by Nick Thacker
Ben walked slowly between the main hospital building and the smaller shack, taking it all in. He couldn’t help but imagine what it was like for the doctor and researchers here, and whether or not they were able to get away. There was an empty pit at the bottom of his stomach, growing heavier with each passing minute. As if answering his own question, his eyes were drawn to a rectangular room inside the smaller building, now no more than a black outline, like a life-sized blueprint drawn on the ground. Inside the “room,” he could see a metal file cabinet, most of the sides melted away, somehow still standing upright.
Next to it, a body. He recoiled, but didn’t look away. The person inside the room had struggled, but hadn’t left the room when the building went up. He wondered if they’d been locked inside, unable to escape.
He felt a flash of white-hot anger.
“But why do this?” Amanda asked from behind him. She was following Reggie around the perimeter of the razed structures. “Why would they burn it down? If they wanted to come for us, they would have.”
“No,” he said, “they wouldn’t. They’re playing with us, trying to force us into a trap.”
“What kind of trap?” Paulinho asked. He, Archie, and Carlo stood nearby.
“They want us to give up Amanda. Make us think it’s not worth it to continue.”
It might not be worth it to continue. Ben couldn’t help the inner monologue, but he pushed the thought aside.
Dr. Meron stepped closer to Reggie. “Is it? Should we just call it? They’re not going to —“
“They’re not going to stop,” Reggie said, interrupting her to finish her sentence. “That’s the point. They’re after you, but they’re really after what you stand for. What you know that they don’t. You — we — are on to something here, and they know it. They sense it. They’re trying to push us out, wear us down, give up the final prize. They’re not going to stop if you get captured, they’re just going to torture you until you give them everything they need. Then they’ll kill you.” He paused, then looked at the rest of the group gathered at the edge of the forest. “Goes without saying they’ll kill the rest of us, too.”
“Then how do we end this?” Paulinho asked.
“We finish the job,” Reggie said. “We figure out what’s hiding at the end of this journey.”
“And then?”
Reggie didn’t answer at first. “I’m still working on that part.”
Amanda was visibly exasperated. “Still working on that? Reggie, what’s the plan? Find this secret treasure, then hope there’s a helicopter there too?”
“That would be convenient,” he said.
“Why are you here?” she asked.
Ben looked at her. She’d finally asked the question to which they’d all wanted an answer, and she’d just asked it in a quick, no-nonsense way. Why had this man, unknown to just about all of them, stepped up and jumped onto their sinking ship?
He nodded once, then grinned, but his face quickly returned to an unreadable deadpan expression. “I get it,” he said. “I really do. Why on Earth would I want to come out here? What’s in it for me?”
The group nodded.
“Look,” he continued. “I’ve been out for a while now, making a living by bringing tourists and a few hardcore survivalists just far enough into the jungle to give them an experience, and to get their money’s worth. But I’m not a tour guide. I ain’t interested in some half-ass jungle treks.”
He paused, sighing. “When my wife left me, my life pretty much went on hold. She was the only person I ever knew who could keep up, and she just… lost interest one day. Went off to live in a city somewhere back in the States. I started dumbing down my training programs, taking on more corporate clients, and wasting away in my bunker. But then you — “ he looked at Paulinho. “You called. You told me you needed help, and you said someone was after your friend. Call me insane, but I didn’t need to know the details; I just wanted to jump in and do something for once.”
Ben stared, unmoving, as the man told his story.
“But then I did hear the details, and the geek in me perked up. I was fascinated by what you think you’re onto out here, and I thought to myself, ‘hell, they’re going to die out there. Might as well come along and offer some help.’”
“That’s reassuring,” Paulinho said.
Reggie flashed him a glance. “It’s true, bud, and you know it. We all do. Shit, I do, and I’m the one who’s trained to be out here.”
