by Bob Nailor
“Marshall and Barbara,” Neville finally said softly.
“We’re not going anywhere without them,” Ana said, then stood to stretch out the anxiety. “Each of you knows how desperation destroys our objectivity and judgment,” she said. “We must have a hundred years of field experience between us. We can figure this out, people, without doing something we’ll all regret later.”
“So, where are they then?” Wayne asked.
“That’s Task Number One. Find Barbara and Marshal. Number Two is to try to get some kind of communication going with Singapore.”
Wayne only shook his head. “As I said, no way, boss. That arrow went straight through the processor in the communications computer. We’re back to smoke signals, or as I suggested earlier, hitch-hike our way down the Amazon.”
“That might not be as wonky as it sounds,” Neville remarked. “You all saw those satellite shots. Big Brother’s watching, and he knows our comm station is down. A few giant puffs of smoke in the wrong place would be a perfectly understandable call for help.”
Ana smiled at her colleague. Finally a positive, practical suggestion.
“That sounds like a plan,” she said. “Let’s just not burn down the forest. The ceremony tonight is to honor Tinga and—” Ana frowned, trying to remember the other native’s name.
“Jannie something,” Aaron added.
“Ah, yes, Janiza. I don’t know exactly what the ceremony will entail, but there will be another fire. Zreia will come to get us later tonight. All I know is the ceremony is called the Eye of Knowledge.” Ana stood and paced nervously.
“I suggest the following,” she continued. “Neville can organize his smoke signals. To build a fire that will generate that amount of smoke will take some time. Wayne and Nancy, you continue the search for your wayward colleagues. We will attend the ceremony to which we’ve been invited tonight and hope that we’re all back together by then. Tomorrow morning, we’ll repeat the smoke signals. If they figure out we need help, they should be able to get a chopper up here in a few hours. If that doesn’t happen by the end of the day tomorrow, we’ll re-evaluate our position as a group.” A tentative air of calm fell on the group as they nodded their heads in agreement.
“Let’s get started, chaps,” Neville said, but as he turned to leave, Moema called him to talk. They whispered for a few seconds before he returned. “Moema thinks she knows something about this ceremony.” He quickly pulled her out of her kitchen.
“Please, Moema,” Ana said with a smile. “If you have anything that will help us to understand the ceremony, share it.”
Moema nervously swallowed and looked down, fidgeting with her hands. “In my village, there is a ceremony that all young maidens must pass. We call it ‘Breaking the Eye’ and is when a virgin...” Moema blushed and stopped.
“Go ahead,” Neville pushed. “Explain the ceremony.”
Moema looked up at Ana and smiled sheepishly. “When a maiden reaches the age of consent, she must be ready to accept a young man who doesn’t understand the female body.” She fidgeted nervously. “The girl goes with a group of women to a special hut and…” Moema again hesitated, took a deep breath, and let it go. “It is then her virginity is broken. She is then prepared for the young man to penetrate her without it being painful.”
“And, you think this might be the ceremony tonight?” Ana asked.
Moema nodded her head. “You said they call it the ‘Eye of Knowledge’ and is for virgins.” She shook her head and shrugged. “I may be wrong.”
“Well, that is a real possibility,” Ana said. “If so, we have at least some idea of what will happen tonight. I know that Tinga is a virgin, as is Janiza.” Ana shuddered. “And, we know what happened to the non-virgin.” She cast an eye at the students. “Be warned, these natives do not joke around. Life is a serious item. And, no cameras.” Ana stood quietly watching the group. “Are there any other questions?” The only response was silence.
“Fine,” Ana said. “Until this evening’s fire, no one goes anywhere alone. Aaron, would you please take Wayne and Nancy on one more search for our missing couple?” She looked at Moema. “With Paulo’s men gone, do you need any help in the kitchen?”
“I’ll need firewood,” Moema said. “And water.”
Ana found her lips turned up with her first smile since Barbara had woken her. “Dr. Neville and I can help you with that, I’m sure.”
