Uncharted

by Robyn Nyx

  Pablo shook his head and steered the boat to the mid-channel of the river where the likelihood of being attacked was vastly reduced. “I do not think so. Anything of value was stripped not long after the tragic attack, mostly by banditos or lone wanderers looking to make a quick sale in the town. There is nothing of interest there for the tribes, and they would have stayed away from such an obvious building anyhow.” Pablo sat back in his seat and pulled his cap farther over his forehead to shield his eyes from the strong morning sun. “You have to remember the history here, Ms. Rayne. When the white man first came to their land, the Indians opened their hearts and arms to those people, brought them gifts. Exploitation, slavery, and slaughter have been vicious lessons, but they have been well learned. They avoid contact wherever possible, but if it happens, now they greet outsiders with the sharpened end of their bamboo arrows or the smooth surface of a rock club.”

  Rayne applied bug spray to bits of her uncovered flesh. She offered the bottle to Pablo, but after he’d eyed it to ascertain its nature, he broke into a wide grin. He slapped his bare forearm several times with his hand.

  “I am crocodile skin, Ms. Rayne, weathered and impenetrable. The mosquitoes would break their spiky noses if they tried to stick them in my flesh.”

  Rayne looked at Pablo’s skin, most of it uncovered since all he wore was an oiled-up tank top, shorts, and sandals to keep his feet aired. “I guess you do resemble a distressed leather couch.” She focused on the visible part of his chest scar and shuddered, recalling seeing Pablo’s chest sliced open with a machete. As if sensing her memory, he reached over and placed his hand over hers, his bumpy calluses evidence of the labor-heavy life he led.

  “Thank you, Ms. Rayne.”

  In his eyes, she saw the sorrow and joy he must live with every day. The cruel double-edged sword a survivor of any traumatic or catastrophic event carried with them was both burden and rebirth. “You need to stop thanking me. You say it every time we meet,” Rayne said, affecting a chastising tone more to cover her own faltering voice than to actually reprimand him. The fact that she’d found Pablo before he bled out but hadn’t gotten there soon enough for his wife and daughter, haunted her still. “Besides that, you helped lead me to the Golden Raft of Fonte. There was never a debt to be paid, but if there had been, you did it a hundred times over by doing that.”

  Pablo squeezed her hand before returning to the steering. “And yet, you still sent me a substantial finder’s fee.” He laughed, picked a ready-rolled cigarette from the engine controls, and lit it. “You are not fooling me with your tough lady boss act,” he whispered. “And I think that your Chase will realize that on this adventure with you.”

  Rayne snatched Pablo’s cigarette and took a drag. “She’s not my Chase.” She coughed the incredibly strong, foul-tasting smoke out and handed it back.

  “You are not a smoker, Ms. Rayne.” Pablo looked puzzled.

  “And you’re not a scruffy looking Cupid.” Rayne clapped him on the back. “But I am tough.”

  Pablo smiled and clamped the cigarette between his lips. “There is tough here.” He flexed his bicep and kissed it. “And there is tough here.” He tapped on his heart with two fingers. “You are constantly seeking treasure you can hold, Ms. Rayne. Treasure you can find and sell to the highest bidder. You think it is made of gold or platinum. You think it is from ancient times. The treasure hunt you do not realize you are on is for a treasure far more precious, far more fragile. You are hunting for a heart to hold, a heart that will hold you.”

  Pablo chuckled and turned his attention back to his course. Apparently, he’d decided that he’d dispensed enough jungle philosophy for Rayne to be getting on with. She concentrated on the river, winding this way and that, and resisted the nagging temptation to turn and look at Chase again. There was treasure to be found, and Turner had to be on their trail by now. The fragility of life echoed in the forest that enveloped them in a welcoming yet foreboding embrace. Somewhere in its heart it held the prize of a lifetime. At the same time, it was under siege from so many angles and so many people that the prize could be lost. Rayne couldn’t help but make the comparison to their situation. If, as Pablo said, Chase was a different kind of treasure, finding a way to her was barred by Turner’s pursuit and by Rayne’s past actions. What would she have to do to make sure Chase wasn’t lost to her forever?