Ben listened, trying to find the holes in the man’s logic. He couldn’t, but that didn’t mean Ben believed the entire story. He couldn’t figure out why someone would be interested in all of this just for the sheer excitement of it all. Ben himself wasn’t one to feel excited about much, and when he did it was usually over something simple, like a perfectly cooked pot of chili or some other delicious foodstuff. “You just wanted one last adventure? A suicide mission?”
“I’m a realist, Ben,” he said. “I try to see the world for what it is. This is a pretty long-shot play, but there’s hope. We know where we’re going, they don’t. It’s as simple as that. As long as we keep that one thing dangling just out of their reach, we’ll be fine. I don’t know how, so I don’t have a plan to keep it that way, but I know it’s true.”
He looked at the rest of the group in turn, finally stopping again on Ben. Ben felt the weight of the man’s gaze, and could almost hear his thoughts burning into his own mind. And I’ve chosen you as the de facto leader if something happens to me, Ben.
Ben considered this for a moment. It was true that Reggie seemed to have an unlikely affinity for him, and wondered what the man saw in him. Maybe he was just the best option out of the rest of the group, the only person who’d spent a real amount of time in a natural setting.
“Come on,” Reggie said, “let’s get out of the open and back into the safety of the trees. We need to —“
He stopped, mid-sentence.
Ben felt his blood run cold as he turned to see what Reggie was staring at.
41
PAST THE FAR SIDE OF the smoldering remains of the hospital, Ben saw the trees move. He thought it was the smoke at first, until more of the trees began to shake and wobble gently. A large leafy bush, with sharp, spiny fronds of a bright green color was pressed sideways, and a man stepped into view and then out onto the open moss-covered floor of the atrium.
He was naked except for a strip of leather wrapped around his waist and between his legs, and his skin seemed to match the leather. Ragged and tough, it was bronzed and hairless, save for a crop of deep-black hair on his head and thick eyebrows. He was covered in jewelry, including bracelets on each wrist, beaded anklets, and piercings in just about every piece of cartilage available to him. The Indian’s wrinkled and sun-beaten face was painted black, with a red stripe stretching from ear to ear, across his eyes.
Ben stared at the old man creeping slowly toward them, but it wasn’t the detail of the native’s dress and jewelry that he was focused on. The man held a long spear, stretching out equally in front of and behind him, that he carried without letting the tip drop. It pointed straight toward the group, unwavering as it crept forward in its owner’s grasp.
“Ben,” Julie whispered. She snuck up behind Ben and reached her arm around his. He nodded, silently acknowledging that he was seeing the same thing she was, but not wanting to respond aloud or turn his head away from the approaching stranger.
Reggie was standing just a few feet in front of them, and Ben saw him reaching down to grab the machete hanging from his belt. He wasn’t sure if it was a good idea or a terrible one, but he didn’t try to stop him. Reggie’s hand fell around the machete’s handle, and Ben watched him slowly lift it straight up, his torso still partially blocking it from the oncoming man’s line of sight.
“I’m going to count to three,” Reggie said, keeping his voice down but speaking loud enough for the group to hear him clearly. “Then we’re going to run. Don’t split up, but try to ru
n a few feet away from each other.”
Julie tightened her grip on Ben’s hand.
“Don’t worry about looking back,” he said. “He’s going to throw that thing, and it’s going to hit its mark. You turn around, you better believe you’re his mark.”
Ben swallowed.
Reggie counted. “One.”
The man crept forward, not increasing or decreasing his speed. His eyes seemed to be locked onto Ben’s. His face was unreadable, indifferent to the outside world. He was intently focused on this singular moment in time, this place alone.
Focused on the hunt.
“Two.”
The man continued, now only twenty feet away. Mere inches, it seemed. Ben watched the man’s eyes, trying to see if he’d divert his gaze from the group, but he didn’t. His eyes didn’t give any indication that he was even alive, let alone moving toward them.
“Three!” Reggie yelled the last number, and Ben and Julie twirled around simultaneously.
