Black Mariah: El Desaguadero River, Nicaragua (Black Mariah Series, Season 1 Book 2)

by Burke Bryant

  Chris glanced at his wrist. Four p.m. They had been walking for almost six hours, and they had maybe three before sunset. Probably two. They were sitting at an altitude of twelve hundred and forty-seven feet, and would need to climb even farther—up a narrow, steep incline that wound around the outside ledge of the craggy mountain.

  This is going to be fun, Chris thought. Fun, and extremely dangerous.

  Chris pulled Natalia from his shoulders and set her onto her feet.

  “Hunter, keep point but be careful,’ he instructed. “Looks like we’re going to have to walk a pretty tight line through this pass. The trail might get pretty bad up ahead, and judging by the rocky terrain, it’s probably not going to be the safest either. We need to beat the storm coming in.”

  Chris looked again into the distance at the clouds, trying to approximate their distance.

  “Think we’ll make it?” Grace asked. Her skin was starting to pale again, her breath ragged. Her chest heaved with exhaustion.

  Chris doubted it. “I hope so.”

  “It’s going to be slick regardless of the weather coming in.” Caroline said, pointing to a small steady stream of water pushing over the side of the hill and onto the small, narrow trail several yards ahead.

  “Roger that.” Chris eyed the potential problem ahead, then turned back to the others.

  “Brannon, how are you holding up?”

  Nick’s head bobbed from side-to-side. “Surprisingly better than expected.”

  Grace smiled at Chris and gave him a thumbs up.

  Chris nodded, adjusted his pack. “Let’s take five, hydrate, and be on our way.”

  Nick immediately took off his back, pulled out his canteen, and handed it to Grace. Quiet and methodical, Nick was a man always focused on a directive. Professional. There was no one Chris trusted more in the field. Hell, there weren’t many he trusted more period. He and Nick had grown up together, lived on the same street and spent their boyhood afternoons running through the tall eucalyptus trees surrounding their neighborhood. They built forts, dug holes, and played capture the flag—ironically, not all that different from the jobs they’d grown up to do after they’d both graduated, enlisted in the Navy. Nick beat him into the SEALs, but only by four months.

  Chris sat down and pulled the water bladder from his pack, took a swig. Natalia settled herself next to him, sipping when he shared the drink.

  “Rain is coming,” she said, raising her head to sniff at the air.

  “You can smell it, can't you?”

  Her tone was playful, and her lips twitched into a grin. “Yes, I can smell it,” She said almost playfully.

  “What does it smell like?” Chris asked.

  Natalia raised her nose even higher into the air and moved her head around, breathing in deeply through her nose as if taking in every scent the jungle.

  “It’s not an easy scent to describe,” she said, her brows furrowing in concentration. “It smells clean and crisp, and almost like earth if you get down low enough to smell it on a cold, wet day.”

  Chris nodded, captured in the description. “That’s a good description.” He regarded the girl. “How old are you, Natalia?”

  “I’m nine and a half years old.”

  Chris laughed.

  “Why do you laugh?”

  “Because when you get older you no longer keep track of the halves. You keep track of the years, and eventually you don’t even really care anymore about those. You stop looking ahead, and start spending more time looking back at it all.

  The girl’s lips twisted. “Looking back at all of what?”

  He sighed. How did he explain the price of aging to a kid? “Looking back at how much you missed keeping track of the halves I suppose.”

  They both laughed.

  “You’re pretty smart for a nine-year-old,” Chris told her, honestly. “Has anyone ever told you that?”

  “Noooo,” Natalia replied, dragging out the vowel. Then she raised her teddy bear into the air like she always did and spun it around.

  A few feet away, Caroline sat by herself, pretending not to listen—or perhaps actually ignoring them. She had pulled out a small notepad from her rucksack, and was writing one of the pages. But what?

  A note to her daughter? Chris wondered. Caroline never spoke about her personal life or her daughter. The only time she’d ever opened up about her family was to say it was best to keep the life she lived away from them, away from attachment that would bring nothing but pain for both sides.

