Addison Cooke and the Treasure of the Incas

by Jonathan W. Stokes

  “I don’t see what choice we have,” said Addison. “I don’t have any money, and she’s the only guide who will work for free.”

  “She’s a professional thief. We can’t trust her!” Eddie pleaded.

  “You can’t survive the Amazon without me,” said Guadalupe.

  “It’s a deal,” said Addison. “Welcome aboard.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The Amazon

  THE NEXT MORNING, THE team gathered by a roadside shack at the edge of the jungle. Guadalupe emerged carrying armloads of water bottles and food.

  “Here,” she said, passing out the food, “so we don’t starve to death in the jungle.”

  “Thanks, Guadalupe, that’s really thoughtful of you,” said Addison.

  “Don’t mention it,” she said, tossing him his uncle’s wallet.

  Addison checked the wallet. It was now half empty.

  The team loaded packages of food into their backpacks.

  “What’d you buy?” asked Eddie, licking his lips.

  “Corn, chicken, and cuy,” said Guadalupe.

  “Sounds delicious,” said Eddie. “What’s cuy?”

  “Guinea pig.”

  “Wait, what?”

  “Guinea pig is a local delicacy—very popular in the mountains. You’re welcome.”

  Eddie swallowed hard and experienced one of those rare moments when he found he had no appetite.

  Addison gripped the straps of his backpack. “Well, let’s get going. This rain forest isn’t going to cross itself.” He eyed the morning sun in the east and pointed the group due west. A field of yellow maize grew behind the row of shacks, and behind them, the Amazon rose up like a green tsunami.

  Addison marched a few steps into the cornfield before realizing the group was not following. He turned back to see them gazing uncertainly at the jungle. “What’s wrong?”

  “How far is it to the ocean?” Molly asked.

  Addison studied his copy of Fiddleton’s Atlas and measured the map key with his thumb. “At least twenty-five miles, give or take a few dozen. A bit of exercise is just the thing to lift the spirits.”

  Raj stretched his legs, limbering up. The rest of the group stared at Addison gloomily.

  Eddie groaned. “We could be killed in there. If we take a wrong turn, we could hike for years and never find our way out.”

  Addison took a deep breath, summoning his powers of persuasion. He needed to come up with something truly compelling, rewarding, and inspiring to sway the group.

  “Police!” shouted Raj, pointing to a patrol car speeding down the dirt road.

  The group grabbed their backpacks and scrambled into the underbrush, diving for cover. They flattened their bodies to the ground. The patrol car zipped past. Addison’s team stayed hidden until they were sure the policía were gone.

  “Well,” said Molly. “We can’t go back to Olvidados.”

  They walked to the edge of the forest and paused to take in the view. Kapok trees, hundreds of feet tall, stretched in a green canopy as far as the eye could see. Tangled vines, thick as suspension cables on the Brooklyn Bridge, clung to the brindled bark trusses and dank, mossy rafters of ancient mahogany. The jungle was eerily silent, as if a million unseen eyes were watching and waiting.

  Guadalupe pulled her hair back into a ponytail.

  Eddie nervously chewed his lower lip.

  Raj tightened the red bandana around his forehead.

  The team looked to Addison.

  “Every ladder has a first rung,” Addison said optimistically. And with that, he plunged into the jungle.

  • • •

  The forest floor was silent and intensely green. Clouds of humidity hung heavy in the air. Addison’s team was immediately drenched in sweat. Entering the rain forest was like climbing into a giant wet sock.

  Guadalupe slashed at the underbrush with a stick, beating a path through the tangles of ferns. Monkeys gossiped in the canopy far overhead. Carpeted in moss, the jungle seemed to soak up all sound.

  Addison followed Guadalupe’s path, marveling at the wealth of exotic plants. The farther he walked, the more he noticed. What first seemed like an empty forest was teeming with wildlife. Colorful birds flicked and flitted across the vaulted boughs of rubber trees. Millions of beetles scuttled along damp trails of rotting bark, bustling through traffic more crowded than the 42nd Street subway stop.