The camp was in remarkable peace when Zreia ambled in that evening. Nancy and Wayne were playing cards without the usual bravado while Ana, Neville, and Aaron debated the linguistic evidence so plentiful around them. There were some concerns since Marshall and Barbara hadn’t been located, but in the darkness, there was little to do but wait until the next morning. The group watched the darkness of the evening fall and now could see the glow of flames in the distance. There was no doubt in their mind another hut had been put to the torch for the ceremonial fire.
“Come,” Zreia said. “Itotia awaits your attendance. The ceremony of the Eye of Knowledge is about to start. Follow me.” She turned and set off toward the fire. “Wait. There is one other thing. Itotia was adamant, you must wear boots since your feet are not accustomed to the jungle paths.” She smiled, again that enigmatic smile. “You must be prepared for the Long Walk.”
Ana quickly glanced at the group and noted everyone had on their hiking boots. She nodded.
Zreia led the group through the vacant streets to the fire. Ana realized the hut on fire was Tinga’s where she’d met with her just days earlier, yet it seemed so long ago.
As before, a group of women encircled the dancing flames, standing quietly in the low light. Zreia pointed to an area for them to stand which remained open between two somber natives. They hadn’t been there but mere seconds when Itotia and her litter passed silently, carried on the shoulders of the four, strong young men.
“Tonight we gather to honor Janiza and Tinga, virgins who have been chosen for the Long Walk and to attempt their journey through the Eye of Knowledge,” Itotia said from the height of the litter. Ana smiled. Zreia had tried to explain what the ceremony was, but couldn’t describe the Long Walk.
“Sit,” Itotia commanded. The four bearers lowered her to the ground and everyone else then sat cross-legged on the ground. “In celebration, we will share in jurema.”
The four men each picked up large, ornately decorated gourds that sat near the fire. They approached each woman one by one and she drank of the deep red liquid in the containers. When it came to her turn, the powerful attendant stopped before Ana and held the vessel out toward her, a slight smile forming on his lips. She took the gourd, carefully moving it to her lips. She could smell the berry scent, similar to ayahuasca and she slowly sipped. The man abruptly tipped the jug upward and she felt the liquid gush into her mouth. She nearly choked on the burning elixir which warmed her throat and stomach as it went down. It was definitely not ayahuasca. The scent wrapped around her mind and her eyes widened in an attempt to maintain their focus. Ana could feel her mind reeling and looked to her group who were also fighting the reaction of the liquid.
“Tonight, Janiza and Tinga will accept the final kiss of our god for eternal bliss. Through the Eye of Knowledge, they will walk to join with their sisters as one of the tribe forever.” Itotia lifted her hands over her head. “May their chosens fulfill their tasks.” She dropped her arms to her side, head bowed down.
Utter silence ensued with only the crackling of the fire and an occasional night jungle sound from beyond the light of the fire.
“We go,” Itotia said suddenly, and stood up. “The Long Walk begins.”
Ana and her group stood cautiously. She was amazed to find that, though her head was woozy, she still held her balance. Aaron slipped in next to Ana. She could see his face was clouded in concern even in the low, flickering firelight. “We should not even think about going with her,” he whispered. “We need to stick with your plan and stay close to the signal fire.”
“I have been patient with you, Ana,” she said, almost growled. “We have never opened our customs and rituals to anyone as we have to you. Yet, you refuse to control your people. Your women whore themselves in public on our holiest of days. You burn our forest. You refuse to silence your males.” She turned her eyes toward Aaron at Ana’s side who seemed ready to erupt in anger. “I will no longer tolerate this lack of respect. Control him, or I will do it for you.”
Aaron could no longer keep quiet. He blurted out, “Certainly we have the right to speak between—”
Itotia moved to one side, granite-faced and calm. The pair of attendants closest to her stepped forward and seized Aaron by his arms as he spoke. The taller quickly placed his hand on the muscles of Aaron’s shoulder, just where they joined his neck. In what appeared to be an effortless motion, he squeezed. Aaron sank to his knees, his mouth gaping silently open and his face contorted with pain. Itotia stepped back in front of Aaron as he writhed in agony. She drew the long, razor-sharp nail on her right index finger in a path from one ear to the other ear along the soft skin of his throat. It sliced through the first few layers, leaving a fine trail of blood behind.