  * * *

  Pablo sided the boat to the pier, and Effi jumped onto it, mooring rope in hand. Despite being a wooden structure, it had survived the arson attack. There was a sand bank between the main building and the pier that had presumably stopped the fire from spreading naturally and destroying it. But Rayne wondered why it hadn’t been razed separately anyway.

  Effi secured the rope to the dock and beckoned them to join her. “Come on. It’s perfectly safe.”

  She bounced up and down on the wood to demonstrate her point. It creaked under the strain of Effi’s weight before part of it snapped loudly and her right leg disappeared up to her knee in the jagged gash.

  Pablo laughed and slapped the side of his boat repeatedly. “You silly woman! Not so safe!”

  Tonyck was quick to Effi’s side, while Effi held up her middle finger toward Pablo and scowled. Ginn went to Effi’s aid too, and the twins slowly began to disentangle Effi’s leg from the broken floor. Tonyck took out her utility tool, unfolded a saw from its twenty plus accoutrements, and set to work on the board that had given way. Ginn mirrored her sister, and once through the wood, they were able to pull Effi out.

  Rayne wasn’t surprised to see large splinters had pierced Effi’s leg, but she was impressed that Effi hadn’t screamed or cursed in pain. The twins helped Effi onto the ground.

  “Throw me the first aid kit hanging on my bag,” Tonyck said to no one in particular.

  Rayne turned but Chase already had it unclipped and was halfway off the boat. Tonyck took it and gave Chase a curt nod. Rayne joined them on the deck, careful to check her footing as she did. She knelt down and put her hand over Effi’s. “Are you okay?”

  Effi shrugged. “I feel a little stupid. It’s not very impressive when your guide can’t even negotiate an old dock.”

  Rayne squeezed Effi’s hand and smiled. “It was funny though.” She released Effi’s hand and turned to Tonyck. “Chase and I will take a look at the buildings while you fix Effi up. Maybe Pablo and Ginn could come with us and cover more ground.” Rayne inclined her head to the darkening sky filled with ominous black-gray clouds of rain. “Daylight’s fading, and it’d be best if we were settled in before that deluge hits.”

  Tonyck tapped the radio clipped to her belt. “Let us know when you’ve found somewhere suitable.” She looked at Ginn. “Keep her safe.”

  Ginn grinned and tugged on the strap across her chest that held her AK47. “Sure thing, sis.”

  Pablo offered the boat keys to Tonyck. “And you keep her safe.”

  “The boat or Effi?” Tonyck asked.

  “My boat, of course,” Pablo said. He pulled the minute remnant of his cigarette from his dry lips and crushed it underfoot. He jutted his chin toward Effi. “She is very good at taking care of herself.”

  They each grabbed their backpacks and headed down the pier to the FUNAI building. The smoky scent of dead wood assailed Rayne’s nostrils as they drew closer, but the more nauseating odor of death overpowered that and any other forest fragrance that might otherwise have been pleasant.

  “Smells like death,” Chase said, and she pulled her scarf up to cover her nose.

  “Chase and I will take the outer huts, Ginn.” Rayne pointed to the collection of constructs of varying sizes beyond a small clearing. “You and Pablo scope the main building.”

  Ginn laughed and shook her head. “Or Pablo and Chase hit the outer buildings, and we’ll take the main structure.” She alternated her pointing finger between herself and Rayne. “I can’t keep you safe if I can’t see you.”

  “The only threat we might come across here are Indians.
If that happens, I want someone by my side who can communicate with them, not someone who can shoot them.” Rayne motioned to the rifle Ginn had moved into ready position.

  “You don’t know that for sure.” Ginn looked far from convinced.

  “She is right,” Pablo said. “There are no other boats docked, so the only other people who might be around are the ones who belong here. They will respond better to those not carrying the tools of death. Ms. Rayne is safer with Chase.”

  Rayne smiled when she saw what looked like slightly smug validation crossing Chase’s expression. Rayne was aware the situation would pander to Chase’s chivalrous nature, and while that was a bonus, Rayne’s reasoning held true. They stood a better chance taking a non-aggressive stance than thrusting an assault rifle in the air.