And Ben found himself staring at the end of a long, sharpened spear blade.
Julie screamed, but Ben almost couldn’t hear it. His body was on high alert, alarms ringing in his head, drawing his focus in to the object three inches from his face.
He could see the crude, yet careful work of the blade. The artisan had fashioned it from a rock, smoothing the sides and sharpening the tip to a perfect point. The dull pewter color of the stone reflected no light, but Ben could see through the thin, razor-sharp strip running alongside the extreme edge of the blade.
He flicked his eyes over to Julie, only now realizing that there were matching spearpoints in front of each of the other group members. Archie, Paulinho, Carlo, and Amanda were in front of Ben now, closer to the edge of the forest, and each of them had been stopped just short of their getaway by more spear-handling natives.
Ben turned his head again and looked behind him once more, hoping they would at least have a chance by getting around the first native. But the man had been joined now by even more tribesmen, some younger adolescent males and older, very capable-looking men. Each of the hunters wore the same face paint as their tribal leader, but only the first man they’d seen, the oldest of the group, was decorated with jewelry.
The old man broke his unwavering gaze, and barked some words in their direction. Ben looked around, but Reggie and the others seemed equally confused.
The man looked at Ben, then repeated the phrase. Ben shrugged, unsure of what else to do.
“We — we’re not here to hurt you,” he finally said.
Deep in the back of his mind, his inner critic laughed. We’re not here to hurt you?
The man walked closer to Ben, now standing a few feet away. The spear leaned backwards, and Ben closed his eyes.
He waited.
He felt like the entire group was breathing in unison. He could hear breaths going in and out. Is that me? he thought.
A moment passed, and he opened his eyes again. The old man was staring at him, leaning on his spear handle, inches from Ben’s face.
Ben’s pulse quickened. He was afraid his heart might beat right of his chest, but he forced himself to stay still.
The old man made a chuffing sound, then he walked away, toward Reggie. He repeated the process, standing on his tiptoes to see into Reggie’s eyes. He moved again a minute later, this time coming to a stop in front of Paulinho.
When he made the same noise after his inspection of Paulinho, he turned to the group of Indians encircling them, then spoke to his people. The hunters pressed inward, stepping closer to hear their leader’s small shaky voice. Ben’s group turned around slowly, all watching and listening to the older man speak to his people in a language none of them understood.
Ben watched the reactions of the men. They yelled single vowel sounds sporadically, some of them even clapping and stomping. The tribe leader’s voice increased in volume and intensity, and the yelling and stomping ascended simultaneously.
Finally, when the man’s speech seemed over, the leader reached for Paulinho’s hand and held it up, screaming as loud as he was able one last order. Ben watched, horrified, as the hunters in front of him all lifted their spears shoulder-high and brought them back.
Ben caught the eyes of a young man, no more than twelve or thirteen years old, and the kid bared his teeth at him. His spear was shorter than the others, but even from this distance he could tell it was every bit as sharp.
And it was pointed directly at him.
Julie’s hand was sweaty, but Ben held it, squeezing nearly as hard as he could.
This is it, he thought. He wanted to look at her, to tell her it was going to be okay, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the kid that was about to kill him.
He longed to apologize to her, to tell her he was sorry for the way he’d been treating her, and that…
…And that he loved her.
Instead, he closed his eyes.
The old man yelled a final time and Ben opened his eyes again, unable to look away as the attack started.
Every one of the hunters dropped his spear to the ground.
He was nearly hyperventilating, unable to control his breathing. He glanced over at the old man, and frowned.
The leader was still holding Paulinho’s arm, but he was now staring intently at it. He brought Paulinho’s wrist closer to his face, studying it. Ben could see the small design, outlined in black, from here.
The tattoo.
The man started humming, slowly incorporating actual words into the melody. The rest of the hunters quietly watched, also unsure of what was happening.
