“You wouldn’t be saying that if you had broken a nail,” Logan said.
Natasha giggled. “You’re right about that.”
Right after Matt applied the bandage, his satellite phone rang. “What the . . . ?”
Natasha and Logan turned wary gazes his way. Matt unclipped the phone from his belt, and answered, “Hello.”
“There’s . . . there’s been an accident . . .”
Matt knew by the sound of the voice that it was Chief. And from the tone, he knew something bad had happened.
“Okay, how bad is it?” Matt asked.
His words squeezed expressions of alarm on his two friends’ faces.
“The Professor’s wife . . . Susan. She had some kind of episode . . . reaction. I don’t know. She couldn’t breathe . . . I couldn’t save her.”
“Oh, God . . . no.” Matt lowered his gaze. Susan, dead. Poor Alex, he must be going through hell.
“What happened?” Natasha asked through trembling lips.
“Ben’s heading back to get an Epi-Pen. Tell him it’s too late. Everyone just stay there. We’ll bring her in. Tell the others. I called you because you need to be there for Alex. He’s pretty shook up.”
“I understand,” Matt said. The phone call ended. He lowered the phone by his side. “Susan had an attack—”
“She was attacked!” Natasha cried out.
Matt raised his hand. “No, she wasn’t attacked. She had some type of attack—reaction . . . she stopped breathing and . . .” Matt choked up on his last word. Tears welled in his eyes, and doing his best to utter the words, he said, “She didn’t make it.”
“Son-of-a-bitch,” Logan whispered.
“Oh no, that’s terrible . . . Poor Alex,” Natasha said, and brought her hands over her mouth.
“Hey! Hey!” Ben called, his voice faint in the distance.
“Ben’s coming for the Epi-Pen . . . He doesn’t know,” Matt said. He turned and exited the doorway leading out the canopied area. Logan and Natasha followed.
Meat was on watch and had his rifle at the ready. He turned as Matt approached, and said, “Something’s up.”
“Yeah. There’s been a death. Susan,” Matt said.
Meat shook his head.
“She wasn’t killed. She had some kind of reaction and couldn’t breathe,” Matt said.
Ben sprang into view from behind a tree, and in his haste, forgot to watch his footing. A root caught his ankle, and he hit the ground hard.
By this time Caveman had joined with rifle in hand. “What’s after him?”
“Logan, you and Natasha stay here. Tell him. I’ll see about Ben,” Matt said, and trotted off to his fallen friend, who struggled to stand.
“Hold on, Ben,” Matt said.
“Get the Epi-Pen! Susan’s having an attack!” Ben cried through struggling breaths.
Matt ran up to Ben and held on to his elbow, as the young man tried to stand on wobbly legs. “Ben. Calm down. It’s . . . it’s too late.”
“Wha—How do you know?” Ben asked, and shook his head.
“Chief called . . . said he couldn’t save her,” Matt said.
“No. Oh, no. Jesus Christ on a stick . . .” Ben dropped his gaze to the ground.
“You okay?” Meat had arrived.
“I think so—SHIT!” Ben had tried unsuccessfully to put his weight on his foot.
“Come on, let’s get you back to camp,” Matt said.
“But what about Susan?” Ben asked.
“They’re bringing her back. They’ll be here shortly. We need to be ready for Alex,” Matt said. He and Meat placed an arm under Ben’s shoulders and helped him back to camp.
*
It wasn’t long before Chief came into view from the forest.
Alex followed close behind, carrying Susan in his arms. Her arms hung down—dead weight, and her head was back and mouth opened. Vacant eyes stared at the vapor canopy above. It was as gruesome a sight as it was sad.
The receiving crew waited near the Warthog. Matt stood apart from the group in front, with Natasha and Logan just behind him to either side.
All life had drained from Alex’s face. He looked like a zombie functioning on pure instinct. His face was dirty—smeared from tears—and had some mucous looking substance on his chin and shirt.
