A man splashed down into the water a few yards away. A heartbeat later, the piranhas swarmed the drowning man from all sides, latching on to his thrashing limbs. They all pulled in opposite directions, until he was drawn and quartered.
Rafa saw something else darting among the piranhas. It was at least twelve feet long and rippling through the water. It zeroed in on a nearby piranha carrying a severed arm in its mouth. But it didn’t attack—instead it merely brushed past. The piranha spasmed violently, releasing its prize, and sank to the bottom. The attacking creature snapped up the severed arm and moved on.
Rafa thought, It’s a goddamn monster electric eel.
Another man splashed down, thrashing in the water, only to be set upon by piranhas.
It’s now or never, Rafa thought, go while the fish are busy stuffing themselves. After unlocking the chest clamp, he slipped the tank off his shoulders. Without his headlamp it was nearly impossible to find the beacon’s off switch.
He fumbled in the darkness, thinking, Shit, shit, shit, too distracted to see what was coming.
A piranha punched through a gap in the branches, locking on to his leg. It clamped down with the bite force of a great white shark, crushing his femur. Grappling with the attacker, he lost his grip on the tank. The aqualung sank, yanking the air mask off his face. He watched in horror as the flashing beacon receded to the bottom. The piranha on his leg clamped down harder, tearing through sinew and muscle like paper. The fish dragged him out of the sheltering branches, where he saw another piranha coming straight for him. Its impossibly wide mouth clamped down around his head. Rafa let out one final, silent scream before his skull collapsed in a swirl of crimson bubbles.
#
Adrenaline surged through Zé’s body as he fought to keep himself from hyperventilating. After some fumbling, he managed to loop a length of detonator cord around his arm stump and pulled it taut, reducing the billowing crimson cloud to a light mist. Hunkered down in the branches of the fallen tree he watched men thrashing in the water around him—all becoming easy meat for the piranhas.
But maybe their misfortune could be his salvation. In an effort to control his breathing, he told himself, Stay on the bottom, move slowly and make for the boat. It can’t be more than thirty yards away.
Zé tried to ditch the bag of explosives, but the straps had become hopelessly entwined with his air tank’s harness.
Hugging the riverbed, he crawled for the Valentina, intentionally kicking up a cloud of sediment to conceal his presence. A pair of piranhas bore down on him then veered off to attack another drowning man.
It’s taking too long, he thought, the blood loss making him groggy.
Once the piranha had gone, he kicked with every ounce of strength until the Valentina’s underside loomed above him. He pushed off the river bottom, beginning his ascent. Something zipped past, undulating through the water like a ribbon. Through the murk he made out a serpentine body and leopard spots. It was an eel at least twelve feet long and thick as a tree trunk. A second later, it vanished into the muddy gloom. Zé kicked frantically until he was able to touch the metal hull.
Almost home.
An instant later, the eel was back, rippling through the water at ten miles an hour. It slammed headlong into his chest, delivering nine hundred volts of current. The shock sent his body into violent spasms.
For the Semtex and detonator cord strapped to his body, the nine hundred volts was a call to action—a biological detonator. Twenty-five pounds of Semtex and detonator cord exploded as one, vaporizing Zé and the eel. The shockwave tore open the Valentina’s thin hull, while Zé’s ruptured steel air tank punched through the deck like a torpedo.
Chapter Fourteen
The lip of the Valentina’s deck exploded. Catalina threw herself on top of Faye, chunks of steel and deck plank rocketing past. Catalina looked around, but there was only black smoke.
The bow of the ship lurched violently, sinking ten degrees. Catalina clung to a tie-down to keep from being swept forward. She heard men screaming and glanced toward the stern. The explosion had overturned the cooking grills, leaving the deck awash in fire. A screaming man tumbled overboard, his body wrapped in flames. The sheet of fire spread to nearby cans of cooking fuel, setting off a daisy chain of smaller detonations. Wounded men dove over the side.
The giant piranhas were waiting.
With a scream of twisting metal, the bow sank another ten degrees. A quarter of the front deck was now underwater. The downward slope sent flaming debris rolling straight at Catalina and Faye.
