Atlantean's Quest Volume 1

by Jordan Summers

  Jac’s and Brigit’s faces danced before her eyes. They shook their heads, their expressions clearly taunting her with ‘I told you so’. Rachel stuck out her tongue at the imaginary images.

  She’d show them. She was no quitter.

  Determination coursed through her tired veins. She swatted a mosquito. The little pests had probably already sucked a pint out of her. She was surprised she didn’t feel faint from blood loss.

  The natives pulled out bits of jerky, camu camu, and manioc from their packs and started chomping away. She looked longingly at the dry, salty meat and fresh fruit. Her stomach growled. She was sure somewhere in her pack an emergency stash of chocolate lay hidden. Maybe now was a good time to find the sweets.

  Rachel bent over and started to search her pack when a brown hand stopped her. The man bringing up the rear pressed a slice of jerky in her palm, along with a camu camu fruit. She thanked him in his language, and then greedily ate the morsels.

  Water canteens were passed around, and then, too soon, they were trekking through the tangled mass of growth once again.

  The trail, if you could call it that, narrowed and the going slowed to a crawl. Guides with machetes hacked their way through thick lianas. Two hours and less than a mile later the vegetation changed. Plants thinned out a tiny bit and the leaves got larger.

  Rachel stopped to examine a particularly distinctive purple leaf, her hands shaking from the effect of the caffeine-rich camu camu on her system. With a piece of that fruit a day, she’d never need another cup of coffee.

  Breaking off the beefy purple leaf, she flipped it over and ran her trembling fingers along the veins in the center. Light fuzz covered the entire area. Water droplets lay captured in its tiny follicles.

  Chills raced up her spine and she quickly glanced over her shoulder. The birds had stopped chirping and the monkeys no longer chattered. The jungle was still, eerily so. Rachel searched the treetops for any sign of movement, but caught none. A sloth sat motionless a good fifty feet above her. But other than that creature, she saw nothing. Pull it together, Rachel. The jungle is no place to lose it.

  She rolled her shoulders in an attempt to ward off the unwanted sensation and brought her attention back to the plant in her hands. She examined it carefully.

  Something wasn’t right. This plant wasn’t right. It shouldn’t be here. It was supposed to be extinct. She stared at the jungle with fresh eyes. This plant wasn’t the only thing that shouldn’t be here. At that moment Rachel knew that this whole expedition was a bad idea. She lifted her head, searching for her colleague. “Dr. Donald, come take a look at this.”

  He stiffened, hesitating for a second. Anger twisted his face into a macabre mask as he stomped back to where she stood, crushing several fragile ferns in his path. “If you can’t keep up, you’ll be left behind.”

  Rachel shot him a heated look.

  The Professor’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. He looked at the leaf in her hands, then snatched it away for a closer examination. He turned the plant over, staring at it for a few minutes, before declaring, “I’ll be damned.”

  “What is it?”

  “This plant is supposed to be extinct.”

  “I knew that much, but botany isn’t my specialty.”

  “This particular plant was declared extinct over two hundred years ago,” Donald remarked.

  Rachel smiled. She had her sample to take back to show the board. Her promotion guaranteed.

  The Professor looked over his shoulder to the men and motioned for one to join him. “Bag a sample and we’ll bring it along.”

  A large native man with black eyes walked forward. He lowered the pack from his brown muscled back and took out a bag.

  Rachel stopped the native’s actions by placing her hand over his. “Professor don’t you think I should carry the leaf? After all, I found it.”

  Donald looked at her hand, his brown eyes simmering behind his thick lenses with barely contained rage. “We’re a team, my dear. Or had you forgotten?” He patted her gun in his pocket. A quick nod told the man to continue. “It’s not your discovery. It’s ours.”

  The native pulled his hand from Rachel’s and carefully snipped another leaf from the plant. Rachel’s face burned as the native placed both samples into the plastic bag. He dropped her discovery into his pack, then hefted the sack onto his shoulders. Neither man spared her a glance as they headed off again.