Matt didn’t know what to say. What could you say that just wouldn’t sound so simple? I’m sorry for you loss. I know how you must feel. She’s in a better place. It all sounded like pandering bullshit to express the sorrow he had for his friend. He turned his head to the side, and said to Logan, “Go get something to lay Susan’s body on—and something to cover it with too.”
Chief walked past Matt, only turning his gaze up at him for a brief moment before heading to the Warthog. The man truly looked upset. Chief had said, ‘I couldn’t save her,’ in the earlier conversation. There was the possibility the field medic blamed himself.
Alex approached, his head hanging low.
“Oh, Alex. I’m so sorry. This, uh . . . this is horrible,” Matt said, stiffing his jaw so it wouldn’t quiver. He didn’t want to cry. He wanted to stay strong for Alex’s sake.
Alex grimaced, his eyes squeezed tightly, and his mouth widened as his teeth clenched together—holding back tears.
“Alex. Let me take Susan,” Matt said, and waited for Alex to comply.
“I’ll take her.” Ron had been standing behind Alex and came around in front. He gently took the dead woman from the Professor’s arms, not waiting for permission.
Matt walked up to Alex and hugged him.
Tear’s broke and Alex cried. When he recovered a bit, he said, “I couldn’t do anything to save her. I should have brought her medicine with us. I should have—”
“You can’t blame yourself over this,” Matt said. “It had been over an hour since Susan ate. There was no reason to think she’d need her medicine. She must have reacted to some mold or fungus here. There was no way you could have known. She didn’t consider it either.”
“Yes, but had I brought the antihistamines she’d be alive right now.”
“You don’t know that, Alex. Look, you can’t blame yourself. You didn’t do anything wrong. Let’s get you cleaned up a bit. Get some water and get into the cool of the front cabin. We can talk some more later.”
Alex shook his head, and the two walked toward the rear cabin.
Natasha waited with her arms folded across her chest.
“Go and get Alex a clean shirt,” he told her.
She nodded and sped off.
When they made it to the rear cabin, Matt wet a rag by the water valve, and handed it to Alex.
The professor removed his hat and wiped his face. “Thanks. That does feel better.”
Natasha arrived with a fresh shirt. “Here, put this on.”
Alex unbuttoned his shirt, and Matt took the old one from him.
“Thanks for getting my shirt, Natasha,” Alex said, and wiped the back of his neck with the rag before putting on the shirt.
“Here, come with me.” She took two bottles of water from the cooler, grabbed Alex by the hand, and whisked him away.
Matt was momentarily stunned by Natasha’s abrupt maneuver. Alex needed a friend right now to give him strength. Not a shoulder to cry on and wallow in sorrow. He watched the two depart hand in hand, and a strange feeling crept over him—the same feeling he had when Alex helped teach Natasha how to shoot. Something looked out of place, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.
Matt still had Alex’s shirt in his hand. He grabbed it at the collar and began to fold it when something crinkled in the front pocket.
Matt poked his fingers in the pocket and removed a generic looking food packet. It was clearly marked: Peanuts.
Chapter 15
“Roll Tide!” Don said with gusto after he had sipped from the bottle of Scotch whiskey.
The Mule had been traveling for more than six hours. Coop’s ass started to miss the more comfortable seats
in the Warthog. At least the ATTC was roomy enough to stand and walk around. One thing for sure, just as soon as they returned to the United States, he was going to see the doctor and do something about those hemorrhoids. For now, Advil and a frequent application of Preparation H would have to suffice.
“You want some?” Don sat in the front passenger seat and had asked Coop, the driver.
“Yes, I want some. But no, I’m going to wait until we set up camp for the night. I can’t take any chances out here with so much riding on the line.”
“Hey, it’s thirsty back here,” Suge said. He and Bats had drawn the short straw for the rear seats.
Don took a furtive hit from the bottle before passing it back.
They had made good time once they left the Warthog. The Forest thinned out a few miles from departure. The area opened into an Africa-like plain. Scrubby grass and sparsely growing trees allowed the Mule to travel at top speed.
