Amazon Burning (A James Acton Thriller, #10)

by J. Robert Kennedy

  He glanced toward the boat and saw everyone boarding and knew it was time.

  “Kinti.” His voice was soft, gentle, not its usual gruff self, this lovely young creature having smoothed out the rough edges decades of solitude had honed.

  She looked up, blinking away the tears. “I must go now.” Tears finally spilled over his eyelids as he forced a smile on his face. Her lips trembled into a smile of her own when he closed his eyes and kissed her one last time, both of them now clinging onto each other in a desperate attempt to hold onto the moment, to tell the hand of time to wait just one more second before ticking toward a future of loneliness and despair.

  He finally let her go and they looked into each other’s eyes, words unspoken, their faces saying the thousand words that needed to be said. With one more peck, he led her to the ramp, then with one final kiss and hug, he climbed back onto the boat, the ramp quickly pulled aboard as the motor kicked into gear, sending them toward the mouth of the inlet. The entire village ran along the shore, Kinti in the lead, her hand raised in the air, part waving goodbye, part reaching for him, not wanting to let go of the bond they had created in two short days.

  Reading gripped the rail with one hand, at the far back of the boat so no one could see his face. He waved to Kinti, his lip stiff as he fought back the tears his tough, reserved British upbringing told him were unmanly, but his face told her everything she would need to know.

  He loved her.

  And would never forget her.

  Tuk heard voices ahead and slowed. He had spotted a village upriver of where he had camped the night before he had spotted the Woman of Light, giving it a wide berth as he was unfamiliar with their people and more importantly, wanted to be alone in his grief over TikTik’s impending nuptials and the death of his best friend Pol.

  He had been dismayed when the trail he had been following had headed directly to the village rather than back to the Spirit Boat for it meant far more people to deal with who might just slow him down in his quest to reach the woman who was to be his mate and the savior of his village.

  Lau-ra-pal-mer.

  He secreted himself behind a large tree and watched as a boat, the very same boat that the Spirit People had been on left the village, the entire population on the shoreline waving and shouting. On the boat he could see several of the Spirit People and his heart leapt when he saw Lau-ra waving at the crowd.

  Then he frowned.

  She appeared happy.

  If she had willingly left the Spirit People to be with him, then why would she be happy to have been taken back? Perhaps it was merely a façade designed to set the others who had “rescued” her at ease? Or perhaps she really had misunderstood the Cleansing Ritual and thought he had abandoned her and was relieved to be with her own kind?

  It made sense. She didn’t know his language and she had definitely appeared scared when she saw the pit. He had been forced to push her in after all, and now in retrospect it seemed pretty clear she didn’t know what the Cleansing Pit was at all.

  She must have thought I had left her there to die!

  He desperately wished he could speak her language, not only so he could win her heart, but to communicate to her the very real need he had of her help. As the Spirit Boat left the small inlet it turned downriver, back toward where he had first seen her. He rushed through the forest, knowing they had no choice but to pass by the same spot. His route was more direct, theirs requiring them to travel in an arc around the Mother’s Forest. As he rushed through the trees, silently as to not attract the attention of the nearby village, he winced as his shoulder suddenly throbbed in pain. He looked down and finally noticed he was bleeding from the back of his arm, near the shoulder.

  And it hurt.

  There was an odd hole, as if an arrowhead had pierced it then fallen out. He wondered if it could have been a shard from the exploding tree trunks when he had made his escape, the curious sounds coming from the Panther People’s short spears perhaps causing some magical, invisible arrow to strike the trees as they missed him.

  He shrugged off the pain, it not important. Saving his people was what was important now. Saving his mother. Avenging TikTik and Bruk.

  He burst onto the shoreline just as the boat came into view to his right. As it rushed toward him, the current and whatever mode of propulsion it was using—he could see no oars—moving it swiftly along, he realized he would have only moments to get their attention.

  Can the Spirit People even see me when they are on their boat?

