by Greig Beck
Aimee opened her eyes and watched the shadows lengthen — she knew within an hour, night would collapse on them like a warm wave. The day’s sapping heat would be swapped for night’s humidity — a shitty trade, and the oily feeling of fatigue never went away. She rubbed her cheek; with her red-rimmed eyes in darkening sockets, an itchy rash, and lank hair that seemed to be constantly damp, she knew she looked how she felt. Nothing a hot shower and ten hours sleep in a cool hotel room couldn’t fix, she thought with a crooked smile pulling up one spotted cheek.
Aimee’s reverie was broken as she became aware of raised voices, followed by Alfraedo’s deeper tones, first conciliatory, but quickly lifting in volume as he obviously felt the need to assert his authority. The big man had managed mine sites all his life and knew how to stay in control of his most volatile resource — manpower.
Some moments later, he came to join Aimee and Francisco. ‘The men are angry and bored; they are demanding a date when they can go home. I hope your friends can give us some answers, Dr Weir,’ he said. ‘I also wish we had more security. For now, the men listen to me, but soon . . .’ He shrugged his meaty shoulders.
‘Yes,’ was all Aimee could manage. Her vision blurred with exhaustion, but she was loath to use her hand or sleeve to wipe her face in case her clothing was contaminated. Instead, she squeezed her eyes hard shut and blinked twice. When she opened them, there was a man, dressed all in black, standing at the edge of the jungle.
She nudged Francisco. ‘Who’s that?’
Francisco followed her gaze to the stranger. ‘I do not know, Dr Weir; I have never seen him before. He is certainly not part of the drilling team. He is too tall for a local man. I would have assumed him to be one of Captain Hunter’s team, but he looks to be wearing the cassock of a priest.’
Aimee squinted; there were now just a few bars of weak sunlight streaked across the clearing, and in the twilight gloom it was hard to make out the man’s facial features. Francisco was right: he looked like a priest, but his cassock was old-fashioned — rough and heavy. He came towards them smoothly, almost gliding across the mud. He stopped to talk to some of the men, who stood quietly and nodded at his words. He touched the top of one man’s head, as though blessing him, then turned to where Alfraedo, Francisco and Aimee stood.
Aimee shuddered; the man’s gaze was so intense it seemed to penetrate her skin and see her soul shrinking within her. He came towards them again with that strange gliding motion. The men surged behind him in a rough horseshoe shape. About ten feet away, he came to the last weak strip of sunlight and halted, appearing to collect his thoughts. Aimee could see him a little more clearly now: a tall, robust-looking man in his fifties or sixties, with a thick square beard covering a strong chin. A line of iron grey at his jawline and temples gave him a look that was a combination of scholar and screen star. He smiled without opening his mouth, causing his cheeks to pull up slightly.
The last rays of sunlight thinned to a slit and then finally vanished. Halos of light appeared around the clearing as the generators whined into life. As soon as the lights ignited, their cyclopean heads were assailed by squadrons of flying insects of varying sizes, their bodies ricocheting off the thickened glass lenses.
The man glided closer and stopped a few feet in front of Aimee. He nodded respectfully then spoke in a voice that seemed to well up from deep within him. Aimee frowned slightly as she recognised some of the words curling from his barely opened mouth.
Alfraedo placed a hand on his chest and responded in Spanish, gesturing to all three of them.
Francisco whispered to Aimee, ‘He is speaking in an old Spanish dialect and also using some Latin words. He says his name is Father Alonso González and he is a Spanish priest sent here to bring enlightenment to the indigenous population.’
‘I thought I recognised some Latin,’ Aimee whispered back. ‘Who the hell speaks that anymore? Ask him where he’s staying.’
The priest had turned to Aimee, seeming to watch her lips as she spoke. He repeated the question, ’Where he’s staying, where he’s staying, where he’s staying’, trying different inflections as though tasting them on his tongue. After a few seconds he responded to Aimee directly, in a voice that contained only a hint of an accent.
‘Forgive me, señora, I have not heard the language of the English for a long time. I am Father Alonso González, and, to answer your question, I am staying just a few miles to the northwest of your camp. I only became aware of your presence in the last few days when I spoke to some of your labourers . . . who seemed in a great hurry to leave.’
He held out his hand. Aimee looked at it for a moment, then grasped it. It was only later that she realised the grip had been cool and dry, unlike everyone else’s, whose skin was warm and slick with perspiration.
‘I’m Dr Aimee Weir — pleased to meet you, Father. Have you been in the jungle long?’
‘Longer than I can remember, Dr Aimee Weir, but I am patient, and my work is eternal. I bring the God’s Word to the Indians of Paraguay, and perhaps, one day, to this entire world.’
He brought his hand up to his face, seeming to smell his palm and fingers where they had pressed against Aimee’s hand. Aimee thought she saw his mouth working and had a disgusting impression that he was licking the traces of her perspiration.
