The rush of air into his face was a necessary evil. His sunglasses would keep most debris and bugs out of his eyes. He didn’t want to get cut with flying glass.
Rosalie reached forward and shoved the hood latches into place. Now, the windshield was fully secured. Removing her hand gun from her belt, she aimed over the back of her seat and shot out the rear window.
After replacing her handgun, she turned her head and smiled at Scott. “I’m ready.”
“You sure are, sweetheart. They won’t know what hit ‘em.”
“At least we have more of a chance then my poor Julio had. He hated guns.”
Scott’s reply was cut off by the sound of a helicopter approaching.
“They’re coming up behind us. Fast. Wait for your shot. I’ll be doing evasive maneuvers.”
“Understood.”
Rosalie released the shoulder harness. Lowering the back of her seat down to about a sixty-degree angle, she twisted, then braced the automatic weapon on the back of it.
“If I miss them coming from behind, how much time do you think I’ll have before they come around at us from the front?”
“Not much. That copter is highly maneuverable in tight combat situations. Maybe ten seconds tops. And they can come at us from anywhere. Be prepared to shoot through the Hummer’s roof if they sweep over us. I’ll try to give you clear shots. Listen for my signals. That is, if you miss them on the first go round.”
“In other words, don’t miss.”
Rosalie’s dry tone reassured Scott. She understood that they were sitting ducks. The first fly-by would be crucial.
By the sound of things, the copter was very close. Scott couldn’t see it. The overhang of the forest was thick and impenetrable. Their pursuers couldn’t see them, either. And with the copter’s noise, they couldn’t hear the Hummer to shoot at them.
He and Rosalie were safe until they emerged from the tunnel of trees.
“We’ll be out of the overhang within a quarter mile,” he said. “Got your shot picked out?”
“Yes. I take out the back rotor. Correct?”
“That’s a plan. Can you do it?”
Rosalie didn’t answer. She was staring out the back of the Hummer, her hand on the trigger. She seemed to be mouthing prayers. Adding a few words himself, Scott prepared to keep them out of the line of fire.
They hit the open road going sixty-five miles an hour. Scott started evasive maneuvers, swerving in an erratic pattern.
The helicopter was on them like a giant mosquito looking for blood. Gunfire followed, but the copter had difficulty keeping up with Scott’s crazy-quilt pattern. So far, the shots lagged behind them. The Hummer’s body armor was not as thick as a tank, but thicker then a normal automobile. Scott prayed the copter’s ammo wasn’t armor-piercing.
Rosalie hadn’t taken a single shot.
“Rosalie!”
Scott’s shout seemed to blow back in his face.
“Shut up!” she said. “I’m trying to concentrate.”
Scott laughed. She was fine, although he wasn’t sure about himself. His heart threatened to beat its way out of his chest. If he wasn’t careful, he’d hyperventilate.
He concentrated on breathing.
The sound of the submachine gun erupting next to him caused his heart to leap from his aching chest into his throat. He swerved in a less-than-controlled manner. The motion threw Rosalie against the passenger door.
After a particularly foul four-letter word, Rosalie snapped, “Watch it! I almost had the bastards.”
Rosalie swore once more, in Spanish this time.
Scott laughed. He’d heard enough of the guttural Spanish to know that the men-in-the-helicopter’s ancestors should be turning over in their graves. His partner was one tough lady. He wondered if Julio had ever realized that. Maybe he was watching over them, cheering them on.
Hey, Julio. If you’re watching, help us out. Okay, buddy?
Scott swerved to miss a large hole. Rosalie swore some more.
“Forest overhang ahead,” he said. “How we doin’?”
Rosalie mumbled something he couldn’t quite catch. Another burst of gunfire from the powerful gun punctuated her inaudible comments.