The man pushed Paulinho’s hand away, and Paulinho stumbled backwards, surprised at the rapid movement of the aging hunter. Amanda and Carlo caught him by the shoulders, steadying him.
Finally, the old man spoke. A single, consonant-laden word. A hush fell over the group, even deeper silence than before settling in. The natives seemed to suck in a breath simultaneously, stunned by the word.
Ben saw the professor in their group, over the old man’s shoulder. Archie’s eyes widened.
“I know that word,” he whispered. “It’s a Yanomami word.”
Ben lifted his eyebrows as the native repeated the word to his group of hunters.
“Curse.”
42
JULIE WASN’T SURE WHEN SHE’D started holding her breath, but she gulped in a breath of hot, humid jungle air. She let go of Ben’s hand and wiped her wet palm on the side of her pants. The native hunters stepped back, seemingly shocked and, somehow, terrified. A few pointed fingers at Paulinho and the rest of them, but looks of confusion were on everyone’s face.
The leader of the group of hunters backstepped away from Paulinho, as if remaining on alert and readying himself for an attack. Paulinho, of course, stood still, his nostrils flaring in and out as he, too, tried to calm down. His eyes were wide, and his huge grin he’d worn when she’d first met him was long gone.
The group of hunters carefully made their way around Julie and the others until they were collected into a condensed group of natives. They stared directly at Paulinho, but none of them tried for any sort of attack.
“What just happened?” she asked, her voice shaky and still barely a whisper.
“I think Paulinho’s tattoo just saved our behinds,” Reggie said. For once, Julie noticed, Reggie seemed to be as scared as the rest of them.
“What is that tattoo?” Amanda asked.
“I — I’m not sure,” Paulinho said. “It was on a necklace worn by my grandfather on my mother’s side, as I said before. Just a neat design, I thought.”
“Maybe it is,” Archie said. “But I fear it is also much more than that.”
Everyone turned to look at the professor.
“You fear?” Reggie asked. “That thing just prevented us from being native shish kabobs.”
“Keep your voice down,” Amanda said. “They’re still here, and they don’t look happy.”
Ben saw that the woman was right.
The hunters, fronted by the shorter older man, were still bunched together in the middle of the clearing, just past the hospital building’s foundation. Smoke was still drifting into the air from the earlier fire, but it was hardly the situation Ben was worried about at the moment.
“What should we do? Anyone have any ideas?” Amanda asked.
“Go,” Carlo said. The portly man was standing off to one side of their group, clearly disturbed and ready to leave the hunters behind.
“Yeah, I’m with him,” Reggie said.
“Will they follow us?” Julie asked.
“Who knows? Maybe we’ll just have to have Paulinho in the back, show off his tat once or twice if they get close.”
Julie didn’t think the plan was much of a plan, but he had to admit just about anything was better than sticking around to see if the hunters would eventually grow out of their fear.
“Right,” she said, turning to Ben. “We’re not getting anything from this hospital, obviously. And Paulinho’s doing better anyway. The sooner we get back on track, the sooner we —“
Her voice was cut off by the sharp crack of a gunshot.
“Get down!” she heard Reggie yell.
Julie was already dropping, hitting the ground abruptly and nearly knocking the wind out of herself. She poked her head up, looking toward the group of tribesmen to find the source of the gunshot.
Another shot rang out, and she jumped.
The leader of the hunters fell forward, his eyes blazing into hers as his knees hit the ground. He wavered for a moment, sputtering a bit of blood from his mouth.
Julie wasn’t sure what to think, but she didn’t have time to formulate a coherent thought. The old man clattered to the ground face first, his jewelry tinkling on the hard forest floor. A bracelet pushed off from his wrist and rolled in her direction.
Two more shots smacked above her head, and the rest of the warriors began yelling battle cries and turning their spearpoints to the darkened forest. None of them had any idea where the gunshots were coming from, but they stood anyway, ready to fight.
Three more gunshots flared from three different directions, and only then did she realize they were surrounded.