  Rachel bit the inside of her cheek so hard she drew blood. There was no us. Donald planned to take credit for her discovery. She’d been so naïve to think he’d actually let her get an ounce of credit on this expedition. Once again, Rachel hadn’t anticipated this level of devious behavior from him. Which made her not only naïve, but stupid, too.

  Every time she thought the Professor had sunk as low as he could possibly go, the bar would drop again. That’s fine. He could keep this sample for himself. She didn’t need it. There’d be other discoveries. Rachel decided that the next item she came across she’d keep for herself. It would be her little secret. And when the got back to New York, she’d unveil her findings to the board. By then, it would be too late for the Professor to do anything about it.

  Rachel studied the variety of flora and fauna as she hiked through the jungle. It was amazing what grew under the thick canopy, considering how little sunlight reached the floor. Cat’s Claw plants were all over the jungle floor, along with lemon grass and gray fungus. Ginger flowers as tall as a shrub bloomed with beautiful red petals.

  Monkeys played amongst the trees, swinging from vine to vine, using their tails and hands. She caught glimpses of red and gray fur with each flurry of movement. Parrots with brightly colored blue, yellow, and purple feathers flittered overhead, their squawks so loud at times she couldn’t hear herself think. The area was magnificent in its primal splendor.

  She wondered what else could be in this jungle that should have been extinct years ago. Rachel shuddered as she recalled the massive print in the mud. Bigfoot flashed in her mind, before she scoffed at her own foolishness. It wasn’t that mythical creature, but something far more dangerous to her senses.

  Long blond hair, a massive chest, shadowy features and heated caresses flashed through her mind. She flushed as she recalled his tongue buried deep within her body, devouring her. Each step ratcheted up her need.

  Was it a dream? It hadn’t felt like one.

  Rachel stopped for a second, closed her eyes and bit down on her lip to keep from groaning. She tried in vain to shut off the rush of sensation washing over her. She blinked, willing herself to face reality.

  He forced you, remember?

  She snorted. It hadn’t taken much persuasion on his part. She’d opened for him quicker than the doors at a Barneys New York sale. Rachel felt her panties dampen as she imagined what the rest of the god’s body looked like. Exactly like the man in the erotic dreams she’d been having back at home. She shook her head to clear the carnal thoughts.

  It has to be jungle fever. Or some kind of fever. Maybe she was having a heat stroke.

  Her footing slipped in the mud. Rachel steadied herself with the trunk of a tree. She needed to pay attention. Real or not, the man was gone. It would do her good to remember that before she broke an ankle.

  * * * * *

  It was afternoon by the time they reached the mouth of a large muddy river. The water looked deceptively calm on the surface, but mini whirlpools breaking the top told otherwise. The shore held bits of gold and rock that had washed up from the running water.

  Not enough to get rich, Rachel thought, just enough to fire greed.

  The men shuffled their feet in unease. Heated words were exchanged as the native guides pointed at the black waterway and shook their heads. Their whispers carried tales of a deadly undercurrent, gigantic snakes, and fanged monsters. Several of the men stepped away from the water, shaking their shaven heads, refusing to go in.

  Dr. Donald bellowed at Jaro, the lead guide in charge of the men,
making it perfectly clear what he expected to get for his money.

  She couldn’t hear everything being said from her position toward the back of the line, but saw the men glance in her direction a couple of times.

  The Professor’s face glowed red as he pushed his way to where Rachel stood. “It seems, my dear, these superstitious bastards are refusing to cross.”

  Rachel looked over Donald’s shoulder to the group of men. “What has them so spooked?”

  Donald arched a brow. “Apparently they believe a fierce tribe lives on the other side of the river and that if we cross we’ll all die.” He shrugged as if that were no big deal.

  She couldn’t quite hide the curiosity in her voice. “Is it the tribe we’re looking for or a different one?” Rachel took a step forward, trying to hear what was being said.

