This Green Hell - [Alex Hunter 03]

by Greig Beck

  ‘I’m hungry,’ said Franks, leaning a little further out the window.

  Michael Vargis rolled his eyes at her. He turned to wave to some small children who’d backed up when the vehicle approached. As he put his elbow on the window edge, the Humvee hit a large hole and his teeth came down on his bottom lip, cutting it slightly. ’Ow.’ He placed his fingers against his lip and brought them away with a smudge of red.

  Franks took his hand. ‘I know; it’s tough out in the field, honey. But don’t worry, Mommy can put a bunny plaster and a kiss on that for you later.’

  She smacked her lips together in a mock kiss and Michael pulled his hand away from her. Even Alex had to turn away to stifle a laugh.

  After another hour, the breeze coming into the truck cabin was thick with the smell of damp vegetation and decay. Garmadia pulled off the road and onto a small hump of dry ground, killing the engine and leaping from the driver’s door almost in one smooth motion. He stretched his back.

  ‘This is as far as we can go by road. Now we enter the deep jungle. But first we find a guide — or, rather, they find us.’

  The HAWCs stepped from the vehicle. Alex looked across to Sam, who gave him a small nod. Good, Alex thought; Garmadia had taken them in the right direction. He had no real reason to think the Paraguayan officer wished them ill, but he didn’t think the man would be all that unhappy if the HAWCs ended up lost in the jungle.

  ‘Let’s unload and take a few minutes to orientate ourselves,’ Alex told his team.

  He looked at the emerald barrier in front of them. He could sense the crowded life force emanating from the dense, crazy tangle. The noise was amazingly loud: it seemed that everything that could buzz, thrum, croak or screech was trying hard to outdo its neighbour. His senses were almost overwhelmed by the crushing waves of movement and sound. He took a deep breath, exhaled, and ran his hand up through his damp hair. It was only about a hundred degrees, but it was impossible to cool down in the high humidity. The heat stayed with you, on you, all over you. It blanketed, suffocated and drained you.

  He turned back to the team. ’Any more questions about lack of heat and humidity, Franks?’

  ‘This’ll do just fine, boss. I’ll cool down in the hotel pool later,’ Franks said as she pulled her webbing pack onto her back and threw her XM29 over her shoulder. She methodically patted each of her pockets and belt pouches, and opened and closed holsters, checking on the clasps and the smoothness of the draw.

  Alex smiled as he watched her professional movements. He liked Casey Franks. She made him laugh with her evil sense of humour, but also instilled confidence in her teammates with her I’ve-always-got-your-back attitude. Her only problem was she liked to fight way too much. The scar on her face was the result of a brawl in a bikers’ bar when she ended up on the receiving end of a broken bottle. Alex had heard that she’d left plenty of broken bodies behind before her face was finally opened up. Franks needed to learn when to stand and fight and when to walk away — and Alex wasn’t at all sure he was the right person to give that lecture.

  She had cut the toughened suit sleeves from her jungle camouflage and he could see the muscles bulging in her arms as she worked smoothly through her tasks. Her five foot eight inch body carried a lot of coiled muscle power — Casey Franks was no lady and she’d be the first to tell you that. She finally pulled her plated gloves back on and punched one hand into the other to test the fit and knuckle impact. Satisfied, she headed over to Sam and Mak, laughing as she greeted them with a joke.

  ‘Ahhh, here we go ...’

  Alex turned at the sound of Garmadia’s voice and saw a small Indian boy standing just behind the first wall of trees. The kid looked about six or seven years old, and had skinny brown legs that poked out from oversized shorts. His feet were bare and muddy, and his small chest was covered by a huge T-shirt that just retained a faded image of Superman’s ’S’ shield.

