There was no point on dwelling on that now. He had to attend to his scrapes and cuts. An open wound only invited trouble. The last thing he wanted was an egg-laying blowfly boring under his skin. Not to mention other parasites worming into his flesh and entering his blood stream. It was the smallest creatures that were the most dangerous in the Amazon. The malaria-carrying mosquito had killed more people than all the world wars combined.
Ben used a disinfectant and dabbed his abrasions. He used the tiny scissors in the emergency kit and cut small bandage swaths and taped them over each wound. After he had covered every injury, he put everything back in the plastic box.
He broke up some branches and fed the fire. The flame rose like a red-copper snake. He rubbed his hands together feeling the warmth.
He picked up the packet of trail mix and tore open the top. He popped a handful of the food into his mouth and savored the salty nuts and the chewy raisins.
Ben sat back against a tree trunk and watched the flames of the fire flickering in the middle of the surrounding darkness.
He could hear rustling all around him as nocturnal predators began their nightlong search for prey.
Sooner or later, he knew he would have to sleep.
25
They’d been traveling on the river for nearly seven hours when Frank nudged Wanda awake. She sat up and swung her legs off the bench seat where she had been napping. Kathy was sound asleep on the other bench seat.
The boat wasn’t moving. The twin outboards were quietly idling and the outside floodlights had been turned off.
“Why have we stopped?” Wanda asked.
“We might have a little bit of trouble up ahead,” Frank whispered. He was carrying a hunting rifle.
Enzo was sitting at the helm chair, loading shells into a sawed-off shotgun.
Wanda stood. She put on the gun belt and cinched up the buckle.
“Take this,” Frank said, handing her a shotgun. “And put this on.” He gave her a ball cap to wear. Frank was wearing a similar hat with the resort’s logo on the front.
They went out the rear door and made their way along the side of the pilothouse.
Ignacio was standing near the bow, staring at the river ahead. He had a short barrel shotgun cradled in the crook of his right arm. He was also wearing a ball cap.
There were six fiery torches staggered about the water a hundred yards up ahead.
“Who are they?” Wanda asked.
“River pirates,” Ignacio said.
“I thought that was only in Somalia.”
“The bastards are everywhere,” Frank said. “Once you get away from the big cities, there’s no law on the river.”
“How many do you think there are?”
Ignacio looked over at Wanda. “These river rats, maybe ten, a few more. The less there are, the less they have to share.”
“Ignacio says our boat used to be a military vessel,” Frank said. “We’re thinking if we play it right, they might think we’re the Brazilian Navy and might be too scared to attack.”
“We’re just going to bluff our way through?” Wanda asked.
“If we show enough force, they’ll get out of our way.”
James came around to the front of the pilothouse. He was wearing a ball cap and carrying a shotgun.
“I take it you know how to use that,” Wanda said, unsure if she wanted someone next to her that wasn’t properly trained in firearms.
“I go pheasant hunting all the time with my dad. Just don’t tell Kathy. I don’t want to upset her. You know, birds and all.”
“Everyone stand ready, guns up,” Frank said. “We want these jokers to think we’re a military patrol boat.” He looked back and saw Kathy had gotten up and was sitting in the chair next to Enzo.
Ignacio tapped on the window. Enzo pushed the throttle forward and the twin outboards roared, raising the bow for a moment before the fast-moving boat trimmed out.
The high-power halogen spotlights came on, lighting up the river ahead like a phosphorous bomb, blinding the ragtag bunch of cutthroats standing in their small boats. .
There were either two or three pirates to a boat; some of the men armed with handguns and machetes, a few with rifles. Each boat had a flaming torch on its bow and a small outboard motor clamped on the stern.
Enzo gunned the rescue boat straight down the middle of the river, creating a wide wake. He switched on the siren; the ear piecing wail an added distraction.
At first it seemed there wasn’t going to be any opposition, but then one of the small boats started to zip over the water. Then another sped up until all six boats were racing toward the rescue boat.
Gun flashes started popping from the two nearest boats.
“Show them we mean business!” Frank yelled.
Frank took aim and shot at the first boat approaching. The bullet struck one of the pirates in the shoulder and he toppled out of the boat. The man steering the boat took a pot shot at Frank.
Wanda returned fire and blasted the man clear out of the motorboat.
Ignacio aimed his shotgun and pulled back both triggers at a man whose boat was almost alongside. The heavy-load buckshot punched the pirate out of the boat.
Another man threw a grappling hook, which caught onto the railing. He was climbing up the side of the rescue boat when James stepped up and smashed him in the face with his shotgun’s butt stock.
Bullets zipped through the night air, striking the outside of the pilothouse.
Frank picked off two more pirates. More men fell into the water.
Another boat capsized.
The rescue boat broke through what was left of the blockade, and as it did, the craft left a wide swath of rough water behind, enough to upend two more of the raiders’ boats.
Frank and Wanda held onto the side railing and edged to the rear of the rescue boat to make sure none of the pirates had managed to get on board and there were no boats following. Even though it was pitch black, they could see the trail of white water being churned up by the powerful outboard motors’ propellers.