  Passion flowers poked their crimson heads through the foliage, blossoms spread out like ten-legged starfish. Heliconias, lobster red and tipped with gold, sprouted from tree trunks. Rafflesias, spotted like whale sharks, flaunted petals larger than Eddie. Addison felt he was no longer on Earth, but exploring some distant planet.

  “Out of curiosity, how many animals here can eat us?” Eddie asked.

  “Oh, most of them!” said Raj, thrilled that Eddie had introduced the topic. “There are jaguars, cougars, and vampire bats that carry rabies.”

  “No more bats!”

  “All three of those animals come out at night, so we’re okay for now,” Raj said.

  “That’s a relief.”

  “Now, your big problem is really the snakes,” Raj continued excitedly. “You’ve got coral snakes that can kill a man in ten seconds. You’ve got bushmasters, the largest venomous snakes in the western hemisphere. And don’t even get me started about the anacondas.”

  Nobody prompted Raj about the anacondas, but he continued anyway.

  “You’ve got green anacondas, yellow anacondas, and spotted anacondas. Anacondas are constrictors. They wrap around you with lightning speed and choke the air out of your lungs until you suffocate.” Raj’s eyes seemed to swell like balloons as he warmed to his topic. “The first rule of survival is not to panic. Unless you’re being attacked by an anaconda. In which case, panic.”

  “Raj, this is the most sentences I’ve ever heard you say in a row,” said Addison.

  But Raj was only just slipping into gear. “Some anacondas can grow up to five hundred pounds and twenty feet long! There was one case of a village woman in Cartagena who was swallowed whole by an eighteen-foot—”

  “Raj, enough already!” Molly fixed him with a glare that would make an anaconda decide to carry on with business elsewhere.

  “Jeez, sorry.”

  “Molly is not on good terms with snakes,” Addison explained.

  “Well,” said Raj diplomatically, “I’m sure we won’t see any.”

  • • •

  Toward midmorning, Guadalupe struck upon a wide trail heading due west through the jungle. She sighed in relief. Her arms were exhausted from beating a path through the thick vegetation.

  Addison examined the path with excitement, scraping away dirt and grubs to reveal an ancient stone trail marker. “Do you realize what this means?”

  “That your hands are filthy and there’s no soap for fifty miles?” guessed Molly.

  “Besides that,” said Addison, rising to his feet. “Look at this trail marker—we’re following in the footsteps of the Incas!”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The clue said, ‘Follow the footsteps of the Incas.’ This is an ancient Incan roadway.” Addison swept a hand from east to west. “We must be on the right track, heading closer to the heart of the Incan Empire.”

  Addison forged on, following the path. “Just imagine,” he said breathlessly, “five hundred years ago, this was a major highway connecting Incas from Colombia to Ecuador.”

  Eddie ducked under tangled vines that clawed at his face. “Not much now, is it?”

  “It makes you think,” said Addison. “Five hundred years from now, what will our own highways look like?”

  The team marched more quickly on the open path. It wasn’t long before Addison reckoned they had put a few miles behind them. Being from Manhattan didn’t give t
hem many advantages in the jungle, but at least they were all experienced walkers.

  Eddie peered nervously into the depths of the passing foliage. “What about the headhunters?”

  “What headhunters?” asked Molly.

  “The clue said, ‘Across the mighty Amazon, through the jungles of the headhunters,’” Eddie quoted. “They’re probably extinct by now, right?”

  “Oh, no—the Máloco are still here. Every few years, we hear stories of people going missing,” Guadalupe said, eyeing the impenetrable screen of the jungle. “But the Amazon is a huge place. They may never cross our path.”

  The group dropped into a thoughtful silence, checking over their shoulders for signs of danger. Their winding route led through a sunny glen, across a mountain stream, and into a thick grove of hundred-foot Platonia trees wrapped in curry-yellow bark.