Alfraedo cleared his throat. ‘Padre, the men that left the camp — are they with you now?’
González dropped his hand and glided a little closer to the site manager. ‘I’m afraid not. I gave them my blessing and some supplies, but they were in a hurry to be on their way. Is there a problem here? If I may be of assistance, please let me know. At least allow me to conduct an evening mass at my church for the men. I detect a strong desire for spirituality here; I think they need me.’
Francisco cut in before Alfraedo could respond. ’I’m not sure that is a good idea just now, padre. The men must not be allowed to leave the camp while we are under a formal quarantine order. Also, it may not be safe for you or your followers if some of our men are carrying the infection. It would be best if those who have left were strongly encouraged to return to us here at the camp.’ Francisco’s fine silver brows knitted for a moment, before he spoke again. ‘How far exactly are you from here, Father? If you have a sizeable group, I’m surprised that our initial surveys didn’t pick up your settlement when we were doing our initial aerial mapping.’
Aimee was convinced one of the priest’s eyes bulged and swivelled to look at Francisco while the other remained fixed on Alfraedo.
What? Must be a trick of the light, she thought as the priest’s head turned and both eyes fixed normally on the small doctor.
‘I’m not too far away, and my flock varies in size,’ he said. ‘The children of the forest come and go and need much guidance. I have been ill and not very active for a time, but I am healed now. I feel strong again; as if my own stone has been rolled back and, like the God, I have been reborn to carry on their work.’
Aimee felt the priest was both smoothly evasive and a little too fervid, and what was with the God reference? She’d never heard that expression before. There was something about him that made her feel very uncomfortable.
González gave another closed-mouth smile and turned his hands palm upwards. ‘I would be happy to come here if that is your wish, but I assure you that any man in my care will be safe. I would like to suggest they come in small groups in the evenings for mass. Simply being in my church will be spiritually beneficial to the men.’
Francisco remained expressionless but his tone was a little terse. ‘We found evidence of a terrible attack by a large animal on a group of men just a few days ago. I feel it is too dangerous for our men to enter the jungle at night, and you shouldn’t be out there either. Perhaps, for your own safety, you should move into our camp temporarily. Then you could perform a morning mass for the men —’
González cut him off abruptly. ’My days are extremely busy, and if there were any large animals they have surel
y moved on by now. The jungle is safe, I assure you. I feel you are in more danger from your own men, who grow angrier and more fearful every day. Such emotions can be soothed through prayer.’
The priest glared at Francisco, and Aimee noticed that his eye seemed to bulge again.
Alfraedo cleared his throat and gave an apologetic little bow. ‘Thank you for the offer, Father. We can talk again tomorrow evening. Please may I ask of you one thing? If any more of our men come to you, could you please tell them to return to the camp... for their own safety?’
The priest looked around at the circle of men craning to hear the conversation. ‘I am sorry, I cannot do that. These men have the gift of free will; they may choose to exercise it by staying with me or travelling back to their own homes.’
Aimee heard Francisco hurrumph under his breath, before continuing to needle the priest.
‘I must warn you padre that I will need to inform the authorities of the men’s potential movement back to the cities . . . and of your providing assistance to them in violation of a formal quarantine order.’ He held the priest’s gaze.
Aimee could feel the tension building between the two men, and decided to ask a question before the doctor finished with one of the sharp but polite insults she had seen him use on boorish bureaucrats.
‘Father, did you see any sign of bandits in the jungle?’ She made a sweeping gesture with her arm to indicate the dark wall of green around them.
The priest tore his eyes away from Francisco and looked at her for a few seconds as though trying to see behind her eyes. ‘There are no bandits out there, there are no soldiers out there, there is just us.’
There was a hint of a smile on his lips as he looked at each of them individually, before letting his gaze rest on Francisco for a final few seconds. Then he turned and glided smoothly back into the jungle.
Aimee noticed Francisco shivered despite the evening’s humidity. She was feeling pretty spooked herself. Who mentioned soldiers? she wondered.
* * * *
TWELVE
T
he scream of tearing metal woke the camp at around midnight.
Aimee sat up and blinked in the inky blackness. The camp lights were out and, as the moon wasn’t directly over the clearing, the darkness in her cabin was total. She sat still and listened ... it was if the whole camp was holding its breath. She lifted her damp pillow, used it to wipe the perspiration off her face, flung it down and then threw back the mosquito netting.
She got unsteadily to her feet, feeling groggy, and staggered a little as she groped around on her table top for a lantern. She had to screw her eyes shut for a moment against the sepia yellow glow; her eyeballs felt swollen and grainy.
By now Aimee could hear shouts and running footsteps throughout the clearing. She pulled back the elasticised curtain at her window to peer outside. Electric lanterns darted across the muddy clearing like a swarm of giant fireflies, all drawn towards the southern end of the camp.