James stepped around the corner of the pilothouse. “I’m going to check on Kathy, make sure she’s okay,” he said and went inside.
“You think we’ve seen the last of them?” Wanda asked Frank as they stared out over the transom.
“I hope so. But if there’s anything I’ve learned being in the Amazon, it’s always to expect the unexpected.”
“Well, that’s not very reassuring.”
26
Ally woke up to howling wind outside the bungalow. She sat up in bed and pulled back the mosquito netting. The bamboo slats on the high ceiling shook. Ally half-expected the thatched roof to be ripped off and she and Dillon to be sucked out and swept away by the storm. She could hear the heavy rain outside, pummeling the other guests’ bungalows and the plank catwalks.
Dillon got out of his bed and padded barefoot over to Ally’s bedside. “Why’s it so loud?” he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“It’s a bad rainstorm,” Ally replied.
“Does it have to rain all the time?”
“Jungles need a lot of water.”
A part of the roof snapped, and when Ally looked up, she saw a shredded hole and a patch of dark gray sky. Rain began pouring into their room.
“Dilly, hurry and get dressed,” Ally said as she reached for her clothes on the end of the bed.
The young boy scampered back to his bed and searched through his suitcase.
A blustering gust blew through the screened windows and overturned one of the rattan chairs. The walls trembled as the room swayed.
“We can’t stay here,” Ally shouted to her little brother. She’d gotten dressed and pulled on a poncho. She helped Dillon with his shirt, and then found his rain slicker.
Ally held Dillon’s hand and opened the door. It was such a torrential downpour, Ally could have sworn they were standing at the base of a waterfall; it was coming down that hard.
“A
re we going to drown?” Dillon asked worriedly.
“No, silly. We just have to go somewhere safe.” Ally started to step out the door but the wind pushed her back into the room. She looked down at her brother. “You hold onto my hand tight. You hear?”
“Okey dokey,” Dillon said, the hood of his slicker covering most of his face.
“Let’s go,” Ally shouted and leaned into the wind. She grabbed the handrail on the catwalk and pulled herself forward. The rain was blowing in her face so she had to squint. Debris flew everywhere as the wind battered the tree branches and slapped the leaves on the large fronds.
A figure was coming down the catwalk. He was waving and yelling something, but Ally couldn’t hear above the storm.
It was Macky. He was wearing a white polo shirt and cargo shorts and was drenched to the bone.
“I came to get you,” he yelled. “It’s safer in the lobby.”
“Thanks,” Ally shouted back. She glanced over Macky’s shoulder and saw something she had never seen before. A twisting cyclone hung from a turbulent cloud and was swirling over the river, heading straight for the resort.
“What is that?” she said to Macky and pointed.
He turned and took a step back. “Ah crap, it’s a tornadic waterspout.”
The funnel churned its way off the water and spun across the ground into the resort.
“Lie down flat!” Macky shouted.
They were only halfway across the catwalk and were out in the open. Ally and Dillon went on their bellies and Macky laid on top of them.
They covered their ears as the waterspout roared through the grounds of the resort, demolishing the bungalows in its path and dumping whatever it had sucked out of the river.
Ally could hear hundreds of splats and thumps all around her sounding like they were being bombarded by a heavy hail of indestructible water balloons.
The extension of the storm cloud crashed into the jungle and thundered off.
Like every tropical storm in the Amazon, it subsided as quickly as it had started, and the rain stopped.
“You two okay? Nobody hurt?” Macky asked as he got up.
“Yes, I think... Oh my God!” Ally shrieked when she saw the large snake slithering toward her head. She scrambled to her feet and pulled Dillon up.
Macky reached down, grabbed the snake by the tail, and flung it over the handrail.
The catwalk was teeming with thrashing fish and hopping frogs and glissading serpents, but mostly dead things that hadn’t survived being blended in the mixer.
Even though Macky was barefoot, it didn’t stop him from kicking at anything that seemed aggressive.
Ally looked down at the other end of the catwalk and saw Murilo, slowly advancing. He had a broom and was sweeping everything in his path off the catwalk onto the ground below.
She had never seen so many different colored frogs. They had brilliant markings, some dark blue, others flaming red, or burnt orange, or canary yellow. They were jumping over one another, croaking as they went.
Murilo was ten feet away when he stopped sweeping and yelled, “Don’t touch little boy!”
Ally turned and saw Dillon running after a fluorescent-blue frog hopping away in the other direction.
“Dillon!” Macky shouted.
“What is it?” Ally asked.
“The frogs. They’re poisonous. The brighter the color, the more deadlier they are.”
The blue frog leaped onto an adjacent catwalk and disappeared around the corner.
Dillon dashed around the bend.
Ally and Macky took off after the boy.
When they rounded the corner, Dillon was standing over the blue frog and he was bending down to pick up the deadly amphibian.
“Dillon, stay away,” Ally said, trying to warn her brother.
“Stop!” Macky yelled.
The boy’s hand was mere inches from touching the frog’s toxic skin.
Murilo suddenly appeared and swept the frog under the railing with his broom.
“Oh, thank God,” Ally said and rushed over, grabbing Dillon in her arms.
