wait. Right now, she had much to do. “I need to start documenting this,” she said to him. “Could you pass me that pack?”

  He retrieved it, and she fished out her laptop. No larger than a small book and weighing less than a kilogram, the device was perfect for lugging into the field. Earlier, she’d noticed a couple of similarly ultra-portable PCs—all of them ruggedised, military-standard—hooked up around the camp, presumably via a LAN network.

  She placed hers on the table and jutted her chin at his cigarette. “I thought you’d given up.”

  “Tried to,” Ed replied, inhaling deeply. “But it wasn’t me.”

  While her laptop booted, she turned and gazed into the rain. Since she’d arrived the downpour had been heavy and constant, turning the clearing into a sea of mud dotted with puddles of water laid out like a chain of tiny islands.

  Ed stood. “I better check in with Robert, so I’ll leave you to it. If you need anything, let me know.”

  “I will. Thanks.”

  Ed disappeared, and Rebecca was left alone at the table, her laptop in front of her and alongside it, the spider carcass.

  With the sound of the rain above her and a thousand thoughts in her head, she began to type.

  8

  At dusk, the torrential downpour that had marked the day diminished to a light drizzle. After an early dinner of fish and rice washed down with a couple of beers—everyone was calling them cervejas—Rebecca decided to walk along the sodden track that only hours earlier she and Ed had followed up from the river. Her head was abuzz, and she thought a stroll might settle her down. Ed had told her over dinner they’d be heading out to Site 1—they called it S1 for short—first thing in the morning. She needed a good night’s rest but feared it wouldn’t come easily.

  As she made her way through the rain-soaked undergrowth, frogs and crickets chirped ceaselessly around her. Before long, she was at the bank, which sloped sharply to the water’s edge where the Zodiac was tethered. She stared past the vessel, across the river’s glassy, untroubled surface. In the fading, faintly orange light, the water resembled a black mirror.

  She hadn’t heard Ed’s approach and jumped when he appeared alongside her.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said.

  “That’s okay. Just a bit edgy, I guess.”

  “Once it gets dark, Bec, we need everyone in camp. Okay if I join you till then?”

  “Be my guest.”

  They stood side by side in the warm but cooling air, commanding an equal share of their surroundings.

  “Megarachne Amazonas,” Rebecca said after a while.

  “Sorry?”

  “A name. You wanted me to think of a name. But it needs your approval—it’s your discovery.”

  Ed pursed his lips. “I guess it has a nice ring to it. I approve.”

  Around them, the forest buzzed. Drops of rain skipped lightly across the river, sprinkling the surface and making soft pattering sounds. Soon, Rebecca’s ears were met by a loud splashing, and she looked down to see something writhe and swirl on the river’s surface. “What was that?” she said as the water stilled.

  “A jacare,” Ed said, “A Brazilian caiman.”

  “No kidding? An alligator, right?”

  “Essentially, yes. Some people call them that—they’re certainly related. Look!” Ed pointed at more splashing. Suddenly, the river teemed with the thrashing creatures, perhaps a dozen or more. “These are common caiman, no more than six feet long. Not much to worry about, though you don’t want to get bitten.”

  “No, I’m sure you don’t.”

  “Robert says he’s seen anacondas catch little ones like this, crush them to death, and then swallow them whole. Can you imagine it? The ones to worry about are the Black Caiman. They grow much bigger. Twenty feet or more.”

  “Geez… even a giant snake would have trouble getting that in its mouth.” Rebecca was joking but felt uneasy.

  Ed assured her with a smile. “We’re safe up here. But I thought I should warn you in case you wanted a dip.”

  “I should probably skip it.”

  “Might be best,” Ed said. “There are things in these rivers better left alone.”

  “Yeah, well thanks for the reminder. But you needn’t have worried. The piranhas had me scared enough.”

  “You’ve got a thing for them, haven’t you?”

  “A man-eating fish? Come on, you have to admit, it is kind of exciting.”

  Ed snorted in amusement. “Well, it may interest you that the most feared fish in the Amazon is not the piranha. It’s actually the candiru.”

  Rebecca cocked her head. “It may interest you that I’ve already heard of it. It’s a small catfish, only a few millimetres long, finds urine attractive. If you’re unlucky it’ll follow the stream to its source and swim right up the urethra. Once there, it’ll raise it spines and settle in for the long haul. Very painful.”

  “And impossible to remove without surgery. I’ve even heard of men being… amputated.”

  Rebecca winced. “Okay. Swimming is definitely off the agenda.”

  Ed smiled, and minutes passed with the sound of a million croaking frogs and chirping insects to keep them company.

  “You know, regardless of all that,” Rebecca said eventually, almost breathlessly, “this place is beautiful.” She turned to find Ed looking at her in an unexpected, yet familiar way. It caught her off-guard, more so when she realised the attention was not merely comforting, but welcome. “I’m really happy you found what you were looking for, Ed.”