The entire incident could not have lasted more than ten seconds, but it left Aaron curled up on the ground, close to unconsciousness. Ana resisted her first impulse to defend her colleague as Itotia returned to confront her.
“You say you are here to learn, but you and your people remain ignorant and arrogant,” the queen snarled in a tone so quiet it seemed to be part of the forest sounds. “If our lord and master did not find you interesting, your bodies would already be fuel for the sacrilegious fire you lit this morning. This is your last warning, Ana Carvalho. What happens next is in your hands.” She turned to walk away toward the forest.
Ana’s team rushed to where Aaron lay. Neville quickly kneeled to help him stand. “Leave him,” Ana snapped. “Perhaps he will learn something.” All of their eyes shone with shock, but Ana didn’t relent. Instead, she walked in a confident stride in the direction Itotia had gone.
“We go,” Ana said harshly. “In silence, as instructed.”
Tinga and Janiza fell in line behind Itotia. They walked stiff-legged and seemed not to notice anything or anyone about them. Ana had no doubts about the possibility of the girls being drugged and started to rethink Barbara’s earlier hesitation regarding virgin sacrifices. The natives mixed around them and Ana realized she was separated from her team. She continued straight ahead, her back straight and her head high. They’ll be fine,” she thought, though not without a shiver rippling through her body.
Ana glanced back at the village to see a figure moving – no, there was more than one. They slipped between the huts with torches. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing – the huts were being set afire. The village was being destroyed. Ana felt a surge to run back and save what she could, but the Long Walk had started. With only an occasional flickering torch on the unmarked jungle path, it became difficult to see where to walk. It was dark, yet nobody seemed upset by that fact or felt the need for light, or even to carry a torch. The trees blanked out the sky above and leaves raked along their arms, leaving small scratches. Ana heard Nancy trip, fall and then say ‘thank you.’ She could only guess somebody had helped to get her back up and hoped there were no repercussions of her talking.
Suddenly, the area ahead fell into the shadows of bright light from the rear. Ana turned to see flames through the trees. She knew without being there, all the huts were afire and the flames licked upward to the sky. The village was gone. Future research was literally going up in smoke. She fleetingly wondered if they would find their tents and equipment when they returned. Ana stumbled, caught her balance, and continued, curious as to how many young women had tread these steps before her.
Chapter Twenty-Four
SECRETS REVEALED
Edson heard three raps on his door. It was after midnight, and his visitor had left only minutes earlier. He was in bed, ready to sleep. Maybe she forgot her purse or lipstick or some other female accessory, he thought and threw on a pair of shorts. He opened the door with a smile.
Dr. Fábio pushed past him, a rumpled wad of papers crammed under his arm. “Nice place, Edson. Early beer crate, I see.” All of the furniture had come from local bars. The mattress lay directly on the floor.
“How’d you find me?” he asked.
“Do you actually think nobody knows about your little love nest?” The doctor went straight for the refrigerator. “The cutie who just left came to see me after her last visit here. The rabbit’s doing fine, but you’ve got to be more careful, my friend. Where are the glasses?”
“What glasses?” Edson answered with a smile, remembering the girl had gotten carried away during their acrobatics the last time and all precautions were forgotten.
Fábio popped open a can of beer. “At least it’s cold. You want to know a little more about that tattoo?” He spread a few of the sheets of paper on the plastic table.
Edson would have preferred shut-eye but shrugged and glanced at the papers as he passed on his way to the refrigerator. “Go ahead,” he said. He popped his beer and plunked himself down in the other plastic chair.
“Four betas.” Fábio paused while bringing his extended fingers together in a balled fist before him. “That became a tau.” Fábio unclasped his hands and ran them through his hair. “It got me to thinking.”