“Hey, I wanted that,” Dillon protested.
“Do you know what would have happened if you had touched that frog?” Ally asked sternly.
“I ain’t scared of a silly wart.”
“Little man, you have to be more careful,” Macky said. “Listen to your sister.”
“Do what?” Dillon said.
“Just don’t be picking critters up until you check with me,” Ally said. “Promise?”
Dillon gave her a sourpuss expression.
“Promise?” Ally asked again.
“Okay, I promise.”
Murilo waved for them to follow him while he cleared a path down the catwalk to the resort’s main building.
Walking alongside Macky and her little brother, Ally couldn’t help thinking to herself, All this excitement and we haven’t even had breakfast.
27
It was daybreak when Ryan and Jackie clambered down from their resting place. As soon as their boots touched the ground, they began brushing tiny insects off their arms and clothes.
“What are they?” Ryan said, stomping his boots to shake the bugs off of his pant legs. He flicked some from his shirt.
“Termites,” Jackie replied. She was brushing them out of her hair with her fingers. “I should have known. The wood was too spongy.”
“Well, at least it was comfortable. What time do you think it is?”
“How should I know?”
“Yeah, I guess that was a stupid question. Like it really matters.”
Jackie looked at Ryan. “I’m sorry. I’m not really a morning person.”
“That makes the two of us. So, what now?”
“Are you hungry?”
“Sure. What do you have in mind?”
“How about a continental breakfast?”
“Very funny,” Ryan said.
“No, I’m serious. Come, I’ll show you.”
Ryan followed Jackie as she walked through an area of knee-high ferns.
She stopped and looked down at a rotted log. “You want to help me flip that over?”
Ryan got on one end as Jackie bent down and grabbed the other end.
“Okay, let’s turn it on the count of three. One, two, three!”
The wood was so decayed it broke off in their hands as they rolled the log.
Underneath was damp, rich earth, and wriggling worms, grubs, crickets, and an assortment of bugs Ryan had never seen before.
“Quite the smorgasbord.”
“That’s our breakfast?” Ryan said.
“What did you expect, ham and eggs?”
“You’ve really eaten bugs before?”
“Last spring break, James and I went to Thailand. I was hoping to see an agile gibbon as they’re on the endangered species list and James is a big advocate against deforestation, which was why the monkeys are becoming extinct. They’re losing their natural habitat.”
“You and James. Not Kathy?”
“James and I were going together at the time.”
“So who dumped who?”
“Let’s just say it was a mutual decision. Apparently he likes Kathy more. Anyway, while we were there, James and I tried some of the Thai cuisine. Fried insects are a big delicacy.”
“Like what?”
“Well, grasshoppers are a little like pork rinds.”
“Really.”
“Yep. And then we had water bugs.”
“You ate water bugs,” Ryan said with disbelief.
“Yeah, they taste like licorice.”
“Hmm.” Ryan looked down at the assortment of creepy crawlers; nothing looked the least bit appetizing.
Jackie saw the uncomfortable look on Ryan’s face. “They’re high in protein. Until we can find anything better, I suggest you suck it up.”
Ryan glanced over at Jackie and smirked. “How bad could it be?”
Jackie went first and picked up
a six-inch-long worm. She cleaned off some of the dirt clinging to its slimy body. Without hesitation, she put one end in her mouth and slurped the rest between her lips like it was a long strand of spaghetti. After she swallowed, she smiled and said, “Your turn.”
Ryan found a smaller-size worm. He didn’t like the thought of swallowing it whole and it being alive, so he balled the worm, stuffed it in his mouth, and chewed it up.
He’d neglected to clean it so it was gritty and tasted somewhat salty. He tried not to over-think what he was doing and swallowed.
Looking over at Jackie, he saw her pop something in her mouth and crunch.
“What’s that?” he asked.
“Cricket. Want some?” Jackie held out her hand and showed him half a dozen mashed up crickets on her palm.
“How many insects do we have to eat?”
“If you want to boost up your energy level, a bunch.”
Ryan noticed something dangling out of the corner of Jackie’s mouth; a cricket’s leg, and it was still quivering.
He looked away, trying not to throw up. It was sweltering and he was feeling nauseated and the thought of eating a large helping of bugs was only making it worse, but he knew Jackie was right.
Time to suck it up!
28
Ben shoved the waterproof matches into his pocket and made sure he had put everything back in his rucksack.
The jungle was steamy after the last rain.
He’d brought along a plastic spray bottle of bug repellant, which seemed to be working fine as the flying insects weren’t bothering him like before even though some insisted on buzzing into him on occasion like tiny dive bombers.
As he’d lost his cell phone in the river, he wasn’t able to get a GPS satellite uplink on his location. He couldn’t see the sun—though he could feel its sweltering heat—or the sky for that matter because of the thick tree canopy towering well over a hundred feet above his head.
He looked at the tree trunks, remembering the old saying about moss growing on the northern side of the tree. Even if it were true, it wasn’t going to help him get his bearings in the rainforest. Due to the humid conditions, every tree trunk was covered completely by the green fungal growth.
Deep In The Jungle Page 7