  He began waving and shouting at the boat, his arm now noticeably hampering his movements. “Lau-ra! Lau-ra-pal-mer!”

  A sudden rush of activity on the boat as Spirit People with their own short spears lined up on the edge proved to him quite convincingly that they could see him. He recognized no one then suddenly she appeared at the rear of the boat, her mate from the Spirit World with his arm around her.

  And again he felt a flash of jealousy.

  “Lau-ra! Lau-ra-pal-mer!”

  He motioned for her to come to him but she said nothing, merely standing at the rear of her boat. He could tell she was sad, her eyes glistening even from this distance. She was barely a spear’s throw away but he could tell she wasn’t going to tell the boat to stop.

  Then he yelled the one word he had heard her say several times.

  “Help!”

  Rio Negro, Northern Amazon, Brazil

  “Hostile to port!”

  Laura jumped, adrenaline suddenly rushing through her exhausted frame once again as Leather’s men rushed to the port side, taking knees as they aimed their weapons at the shore. She was about to get up to see what the problem was when she felt James grab her.

  “Stay down!” he hissed. Turning to Leather, he asked, “What is it?”

  “Single native, war paint by the looks of it, naked. Not from the tribe we just left, I don’t think.”

  “What’s he doing?”

  “Waving his arms and yelling something. I can’t make it out.”

  “Silence!” yelled James. “Fabricio, cut the engine!”

  “Yes, senhor!”

  “Lau-ra! Lau-ra-pal-mer!”

  James’ eyebrows jumped. “Did he just say what I think he said?”

  Reading and Milton’s heads both bobbed in agreement. “He’s definitely calling for you, Laura.”

  “Tuk?” She felt a surge of fear and relief as a mix of conflicting emotions overcame her. She definitely was happy to be here—ecstatic in fact—but she also felt sorry for the poor, simple native. His apparently weakened state meant he was probably condemned to a life alone, and she was convinced he had thought he had found a mate in her.

  And she had led him on.

  In her efforts in self-preservation she had convinced him there was a bond between the two of them, and in the end, she had betrayed that bond—at least in his mind. But if the bond wasn’t real, why did she feel guilt, why did she feel she must explain herself to this poor man.

  But it was pointless. There was no way to communicate with him.

  “He appears unarmed.” Leather was standing now, binoculars to his eyes. “And he’s injured.”

  Laura jumped to her feet, concern pushing aside all other emotions. “How so?”

  “Looks like he’s bleeding from his left shoulder.”

  She moved to the aft of the boat and stood near the edge, looking at the poor man as he desperately waved and called her name. She felt James put his arm around her protectively, and almost smiled as she thought of him being jealous over the little man on shore who had stolen her from him.

  Then suddenly everything changed.

  “Help!”

  She looked at James. “Did he just say ‘help’?”

  James nodded. “I think so. Does he know what that means?”

  “He heard me say it several times but I never actually taught him it.”

  “Could he have picked it up from the context? Actually understood it?”

  L
aura nodded. “He’s very smart. These natives may be primitive by our standards, but they have their Einsteins and Hawkings just like we do. I think he knows exactly what he’s saying.”

  “Einstein, eh?” Reading shook his head. “I don’t see it.”

  “And two days ago you couldn’t see yourself falling in love with one of them, could you?” Laura immediately regretted her statement as Reading’s face clouded with pain. She reached out and gripped his arm gently. “I’m so sorry, Hugh. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

  “Don’t worry about it, you’re right. I saw them all as savages, and now I realize they aren’t. They’re people just like us who are perfectly happy living their lives the way they are and don’t need our modern ways to be fulfilled. They live, laugh, love and cry exactly like us, perhaps even in a more pure way.” He sighed. “I’ve learned a lot on this trip.” He pointed at Tuk. “And if he says he needs help, then I think we should at least see what he has to say.”

  “But how are we going to communicate with him?”

