The Adventurers

by Harold Robbins

  “The army still controls the ports,” Fat Cat replied. “We cannot win until the general captures Curatu. Once we cut them off from the sea the yanqui imperialists won’t be able to help them. Then it will be over.”

  “I heard that we’re marching toward Curatu,” Manuelo said.

  “What are we going to do about the soldados?” Fat Cat asked, bringing the subject back to the pertinent.

  “I don’t know,” Manuelo answered hesitantly. “They have two machine guns.”

  “They have also three women,” Fat Cat said meaningfully.

  “Deserters have no spirit to fight,” Diego Gonzalez added. “It has been a long time—”

  Fat Cat cut him off with a warning look at Roberto and me. “We could use machine guns. The general would reward us.” He looked over at me. “Have they posted a guard?”

  “No,” I replied, “they are lying around the fire eating. There is no lookout. I could have peed right in their cooking pot and they wouldn’t have noticed.”

  Manuelo came to a decision. “We will take them by surprise. Just before dawn when they are in their deepest sleep.”

  ***

  I rolled over in my blanket, pulling it around me to ward off the night chill. Next to me I heard Roberto move. “Are you awake?” I whispered.

  “Sí.”

  “I cannot sleep,” I said.

  “Me too.”

  “Are you scared?”

  “No.” The answer came quickly in a scornful voice. “Of course not.”

  “I’m not either.”

  “I can’t wait till morning. I’m going to kill one of those soldados. We’re going to kill them all.”

  “The women too?” I asked.

  “Of course not,” he answered scornfully.

  “What are we going to do with them then?”

  “I don’t know.” He thought for a moment. “Rape them, I guess.”

  “I don’t think I would like that,” I said. “That’s what happened to my sister. It hurts them.”

  “That’s because you’re a little boy,” he replied scornfully. “You couldn’t rape one if you wanted to.”

  “Why not?”

  “You’re too small. Your pecker isn’t big enough.”

  “It is so. It’s as big as yours!” I replied angrily. “I’m bigger than you.”

  “But your pecker isn’t!”

  I was silent. I knew what he said was the truth. I had seen his more than once. He used to play with it in the field back of the house and when it was hard it was twice as big as mine.

  “I will rape one anyway,” I said defiantly.

  He laughed derisively. “You can’t; it won’t get hard.” He rolled over in his blanket and pulled it up over his head. “Now go to sleep. Let me get some rest.”

  I lay there quietly. I looked up at the stars. Sometimes they seemed to hang so low in the sky I could reach up and touch one. I wondered which was my mother and which was my sister. My father told me that they had gone to heaven and now they were God’s stars. Could they see me tonight? Finally I closed my eyes and fell asleep.

  I came awake quickly at Manuelo’s touch. I was on my feet instantly. “I’m ready,” I said. “I’ll show you where they are.”

  “No.” Manuelo shook his head. “You stay here with the horses. Someone has to keep an eye on the horses or they will wander off.”

  “But—”

  Manuelo cut me off. His voice was firm. “You and Roberto will stay with the horses. That’s an order.”

  I looked at Roberto. He didn’t meet my eyes. He wasn’t so big after all, no matter what he said. If he was, they wouldn’t leave him behind too.

  “It’s getting late!” Fat Cat hissed.

  “You stay here until we come back,” Manuelo warned. “If we’re not back by noon, take the horses and go home. Comprende?”

  We nodded silently and watched the men disappear into the forest. For a moment we could hear the crackling of leaves and twigs under their feet, then everything was silent.

  Roberto looked at me. “We better go see to the horses.”

  I followed him to where the animals were tethered. They were munching away as quietly as if they were in the pasture at home.

  “I don’t see why we have to miss all the fun,” I said. “The horses won’t go far. They’re hobbled.”

  “Manuelo said we have to stay,” Roberto replied.

  I felt suddenly bold and daring. “You have to. But I don’t.”

  “Manuelo will be angry.”

  “He will never know,” I replied. “I can get there faster through the trees than they can on foot.”