  Ed opened his mouth to speak when a voice interrupted them. “Ed? Where are you?” It was Jessy. It sounded as though she was coming down the path to the river.

  “I better go,” Ed said. “Don’t be long. Make sure your tent is zipped up, and check your sleeping bag, too. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “What time? I’m a heavy sleeper, remember.”

  Ed grinned. “You’ll know,” he said cryptically. With that, he started up the path. After a few steps, however, he paused and turned again to face her. “We had some good times, didn’t we?”

  Rebecca glanced up from the black water to return his gaze. “Yeah, we did.”

  Ed smiled faintly and disappeared.

  • • •

  Soon after, Rebecca made her own way back. By then it was dark, and almo
st everyone had retired for the evening. Two figures—she couldn’t make out their silhouettes—sat on watch around the campfire, and hushed voices drifted on a faint breeze. She slipped quietly into her tent.

  Just as she had anticipated, sleep proved elusive. The events of the day nagged at her, and when they finally quieted, she was beset by something new and unforeseen—thoughts and feelings she hadn’t had in some time.

  At least not since her break-up with Ed.

  Rebecca did her best to push them from her mind, and at some stage during the night, she fell asleep.

  9

  When she opened her eyes the next morning, Rebecca understood why Ed hadn’t given her a specific wake-up time. Heavy sleeper or not, she doubted there was any chance of slumbering through the cacophony of sound that erupted at first light.

  Shrill screeches filled the air as a multitude of birds descended on the clearing, shrieking in the trees as if there were a jungle law against snoozing.

  Rebecca sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She’d woken several times during the night, tossing and turning. With little choice, she threw on some fresh clothes and her boots and headed for the door to her tent. Drawing back the flap, she was taken by surprise at the sight to confront her.

  The dark-grey clouds of the day before had gone; the rain had stopped. Glorious sunshine bathed the campsite in a soft golden glow, the surrounding trees casting cool, lengthy shadows across the ground. It was as though the jungle had been cleansed and restored, an entirely new existence spawning overnight.

  Rebecca emerged, stretching and filling her lungs with a satisfying breath of air. She delighted in its freshness and felt instantly rejuvenated. Detecting the smell of coffee, she headed for the communal area beneath the tarpaulins.

  Owen was sitting at the entrance to his tent, again in his Hawaiian get-up, shaking his boots upside down.

  “Checking for creepy crawlies?” Rebecca asked.

  Owen merely raised his eyebrows, and Rebecca continued past. The comment sat uneasily as she walked away.

  In total, eight people were in occupation of Base Camp. Six would be making the trip to S1 today: Owen and herself, Jessy, Ed, and Sanchez, as well as Enrique Paulo, who she’d been introduced to last night before dinner. Two other men in Ed’s employ—Martins Ribeiro and Elson Barros—would remain here at Base Camp.

  Enrique stood with a tin mug in his hand, leaning against one of the aluminium tables beneath the tarpaulins.

  He was young, in his early twenties at most, with a tall but boyish frame still on the verge of filling out. He was baby-faced, with gentle eyes and a thin black moustache. It seemed he was trying for a beard, but it wasn’t working out. His long, braided ponytail ran almost to his waist. A small gold cross hung on a chain around his neck.

  “Beautiful day, isn’t it?” Rebecca said.

  Enrique’s English was simple, and he came across as painfully shy, particularly in the presence of herself and Jessy. Rebecca suspected he was a loner; after last night’s introductions, he’d slipped away and eaten dinner by himself. Still, she got the impression he was a willing helper and a hands-on kind of guy.

  “Bom dia, senhorita. Yes, it is beautiful. Coffee?” He was blushing.

  “That would be lovely.”

  They made largely one-sided small talk. Suddenly, out of nowhere, Rebecca caught movement in the corner of her eye, and turned as a small animal bolted towards her from beneath the table. She ducked as it leapt high into the air… and straight onto Enrique’s shoulder.

  A little over a foot tall and light brown in colour, the animal had a long, curling tail and skinny limbs. The hair on its head resembled a black cowl, and its face was pale though its eyes were dark. Its small head darted left and right, and its hands waved about.

  Rebecca knew the tiny—and very cute—monkey to be a Brown Capuchin. “Who’s this?” she asked, relieved to see it was Enrique’s pet.

  Enrique fed the monkey some nuts from his hand. “Senhorita, this is Priscilla.”

  Rebecca reached up tentatively and tried to tickle Priscilla under the chin. The monkey hopped to Enrique’s opposite shoulder, where it resumed eating from his hand.

  “She’s shy,” Rebecca remarked. “With all these new people around, she was obviously in hiding last night.”

  Enrique laughed. “In time she will get used to you.”

  They spoke some more before Enrique politely excused himself and exited, sharing an apple with Priscilla as he went.

  Rebecca took a sip of her coffee. It was murkier than the river had been last night, in desperate need of milk or cream. She glanced about, her search taking her to the portable refrigerator. It contained nothing to improve her coffee, but she did find the Ziploc bag tucked to one side.