  Reading shrugged. “Take him to the village? Maybe someone there speaks his language.”

  James smiled. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d say you were just looking for excuses to spend more time with Kinti.” Reading was about to open his mouth in protest when James cut him off. “Like I said, if I didn’t know you better.” He turned to Fabricio. “Bring us ashore so we can take him aboard.”

  Fabricio’s eyes widened. “Are you crazy, senhor? He could be a killer!”

  Laura motioned toward her security team. “I think we’re well protected, Fabricio. Please, he’s wounded and needs our help.”

  “Okay, senhora, it your charter.”

  He fired up the engine and turned the boat around, Tuk having kept pace with them as they had continued to drift, all the while calling for Laura and for help.

  And the entire time her heart broke as she heard the desperation in his voice, his pleads for her to help him, “Lau-ra help Tuk!” echoing in her head as she watched him plunge into the water as he saw the boat turn. He swam toward them then suddenly dipped below the surface, not returning. An arm shoved above the water, his head following as he sputtered for air, then disappeared again.

  “He’s drowning!” shouted Reading as James yanked off his boots.

  “Be careful!” she yelled as her beloved husband dove into the water after the man who had kidnapped her. James broke the surface, swimming hard toward the relative position Tuk had been in when they last saw him, he obviously assuming the current would still be carrying the young man along with it. It was almost dark now and Fabricio’s men were aiming every light they had at the area, Leather’s men scanning the surface with their own flashlights.

  “There!” yelled one of Leather’s men, pointing farther downriver. Fabricio’s men immediately redirected their lights and she gasped in relief as James broke the surface, Tuk gripped in his left arm. Fabricio guided the boat toward them as several lifebuoys were tossed in. James grabbed one and Leather’s team pulled him and the unmoving Tuk to the side. Strong hands grabbed them and pulled them aboard, James rolling onto his back, gasping, as Tuk lay beside him, still.

  “Is he breathing?” Laura asked as she rushed to his side.

  “Doesn’t look like it,” said Leather as he checked for a pulse. He immediately began chest compressions as Laura knelt between James and Tuk. She took James’ hand in hers, then Tuk’s in her other.

  “How’s he doing?” asked James as he sat up, shoving his fingers through his dripping hair. Reading tossed him a towel and he stood, letting go of Laura’s hand as he began to towel himself off.

  Leather checked for a pulse again. “Nothing so far.”

  Laura leaned over, close to Tuk’s ear. “Tuk! It’s Laura. You have to breathe!” It was frustrating not being able to communicate, and she realized what it must be like for a true refugee—not economic refugees shopping for the best handout—thrust into unfamiliar environments where no one spoke their language. Finally she squeezed his hand in both of hers, saying the only thing she could think of to say.

  “Tuk help Tuk!”

  Everything was black. A roaring sound in the distance was all he could sense except for strange lights that seemed like those he would see at night when he looked up.

  The campfires of the spirits.

  He had often wondered about that. If they were campfires, then why were they white? And why were they moving across the sky in an arc? All of them. Did the Spirit World move? And if the Spirit World were in the sky, then what were they doing on the great river?

  He believed in the Mother, proof of Her existence was all around him. But many of the stories taught to him as a child, and clung to in adulthood by most, seemed outrageous to believe in without some sort of proof. He kept his opinions to himself of course, sharing them only with Pol, but now he wondered about everything.

  For he was dead.

  He could remember swimming toward the Spirit Boat and Lau-ra, but his injured arm had proven too weak and the current too swift. He had been sucked under and soon lost the battle to hold his breath.

  Or had the Spirit World punished him?

  He had taken one of their own and then had the gall to try and board one of their vessels as if he were an equal.

  He deserved to die.

  The roaring in the distance grew closer and he wondered if he were nearing the afterlife his people believed in so fervently. Would the great Mother of all things embrace him, allowing him to live for eternity in her bosom that was the Spirit World where he would be reunited with the loved ones he had lost over the years.