A tender boat pulled alongside the sinking Valentina, its pilot yelling for men to get aboard. Santos calmly walked to the edge of the deck and hopped off into the boat.
Catalina grabbed Faye, scrambling for the boat, shouting, “Wait for us!”
Santos shoved the boat’s pilot aside, grabbed the tiller and sped off.
Catalina screamed, “Asshole!”
Santos looked back at her and waved—it was the first time she’d seen him smile. Then the bow lurched, sinking another ten degrees.
Faye pointed aft, screaming, “Look!”
The wall of fire was closing in on them.
Putting her mouth to Faye’s ear, Catalina said, “Take the deepest breath you ever took and hold it.” Then, clutching the child to her chest, she jumped overboard. An instant later, the deck became an inferno.
They sank halfway to the bottom. Catalina’s first instinct was to kick for the surface, until she saw the swarm of huge fish tearing at the drowning men above. Swimming into that charnel house was certain death.
Faye tugged at Catalina’s sleeve then pointed to the river bottom. All Catalina could see was cloudy muck, until a dim red light flashed.
Catalina thought, It’s the diver’s beacon. A plan flashed in her mind—it was crazy, but it sure beat being fish food.
Holding Faye to her chest she kicked down until she could grab a submerged tree branch. Hand under hand, lungs burning, she pulled them down to the bottom. A scuba tank lay half buried in the mud, the bag of demolition charges still tangled around it.
Catalina grabbed the face mask, pulled the regulator free and jammed it in her mouth. She made sure Faye saw what she was doing then pressed it to the little girl’s lips. After an initial bout of panic, Faye began to breathe. They passed the regulator back and forth twice, establishing a rhythm.
A huge piranha swam past them. Catalina slunk back into the thick branches. She turned around and found herself face-to-face with the diver—or at least his head. Covering Faye’s eyes, she swatted the head away. It drifted out beyond the branches where a piranha snapped it up.
Catalina and Faye huddled among the branches, passing the air hose back and forth.
A low, audible thump echoed through the water. A torrent of air bubbles and oil burst from the Valentina’s ruptured hull. The bow pitched forward, sinking deeper. Catalina didn’t know what happened if you were too close to a sinking ship, but she wasn’t sticking around to find out. After getting Faye’s attention she pointed up and mimed climbing. The little girl nodded and they began their underwater ascent, using the tangled branches as cover.
A sudden tremor shook the tree, followed by a burst of air bubbles rising from the riverbed.
Catalina thought, Seriously? An earthquake, now? and clung on tight.
The rumbling ceased and they continued climbing. To Catalina it felt like scaling a mountain, with a cinder block strapped to her back, while hauling an eighty-pound sack. After what seemed like hours they broke the surface, crawling onto the half-submerged tree trunk. It was as big around as a tractor trailer tire, allowing them enough space to lie back and savor the air, amazed to be alive.
Faye gripped Catalina’s hand, saying, “You saved us.”
Tussling her sodden hair, Catalina said, “I told ya I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”
The tree trunk was a foot above the water’s surface, offering a panoramic view of hell. The fron
t half of the Valentina was now underwater. The rear was pointed into the sky, enveloped in black smoke and flames. Batista’s tender boats buzzed around the sinking ship, scooping up a few fortunate men. The unlucky ones were dragged below the surface, never to be seen again.
Catalina muttered, “What a complete and utter pig fuck.” Then she noticed Batista’s yacht, safely moored beyond the danger zone. She slipped off the aqualung and untangled it from the waterproof sack. She was delighted to discover the sack was full of Semtex. “Oh, we’re definitely hanging on to this.” She didn’t have any way to detonate the explosives, but she sure as hell wasn’t throwing them away.
Faye stood up, stretching to get a better view.
Catalina said, “Stay close to me, honey, it’s not—”
A piranha burst out of the water, landing inches from Faye’s leg. The child tumbled backward, nearly falling into the river. The wriggling fish inched closer, gnashing at the air with razor-sharp teeth.