  I began to shinny up the nearest tree. I paused on the lowest branch. “I’ll tell you everything that happened!”

  Roberto stared up at me for a moment, then began to run toward the tree. “Wait for me!” he called. “I’m going with you!”

  6

  It didn’t take as long to get there as it had last night because I knew exactly where to go. We remained hidden in the trees until I felt Roberto tug at my arm. He pointed and I saw Manuelo and Fat Cat just at the edge of the clearing. Then they disappeared back into the foliage.

  From our vantage point I could see our men as they fanned out around the sleeping soldiers. I looked down at the camp. The soldiers didn’t stir. They huddled in their blankets around the dying fire. I began to count.

  In the dim light I could make out only twelve. I strained my eyes trying to locate the other two but they were not there. Then I understood. They were with the women. I wondered if Manuelo had noticed.

  I saw a movement at the edge of the shadows. Fat Cat was signaling to someone across the clearing on the opposite side. I turned my head. Manuelo came out of the foliage. I caught the dull glint of his broad machete as Diego appeared beside him.

  Two others were visible next to Fat Cat now. Manuelo gestured with his machete and they ran across the clearing silently. I saw the machetes flash up and down and five of the soldiers were dead before the others had even begun to open their eyes.

  The attack was savagely efficient. Two more were dispatched as they tried to roll over. One died as he started to sit up, another just about made it to his knees before Fat Cat, with a broad slash, almost severed his head from his body.

  Until now there had been no noise, only the movements of the men as they thrashed in the agonized frenzy of death. Then one of the soldiers broke suddenly and on his hands and knees began to scramble toward the brush in a frantic effort to escape. The loud report of a pistol resounded through the forest, and the birds ceased their shrilling song. The soldier pitched forward face down onto the ground.

  The two remaining soldiers threw themselves on the ground, their hands over their heads, screaming for mercy. Their voices sounded thin and reedy in the morning light that was just beginning to filter down through the trees into the clearing. But there was no hesitation in spite of their pleas for mercy.

  For a moment there was a silence as our men fought to regain their breath, then Manuelo straightened up. “They are dead?”

  “Sí,” Fat Cat replied.

  “All of them?” Manuelo asked.

  Silently they began to check the bodies. Diego raised his head from one he had turned over with his foot. “I think this one still lives.”

  “Then what are you waiting for?” Manuelo asked.

  Diego’s machete flashed in the morning sun and a head rolled almost two feet from its body. Diego hadn’t even paused to study the result of his blow. He prodded another body with his foot and then walked back over to Manuelo and Fat Cat, taking up a position slightly behind them.

  “I count only twelve,” Fat Cat said.

  “I too,” Manuelo confirmed. “The boy said there were fourteen.”

  “And three women,” Diego added.

  “He could have been wrong,” Fat Cat said. “He’s only a child.”

  “I don’t think so,” Manuelo answered. “Two must have gone off with t
he women.”

  “They can’t have gone far. Shall we search for them?”

  “No,” Manuelo said. “By now they have heard us. We will never find them in this jungle. Gather up the guns and ammunition.” He took out a cigarrillo and lit it, leaning his back against a tree.

  The others had just begun to gather up the guns when I heard a noise almost underneath the tree in which we were hidden. I looked down. It was the enemy sergeant. A tommy gun was crooked in his elbow, and he was just bringing it around to sweep the clearing. Now it was pointing right at Fat Cat.

  Without thinking, I shouted, “Gato Gordo, look out!”

  Fat Cat’s reactions were perfect. He dove sideways into the foliage like the animal after whom he was named. But not Diego. He stood staring up at the tree in which I was hidden, a stupid look of surprise on his face. Then a driving spray of bullets seemed to lift him into the air and tumble him, somersaulting backward.

  The sergeant raised his gun toward us.

  “Back! Roberto! Back!” I yelled, leaping for another limb.

  I heard the chatter of the gun but it ceased almost as quickly as it had begun. I looked down. The sergeant was working the lever as hard as he could. The gun had jammed. I didn’t wait to see more.