  The Paraguayan soldier crouched down, took a small silver coin from his pocket, flipped it in the air, and then held it out to the boy. Tentatively, the kid stepped forward. He looked from the coin to Garmadia, then up at Alex and the HAWCs. Eventually his desire for the money outweighed his fear and he darted forward. Instead of releasing the coin, Garmadia held on to it and spoke to him calmly. When he had the boy’s full attention, he pointed to the jungle, then to the HAWCs. Alex heard the word norteamericanos several times. The boy looked at the HAWCs again with his eyebrows raised, nodded enthusiastically and said a few words back to the Paraguayan captain.

  Garmadia nodded and released the coin, and the boy darted back towards the tree line. Halfway there, he looked back at the group and yelled, ’Norteamericano,’ then pointed at his chest. When he had their attention, he looked at the HAWC soldiers in their striped battle fatigues, smiled and held his thumb up. ‘Superman, Batman, excelente!’

  Garmadia chuckled. ‘To most of the children here, in the cities or the forests, North America is the country where the superheroes live.’ He dusted his hands together and stood up. ’All right, now we wait. Either he will bring us back a guide ... or not.’

  Franks yelled to the kid as he sprinted into the jungle: ’Up, up and away!’

  He turned one last time to smile then slipped deeper into the green.

  ‘About three hours until nightfall,’ Garmadia said to Alex. ’If we can make a start tonight, and march for most of tomorrow, we may reach the drill site by late evening, or very early the next day. Provided we are not surprised by a storm, or attacked by a jaguar, or fall into a sinkhole, or our guide doesn’t get us lost ...’

  ‘Good enough.’ Alex turned to his team. ‘Okay, people, let’s assist Dr Vargis with her equipment.’

  Michael Vargis had removed all of the medical boxes and packs from the truck and stacked them on the grass. Most were small compact field-equipment cases holding computers, microscopes, centrifuges, and several portable batteries in case there was no generator out in the field. There was also a single, reinforced brushed metal case. Alex picked it up and the tips of his fingers tingled. Strange, I can sense radiation, he thought.

  ‘What’s in here, Dr Vargis?’

  ‘Michael can carry that, Captain Hunter,’ Maria Vargis replied. ’It contains micro field X-ray equipment, which is pretty delicate, so please be careful when you’re putting it back down.’ She turned away, indicating the conversation was ended.

  Alex knew she was lying, but he could wait to find out why. Instead, he lifted the box that contained the battery packs. It was heavy and he knew that carrying its weight for over twenty-four hours would just about kill anyone else. He thought of some of the miniaturised technology he’d worked with in the HAWC labs — weapons and comm device power packs that contained ten times more power at about a hundredth the size. Guess there’s more money in war than in medicine, he thought as he strapped the heavy box to his back.

  Twenty minutes later, the boy emerged from the jungle with another slightly older youth, who, judging by his facial features, was probably related to him. The younger boy walked up to Garmadia. ’El es mi hermano Saqueo,’ he said, then indicated himself with his thumb.’ Yo soy Chaco.’

  Garmadia turned to Alex. ‘His name is Chaco, and this one here is his big brother, Saqueo — he will be our guide.’

  Garmadia pulled a map from his pocket, spread it on the ground and pointed to their current location, then at a red circle about forty miles inland towards the river. He asked Saqueo several questions and the boy nodded to each, replying in a language that Alex thought sounded sometimes like Spanish.

  ‘It’s a mixture of Guarani, Tupi and Spanish,’ Sam said softly, appearing beside Alex and squinting while he listened.

  ‘Can you understand it?’ Alex spoke without turning.

  ‘Some. The Spanish, no problem, but the Tupi and Guarani, just a word here and there. Only had a few hours to pick up the basics on the plane.’

  ‘Okay. Make sure our captains playing it straight, but keep your lang
uage skills quiet for now,’ Alex ordered.

  Garmadia took two bank notes from his pocket and showed them to Saqueo. He gave one to the boy and made a show of putting the other one back in his pocket. The gesture was clear: this one now, the other when we get there.

  ‘He can take us to the drill site,’ Garmadia told Alex. ‘And he’s confirmed it’s a 24-hour trek — maybe a bit longer seeing we are not local.’

  ‘Good. Tell him we want to leave immediately. How long until they can be ready?’