  Ignoring it, she took her coffee and a small sweet cake down to the river.

  The sun hung low over the trees, painting a pinkish hue over their bushy green crowns and across a thin wisp of cloud that looked like a thread of cotton candy. The river was calm, cutting peacefully through the verdant greenery. Although she hadn’t travelled much and had little to judge by, Rebecca found it difficult to conceive of a more breathtaking location.

  The stillness broke with the sound of approaching footsteps.

  “Good morning,” Jessy said, drawing in beside her. She’d tied a blue scarf like a bandanna on top of her head, and a couple of blond pigtails stuck out on either side. “It’s such a beautiful time of day, isn’t it?”

  “Dawn?” Rebecca said, and smiled. “To be honest, I’m not a ‘morning’ person—give me a couple of extra hours in bed any day. But yeah, I’m getting a new perspective.”

  They stood for several minutes, revelling in the sights and sounds, Jessy, too, sipping from a mug of black coffee. Rebecca noted with relief that this morning there seemed to be no sign of caiman in the river, although the two of them stood high on the bank and well back from the edge.

  At last, Rebecca spoke up. “So, what’s S2 like?” Ed had told her two sites had been uncovered, and S2 was the primary site.

  Jessy rolled her eyes. “I don’t know—we haven’t even seen ’1’ yet.”

  Rebecca raised her eyebrows.

  “It’s just killing me, too,” Jessy said, “knowing that Ed has made a significant archaeological find, something he wants me to see, and I’m here just hanging around twiddling my thumbs. He won’t take me there, won’t even tell me what they’ve uncovered! He avoids the subject like the plague.”

  “He has masterful evasive qualities.”

  “I think he’s been waiting for you to arrive,” Jessy said. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

  “The waiting is over now.”

  “Finally. You know, I think Owen knows more than he’s letting on, but I can’t be sure.”

  “Those two have always been close. What do you expect we’ll find out there?”

  Jessy smiled. “You’re familiar with his theory, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, I know it.”

  “Well, I can only imagine. But I think it’ll be big.”

  Rebecca got to the end of her coffee. Her immediate thought was to get a refill.

  “There are more of them, aren’t there?” Jessy asked.

  Rebecca glanced up from her mug. “Sorry?”

  “I mean, it stands to reason, doesn’t it? That there are more of those… spiders out there. If that thing is an adolescent, it’s gotta have parents. It’s not just some lone freak of nature.”

  “You’d imagine so, yes.”

  “Owen told me about J’ba Fofi.”

  The words caught Rebecca by surprise. Of course, she knew of the Baka people, the remote African tribe who speak of a species of ‘great spider’, or ‘J’ba Fofi’, inhabiting the forests of the Congo—a species with a leg span of five feet.

  “J’ba Fofi is a myth,” Rebecca said.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  But that was a lie, wasn’t it? Semantics. J
’ba Fofi might not exist, but the megarachnid they had tucked away in cold storage was every bit as real as the tin mug in her hand.

  “Ed says it’s perfectly safe,” Jessy said, “but heading out to those two sites… what do you think?”

  Rebecca recalled the previous night’s conversation, and how Ed had said he had more to show her. Her response to Jessy was measured. “In my opinion, the attack on the boys that night was a random one, a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. They could just as likely have been set upon by a jaguar or puma or some other wild animal. Ed’s not going to put our safety at risk. So, I believe him. You shouldn’t worry.”

  Jessy nodded, trying hard to put her faith in Rebecca’s words. “I don’t know why those things freak me out so much.”

  “They freak out a lot of people. To many, they’re ugly, hairy, creepy—they look frightening. There’s a school of thought that at some point in human evolution, spiders may have posed a genuine threat; our ancestors were likely programmed to fear them. That fear may have lodged in our psyche and been passed on through the genes. But there are other factors, too. Children’s nursery rhymes, Halloween. Spiders are portrayed as creatures to fear. It’s ingrained in us.”

  “Wait till everyone gets a load of Ed’s discovery,” Jessy said. A shiver seemed to ripple her neck and shoulders. “I suppose if we’re leaving soon, I’d better go pack.”

  “Me too. I’ll join you.”

  They returned to camp and their respective tents. As Rebecca got to hers, Sanchez appeared with a wide smile spread across his clean-shaven face.

  “Good morning, senhorita. I trust you slept well.”

  “I did, thank you,” Rebecca lied.

  “I wanted to give you this.” He passed her a broad-bladed machete. “We have chopped a good path, but the jungle is quick to reclaim.”

  Rebecca swept the tool through the air in front of her, appraising its grip and weight. “Just on that,” she said at last. “Why don’t we take a chopper out?”

  Sanchez shook his head. “This time of year, the charter companies are run off their feet; at the moment, the oil and mining people have an exclusive claim on everything.” He smiled. “But in any case, senhorita, we are a thousand miles from anywhere. No-one comes out here.”