  Ginn shrugged and tilted her head. “If you’re sure. You’re the boss.” She pulled her radio from her backpack strap and checked the display. “Channel five?”

  Rayne and Chase looked at their units. “Channel five.” Chase pressed the talk button and everyone’s radio registered the communication.

  Rayne turned her arm to check her watch. “It’s nearly half past six. Let’s check in with each other every fifteen minutes.”

  “Will do, lady boss.” Ginn saluted and slapped Pablo on the back. “Let’s go, Pablo,” she said, exaggerating the end of his name to emphasize the rhyme.

  Rayne looked to Chase. “Ready for our adventure, hero?” Rayne smiled at Chase’s bashful grin that said she knew Rayne was playing up to Chase’s vision of herself but loved it anyway.

  “Sure thing, lady boss,” Chase said and wiggled her eyebrows.

  Rayne felt herself swoon at the seductive look in Chase’s eyes. It was an expression Chase had never given her before, but by God, did she love it.

  They made their way across the sand onto the bamboo walkway that connected each of the outer huts. As they progressed and inspected each one, the gravity of what had happened here impressed itself on Rayne’s consciousness. Dried blood sprayed in strangely artistic arcs, a visual record of callous cruelty, bloodthirsty and barbaric. The ground bore dark inkblots where the lifeblood of FUNAI agents had pooled before being absorbed into the dust, feeding the forest in death as they’d tried to protect it in life. Doors hung from hinges, kicked inward with extreme force. Splintered shards of wood were strewn across the floor, its pale flesh speckled with the spilled blood of those who sought refuge from the attack. Every piece of furniture in each hut had been shattered or demolished, made impossible to reuse or repurpose.

  Rayne and Chase wandered silently amongst the man-made wreckage as if words shared would cause further damage. Rayne felt a reverent reluctance to speak where the FUNAI agents and their families had been slaughtered, and it was similar to how she’d felt walking around the Holocaust Museum in DC. It was like pushing through the thick aftermath of evil that had passed through, exacted its will, and moved on. This was the will of men; evil men whose greed had eaten their inherent goodness alive from the inside and left a hole that could only be filled with violence and wealth.

  Rayne finally came to one hut, inexplicably unmarred by the horrific events that had transpired. It was just a shell, empty and apparently unused.

  “A food store maybe,” Chase said quietly, walking past Rayne to enter the hut.

  Rayne nodded as she looked inside. “Makes sense. Whoever attacked this place must have stripped it clean after everyone was dead. Pablo says the gold prospectors are still using local children from families steeped in debt bondage. If they were tasked with acquiring the food, they’d have no reason to destroy it after they’d finished. Just an oversight, I suppose.”

  Chase emerged from the hut, rested against the outside wall, and knocked her head against the bamboo. “How is the Brazilian government letting this happen, Rayne?” She kicked at a tuft of vegetation. “People have been exploiting, enslaving, and slaughtering these innocent tribes since the eighteen hundreds. Why isn’t the US government doing something about it? Aren’t we supposed to be the leaders of the free world? Aren’t we responsible for protecting people who can’t protect themselves?”

  Rayne reached out and took Chase’s hand, seeing the last of the retreating sun’s rays glisten in her tears. Her heart ached for how deeply Chase was clearly affected by everything around her. “There’s no glory in helping these people, no oil to be drilled for and no religious freedom to protect.”

  Chase lifted her free hand to cover her eyes, but Rayne still saw the escaping drops of liquid sorrow fall from Chase’s face onto the ground.

  “I’m sorry I made you work so hard to get me to come with you for this.”

  She wiped her eyes and looked up at Rayne, who saw the distress mix with determination in Chase’s expression.

  “You don’t have to apologize for that. Most people have no idea of the war that’s raging in this rain forest.” Rayne stopped herself from drying Chase’s tears. There was such beauty in her vulnerability.

  “You did.”

  Rayne pressed her lips together and sighed. “But I’d forgotten.” When Turner approached Rayne’s firm and said he was a logger, and though Jenny had suspected his business had been an illegal one, they couldn’t find anything to confirm their suspicions. She’d been uncharacteristically blinkered by the lure of the Golden Trinity. “It’s been a few years since I was last here.” Rayne’s breathing hitched when Chase squeezed her hand.