  He’d never asked again, and she’d never offered more.

  Grace had found a nice place to relax against a small tuft of dark green, stringy moss. She drank from a water bladder. With his team all accounted for, Chris surveyed the area, taking in the surrounding areas without thinking about the direness of their situation.

  About what they’d left behind in Natalia’s village.

  About what awaited ahead.

  7

  “You ready to head out?”

  Caroline was standing over Chris with her pack already on her back. Her voice snapped Chris out of his daydream.

  “Wakey, wakey, Rake,” his second teased.

  As he blinked back to reality, he saw Natalia a few feet away, swinging her bear. When had she moved?

  “Yeah, sorry. I guess I’m more tired than I thought.”

  Chris threw his water bladder back into his pack and strapped the weight onto his back. Nick was already up with Grace. Everyone was ready to go.

  “Natalia, are you ready?”

  When Chris reached the girl, she grabbed hold of his hand. They moved into formation, Caroline taking point on the trail, and started heading up the mountain.

  Chris lifted Natalia into his arms, settled the girl on his shoulders. “We’re going to have to do it this way until the trail widens out again. I want you to hang on. We can’t afford any accidents, not right now. Can you do that for me?” he asked.

  “Si. Mr. Teddy and I will hold on tight.” Natalia wrapped her arms around Chris's neck, her teddy bear secured tightly under one arm.

  The wind grew stronger as the moved up the hillside and rounded the mountain. Soon, it howled, whipping through the lower valley and lifting large gusts of air right up into the side of the hill where they were traveling. At times the gusts were so strong everyone had to lower themselves to the ground, bracing against the rocks until it passed, hissing through the trees like a threatened snaked as it wound around the cliffs.

  By the time they’d hiked high enough to see through the brush, rainclouds had completely covered the sky. The strong gusts of wind had brought the storm in much faster than Chris had anticipated, and what had been dark gray swatches in the sky before were now a swirling sea of murky gray and black.

  In the distance, thunder began to tear open the sky, and then the rain came, an unending cataract of water sluicing down in heavy sheets. The wet disrupted Chris’s vision, blurred his focus, ruined his balance.

  Again, Chris pulled Natalia from his shoulders and set her on the ground beside him.

  “Stay close to the side,” he told her. “Hug it if you can.”

  Natalia pressed herself against the cliff's side, both feet firmly planted, then squatted, wrapped her hands around her legs, and bowed her head between her knees. Thunder cracked above, followed almost instantly by a heavy boom that rattled the hillside.

  Fuck that was close!

  They couldn’t go any further, not in these conditions. Caroline was just ahead, pushed up against a large rock jutting out from the side of the cliff. He watched as she pushed herself backward in an attempt to move away from the rock and closer to the side of the cliff.

  “Hunter!”

  Chris barked but she could not hear him. The rain and wind had gotten too loud. He tried again. “Caroline!”

  She turned back and locked eyes with him. Her mouth didn’t move—she knew it was no use. “Pull back. It’s getting too bad!”

  She nodded. Yes.
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  The wind was beating hard, the water dumping down turning the mud into a sloppy, slick mess flowing in large chunks over the edge of the trail's cliff. Chris swung his head about to see Nick and Grace. The medic had stationed Grace against the cliff, and she held her hands over her head in an attempt to relieve some of the pain felt from the pelting, relentless downpour. Their spot wasn’t safe, but it was better than where the rest of the team was.

  Chris pushed back and grabbed Natalia, lifted her up, and moved toward Nick. He handed the girl over.

  “I’ll be back,” Chris told the girl as she wrapped her arms around Nick’s neck.

  “What do you want to do, Rake?” Rain poured down Nick’s face as he spoke, pouring into his mouth.

  “We can’t stay here—too risky,” Chris explained. “The storm gets any worse, it could push us right over the side.”

  Nick slapped water from his face. “We could double back about 500 yards. There was an open clearing around the last turn of the mountain.”