Then the cool darkness of the forest archway swept over the vehicle, hiding it from sight.. “They’ll try to get ahead of us, won’t they?” Rosalie swung around to face forward, then braced the gun on the dashboard. “Got half a magazine left. That should do it. I nicked the pilot. The co-pilot took over. There are three of them in the copter. I can’t seem to get the rotor in my sights. I may have hit one of the auxiliary tanks, but…”
“They’ll have enough fuel in the main one to outlast us to the river,” Scott finished for her. “Well, you’ll just have to get them when we come out of the tunnel.”
“Okay.”
A hitch in Rosalie’s voice caused him to look at her.
She stared at him. No, she stared at his arm.
It was then he felt the sting. He’d been hit and hadn’t even realized it. Blood oozed from a wound on his upper arm.
“You’ve been hit! You’re bleeding.” Rosalie’s voice, although calm on the surface, held hints of underlying hysteria.
Scott maneuvered around a fallen branch and slowed the vehicle down to fifty miles an hour. Let the damn copter wait on them a bit. He couldn’t have his gunner flying into hysterics over his little flesh wound.
“I’m fine.” He hoped his voice would reassure her.
“Then, why are you slowing down?”
“To show you I’m okay.”
Rosalie ripped a piece of her shirt off and wrapped it tightly around his wound. The pressure eased some of the sting.
“I want them in position at the end of this forest tunnel,” he continued. “They’ll be expecting us to come out straight at them — giving them a clear shot.”
Rosalie picked up the gun once more and resumed position. “But we won’t be giving them one, will we?”
“Nope. Hold on, partner.”
Scott angled off the road, then maneuvered through the thick swampy under-growth. The Hummer pulled through the marshy ground like a duck in water.
From the sound of the hovering motors, Scott estimated the position of the copter. He slowed, then paralleled the road, using the natural cover to hide the Hummer, as he circumvented the enemy.
“Bingo. Gotcha, you son-of-a-bitches,” he said as he pulled to a position intersecting the road behind the copter. Still hidden by abundant ground cover, the Hummer’s smooth-idling motor couldn’t be heard above the copter’s whining engines.
“Think you can hit the bastard now — or do you want me to do it?”
Rosalie grinned. “No, thanks. It’s my kill.”
She sighted carefully. As she pulled the trigger, she yelled, “This is for you, Julio.”
Rosalie emptied the magazine into the rear rotor, nearly shredding the tail assembly. The copter hung for a moment then fell from the sky like a whirling dervish. It crashed into the road just short of the forest tunnel, effectively blocking the road from any land pursuers. Then it erupted into a fire ball.
Before the copter had hit bottom, Scott gunned the engine of the Hummer and broke onto the road. They were half a mile away, before the falling debris from the explosion littered the space they’d previously occupied.
Rosalie ejected the empty magazine, slapped a fresh one into place, and locked down the gun before she set it on the back seat. She pulled a First Aid kit from the glove box.
“Pull over, Scott. I need to clean and bandage the wound before you pick up some exotic jungle germ.”
“No. We’ve got to keep going. It’s okay. It’ll wait until we’re at the village.”
Rosalie glared at him.
Scott chuckled. “Hey, honest. It’s just a scrape. Maybe a piece of metal or something hit me from when one of the bullets hit the Humvee. The pressure bandage you applied has already slowed the bleeding. I’ll be okay.”
“If I’m wrong, I’ll deserve it.”
———
Scott was correct — it was only a deep gash.
Rosalie cleaned it out, then left it open to drain, using butterfly bandages to pull the ragged edges together. It wouldn’t be as smooth a scar as a sutured wound, but stitching in this damp climate would only have promoted bacterial growth. He’d keep it clean, medicated and bandaged. He’d be fine.
The village medicine man gave them some tree bark. Sam told Scott the bark was good for infections. He didn’t doubt it. The rain forests, swamp and forest lands of Brazil probably had plants that could cure a lot of medical problems. Time and modern man were the enemies of the Brazilian wilderness.
Scott humored the medicine man and Rosalie and drank some tea made from the bark.
The toothless medicine man chattered some words at Sam, while gesturing between Scott and Rosalie.
Sam smiled. “He said you would do fine. Just let your woman nurse you and stay away from bullets in the future.”