It had been a few hours since they had seen life of any kind, though the GPS map showed that was about to quickly change. In less than an hour they’d reach the bend in Lear’s river that neared their destination. He’d wished his crew would have held out from hitting the bottle until after they passed the potential threat. But even Coop was subject to peer pressure, and his crew ragged him enough for him to give in. He’d be sure to put a stop to it before things got out of hand.
Coop’s satellite phone, clipped in his belt, buzzed. He looked at the time on the dash and cast a wary glace at Don. “We check back in another half hour. Something’s up if they couldn’t wait.”
He retrieved his phone, and answered, “Coop here. What’s up?”
“Got some bad news.” It was Chief’s voice.
“Hold on. I’m putting you on speaker,” Coop said, and pushed the phone’s screen. “Go ahead.”
“Susan Klasse had some kind of allergic reaction. Her throat closed up—couldn’t breathe. We couldn’t save her,” Chief said.
“Damn.” Coop pounded the steering wheel with his fist and slowed the Mule to a stop. “Was it something she ate? Hell, she brought her own food. I didn’t expect this to happen.”
“Happened more than an hour after she ate—don’t think it was food related. It must have been something airborne. Bacteria, yeasts, who knows? Doesn’t matter. Dead is dead.”
“Dead is dead,” Bats said matter-of-factly.
“You’re right. Dead is dead.” Coop huffed out a breath of bad air. “How’s the professor dealing with it?”
“He’s upset, of course. Mostly in shock. I gave him a couple of painkillers to help him deal with it. But you know how all this works. It’s going to take time for him to go through all the phases of loss,” Chief said.
Yes, Coop knew all too well the winding road of grief. “How’s he acting? Is he ready to throw in the towel and leave? Give his wife a proper burial and all that bullshit?”
“No, he hasn’t said anything like that,” Chief said.
“Chief, you know we’re not going back until our mission is complete.”
“Yes, I know that.”
“I need you to convince the professor that the best thing we can do under the circumstances is to bury his wife here. We have no way to preserve her body and bring it back two weeks from now. Can you do that?” Coop asked.
“I can try my best. If he won’t listen, I won’t give him any other choice. He may not like it, but he will have to accept it,” Chief said.
“Take pictures of the body. There’ll be legal issues to deal with once we get back to the States. Get witness statements right now on video,” Coop said.
“I was there, and I took pictures right after it happened. I’ll get the statements.”
“Good. Have John and Meat on their best behavior—maybe have them keep a little distance from the professor until after the burial. We don’t want to upset Alex for no reason. Have some type of service and make sure you bury that body as deep as you can. Wrap a tarp around it—throw some latrine chemicals on it—we don’t want to attract any carrion eaters. Just don’t let Alex see you do anything disrespectful to the body. He might lose it.”
“Roger that, Coop. Everything good on your end?” Chief asked.
“Smooth sailing so far. We should be more than halfway there by nightfall. Call you back in a couple,” Coop said.
“Roger, out.”
Coop terminated the call and placed his phone back on his belt. “Well, isn’t that a lovely pile of horseshit.”
“You mean dinosaur-shit, don’t you?” Bats said, sounding more drunk than what Coop reasoned.
He turned his head toward the backseat and saw that the Scotch bottle was half empty. “Give me that.”
Bats surrendered the bottle.
Coop wiped the top with his hand and took a mouthful. Not the most dignified way in the world to enjoy such a fine bottle of spirits, but none of that mattered right now. He handed Don the bottle. “Put the top back on. We’ll have it later.”
“Sure thing,” Don said.
The Mule’s tracks began moving and soon reached full speed.
“She wasn’t a bad looking woman. A little older than me. I’ve had worse,” Bats said.
“Yeah, but she always had that sour look on her face. Something was stuck up her ass,” Coop said.
“Except when Chief was around,” Suge said, and followed with a chuckle.
“The woman’s dead. Show her some respect,” Don said, his bottom lip pushed his mouth into a frown.
“Maybe Don was a little sweet on her, too, and we didn’t realize it,” Bats said, and reached over and stuck his finger in Don’s left ear.