Catalina grabbed the air tank and swung it down hard onto the piranha’s skull. Undaunted, it kept inching closer to Faye. Catalina brought the tank down twice more. On the final swing the enraged fish clamped its jaws around the tank’s shoulder strap. Catalina flung the aqualung with all her might, sending it, and the fish, into the river.
“Chew on that for a while!”
Faye crawled over, wrapping her arms around Catalina.
“It’s okay, baby, it’s gone. We’re safe.” But she knew that wasn’t true. Staying on the tree was suicide, and being rescued by Batista’s men was also a death sentence. Their only option was to use the fallen tree as a causeway to the riverbank and hope the local cannibals weren’t hungry. “Come on, honey, it’s time to walk the plank.”
And they did. It was barely a hundred feet to the riverbank, but getting there meant clawing through a horizontal jungle of branches and vines. The trek was further complicated by a troupe of acrobatic capuchin monkeys exploring the downed tree.
Faye yelled, “Look, monkeys!”
Catalina muttered, “That’s bordering on an obsession, sweetie.”
One of the monkeys effortlessly zipped by Catalina, who momentarily lost her footing. She shouted, “Goddamn showoffs!” and pressed on.
The monkey troupe suddenly froze in place, letting out a chorus of howls, and then fled en masse back to the riverbank.
Sensing trouble, Catalina grabbed Faye’s belt and shouted, “Stop!”
She felt the tree vibrating beneath her hand until it grew into violent shaking—worse than they’d felt underwater. Catalina flattened out on the tree trunk, one hand clamped to Faye’s belt. “Just hang on, honey.”
The water beneath them churned. A torrent of air bubbles burst to the surface till the river looked like a boiling cauldron. Then it stopped.
Catalina muttered, “What the fuck was that?”
Faye said, “I don’t fucking know,” and actually giggled.
Catalina thought, This kid’s as bad as her dad; laughing at danger must be genetic.
They were over three quarters of the way across when Catalina saw a small boat approaching. She said, “Keep moving, honey, maybe they’ll ignore us.”
That’s when she saw Santos standing in the boat. A second later, he opened fire.
#
Micah hit the river, sinking like a rock, his lungs filling with water. A few hard kicks got him to the surface, but it was pitch black. After a moment’s panic, he realized he was beneath the overturned dinghy. Grabbing the edge, he swam out from under.
Umberto was waiting.
The big man grabbed his hair, pushing him under the water. Micah flailed, hands groping, till he latched on to something—Umberto’s crotch. He clamped down on the fistful of testicles. With a shrill scream, Umberto released him and sank beneath the brown water.
Micah bobbed to the surface, crawling onto the overturned dinghy. He grabbed the oarlock and leaned back, flipping the boat. Once it was righted, he gripped a tie-down and heaved himself inside.
Something flashed in the corner of his eye. Micah pitched sideways as the knife blade zipped past his face.
Micah yelled, “Son of a bitch!” while groping for some kind of weapon.
Umberto hauled himself halfway into the Zodiac, the knife now clenched in his teeth. Micah latched on to an oar velcroed to the hull. Tearing it loose, he swung blindly, striking Umberto squarely in the face. Umberto spat out the knife, along with a few teeth, and flopped back into the water. But a second later he was back, grabbing at the oarlock.
Micah held up the oar, ready to strike. Umberto swung the cloth sack he’d been carrying like a club, striking his shin. Wincing in pain, Micah dropped to his knees, wrenching the sack out of Umberto’s hand. Umberto lost his grip, treading water alongside the dinghy.
Micah rose up, gripping the oar like a baseball bat, shouting, “Just stay down, you fucking maniac!”
Umberto suddenly vanished beneath the water, as if sucked straight down. The water erupted in a crimson geyser and Umberto shot back to the surface, letting out a banshee wail. He kicked frantically, trying to swim with one leg—the other was reduced to a bloody stump below the knee.
At first Micah thought the attacker was a bull shark, until he saw a flash of copper-colored scales break the water. A split second later, the huge fish clamped on to Umberto’s outstretched arm.
Micah recognized the fish … sort of. It had the body and head of a piranha but was at least four feet long.