  ‘Two strong legs and a jungle full of food — they turned up ready, Captain Hunter.’

  Garmadia folded the map and got to his feet. He said something to Saqueo and pointed to the piles of equipment. Alex watched as Chaco darted over and lifted one of the small packs onto his shoulder; he’d obviously decided he was coming as well.

  ‘No. Tell him he can’t come.’

  The boy looked up at Alex in shock, understanding the near universal negative. He started to argue with Garmadia, his older brother joining in. The pair of them created a high-pitched chatter that had the captain covering his ears and waving them away.

  ‘I cannot stop him,’ Garmadia said with a shrug. ‘He will come anyway.’

  Alex thought for a second. The two boys stood frozen in anticipation, waiting for a decision from the man who was clearly the group leader.

  ‘Okay, just to the river. But neither of them is to enter the camp,’ he said.

  Though neither boy had a grasp of English, the word okay was obviously universal as well. Chaco was beaming again.

  ‘ Gracias, señor.’

  ‘What about the truck?’ Michael Vargis said as he shouldered his pack.

  Garmadia spoke without turning. ’It will be safe where it is. We are far from any of our borders, and the Indians have no use for something this large. Just make sure the doors and windows are closed so nothing can take up residence in it.’

  ‘Let’s move. Chaco, Saqueo, after you.’ Alex made a sweeping gesture towards the tidal wave of vegetation that looked like it was about to crash down on top of them.

  Saqueo went out at lead point, but Chaco fell in next to Alex, looking first up at his face, then down to the belt circling his waist with its strange mix of metal objects and pouches. His eyes alighted on the green and black gloves with their hardened ceramic armour. He reached across and tapped one with his small brown hand, feeling the toughened plates, then looked back up at Alex.’ Como Batman, si?’

  Alex shook his head and said, ‘HAWC.’

  Chaco’s eyebrows shot up. ’Hawkman?’ An even more excited look lit his face.

  Alex groaned. It’s going to be a long trek, he thought.

  * * * *

  ELEVEN

  W

  here are they all going ... and in such a hurry?’

  Maria Vargis looked puzzled as yet another small group of Indians hurried past them in the opposite direction.

  ‘I was wondering the same thing. They look spooked by something.’ Alex called to Garmadia. ’Captain, why are the locals leaving?’

  Garmadia shrugged and called the question to Chaco, nodding towards the retreating Indians. ‘They are more likely to tell him than they are me,’ he said to Alex.

  Chaco scampered after a woman with a huge pile of brightly coloured clothing strapped to her back. Alex watched the boy’s eyes widen as she spoke to him, and he hung onto her arm and pumped it, as though the action would keep the information flowing. He returned to Garmadia speaking rapidly and gesturing towards the jungle. Garmadia shook his head and dismissed the boy with a sweep of his hand.

  ‘Well?’ asked Alex.

  ‘It’s nothing. They are moving to find a better campsite, that is all. These people are still quite nomadic, Captain Hunter.’

  ‘That’s not what he said,’ Sam whispered. ‘It was something about a golden flower . . . and missing children.’

  Alex gave a small nod.

  ‘Everyone take a break,’ he ordered. ’Captain, a word, please. Lieutenant Reid, can you join us?’

  Alex walked a few paces away from the group and called to Chaco. He nodded to the jungle and repeated one or two of the words he’d heard the boy use. Chaco replied quickly, pointing towards where the people were coming from, then making his eyes wide and holding his fingers in front of his mouth, mimicking long teeth.

  Alex nodded, pretending to understand, then turned to Garmadia as he approached. ’Sounds like a little more than poor geography causing the exodus, Captain. It’s important that we have all the facts heading into any type of hotzone. As a soldier you should know that.’

  Garmadia went slightly red at the rebuke, but also frowned at Alex’s apparent ability to understand the local language. ‘Pah! It is nothing but a myth,’ he blustered. ‘They say there is a bad feeling in the jungle and so they have decided to leave. You must remember these people are still very superstitious and easily mix a Christian saviour with a bird-headed god that brings them rain. A bad storm with lightning can necessitate the sacrifice of a goat ... or tell them it is time to leave and find another camp. You do not understand what you are hearing, Captain Hunter.’