“You know, it’s all Greek to me,” Edson said with a smile. Fábio ignored him and never slowed down.
“I’m a doctor, right? We learn certain words for medicine. I was almost a priest. We learned others. I started scratching words on a paper, trying to find something that could maybe make sense.” He slid over a page for the less-than-interested Edson to see. “The four betas are easy. Just a Serbian nationalistic symbol. But, that in and of itself is a puzzle. What is a Serbian priest doing in our church?”
“Just offhand, I’d say a great job,” Edson said, finally paying attention. “He was the best priest Boca’s had in a hundred years.” He remembered Father Bora’s little confession.
“Serbians aren’t Catholic, Edson,” the doctor said. “At least, not Roman Catholic. They’re Eastern Orthodox. They don’t even believe in the Pope.” That shut Edson up and grabbed his attention. He thought everybody believed in the Pope.
“So, what could this tau be?” Fábio downed the rest of his beer and opened another. “I found a site to translate stuff for me from Greek to Portuguese.” Fábio had, at least, fifty printed pages scattered in front of him. “He’s a priest. Priests belong to orders. The Greek word for order is ‘tagma.’ Begins with a ‘tau.’ Yessssss.” He gave Edson an enthusiastic high-five that almost broke his hand. Fábio nodded his head and repeated the word softly. “Yessss. Yessss. Yessss.”
Edson noticed the size of the doctor’s pupils and raised an eyebrow. “You been dipping into your little locked cabinet, Fábio?”
“No. What makes you say that?” He replied so fast the words ran together into one long slur. “As I said, I got to snooping at Catholic sites on the internet. Took me an hour, but I found this.”
He slid over the next sheet of paper. It was a page from an ancient Bible, hand painted and copied by monks. In the middle of the page was an extravagant drawing of the archangel Uriel who sat astride a gleaming white horse. In his hand was a sword in defense of the faithful. Surrounding him stood a small group of monks, each carrying a shield and a sword. Emblazoned across the shields was the letter “tau” identical to the one tattooed on Father Bora’s chest. “I finally discovered it on on
e of those conspiracy sites. People have talked about a secret order inside the Church since ancient times. This is a line of priests who deal with things the rest of the Church denies exist. It’s called The Order of The High Priest Uriel. T-A-U in Greek. They say it’s an order that draws its members from all religions.” He paused and glared at Edson. “Yes, even Jews and Muslims, too. This group is one that deals with the things no one wants to even think about.”
“Like?”
Fábio narrowed his eyes, the heavy eyebrows becoming a dark caterpillar above his eyes. A grin curled his lips. “Like exorcism. Like demons. Evil, Edson. They deal with evil…evil of the worst kind.”
Edson stood to pull a t-shirt on over his muscled torso. He was suddenly chilly. And, now he knew exactly why Father Bora had come to Boca do Acre. “So why was his tattoo in Greek?”
“He was a Serb. Their traditions go back to before the Romans. Evil’s an ancient thing, my friend. Maybe even older than love.” The doctor was beginning to come down from his high, deflating like a used party balloon.
“Maria was right,” Edson said.
“Who’s Maria?” the slumping doctor asked.
“She’s the little old lady who sits all day on the sidewalk bench with her husband. You know, the ones across from the church. She saw a mulher morcego.”
Fábio popped open his third beer. “Once or twice a year, I see something I’ve never been able to explain. You remember the bodies we pull out of the river. Black and dried like beef jerky. Not even the piranhas will touch them. I write on the death certificate, ‘dehydration.’ But...” Fábio paused. “But, it’s not caused by the sun. When the Indians see these things, they scurry away mumbling mulher morcego.”
“So why wasn’t Father Bora like that? And my men?”
“Because they were simply killed, not consumed,” Fábio answered. “Something’s happening, Edson. The stories of mulher morcego go back as far as the people in this forest. But…” Fábio paused. “We’ve never had attacks like this before, Edson. So what has changed? What’s different?”