  Molly fell into step beside Addison as they plodded westward through the deepening rain forest. She lowered her voice so only Addison could hear. “At the cathedral, when Professor Ragar climbed in his limousine, I saw Aunt Delia and Uncle Nigel in the backseat. Their wrists were tied.”

  “I’m sure they’re okay,” said Addison as convincingly as he could. “They’ve been in tough situations before.”

  “If something happens to them, what will we do? I don’t want to live with Uncle Jasper. He can’t even drive a car.”

  “They’re going to be fine, Molly. In fact, this might even be good for them.”

  Molly looked at Addison skeptically.

  “Look, they’re spending time together, right, Mo? They’re having an adventure together, whether they want to or not.”

  “You think it will bring them back together?”

  Addison shrugged. “Ragar may be doing us a favor.”

  Molly crinkled her brow, weighing the situation. “How do you think Uncle Nigel even knows a person like Professor Ragar?”

  “I’ve been pondering these same puzzles, Mo. In the museum, Uncle Nigel said Ragar works for someone named Malazar. And this seemed to terrify Uncle Nigel. Which begs at least two questions. Namely, who is Malazar . . .”

  “And what does he have against Uncle Nigel?”

  “These are deep waters,” Addison nodded. “Altogether, Ragar is a man who raises far more questions than he answers.”

  The team trekked onward through the darkening woods.

  • • •

  The Incan trail led all the way to a wide branch of the Amazon River and promptly dead-ended. The group stood by the river’s edge, scratching their heads.

  “Presumably,” said Addison, “a few hundred years ago there was a bridge.”

  “Doesn’t help us much now, does it?” said Guadalupe.

  “Quite,” agreed Addison, glancing down at his compass. “One way or another, we do need to get across.”

  “The current’s pretty fast,” said Molly doubtfully.

  “Nothing like a refreshing swim to spur the circulation,” said Addison. He studied the silted brown water. “Raj, what are we likely to find in this river?”

  “The arapaima is the largest freshwater fish in the world,” said Raj. “Ten feet long and four hundred and fifty pounds.”

  “Maybe we can catch one,” said Eddie. “I’m starving.”

  “What I mean,” said Addison, “is how many things in this river want to eat us?”

  “Well,” said Raj, delighted the conversation had finally circled back to his favorite topic, “you’ve got schools of razor-toothed piranhas that can reduce a cow to a skeleton inside five minutes. You’ve got electric eels that can shock you. And then of course you’ve got the snakes.”

  “Again with the snakes,” said Molly.

  “And alligators, lots of alligators,” Raj added.

  “Maybe we can go around the river?” suggested Eddie.

  “The Amazon River’s a few thousand miles long,” said Addison. “We should probably take the shorter route.”

  “You’re saying we swim,” said Eddie cautiously. “But what happens if we’re attacked by piranhas?”

  “Death,” said Raj, staring into the murky brown waters. “Oblivion’s icy kiss.”

  “No thank you. I pass.”

  “Well, I don’t know what to tell you, amigos,” said Guadalupe. “We’re on this side of the river. And Ecuador’s on the other. And we’re going to Ecuador.” She headed down to the river.

  “I wouldn’t do that,” said Raj. “Worldwide, alligators and crocodiles kill over a thousand people every year.”

  “I have a personal preference,” Eddie announced, “for not being eaten by crocodiles.”

  “Then I’ve got good news for you, Eddie,” said Addison. “The Amazon is freshwater, so you don’t need to worry about crocodiles.”

  “Excellent.”

  “What you should worry about are the caimans.”

  “Caimans?”

  “South American alligators,” Raj piped in. “They grow up to twenty feet long and can weigh over a thousand pounds. They’re called black caimans to be precise.”

  “I don’t care what you call them,” cried Eddie. “I care about them not eating me!”

  “Eddie, all you care about is what you want to eat and what wants to eat you,” said Molly.

  “What can I say, I’m a pragmatist!”

  “We have no choice,” said Guadalupe, losing all patience. “Talking about it’s not going to help. We have to cross.”

