Star Water Superstorm

by David Cline

  It turned out that José worked construction, building roads throughout the entire length of Argentina, and the week before had been working on repairing a highway up by the Paraguayan border. José related that during one of his short breaks, he had ventured into the jungle to relieve himself and had discovered the coin among other old and rusted artifacts. Not thinking much of it, he pocketed it and returned to work.

  Before José had finished relating his tale, André had pulled out a large map of the country and spread it out on the cluttered countertop. After a minute of examination, José had traced over a thin black line with his finger and then stopped where the coin had been found. While Fin had engaged José in small talk, André had rotated the map and folded a piece of it. After another minute, André asked him to point out the exact location one more time. José looked confused for a second, corrected the map, and pointed to the same spot as before within a few millimeters.

  The three of them had looked at each other with a new fire in their eyes. They had all come to Argentina for the artifacts recently unearthed in the Cueva de las Manos, but they knew before they had even stepped off the plane they would not learn anything groundbreaking. So many archeologists and scientists had already studied that cave, and it was open to the public for heaven’s sake. Here was their chance to truly discover something for the first time.

  Almost everything had been closed for the night, so early the next morning they began scouring any public buildings that would keep historical records. It wasn’t easy in a country that didn’t allocate many resources to such things, but after an exhaustive 12-hour search in libraries, municipalities, and government archives, the photograph taken by a survey plane in the late 1940’s was all they had come up with. It was the only physical evidence of any construction or civilization in the middle of the jungle near the spot that José had pointed out during that time period. After a quick vote about whether or not to go, they rented a car and drove north. They located the position on the map José had pointed out, hid the car 20 feet off the road, shouldered their gear, and entered the suffocating jungle.

  Amara looked down at the old coin and used her thumbnail to scrape some of the grime off. On the back was an eagle looking left. In its talons was a wreath with a Nazi swastika in the middle. It was a 5 Reichsmark coin, created at the height of the Nazi empire. It was dated 1939, and in tiny print below the date was the letter S. She held it close to her face, examining the tiny engraved letter which was the reason she had postponed her flight back to the states.

  “What is so special about the letter S again?” she asked.

  André walked over, slipping his hands into his pants pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of white paper. He smoothed out the creases as best as he could and then held it out in front of her. She looked down and focused on the small black print.

  ▪ A = Berlin

  ▪ B = Wien (Vienna)

  ▪ D = München (Munich)

  ▪ E = Muldenhütten (Dresden)

  ▪ F = Stuttgart

  ▪ G = Karlsruhe

  ▪ J = Hamburg

  André pointed at the list. “During the era of the Third Reich, Nazi currency was produced in coin factories found in seven cities scattered across the ever-growing German empire. These coin factories each had a designated letter, signifying the location in which they were produced. This system gave some organization to their currency, making Nazi coins both identifiable and possible to track back to the point of origin. The single letters below the date correspond to which city housed the factory that minted the coin.”

  Amara looked up at him. “I am guessing the fact that the letter S is absent from this list is significant in some way.” she said.

  Fin walked over and gestured for the list. André handed it to him.

  “Very significant,” André said. “Between 1940 and 1944 Germany occupied my country. After the Allied forces launched their offensive in Northern Africa in November of 1942, Hitler responded by seizing control of France. Because their empire was so vast, their currency keeps turning up, even after 70 plus years. What is interesting is I can find no historical documentation or report of any coins being printed with an S stamped on them. According to recorded history, they don’t exist.”

  Amara looked back at the coin with a new sense of intrigue. “So, you think that somewhere in this jungle we could find evidence that could rewrite Nazi history?”

  André shrugged. “Maybe. At least Nazi history in South America.” He picked up the aerial photograph again and traced the dark outline of vegetation. “Even after enlarging the picture and cleaning up the pixelation, the species of trees found in this image are impossible to identify.” He pursed his lips. “They combine together into one giant mass. We don’t know if José was just drunk and telling us stories or if that photograph was even documented properly. It could be an image of any construction site anywhere in Argentina or the world for that matter.”

  Fin walked over and patted André on the back, handing him the crumpled paper. “Easy Frenchy. We have only been out here for six hours or so. You aren’t thinking about throwing in the towel, are you?”

  André looked at him and smiled. “I have never understood your ridiculous English sayings, but no, I’m not going to throw you a towel I am just, what do you say, letting off some steam?”

  Amara laughed. “Well, cut it out. The temperature is hot enough inside this oven already. A little bit of steam from you could tip it past the breaking point.” She looked at Fin. “He is right, though. There are so many question marks and bits of information that all need to harmonize. Even if we are in the right spot, 70 plus years of jungle growth would be enough to hide New York City.” She took one last look at the coin and then flipped it back to Fin, who pocketed it. “The coin is real enough, and even if José was too drunk to walk straight, he did point to the same location twice. I say we just view this little expedition as a mini-backpacking trip through the celva. Hot and sticky though it may be.”