Don flinched and slapped Bats’ hand. “Come on, guys. This ain’t some raghead that died for not being an American. This is a woman we’re talking about. I ain’t never had a wife, and I just think it’s turrible she died.”
“We didn’t think you needed a wife because you had Ron,” Bats said, and laughed.
Don slowly turned around, and with half closed eyes, peered at Bats. “Boy, you keep that up, and I’m going to whip that ass. And when we get back to the Warthog, Ron’s gonna kick that ass even worse.”
“Okay, don’t make me stop this car and make you two sit in time out. Sheesh. I thought you guys could hold your booze better than that,” Coop said.
“Booze is just a poor substitute for what ails me. I need to kill something,” Bats said.
“You may just get your chance real soon,” Coop said. He had the roof mounted .50 caliber’s camera zoomed in to the southwest. “The GPS shows an oxbow lake less than a mile from here. You can see trees growing by it on the screen.”
Bats and Suge leaned their heads in between Coop’s and Don’s for a clearer view.
“There’s bound to be something there. Hopefully not any big nasties. We can’t avoid the area. The terrain slightly to the east has a big drop off. The Mule’s fast enough to outrun anything we might have a problem killing,” Coop said.
“Look, there’s a herd of something in front of the trees. They’re brown and green. That’s those Triceratopses like we saw before,” Suge said.
“Yeah. They probably won’t bother us as long as we don’t fuck with them. I’m going to slow down a bit in case they get spooked. I’d hate to be going sixty miles an hour and them to get scared and run in front of us,” Coop said.
“You think we should fire a few rounds from the fifty?” Don asked.
“No, let’s see how they react. I need as much information as I can get about the indigenous life for my report.”
The Mule slowed and approached within 50 yards of the Triceratops herd. This bunch was of the same species as the ones they viewed on the drone’s video. Even from this distance, Coop noticed how massive they were compared to humans. Alex had told him prehistoric Triceratops stood at twice the height of a man and were nearly ten men standing side by side with arms out in length. The professor also wondered if the Triceratops, and other dinosaurs in Patagonia for that matte
r, might be smaller in size because of the lower oxygen percentage in today’s atmosphere. The oxygen rich atmosphere in prehistoric times allowed dragonflies to grow just short of two feet in length. Right now, Coop didn’t believe lower oxygen levels mattered. These dinosaurs were fucking huge.
“Pull on over,” Bats said.
“What for?” Coop asked.
“Aw, come on. Pull on over so we can get a better look,” Bats said.
“Yeah,” Suge added.
“All right. Let’s bug out at the first sign of trouble, though.” Coop slowed the Mule to a stop and set the brake.
The two doors to either side of the Mule opened, and the four men made their exit.
Coop slowed his pace so he could stealthily scratch his ass—the sensitive nether region crying for a fresh application of Preparation H.
Don had his field glasses out and scanned the area. Suge had grabbed two rifles from the back and handed one to Bats, who used the rifle’s scope to spy on the Triceratopses.
“Damn. Look at those things. They even make a buffalo look small. You ever seen a buffalo?” Bats said.
Suge stepped beside him and raised his rifle. “Can’t say that I have.” He took a long look through the scope and lowered the gun.
“Uh oh. Looks like one of them bull’s spotted us,” Don said.
Coop walked up next to Don and looked through his field glasses. “Yep, and it’s either mad, curious, or both.”
“I’ve heard buffalos are blind. These things certainly aren’t blind if they can see us at this distance,” Bats said.
The animal lumbered in their direction. It didn’t approach with caution, and it wasn’t in a raging charge either. Perhaps it was just curious. Better to not stick around and find out.
“Okay guys, lets head out,” Coop said.
“What for? There’s only one,” Bats said.
“So, we need to leave.”
“But I thought you needed information for your research?” Bats said.
“I do, so—”
“So we need to know what it takes to kill one of these things,” Bats said.
“Are you nuts?”
“Maybe, but if you find a shit-load of diamonds and a larger expedition wants to come back, you better have some hard data to prove what it takes to protect them,” Bats said.
Lost World Of Patagonia Page 15