She pulled on her boots and was about to head out the door when she remembered the insect repellent. Night-time was the worst for bugs; she wouldn’t make it ten feet without getting bitten, sucked or injected by some multi-eyed thing that saw her as a moving bag of food. She sprayed herself all over and also some on her hands, wiped her face with the fluid, then spat a couple of times to rid her mouth of the bitter taste on her lips.
Yelling men careened past her in the dark, their panic filling her with a sense of urgency. As she jogged past Francisco’s cabin, she saw it was empty, so continued on to the camp’s version of a command centre. Aimee heard Alfraedo before she saw him. He was bellowing in Spanish, and then she saw his large head above the men as he yelled and pointed at them as though accusing them of some crime. Francisco was standing next to him. When he caught sight of Aimee, he held up his hand for her to stop, and stepped around the crowd to join her at the rear.
‘Some more men have disappeared, but unfortunately it seems they didn’t leave quietly in the dark like the others.’ Francisco looked over his shoulder as some of the men started shouting back at Alfraedo. ‘This time there has been damage to the camp,’ he continued. ‘They destroyed our generator — that’s why we have no lights.’
‘But why would they? Why . . .’Aimee stopped as she realised the full extent of the damage. No power meant no lights, but it also meant no refrigeration and no water purifiers. ’You’ll have to tell your government ministers that we can’t stay here now; they’ll need to supply another generator or move us to a new quarantine site closer to the city.’
Aimee knew that once the Paraguayans agreed to move the campsite, she wasn’t going to let them quarantine her again; she was going to keep going, all the way back home.
Francisco took her hand. ’I’m afraid we cannot inform them of anything, Dr Weir; we cannot inform anyone of anything. It seems the men also destroyed our communications room, the satellite uplink and even the computer equipment.’
‘What? They’ve blinded us . . . why? Why would they do that?’
‘Most of the men are very angry about being stuck here; and, though they will be paid for the time spent in quarantine, they will miss out on their performance bonuses. Also, there is great fear of the melting sickness. But still, that is no reason to make it difficult for us to communicate with —’
Francisco stopped as a man rushed up to Alfraedo and gestured to the jungle behind the mob. Alfraedo listened for a moment with gritted teeth, then roared to the men, pointing at individuals in the crowd. They cheered and rushed off, looking overjoyed at having some concrete task that they could channel their anger or fear into.
Francisco turned to Aimee. ‘They have found a trail leading into the jungle that is strewn with broken machinery parts. Alfraedo is organising a party to bring the men back. I am sure he will deal with them harshly.’
Alfraedo waded through the remaining workers like an icebreaker pushing through bergs in the Arctic. He nodded at Aimee and Francisco. ‘These men cannot have more than thirty minutes start on us. If we hurry we can bring them back to face justice for destroying the company’s equipment. I think we may need some extra guns, Doctor, and you would be most welcome as well, Dr Weir.’
‘No.’ Francisco stepped in front of Aimee waving his hand back and forth. ’No, we do not need Dr Weir. She needs to continue her work on the disease. I am happy to accompany you and your men, Alfraedo, and bring my weapon, but I will not condone anything other than accidental injury during the apprehension of these men.’
Alfraedo thought for a moment, then said, ’Okay. But I think it best we have all of the weapons with us, Doctor. These men have proved that they can be violent, and it is very dark in the jungle at night. I would prefer to have the guns and not use them, than need them and not have them.’
Francisco exhaled slowly through his nose and nodded. He turned to Aimee with an anguished look on his face, and raised his silver eyebrows as if pleading for her consent. ’I am sure Dr Weir would be happy to give us her weapon.’
Aimee was frozen with indecision. So far she had given little thought to the gun, but now realised that she felt secure with it hanging at her hip. She didn’t want to give it up. She looked into Francisco’s eyes and could tell he really didn’t want her to trek into the jungle at night. For that matter, neither did she — the thought of it made her shudder.
‘No problem,’ she said, undoing her belt buckle and sliding the holster off the leather strap.
She handed it to Alfraedo, who nodded his thanks, unbuckled his own belt and threaded the holster onto his hip. He then spun on his heel and started to yell in Spanish to the assembling men.
* * * *
Aimee watched the line of lights bob out into the jungle — Alfraedo and Francisco, both with powerful flashlights, and four men carrying battery lanterns.
She thought of the hurried conversation she’d had with the dapper little doctor just before their departure. She had thanked him for intervening on her behal
f and asked how he had known she didn’t want to go. His reply still made her feel uneasy. Because something is not right in this jungle, Dr Weir. Something ripped apart those soldiers and I do not believe it was a jaguar. Furthermore, I believe that whatever it was is still out there.
Aimee shivered despite the thick heat and hugged her arms around her body. As she turned back to her cabin, she saw one of the workers sitting at the jungle’s edge weeping. Even from a distance she could see the tears that splashed onto his knees were an oily black. A small cloud of mosquitoes whined around his head and shoulders.