  With a grunt, Fin heaved his heavy backpack over his shoulders. His shirt was already soaked through with sweat where the straps rested against him. “In my experience, it’s the people who are smashed who are most trustworthy.” He winked at Amara. “It’s the sober ones you have to watch out for.”

  André took a generous drink from his rubber mouthpiece and then straightened his glasses. “I’m not complaining, just stating that we shouldn’t get our hopes too high.”

  “Noted.” Amara said. “Now, which way should we go? I should have brought a machete. The farther we go, the thicker this undergrowth gets. It almost seems like it doesn’t want us to continue.”

  André glanced at the GPS and then pushed back a large green branch, like it was a spring with ivy vines wrapping all around it. “After you,” he said bowing. The three of them ducked low and continued onward.

  Amara fell into step behind Fin and kept her eyes open for anything out of the ordinary. Soon though, the myriad shades of green, constant noise of high-pitched insects singing and the heat blended together, and she lost herself in her own thoughts. She had to fight to pay attention, making sure not to trip over the thick tree roots that laid across their path.

  They traveled in silence for about half an hour until Amara was jerked out of her trance by André jumping three feet into the air screaming out a string of French that she did not want to know the translation to. Both Fin and Amara hurried forward with grave looks of concern on their faces.

  “What happened?” Amara yelled.

  André shivered violently. His face blushed bright red, and then he smiled sheepishly, pointing to a spot a few feet in front of him. Stretched across their path was a snake as thick as her thigh.

  “I hate snakes.” André said, shaking his head. He closed his eyes and tilted his head up letting out a long steady breath. “Zut merde,” he whispered to himself.

  Amara snuck another glance at the dark green mass as it slithered through the undergrowth. Between the l
arge symmetrical scales were dark spots that looked like eyes staring up at her.

  “Yet another sign that we are in the jungle,” Fin said, putting his arms around both of their shoulders. “On average, anacondas grow over 20 feet long and weigh over 300 pounds. That one looks a wee bit bigger than the average though.”

  André scratched at an itch in his beard. “What do you guys want to do?”

  Amara took a long sip from her water bottle. “We could cover more ground if we spread out a little. Trudging single file is great for the company, but this jungle is so thick, we could walk right by something and not know it.”

  Fin shrugged. “Sounds reasonable. Let’s just make sure not to put too much distance between us. I don’t think I would ever see either of you again if I lost my way in here.”

  The three of them spread about 50 feet apart and continued forward. Amara on the left, André in the middle and Fin on the right. Every couple of minutes they called to each other making sure they were still within earshot.

  Amara took slow, deliberate steps making sure to take her time ducking under and climbing over the thick vegetation that slowed her progress. It was like trying to pass through an obstacle course inside of a maze.

  She pushed a large branch aside and stepped into a clearing of sorts. For the first time in hours she could feel a soft, warm breeze which felt cool against her sweaty face. Without the thick canopy above though, the sun was untethered, and she felt her skin begin to cook.

  She wondered what time it was. Her cell phone was turned off inside her backpack, and she did not care enough to dig it out and check. If they did not find something soon, they should call it a day and make their way back to the highway before it got dark.

  She called out to André and stopped waiting for a response. His voice sounded distant. “We are getting too far away from each other.” she yelled.

  After a few more steps, she felt a strange feeling come over her. Despite the sun glaring down on her, she shuddered. She looked around the open space for anything out of the ordinary but saw only a dark green landscape contrasting against the splendid blue sky above her. As she continued forward, she yelled out again for André to come closer. She hated being alone in this unfamiliar environment.

  The sounds of millions of insects around her seemed to almost drown out her own thoughts. She swatted at a dark swarm of mosquitoes and raised her hand to shield her eyes from the harsh sun. Somehow, she had forgotten her sunglasses in the rental car. The jungle radiated waves of heat like a hot car engine in the summer. She used her finger to wipe the sweat from her forehead and flicked it the ground like the locals.

  Up ahead, a lone tree stood, offering some shade. As she drew closer, she noticed how different it was from any she had seen before. There was no trunk. Instead, hundreds of spaghetti-like branches, all with varying thickness, interweaved so chaotically, it almost looked fake. Fuzzy green moss covered the larger branches in moldy layers.

  She slowly circled the tree. A few of the bottom branches reached out toward her like pleading arms. A shimmer buried within the entangled mass caught her eye, and she bent down to get a better look. Far beneath, just out of arms reach, was some kind of metal medallion reflecting the sunlight.

  Her breath caught. It was the first sign that they were not the only humans who had ever wandered this area before. She looked up in the direction where André and Fin were supposed to be. “I found something over here!” she yelled.

  A yellow bird flew toward her and landed on one of the uppermost branches. It looked in all directions with quick, sporadic glances. After a moment, it dropped to the ground right where the metal object rested and began pecking at something.

  Amara backed up and put her hands on her hips. Because there was no central trunk, the tree was hollow. The space in the center looked to be at least 3 or 4 feet across. She walked around the base looking for an opening large enough to squeeze through.