“Tell him I will.” Scott smiled at the old man. He turned to see how Rosalie had handled the old man’s innuendo. Her face was red. The man had embarrassed her.
Scott wondered if he was red in the face, too. For a moment, he wondered what it would be like to take Rosalie into his arms and love her.
Then guilt struck. He loved Jeannie — had always loved Jeannie. He felt lower than a swamp snake.
“Scott. You’re human.” Rosalie stared at his face, where he was sure his lust and guilt blazed like a neon sign. “You love Jeannie, but you’re human. I still mourn Julio, but that doesn’t mean I don’t find you attractive. What’s important is that neither one of us is going to act on those feelings. We are honorable people.”
“Thanks. You hit it on the head. Neither one of us is dead, and I mean to keep us that way. Let’s move it.”
Scott said good-bye to the village elders and the medicine man. Then, he proceeded to the boat where Sam and Rosalie had already climbed in and sat waiting.
They’d stripped the Humvee of all weapons and survival gear they might need. Added to what they’d packed and what Sam had loaded for the lengthy trip to Brasilia, they were as ready as they would ever be.
Scott climbed into the boat next to Sam and across from Rosalie. Sam fired up the small motor. For the first leg of the trip, the small boat would go under power. Sam had assured him that there were enough fazendas along the route to buy or barter for more gasoline.
But later, Scott knew, some of the tributaries segued into marsh lands flooded by the heavier than normal October rains and they would have less clearance. Then the motor would be useless. At that point, Sam and Scott would alternately pole and row the dugout canoe which was a lot like a bayou pirogue.
The goal was to connect, eventually, to the great Araguaia River, which traversed the Pantanal and flowed into the Goias region. There, at this time of the year, the great river would connect through various tributaries to take them directly into Brasilia.
Scott had heard that the land through which the great river flowed was often called “The Garden of Eden” for its high concentration of wildlife. It was one of the last and largest nature refuges in the world, not yet mortally harmed by man. If it weren’t for the life-threatening nature of their journey, Scott would enjoy the upcoming trip. To him swamps were swamps, and he’d always loved exploring the Manchac with Paul.
“Scott, where did you go just now?”
He turned. Rosalie sat in the rear of the boat. She eyed the dark waters, made even more leaden with the thick cloud cover and the lush overgrowth of the swamp forest. He couldn’t believe his eyes. She who had shot down an armed helicopter seemed afraid of the river.
“I was thinking about all the interesting things we’ll be seeing on our trip. This area of Brazil is full of life.”
Scott reached forward and took her hands in his in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. “Don’t be afraid of the swamp and the jungle. Think of it as a large nature habitat, like at Disney World. I’ll let you know when there is danger.”
“Sam won’t let you be hurt, senorita. The Pantanal and later the Araguaia are beautiful and full of wondrous things. Sam will show you, also.” The little man nodded his head for emphasis as he cheerfully piloted them into the middle of the waterway. “See the caiman?” Sam laughed and pointed to a place over Rosalie’s shoulder. “They are taking their siesta. The rocks — they are still warm from the sun.”
Scott eyed the large reptiles.
“They are bigger than the caiman in Louisiana,” he said. “If we leave them alone, they’ll leave us alone. We’re too big for a meal.”
Sam chortled. “Yes, yes. Too big. They seek the smaller food, like fish and turtles.”
Rosalie sighed, then gifted the two men with a small smile. “I looked that scared, huh?”
“Yep.” Scott smiled back and let go of her hands after a gentle squeeze. “I couldn’t believe you were scared. I mean, you took that copter out like a seasoned Marine.”
“I don’t like river travel.” She turned and pointed out a large bird taking flight ahead of their boat. “What’s that?”
Scott took her abrupt question as a hint to change the subject. If she wanted him to know why she didn’t like traveling on rivers, she’d tell him. She’d proven herself to be courageous and able. She’d do what had to get done. He and Sam would help her.
Scott studied the bird. “Looks like an egret, but it isn’t quite the same. Sam?”