  Roberto screamed behind me. I glanced back over my shoulder. Though he was shorter than I, he weighed much more, and a limb had given way beneath him. He tumbled down through the branches, sprawling to the ground almost at the feet of the sergeant.

  The sergeant threw away the gun and flung himself on Roberto. He rolled over and came to his feet holding the boy up in front of him, his knife at Roberto’s throat. He stared at our men over Roberto’s head. They stared back. Manuelo’s gun was now pointed at him, and Fat Cat stood, his machete hanging loosely at his side. The other two moved slowly around behind them.

  No one had to tell the sergeant he held the trump. One look was sufficient. “Don’t move or the boy dies!”

  Manuelo and Fat Cat exchanged embarrassed looks. I didn’t have to hear them speak to know what they were thinking. The general wouldn’t like this at all; if anything happened to Roberto they might as well not return. Death in the jungle would be a blessing compared to what the general would have planned for them. They didn’t move.

  It was Fat Cat who spoke first. He pointed the blade of his machete at the ground. “Let the boy go,” he said smoothly. “We will be merciful. We will let you go back into the forest in peace.”

  The sergeant grinned tensely, then spat. “You think I’m a fool? I saw your mercy when the others begged.”

  “This is different,” Fat Cat replied.

  Manuelo began to inch to one side, and the sergeant’s blade flashed. A thin line of blood appeared on Roberto’s cheek. “Don’t move!” the sergeant shouted.

  Manuelo froze.

  “Put down your rifle!”

  Manuelo looked at Fat Cat hesitantly. Fat Cat nodded almost imperceptibly, and Manuelo’s rifle dropped to the ground.

  “Now, the others,” the sergeant ordered.

  Fat Cat dropped his machete, the other two their guns. The sergeant looked down at their weapons for a moment, then decided against trying to retrieve them himself. “Varga! Aquí, venga aquí!”

  His voice echoed through the forest. There was no answer. He shouted again. “Varga! Aquí!”

  Still no reply.

  “Your compañero has fled,” Fat Cat said softly. “It will be better if you do as we say.”

  “No!” The sergeant began to push his way toward the guns, carefully holding Roberto in front of him. “Back!” he warned. “Away from the guns.”

  Slowly they fell back. Steadily the sergeant inched toward them. He was almost under the tree in which I was hidden when it came to me. It was as if all along I had known what would have to be done. A strange cold rage began to race inside me. It was as if a demon had taken possession of me.

  I felt, rather than knew, that I had drawn the knife from my belt. Its hilt lay flat in my clenched fist, the blade out-thrust like a sword.

  He was directly under me now. A wild scream came up from my throat as I dove from the tree. “Mato! I kill!”

  I caught a glimpse of the upturned white face as I crashed onto him. A hot searing pain ran up through my arm as the two of us tumbled to the ground. Then two arms seized me and rolled me away. I went over and over and when I scrambled to my feet I saw Fat Cat standing over the sergeant.

  There was a look of wonder on his face as he stood there looking down, his machete still hanging loosely. “‘Stá muerto!” he said. He looked over at me. “He is dead. The little bastard killed him!”

  I stared down at the sergeant. His mouth was open, his eyes stared up at the sky sightlessly. Just under his chin, half the hilt of my knife pointed upward.

  I looked over at Roberto. He was lying on the ground gasping to catch his breath. When he turned his face toward me I saw the streak of blood down his cheek.

  “Are you all right?” I asked.

  He nodded without speaking. There was an odd look in his eyes, almost as if he were angry.

  I started to walk over toward him when a scream came from behind me. There was a sudden sharp pain at the back of my head and as I spun around I felt nails rake across my cheeks. I fell backward to the ground.

  I shook my head to clear my eyes as I looked up. A woman was struggling in Fat Cat’s grasp. She spit at me. “You killed him! You’re not a child, you’re a monster! A black plague from your mother’s belly!”

  There was a dull thud as the handle of Fat Cat’s machete hit her and she slid silently to the ground. There was a faint trace of satisfaction in Fat Cat’s voice as he looked around and saw the other two women immobilized by Manuelo’s rifle.