  Distant voices distracted her, and she looked across the clearing. Fin and André appeared out of the bushes walking toward her.

  “Did you find anything?” she asked when they drew close.

  Fin grimaced and tightened his fists. “Nothing but damn poisonous plants and a festering swamp.” He lifted his left arm and showed off his bright red skin that looked to be the early signs of a bad rash. “I must have stumbled into something toxic. All these plants look the same to me. I’m no botanist.”

  André stepped back and looked past Amara. “That is a strange looking tree.” He stepped closer and examined the weaving branches. “It reminds me of something out of a horror story.”

  Amara pointed under the thick undergrowth. “The sun has moved now, but there is some kind of metallic object in there,” she said. “In the middle of that mess the center is hollow.”

  Fin stopped nursing his arm and stepped closer trying to peer through. “Have you found a way in?”

  Amara shook her head. “Not unless you want to climb up and over. “

  André looked at her and smiled. “Ladies first.”

  The tree’s shape was like an hourglass with a wide base, narrow middle, and wide top. The three of them climbed up careful to choose the thicker branches to support their weight. When they were secure, Fin and André each took a foot and boosted Amara up high over their heads.

  When her head entered the fray of green, Amara took a moment to get her bearings. She wrapped her fingers around a branch the size of a broom handle and pushed off the outstretched hands of André and Fin below her. As she pulled her way up, a sharp end cut her cheek and she gritted her teeth.

  “You got it?” Fin asked from below her. His arms still outstretched just in case she slipped.

  Amara grunted. Her arms burned and her feet flailed as they searched for a sturdy purchase. She held her breath, hoping each branch she grasped would support her weight. With a heave, her head broke through the top and sweat dripped into her eyes. She clawed her way up and was soon safely on top. The branches were so thickly intertwined, she could move around with relative ease.

  “I’m good,” she called down. Her voice cracked as her heart pumped oxygen throughout her body. She examined the scratches on her arm. “Next time it’s one of you two gypsies who are going to go first.”

  She crouched to distribute her weight more evenly and moved toward the opening in the center. Each time the branches shifted under her weight, she cringed. She would not die, but a fall would hurt. She reached the empty, middle column and peered over the edge. There was about a 12-foot drop straight to the ground. She grasped a branch in both hands and swung over the edge. After climbing down a few feet, she let go and dropped like a cat to the bottom. She was surprised how dark it was and paused to allow her eyes to adjust.

  “You all right in there?” Fin asked.

  She moved her head until she could see him through a labyrinth of crisscrossing branches. “I’m good,” she said.

  The air smelled rancid. Like decay. The menacing feeling returned stronger than ever. She shivered and hurriedly began to scan the ground for the metal object. Dead leaves and animal feces littered the confined area. She got on her knees and looked beneath the undergrowth.

  There was an odd shape and she reached out to touch it. It felt soggy. In the darkness, her fingers searched for something to grasp. She pressed her free hand against a thick root and yanked hard. The object broke free from the ground and she dragged it into the center of the tree where the light was better.

  Her blood went cold as she rushed to her feet and began to dry heave. Her brain felt foggy like she was in a nightmare, unable to waken. She closed her eyes and looked up as she tried to regain a little composure. When she found her voice, she swore so loudly, two shapes just visible outside the tree jumped.

  “What happened?” Fin yelled. “Are you alright?”

  Amara looked down and shivered. “I just stuck my hand inside the rib cage of a decomposing corpse!”

  There was silence for a moment an
d then a voice came from outside. “We’re coming in.” Her mind was so numb, she barely heard.

  Amara pressed her back against the center column while Fin and André wrestled with the tree trying to get up and over. Soon they stood beside her.

  After examining the figure on the ground André whistled. “Judging by the state of decomposition, I would bet this poor guy hasn’t been dead more than a year.”

  Amara looked down. All that was left was a juicy skeleton with patches of dark hair. She wiped her hands on her pants and shuddered. It was the first time she had seen a body that was not at least a few hundred years old.

  Fin stooped low to examine the skull. “Looks like a bullet was the cause of death.” He pointed to a small round hole in the forehead. He then used his boot to lift the skull and peer beneath it. “The exit wound is bigger.”

  The corpse was still dressed in rotting clothing. André began going through the pockets and after a second, pulled out a moldy leather wallet and a thin digital camera. He handed both to Amara while he checked the jacket pockets which were so encrusted with dirt, small plants were sprouting in them. The small screen on the back of the camera was waterlogged and encased in a thick yellow crust. Fin disappeared deep under the tree where she had discovered the body.

  Amara noticed how dark it was getting and looked straight up the hollow center and out toward the sky. A few scattered clouds reflected a deep shade of orange. The sun was setting in the west.

  Amara pulled her daypack around and got her headlamp out. She turned it on just as Fin emerged with something in his hands. He brought it under the light and their two heads came together to get a better look.