With one bite the fish severed Umberto’s arm and submerged clutching its prize. A second fish broke the surface, clamping its jaws around Umberto’s throat. An instant later, the man was yanked beneath the water, a bloody stain spreading around the dinghy.
Micah shouted, “Shit!” and grabbed the engine’s pull start. He yanked once, twice, but the engine just sputtered. “Think, dumbass, think!” Then, remembering his youth on the river, he found the engine’s manual choke and pulled it out. He yanked the pull start again—this time it caught, roaring to life. “Yes!” He saw a huge fish bearing down on the stern. Grabbing the tiller, he pushed it straight down while flattening himself to the deck.
The roaring engine prop cleared the water just as the fish leapt at the boat. The whirring prop tore into its belly, gutting it in a fountain of blood. The giant fish tumbled into the water. A split second later, another giant piranha latched on to it, dragging it below.
Micah lowered the engine into the water. The dinghy lurched forward, gaining speed.
Another giant piranha was coming at the dinghy head-on. Micah gunned the engine, closing the gap, rolling right over the fish. The dinghy went airborne for a moment, splashed down and continued on. The fish didn’t give chase.
The dinghy shot past the queen’s flagship. Glancing back, Micah saw Queen Caveira standing at the bow. She must have seen him too. Her stream of curses momentarily drowned out the roaring outboard motor.
The queen’s go-fast boats were up ahead, advancing in loose formation. Micah raced past them, shocked that they didn’t open fire. Instead, three of the boats accelerated, mistakenly assuming that Micah was leading the charge.
Micah came to the bend in the river and gunned the engine, gambling that Faye and Catalina were still on the Valentina. He had to get to them before the queen turned the river into a shooting gallery.
But as soon as he rounded the bend, all the hope within him died.
The Valentina was sinking, its rear half engulfed in flames.
#
Santos’s boat bore down on Catalina and Faye. He knelt at the prow rapid firing an AK-47.
Catalina grabbed Faye and hunkered down behind a thick branch, bullets shredding the wood around them.
She fumbled for the pistol, shouting, “That son of a bitch really hates me!”
More bullets slapped at the tree trunk, all going wide of the mark. Catalina was thankful that Santos was firing from a moving boat—it was the only thing saving them. He may have had her outgunn
ed, but at least she’d be firing from a stable platform.
There was a momentary lapse in the fire. Gambling that he was reloading, Catalina poked her head up, aimed and snapped off four rounds. Santos had smartly hit the deck while reloading, so she opted for the man piloting the boat. His being close to the engine meant even a missed shot might do some damage. She dropped down, just as Santos resumed fire, showering them in shredded leaves and branches.
Catalina knelt down beside Faye, asking, “You okay?”
The wide-eyed little girl just nodded. Catalina peered over the tree trunk, hoping she’d hit the other man.
The attacking boat veered wildly. Santos stepped back from his firing position, kicked the wounded pilot overboard and took control.
Knowing she only had a few bullets and no spare ammo, Catalina prayed he wouldn’t make a second attack. Taking a chance, she stood up for a better look.
Santos was seated at the tiller, turning the boat away. She watched him roar off, fighting the impulse to give him the finger. Something jarred the tree, almost knocking her into the river.
She grabbed on to a branch, shouting, “Hang on tight, honey.”
The fallen tree trembled, nearly shaking them off. They were no more than fifty feet from the shore, but there was no way they could move safely.
The water around them churned and bubbled.
Looking up to the sky, Catalina yelled, “Really? What do you got for us now, a volcano?”
A moment later, her theory was proven wrong.
A blackish coil, thick as the tree trunk, rippled along the water and sank back down.
Catalina muttered, “The goddamn snake’s back,” and grabbed Faye. “We need to run for shore!”
Chapter Fifteen
Micah steered the dinghy towards the sinking Valentina, praying that he’d find Faye and Catalina. There was no sign of life on the burning ship or in the water around it—just crimson stains on the brown water, marking the piranhas’ feeding frenzy.
One of Batista’s gunboats pulled alongside him but roared off without incident. Apparently a lone man in a dinghy wasn’t deemed a threat.
Primeval Waters Page 13