  ‘Really? Educate me then - tell me about the golden flower and missing children.’ Alex’s eyes bored into the Paraguayan soldier’s.

  ‘Mierda santa,’ Garmadia said under his breath and rubbed his forehead. ’It is nothing. It is as I said —’

  Frustrated, Alex held his hand up and nodded at Sam to talk to the boy.

  Sam dropped to one knee and smiled at Chaco. ‘Amiguito Chaco. Cuando hizo esto sucede?’

  The boy nodded and the two of them talked quickly for several minutes. Sam gave Chaco a stick of gum, ruffled his hair and stood up.

  ‘The Indians believe something called the Tau, “the evil one”, is in the jungle. They are leaving before it eats them all. Seems a few young men disappeared during the night first off, then children were taken from their beds. The woman Chaco spoke to told him about a legend about a golden flower - when it blooms again, a great evil will be reawakened in their land. She thinks it is either an evil spirit, or perhaps Luison himself, the Great Devil.’

  ‘Eaten by the Devil? Hmm,’ Alex said and looked at Garmadia. ‘We must operate as a single team in the field, Captain. Is that understood?’

  The captain returned Alex’s gaze from under a furrowed brow, his expression a mixture of hostility and embarrassment. His compressed lips bent into a tight smile and he walked away to light a cigar.

  Alex watched his back for a moment, then returned his attention to the small boy. ‘Sam, tell Chaco there’s nothing to worry about. But his brother must go faster — we have to hurry.’

  The light was just about gone. Alex thought of the unearthly roar he had heard on the recording from the Green Berets. Eaten by the devil. He thought of Aimee alone in the jungle. They could get another few hours closer if they left immediately.

  ‘We’re moving out, ladies and gentlemen. Now!’

  * * * *

  Francisco and Aimee watched the wooden hut burn. Its six inhabitants had died, their skin, muscles and bones liquefying until they were nothing more than putrid black puddles on and around their cots. With no bio-hazard clothing or materials to hand, neither the Paraguayan doctor nor Aimee could bring themselves to clean out the cabin in preparation for any future inhabitants. They had decided their only course of action was to burn the site and use another hut for isolation. It already had its first occupant — strapped down and weeping black tears onto his pillow.

  Aimee found the flames on her face surprisingly soothing; she closed her eyes and tilted her hat back so she could feel the heat dry the perspiration at her hairline. The corks around the hat’s brim banged softly against her forehead and she remembered when Francisco had given it to her — just a few days ago, but the insane events unfolding around them made it seem so much longer. She opened her eyes and saw that her friend stood almost in a trance as he watched the flames. Tiny flecks of
orange were reflected in the centres of his dark, watering eyes.

  The men had gathered in clumps at the fringes of the blaze. About eighty of them remained, trapped in the jungle by both geography and a government order. More disappeared each night — always an entire tent of them, as though some unanimous decision had been made and acted upon. Aimee couldn’t understand why they never took their belongings, meagre as they were; surely they would have wanted their machetes, food, photographs of their families? And why did some of the tents have slits cut into the back? Nothing’s making sense anymore, she thought.

  The cabin blazed furiously and was quickly reduced to a mound of ash, glowing nails and twisted metal fastening strips. The mud surrounding it was blackened and dried to a pottery hardness by the heat of the fire. Aimee looked up at the darkening sky and closed her eyes again. That morning, Alfred Beadman had told her that Alex Hunter’s HAWCs and the CDC specialists had arrived in the country and were on their way, but he had been vague about when they might arrive. She hoped it would be soon — they were all feeling the strain of being under quarantine. With the rig shut down, men running away, a hideous disease burning through their camp, and something out there in the jungle that had butchered a squad of Green Berets, she felt like running off into the dark herself. That was no jaguar attack. The thought made her exhale slowly.