  “I haven’t been able to get much out of the men. They keep jabbering about ghosts and a sacrifice. They seem to think by talking about the mythical tribe, it will actually bring them to us, or some rubbish like that,” he blustered. “This is not my specialty. It’s yours.”

  Rachel frowned. “A sacrifice? What kind of sacrifice?”

  “You know—probably the usual virgin sacrifice. Care to volunteer, Dr. Evans?” He smirked and raised an eyebrow as if he seriously considered giving her to the guides.

  “Sorry, Professor. I don’t qualify,” Rachel bit out, meeting his gaze evenly.

  His face flushed, making it almost purple against his ruddy complexion. “The men believe we’re being followed as we speak. You may want to watch your back.”

  It was Rachel’s turn to feel ill. She looked over her shoulder at the peaceful jungle and went from hot to cold in seconds. Was her dream man here? She’d had a feeling that something had changed when they came upon that plant. The area felt different like they’d entered someplace that they did not belong.

  Call it woman’s intuition, or just plain city girl mugger smarts. She should have insisted they turn back then. She just didn’t want her overactive imagination costing her the promotion she’d worked so hard to get.

  Donald cleared his throat and placed an awkward hand on her shoulder, the touch light and fleeting, far from comforting. Just as quickly, he snatched it back as if afraid he’d catch something from the miniscule contact. “I want you to speak with them. You know their dialect, their culture. Reason with them. I don’t care what you have to say to them. Just get them to cross the river.”

  The Professor’s words brought her out of her haze. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.” She glanced to where the men were gathered. They were eyeing her strangely. She shook off the sudden premonition and turned to the Professor. “If they’re trying to warn us, maybe we should listen.”

  He wiped the sweat off his face with a handkerchief. “We didn’t come all this way for you to get cold feet. Your specialty is ancient languages and cultures, yes?”

  “It is but—”

  The Professor grabbed her arm and squeezed. “But nothing. You listen to me,” he said shaking her. “If you want to have a chance in hell of getting your promotion, Dr. Evans, you’ll get over there and convince them everything is fine.” His face twisted into a ghoulish expression. “Remember, I’m the one who will fill out the report when we return to New York.”

  Rachel’s shoulders slumped. Until she had her sample of an extinct organism, she was at Rumsinger’s mercy. There was no way she could find her way back to the original campsite without a guide. And she knew Rumsinger well enough to know that he wouldn’t spare one of the men over concerns for her safety. Rachel had no choice but to do what he demanded. “Let go of me,” she said with as much dignity as she could muster.

  He peeled his fingers off her flesh.

  She walked over to Jaro. In a calm voice she told him that if they did not cross the river, the fat man with the red hair was not only going to punish them by not paying, but planned on hurting her, too.

  Black eyes shot in the direction of the Professor. The native guide’s gaze narrowed to daggers before releasing a slew of words to the other workers. Rachel cringed at the rapid fire of his angry dialect. He’d demanded that the packs be picked up and hauled to the other side of the river or risk receiving a beating.

  He looked down one last time into Rachel’s face. For a second she thought she saw lust in the black depths, but it dissolved so quickly she decided she must have been mistaken.

  The group walked further down the muddy shoreline. The river narrowed and appeared to be passable. The first three guides went into the murky water, carrying the packs on their heads. The swirling torrents hit them about chest high, causing a rough wake to fan out behind them.

  The men kept a watchful eye on the water, looking for anything out of the ordinary. All three made it safely to the other side and signaled for everyone to follow.

  Rachel squinted against the sunlight on her face, enjoying the fluffy clouds floating blissfully on the breeze. This was the first time she’d gotten an unobstructed view of the sky. She’d missed the sun.

  She was second to last in line when she stepped into the river, holding her pack over her head. The water was up to her chin by the time she reached the halfway mark. If it got any deeper, she’d have to swim for it.