  “I remember the spot. It’ll work. I’m going to help Hunter—you take Grace and the girl.”

  His orders clear, Nick pivoted, turned back. He braced himself against the rock as the wind continued to whip around him, snarling Natalia’s dark hair in a snake’s nest above her head.

  As Chris took a step toward Caroline, a scream rent the air. It was Caroline.

  “Hunter!”

  The wind sucked Chris’s voice into nothingness. He watched as Caroline slid to the cliff’s bank and over the side of the cliff. She gripped onto a ledge of jutting rock—the only thing between her and a 300-foot drop.

  Chris rushed forward, but he moved carefully, otherwise he’d be on the ledge with her. He watched Caroline’s feet dangle in the air as she thrashed about, trying to get a foothold on something—anything—that could help her pull herself back up, to claw at rock and root and anything worth gripping. Her boot made purchase on a rock, but it slipped out from under her, plummeting.

  “Hunter, hang on!”

  He knew it was useless to yell, but he did it anyway.

  The heavy rain continued to etch small fractures into the footpath and Chris slipped, sliding headfirst on his stomach toward the cliff’s edge. He stopped short and his boot caught on a tree root, anchoring him into place—for now. Thunder cracked the sky and he reached out, blinded by rain and muck, pushing his arm as far toward the edge as he could.

  Chris inched closer to the ledge, eyes on the dangling woman.

  “Take my hands, Hunter! Take my fucking hands!”

  She swung her free arm. Missed.

  Come on, Caroline, his mind screamed. Come ON.

  “Again!” He demanded. “You will not give up.”

  Seconds trudged by at the pace of eons, but then Caroline flung with all her might, and her fingers wrapped around his. Squeezed.

  He had her. Even as Caroline’s fingers began to slip from Chris’s grip her second hand reached down, caught his, and he jerked her arm up to wrap around her wrist and her fingers curled around his in a scout handshake. Her other hand slid away and her body slammed into the cliff, but he had her—

  Until he started to slide forward, the root holding his foot giving way in the mudslide.

  Shit.

  Chris’s right hand clawed at the ground, finding nothing to grab onto to.

  Caroline’s eyes went wide. She knew what was happening, knew her weight was going to take them both off the cliff.

  They locked eyes. She let go of his wrist.

  “Do not let go,” Chris yelled, still gripping hers. “Hunter, don’t you dare let go!”

  “I’m not taking you down with me,” she screamed back.

  “Do not let go, Hunter—that’s an order.”

  A pair of hands locked around Chris’s ankles, began to—slowly, so slowly—pull him back. Nick.

  “Brannon’s got us,” Chris called to Caroline.

  Relief flooded Caroline’s face, followed quickly by determination. She swung her free arm up, both hands holding tight to Chris.

  Chris flexed his muscles, pulling Caroline to him, over the cliff’s edge, as Nick moved them back to safety, inch by inch. Once Caroline’s upper half was over, she let loose one hand from Chris’s. He wrapped his arm beneath hers, locking under her shoulder as her fingers dug into the earth to pull herself in.

  Finally, the three fell flat into the mud. Breathed.

  No one wondered about the rain now. It could beat on them all it wanted, until their bones were dredged in saltwater. Thunder clapped, but Chris barely heard it. They were alive.

  “Fuck me if I ever have to do that again,” Nick said, once he’d caught his breath.

  The three laughed, relishing in the crazed sort of laugher that always followed near-death.

  “That was close,” Chris said.

  “Too close,” added Caroline. She pulled herself onto her feet and reached down, offering both of her teammates a hand.

  Chris accepted, ignoring the pull in his joints as he got to his feet. He glanced to Natalia and Grace, still huddled in the spot Nick had left them. Grace sat against a rock, coughing uncontrollably. The sound was much harder this time, worse than it had been earlier or the day before. The team had pushed hard today, doing their best to get closer to a village that would allow Grace the medical attention she needed, but now the delay from the rain would set them back by at least a few hours. Maybe half a day.