  “Black caimans are man-eaters,” Raj protested. “We really shouldn’t go in the water.”

  “Está berraco,” said Guadalupe, rolling her r’s with exasperation. “I would rather be eaten by twelve alligators than stand here another minute listening to you babies whine. Besides, I’m your guide. And I’m absolutely positive there are no alligators, crocodiles, or caimans in this river.” She fixed her ponytail, hiked up her pants, and sloshed into the water.

  “This is my favorite blazer,” sighed Addison. He loosened his tie and stepped in after her.

  • • •

  All things considered, there were any number of places Addison would rather have been. His dress shoes sunk into the muddy bank, suctioning his feet with every step. The water pooling around his ankles and drenching his dress pants was surprisingly cold. He clung to clumps of reeds for balance until the murky water rose to his chest and the current took him.

  Addison doggy-paddled into the wide river, unable to see what swam beneath his feet. “The current is pretty strong,” he said, trying to sound relaxed about it.

  Guadalupe paddled ahead. “Then you’ll just have to swim strong. Keep going!”

  The team reached a weed-covered sandbank, where the current slowed.

  “You know, maybe this isn’t so bad,” said Eddie, getting used to the temperature.

  “Don’t get cocky,” said Molly. “We’ve still got a long way to go!”

  Guadalupe swam to the far side of the sandbank and froze. “Hey, amigos, remember when I said I was absolutely sure there were no alligators in the river?”

  “Vividly,” said Addison.

  “It’s possible I wasn’t being completely straight with you.”

  The team turned to look where Guadalupe was staring. A pair of sixteen-foot black caimans slid off the far mud bank into the river. The man-eaters floated toward the group, gliding like silent submarines, only their eyes and nostrils visible above the muddy brown tide.

  “John . . . Wilkes . . . Booth,” Addison breathed, watching the caimans drift closer.

  “What do we do?” Eddie called, his voice rising an octave.

  “Just stay quiet and slowly back away,” said Guadalupe.

  “That’s for bears,” said Raj.

  “Okay, wave your arms and make a lot of noise to scare them,” Guadalupe offered.

  “That�
��s for mountain lions.”

  “Well, what are we supposed to do for alligators?” Guadalupe demanded.

  “Not go in the water,” Raj said flatly.

  • • •

  The caimans closed in on the team. There was no turning back. Addison’s group turned and swam downstream as fast as they could, into the deepest part of the river.

  The swift current caught them and swept them into the churning white waters of the rapids. Waves frothed and boiled, sliding the group between jagged boulders. Paddling furiously, they spun ever faster down the whirlpool currents of the raging river.

  “We’re out of control!” shouted Molly.

  “Yes,” yelled Addison, “but we’re getting a lead on those caimans!”

  Addison heard the rush of a waterfall looming ahead. Rising cliffs funneled the wide, roiling river down to a narrow point, forcing the water ever faster. The violent torrent built to a deafening roar.

  “Everybody take a deep breath!” called Raj.

  “We’re all going to die!” shouted Eddie.

  Addison gritted his teeth and watched as his friends were swept, screaming, over the edge of the falls. He shut his eyes tightly and felt the current take him.

  His screams were cut short half a second later.

  To Addison’s astonishment, the waterfall had been all of three feet high. “You see, guys? That wasn’t so bad,” he sputtered. “You just need a positive mental attitude.”

  And with that, they all plummeted over a twelve-foot waterfall.

  The pounding water held Addison under until his lungs burned. Thousands of gallons crashed continually over the falls. Addison kicked and flailed, not sure which way was up.

  At last, he surfaced downstream, coughing and gasping for air. He wiped water from his eyes and searched the river. To his relief, his friends’ heads bobbed above the waterline. Everyone appeared to be more or less alive. “You see?” he said. “Again, really not so bad.”

  “It’s worse than bad!” yelled Molly, pointing her finger. “There are more caiman coming after us!”

  “Molly, can’t you just let me have this?”