  “Ah!” he said. “We have found las putas!”

  7

  Santiago, the Indian, pulled some leaves from a bay bush and crushed them by rubbing them together in his hands. Then he bent down and scooped up some mud from the edge of the water hole. “Put this on your face,” he said. “It will stop the pain.”

  Roberto and I did as we were told. The cool mud was soothing. I looked over at him. “Does it hurt?” I asked respectfully.

  “Not much.”

  “I’ve never been cut,” I said.

  He drew himself up with a kind of pride, and traced the slight cut with his fingers. “I think it will leave a scar,” he added importantly. He looked at me critically. “But I don’t think yours will. Scratches aren’t as deep as knife wounds.”

  “Oh,” I said, disappointed. I would have nothing to show for it.

  I looked over toward Manuelo and Fat Cat. They were huddled under a tree whispering. Occasionally they glanced at the women, who were seated on the ground at the edge of the clearing. The Santiago brothers were guarding them.

  “I wonder what they’re talking about?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” Roberto answered. He wasn’t looking at Fat Cat and Manuelo. He was staring at the women. “The young one is not so bad.”

  “Do you think they’re angry with us?”

  “Who?” Roberto’s voice was puzzled. Then he looked over and saw what I meant. He shook his head. “I don’t think so. They would have all been dead if we hadn’t been here to warn them.”

  “Sí.”

  “After all, I did jump the sergeant to try to stop him.”

  I stared at Roberto. I thought he had fallen. “You’re very brave.”

  “So are you.” He glanced back at the women. “I wish they’d stop talking. I’m ready to fuck one right now!”

  “You are?”

  “Sure.”

  Manuelo and Fat Cat had finished their conversation, and Fat Cat threaded his way back through the bodies toward us. When he got to Diego he stopped. Santiago walked over to him. “Poor Diego.”

  Fat Cat’s voice was expressionless. “Poor Diego, my ass! He was stupid. I told him many times never to gawk. It served him right.”

 
Santiago shrugged, then turned away as Fat Cat continued over to us. “You boys all right?”

  “Sí.” Roberto answered for the two of us.

  “Bueno,” he said. “Do you think the two of you could go back and bring the horses? There is much for us to carry.”

  Roberto answered before I could speak. “What are you going to do with the women?”

  Fat Cat looked at him. “Guard them until your return.”

  “I will stay and help guard them,” Roberto said. “Send one of the others with Dax.”

  Fat Cat stared at him for a moment, then turned and walked back to Manuelo. They whispered again. Once Fat Cat raised his voice but Manuelo shushed him and they began to whisper again. Finally Fat Cat came back.

  “If we let you stay, you will say nothing at home?”

  Roberto nodded.

  I didn’t know what he meant but I wanted to stay if Roberto did. “I promise not to say anything either.”

  Fat Cat looked at me for a moment, then his voice grew softer. “You’re going to stay,” he said. “We have a much more important job for you than going for the horses. We wish you to serve as lookout. We don’t want the soldier who escaped to come back and take us by surprise like the sergeant did. Go back down the path a quarter-mile and keep your eyes alert!”

  “I don’t know,” I said hesitantly. I looked at Roberto but he didn’t say anything.

  Fat Cat took the pistol from his belt. “Here, take this. If you see him, fire a warning shot into the air.”

  That convinced me. It was the first time anyone had let me handle a pistol.

  “Be careful,” Fat Cat said. “Don’t shoot yourself.”

  “I won’t,” I replied importantly. I looked around to see if the others were watching. “Don’t worry. If he’s anywhere around I’ll warn you.”

  I was about a hundred yards down the path when I heard the sound of their laughter. I wondered why they were laughing. I was out of sight now but the sound still followed me. Soon I could hear it no more. When I figured I was almost a quarter of a mile away I climbed up into a tree where I could see all around me.

  After about fifteen minutes I began to grow restless. If the soldier was anywhere around I hadn’t seen him. How long was I supposed to stay? Fat Cat hadn’t said anything about that. I waited a few minutes more, then decided to go back and ask him.