Sam’s answer showed he’d been following their conversation closely. His English learned in a missionary school was excellent. “It is a curicaca, what you call an ibis.”
He gestured toward a stand of trees. “See near the lower branches? The curicaca nest there. A little higher see the nests for other swamp birds. That is a ninhais, a nesting place. This is where they nest during the day. At night they move to other trees and have their night-time resting place called a dormitorios.“
As Rosalie quizzed Sam on why the birds felt the need to have two separate nesting areas, Scott scanned both banks of the small waterway. They were being watched. Not by the enemy, they wouldn’t be after them just yet, but by the curious eyes of local natives. Scott wasn’t too worried. The locals along this part of the journey would know that the three were not a danger to them. Sam had explained the native telegraph. The watching eyes would assure them of safe passage, at least until they were out of Sam’s tribal lands.
Later, when they hit the less-traveled part of the swampy region, who would threaten first? The wildlife or the natives or One World’s mercenaries?
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Manchac, Louisiana — October 30th.
Jeanette and Mama Chloe baked cookies for the Halloween carnival at the local elementary school. Instead of trick-or-treating from house-to-house, the town of Manchac held a carnival every year so the students could have a safe environment to celebrate Halloween. The carnival featured lots of games, treats and entertainment, including a Haunted House in the high school gym.
Brigitte looked forward to attending. Jeanette was thrilled that her daughter had adjusted so well to attending the public school. The little girl had already made lots of new friends. Mama Chloe knew everyone in town and made sure that Brigitte — and Jeanette — felt welcome.
A loud noise from the front of the house disturbed the peaceful atmosphere in the cozy kitchen. The racket was followed by hurried, heavy footsteps.
The sudden intrusion had both women gasping. As one, they turned toward the door which led to the front hallway.
“Who’s making all that commotion?” Mama Chloe recovered first. She wiped orange frosting off her hands as she stepped toward the doorway.
Frenchy, one of the local fisherman and Mama Chloe’s beau, rushed in. He held a rifle in his strong, weathered hands. For such a friendly man, he looked too comfortable with th
e deadly looking weapon.
Jeanette shivered at the sight. While omnipresent gun racks in the local men’s pickup trucks blatantly advertised that this was NRA country, she couldn’t recall ever seeing any of them carrying the guns quite so openly. And especially not into someone’s house.
“Is it Brigitte? Is something wrong?” She ripped off the apron she wore and threw it on the counter. “What’s happened? Why are you carrying a gun?”
“We got us some big time trouble coming. We need to get you women hidden away back in the bayou. There’s some strangers in town who’ve been asking questions about Scott — and you gals.”
Frenchy went to the storage closet off the kitchen where he pulled out another rifle and a couple of boxes of shells. “Chloe, cher, you’ve been practicing with this like I taught you?”
“I can hit any vermin I aim at, Frenchy, and you know it.” Mama took the gun. “Where we gonna go? The hunting cabin?”
“Yeah. Tony put out a call for reinforcements from his agency. He’s picking up Little Bits from school. Floyd sent the nosey bastards on a short trip the wrong way up the road, but they’ll soon realize he steered them wrong. They’ll be back. You need to be gone.”
Jeanette ran out of the kitchen and into her bedroom. Pulling a bag from the closet, she threw some clothes into it, then proceeded to do the same for her daughter. Anything she didn’t remember, she didn’t need.
Cursing her clumsiness, she finally zipped the bag. Jeanette shuddered. She’d never pictured the taciturn Cajun as an alarmist, but his fear was tangible.
Rutherford had somehow tracked her down. Had he connected her to Scott and his hometown? Oh my God! Had something happened to Scott? Had they captured him? Tortured him? Was that how they’d found out about Manchac?
Swearing under her breath, she ran back to the kitchen. Throwing the bag on the floor, she grabbed the satellite phone from the counter. She hit the redial and waited for the phone to connect. Then she listened as it disconnected. The signal wasn’t going through.
Cursing once more, she dialed the number Scott had given her for One World headquarters at San Jacinto.
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