  “The last time you were here, was that when you saved Pablo?”

  Chase’s expression was so pure, so open and unguarded, that Rayne took a moment to gather herself and answer. Rayne never thought she’d see that again. It was as if Chase had begun to push back all the walls she’d constructed to keep Rayne from being part of her life again.

  “‘Saved’ is a bit of an exaggeration,” Rayne said, the splinter of failing to save his wife and daughter pushed deeper into her soul.

  Chase pulled Rayne closer. “Will you tell me what happened?”

  Rayne steadied herself, taken aback by Chase’s sudden intimacy. She was so used to being the predator that Chase’s movement knocked her off balance in more than just a physical way. “I was here looking for the Golden Raft of Fonte and I’d barely begun my search when I came across a terrifying scene. The gold prospectors were just trucking out.” Rayne closed her eyes for a second, trying to stop the memory recollection from turning into a full color movie playing in her head. “Maybe twenty, thirty people. Severed limbs, bodies hacked haphazardly, their blood stark and red against the lush green of the forest palms where they’d been slaughtered.” Rayne felt Chase’s grip tighten, and she moved her other hand to rest of Rayne’s waist. “I thought everyone was dead. Women. Children. Animals.” She clenched her jaw and swallowed against the sickening bile rising in her throat. It had been such a long time since she’d thought about that day in detail, but it still triggered the same response. “I fell to my knees and vomited. I’d never seen anything like it.” Rayne shook her head slowly. “I never want to see anything like it again. I was about to leave to report it to FUNAI when I saw a movement in the distance. I picked my way through the bodies and found Pablo with his wife and daughter crumpled in motionless heaps, his eyes looking up at me in horror.” She put her hand over her mouth, unsure if she might actually be sick.

  “They were already dead?”

  Rayne nodded. “I patched Pablo up as best I could, did a quick transfusion, made a rudimentary stretcher from some bamboo and paracord and dragged him to my Jeep.”

  “Wait.” Chase raised her eyebrows. “You gave him a blood transfusion?”

  “I’m a golden blood. I can donate to anyone.”

  Chase smiled. “How did I not know about this?”

  Rayne glanced at the ground. “You don’t exactly follow my social media stream.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong.” Chase pulled Rayne to her and pressed her hard body to Rayne’s. “You just never publicized it.”

>   Rayne felt Chase let go of her hand, but the loss was fleeting because she cupped Rayne’s face instead. Chase leaned in and kissed Rayne gently. Rayne pulled back slightly, her eyes searching Chase’s to interpret what the kiss signified. The flood of desire washed across Chase’s expression, and Rayne let out a short breath as she realized Chase wanted more. Rayne wrapped her hand around the back of Chase’s neck to pull her in for a deeper kiss.

  Rayne heard the whistle of an arrow a millisecond before its tip buried in the bamboo wall of the hut only two inches to the left of Chase’s head. Someone shouted something in a language she didn’t comprehend. Rayne closed her eyes and prayed Chase understood.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chase broke away from Rayne, startled. She glanced to her right to see an arrow level with her eye line. Warning shot. “Put your arms out, splay your hands, and reach for the sky…very slowly,” Chase whispered, beginning to do as she’d instructed herself.

  Rayne’s eyes opened gradually. “What did they say?”

  Chase shook her head. “Don’t speak. And no sudden moves, okay?”

  Rayne blinked instead of nodding and raised her hands precisely as Chase had advised.

  “Friends,” Chase said in Tupi-Guarani, hoping their language sat within that family of tongues. She sidestepped Rayne to face a line of six Indians, each of them with arrows nocked and strings at half tension. “Friends.”

  The one in the center of the line lowered his bow and came two steps closer to her. He said a string of words extremely fast and pointed to the machetes hanging from Chase’s belt and on a strap across Rayne’s chest.

  Chase nodded and lowered her eyes, not wanting to appear confrontational. “Take off your blade and place it on the ground, slow enough for moss to grow on you,” she whispered. Chase unbuckled her belt, slid the sheath from it, and squatted to the floor to discard her knife.