  Pol!

  The thought excited him. To see Pol again would be worth dying for. He smiled as the thought of reuniting with his friend began to consume him and he beseeched the Mother to take him, to take him from this life of pain and heartache, and deliver him into the easy life of the Spirits.

  But what of his own mother? She was a prisoner or worse of the Panther People. Did she deserve to live out her remaining days in horror just so he could be reunited with his dead friend, a friend who would be waiting for him whenever he actually did die?

  NO!

  He knew he had to get back, to somehow survive, but he didn’t know how. Please great Mother, do not take me yet! I have to save my people! Without me they are all doomed! Let me save my people, your children, then you may take me! He listened for some sort of reply, something that had never happened in the real world, but perhaps here, in this strange place between his world and the Spirit World, the great Mother would respond.

  “Tuk help Tuk!”

  The voice was unmistakable.

  Lau-ra!

  Was she the Mother? Could she be the embodiment of the creator of all things? Or was she merely a messenger? Sent by the Mother to save him? That made more sense. He laughed. The arrogance of thinking that the Mother Herself would allow him to take Her from the Spirit World and willingly go with him to be his mate.

  “Tuk help Tuk!”

  He knew what she meant. She meant he had to help himself. But how? How could he help himself? He could feel nothing, hear nothing but the roar in the distance. What could he possibly do to help himself?

  He frowned, pondering the conundrum of how to save one’s life in the ether that lay between life and death.

  If he were to help himself, he knew he had to beat death. So how did one beat death? Overcome what had killed one in the first place. That much was obvious. So what killed me? The water. He had drowned. Why did drowning in water kill someone? He knew he had struggled to breathe and he had finally felt himself gasp in the water, filling his body.

  The water had obviously taken the place of the air he was supposed to breathe. So how to get rid of the water blocking air from getting in? He knew from enough roughhousing in the smaller rivers near his village that when water went down the wrong way, you would cough it out.

  Cough!

  He coughed, hard, and suddenly
felt air rush into his lungs, the roar in the distance suddenly overwhelmingly loud. Someone was holding his hand, someone else was pushing on his chest. He opened his eyes and found he was surrounded by shapes, strange white lights pointed at him nearly blinding him.

  “Lau-ra!” he cried, looking for his messenger in the horror of the Spirit World. Voices surrounded him, voices he couldn’t understand, but one voice he recognized, near his ear.

  “Lau-ra help Tuk. Okay?”

  He raised his thumb. “Okay.” His voice was weak and he was suddenly shoved onto his side, someone slapping his back. He coughed some more and several mouthfuls of water spilled out. He didn’t know how long it took but he was soon breathing normally, though he was weak and shivering.

  He felt something wrap around him and he gripped the strange skin tightly as he shook in the chill of the evening. He was helped to his feet and he looked to see Lau-ra was to his left, her presumed mate to his right. They led him to the rear of the Spirit Boat and sat him down on a strange, incredibly soft log with rests for his arms.

  The entire time he kept his eyes glued on Lau-ra and her gentle, smiling, incredibly pale face. He was too terrified to look anywhere else but when someone removed the skin covering his shoulder and began to poke around, he winced, then passed out from the overwhelming pain.

  “He’s out cold,” observed Leather. “Probably for the best.” His eyes narrowed as he inspected the wound then opened wide in surprise as he looked up at his client, Laura Palmer. “This is a bullet wound!”

  She gasped, her jaw dropping. “How did he get that?”

  “The guard fired a shot after you two. Perhaps he hit him?” suggested Acton.

  Laura shook her head. “No, he wasn’t wounded when I last saw him. He was perfectly healthy.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Look at him. He’s buck naked. It’s not like it was hiding under a shirt and I just missed it.”

  Acton frowned. “Then who shot him?”

  Leather pulled out the bullet, holding it up for everyone to see. “7.62 millimeter I’d guess. That’s a thirty caliber for you Yanks.”