  “I’ll never know why the good get taken out first before the bad,” Chris said as he watched Grace in the distance.

  “I’m sorry.” Nick’s tone was low.

  “Is she going to make it?”

  “I don’t know. I’m still at a loss as to what’s actually causing all this.”

  “All right,” he said, shaking away the memories flooding through his mind. “Let’s double back and set up camp.”

  8

  They backtracked back down the narrow dirt path along the mountain to the small clearing Nick had noted before. Nick had to carry Grace this time. She was too weak to walk, her condition declining even further. The clearing pushed into a small canyon that opened back up into the jungle about seventy-five yards away. Large, dense trees provided shelter, blocking out most of the rain and the long green grass ringing the trunk of the trees provided a soft surface for them to fall asleep on.

  Exhausted, the team removed their packs and tossed them under the trees. Chris settled Natalia beside the mound of packs while Nick helped Grace to water from his hydration bladder. Her face, pale white.

  The team was muddy, worn out, and spent. Soon the sun would set, and the dusky gray of the storm sky would darken into blackness. Cloud cover would prevent the moonlight from brightening the night and since the rain had soaked everything, there would be no fire. Waterlogged wood didn’t burn, and Chris didn’t have any magnesium in his pack or energy left in his bones to scavenge for fatwood.

  A few feet away, Caroline stood with her back turned. She had removed her shirt and was wringing it out, squeezing liquid from it like a dishcloth. The descending darkness gave them a veil of privacy, but Chris still saw the twelve long, thick scars that ran the length of her back—rough lines, as if someone had carved the shape of her spine, over and over, into her skin.

  They probably had, Chris considered. North Korea was not known for being kind to its prisoners.

  Her scars told a story, one of brutality and pain. When you were familiar with marks of torture, it was easy to tell when a wound had been stitched, treated. Caroline’s hadn’t. Each of the twelve ragged lines was too textured, too much like glue pushed from a hole and left to dry. Whoever had done this had carved her open like so much meat and left her to heal—or not.

  Caroline turned and Chris pulled his gaze away as she slipped her shirt over her head.

  “I hate sleeping in wet clothes,” the woman said as she sat next to Chris.

  “Could be worse.”

  She grunted. “It always can.”
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br />   Natalia was already asleep, her body curled on its side, the stuffed bear clutched right in her arms. Her head rested against the makeshift pillow of Chris’s leg. Everything on her body dripped, from the ends of her hair to the hem of her tattered dress.

  “She seems to be at peace all the time,” Caroline noted, nodding toward the girl.

  “Yeah.”

  Chris crossed his arms behind his head and reclined against the tree.

  Caroline’s attention moved to the rice bag. “What do you think, another ten or so miles?”

  “Probably half a day.” Chris shrugged. “Maybe more if the sky keeps falling.

  Outside the shelter of the trees, the rain was still coming down in sheets, a harmonic thrumming of plump liquid missiles.

  Nature’s white noise, Chris thought. His mind snapped to the two men who had attacked them the day before. Perhaps it would be better for the night to be quiet.

  He pushed his pack behind his head—careful not to disturb the sleeping girl—and lightly punched it into a usable pillow. His eyes were growing heavy, sleep calling at his muscles. Beside him, Caroline rolled onto her back, then her elbows, punching her pack into pillow placement as well.

  “See you in the morning, Rake,” she said.

  Chris’s eyes were already closed. “Not if I see you first, Hunter.”

  Chris jumped from his sleep.

  His eyes flew open, and he palmed at the sweat on his brow. Caroline and Nick were already on their feet.

  Something was thrumming in Chris’s ears. The aftershocks of a loud bang, he realized. There had been a boom—a crash—and the noise had jarred him awake.

  “What the hell was that?” His voice sounded far away, another effect of a sudden disruption in his hearing.

  Nick shook his head as confusion washed over Caroline’s features. Grace huddled against the tree, her expression startled. So whatever it was had woken them all then.

  Good. At least he wasn’t late to the party.