  Her arms trembled beneath the weight of the pack. The stones on the riverbed were slick with moss. She slipped twice before righting herself. The water deepened, forcing her to her toes. Rachel stepped carefully, knowing that if she slipped again she’d probably drown.

  Finally, she reached the far shore and turned to see the last guide crossing with his pack above his head. He was halfway across when his face drained of color. No one seemed to notice but Rachel, because everyone was too busy checking their packs and equipment. She scanned the water, but couldn’t make out anything unusual.

  He screamed, “Anaconda!” in his native language.

  All chatter stopped.

  The horror filled sound reverberated off the distant cliffs, bouncing against the trees, finally muting against the swirling water. The pack flew out of his hands and rapidly floated down stream as he started to run the rest of the distance to shore.

  His eyes were wide and his nostrils flared as he tried to suck in enough air to fuel his flight. He made it ten more feet before something unseen and stealth-like grabbed him from beneath the water and pulled him down.

  His last cry was cut short as his head was sucked under. For a few moments water churned where he’d been standing, before returning to its deceptively calm exterior.

  Rachel heard a distant scream that seemed to grow louder with each passing moment. The cry sounded wounded and animalistic. She strained to focus on the direction, but was unable.

  The Professor appeared before her, flushed with anger. He drew back his hand and slapped her.

  The screaming stopped.

  * * * * *

  Eros’s eyes narrowed and his muscles bunched, ready for action. After the joining ceremony, the second Eros got the opportunity he’d kill the fire-haired bastard for striking his woman. He cursed, as renewed anger surged through him. He couldn’t risk taking the man’s life now and destroying the sacredness of the ceremony. He gripped the liana in his hand as if it were a lifeline, the only thing keeping him from making good on his promise right now.

  His heart clenched as he watched her horror-filled eyes take in the death of the native. He’d give anything to be able to sweep the memory from her, and return the smile she’d given him last night.

  Soon he’d get his chance…

  * * * * *

  Chapter Five

  Rachel was numb. Her senses dull, the colors around her muted by the tears in her eyes. They’d camped by the water overnight and had rose at dawn to continue on. Sleep had eluded her, but it wasn’t because she’d gotten another nocturnal visit from her dream man. Rachel had spent the night replaying the guide’s death. It could’ve been her. Should’ve been her. He’d motioned for her to go first. If he hadn�
�t, she’d be resting in a snake’s belly now. Just the thought made her mouth water. She spit to keep from throwing up and took several deep breaths.

  She followed the guides through the dense underbrush, no longer caring whether they stopped for breaks or walked on forever. Yesterday, she’d seen a man die. She brought up the rear now, stumbling over exposed roots, tripping on tangled vines and snuffing the life out of delicate ferns. Her mind tried to make sense of what had occurred at the river.

  The water flowed, just like the stream she’d swam in the first night she’d spent in the jungle.

  Rachel shuddered at how close she’d come to death. She’d been naïve to believe that nothing would happen on the expedition. Not only had she convinced Jac and Brigit that she would be safe, she’d convinced herself. Rachel tried to picture the native man’s face. His rough features blurred and morphed every time she thought she was close to seeing them. She wondered if he’d even had a chance to take a wife. Maybe he’d never been married, never had kids.

  And now he never would.

  What if he did have kids? A family? A tear streaked down her face and landed on her hand. The drop blended in with the sheen of perspiration covering her skin. Her chest ached. She didn’t want to go through life without having someone to love, someone who’d love her back. And maybe, just maybe, kids. She sniffled, trying to hold back the flow of tears.

  It didn’t work. Somewhere inside her a dam broke. All the pain and frustration she’d experienced over the last few years flowed out, leaving a salty trail behind. Her steps slowed. Rachel swiped a grubby hand across her face, trying to wipe away the moisture. Her eyes were blurring so bad that she couldn’t see the trail. Frustrated, she stopped. The caravan of men kept going, which was fine with her. She needed a minute alone to compose herself.