by John Koloen
“This has been going on so long I can’t stand it,” he confided.
“It won’t be much longer,” Duncan said, as the group clustered in the shade of a mound of dirt and lumbering debris. It was all the relief they could expect without entering the shady forest that beckoned like an oasis the longer they took a break. The men passed around one of Boyd’s water bottles, taking several small sips under the watchful eyes of their companions. Everyone would get a fair share and nothing more, not even Paulo, whose suffering only worsened as they rested.
The longer they sat, the more they gave in to their exhaustion, all except Josias who sat with Paulo and tried to distract him from his pain, getting him to focus on the remedies that were hidden in the forest. Duncan resisted the urge to close his eyes as he recognized the extent of his weariness, taking deep breaths, yawning multiple times, imagining what it would be like to drench himself with a bucket of cold water.
Having staved off his sleepiness, Duncan approached Boyd and Cooper, who sat together, their knees up, arms wrapped around their legs, their expressions distant as if dreaming.
“I think we need to get going,” Duncan said, standing in front of the men. “We can’t sit here all day.”
Boyd raised his head slowly.
“Where we going?”
“Your guide knows the rainforest. He can get us back to that village.”
Boyd lowered his gaze.
“I know,” Duncan said sympathetically. “I’m sorry. But we’ve got to find water or we won’t survive. Antonio’s cousin is in a bad way and, frankly, I’m too tired to think straight.”
“What if y’all go ahead,” Boyd said, stifling a cough, looking straight ahead. “I’ve still got a couple bottles. Somebody should be here if he comes back. I’ll catch up, just leave some markers.”
Duncan shook his head skeptically.
“Cody, there’s no sense in it. Braga hijacked the plane and he’s on his way to Manaus.”
“We don’t know that.”
Boyd slowly rose, coughing uncontrollably, his face reddening.
“Just look at you,” Duncan scolded. “You can’t even stop coughing. It’s only gonna get worse the longer we stay here. I know it’s a disappointment after all we’ve been through, but we’ve got to move on. What would your wife think if you don’t come back? Think of her.”
Boyd bent over, his hands on his knees momentarily, waiting for the cough spasm to stop. Then he took a deep breath and wheezed.
“You’re probably right,” he said breathlessly.
119
No sooner had the Munduruku led the little group to the edge of the rainforest than Boyd turned his head skyward, stopping in his tracks.
“What now?” Cooper asked.
“Shhh,” Boyd said bluntly. “Can’t you hear it?”
“Hear what?”
“Shhh.”
Cooper watched Boyd whose head was lifted to the smoky sky, tilted, cupping his ear. Rather than following the others toward the forest, Boyd moved in the opposite direction, scanning the low-ceiling, trying to figure out the direction of the sound, which faded in and out somewhere in the unseeable distance. Cooper remained where he stood while Duncan and Suarez followed with Paulo, well behind Josias. Without warning, Josias advanced quickly into the forest, leaving the others behind.
“Hey,” Duncan called when he realized Boyd and Cooper weren’t following. “We’re going this way.”
Cooper started toward the group while Boyd moved farther away as he continued to search the sky.
“What’s he doing?” Duncan asked when Cooper caught up.
“He says he hears a plane.”
Duncan was about to say something but stopped abruptly, his attention directed toward the sky.
“I hear it,” Duncan said, rushing to join Boyd near the tire tracks. “Where’s it coming from?”
“Hard to say, but it’s getting lower and closer.”
“The smoke must be, what, four or five hundred feet? Good luck finding us.”
“He’s probably got a GPS.”
“You think it’s our guy?”
“Who else could it be?”
Duncan shrugged.
“Could be someone looking at the fire.”
Boyd gave Duncan a cross look.
“It’s him. I know it.”
Cooper and the Brazilians joined Duncan and Boyd, all of them watching the sky.
“It sounds like Marcio’s plane,” Suarez said encouragingly.
In a moment the plane was passing overhead, above the smoke, hidden from the ground. Boyd yelled as the sound of the engine started moving away from them, fading but then returning as it circled back, now coming from the north, its engine throttled as it broke through the smoke in the distance, descending sharply and leveling just as the balloon wheels met the surface, the pilot cutting the engine quickly, the Piper PA-22 coasting to a stop.
The men cheered as all but Paulo ran toward the plane. Suarez embraced the pilot as he stepped out of the cockpit, both smiling broadly. The two spoke in Portuguese for several minutes, Marcio animatedly as if telling a tall tale, Suarez nodding and shaking his head at intervals. When they were finished, Suarez repeated the conversation in English.
The pilot had returned expecting to be met by Suarez but instead was approached by a man holding a revolver who forced his way onto the plane.
“The man wasn’t the only one,” Suarez said. “Two others came out of the bush and started arguing with the first man.”
“Was that Braga?” Duncan asked.
Suarez nodded.
“One of the men tried to climb in and Braga kicked him to the ground and shot him in the hand. Both men ran back into the bush and Marcio says he pointed the gun at him and told him to take off.”
“Can we talk about this later?” Boyd asked insistently, concerned about his specimens.
Duncan asked Suarez to continue.
“Marcio tells him if he shoots him who will fly the plane, so the man hits him in the head with the gun and tells him to fly to Manaus. Marcio says he’s trying to think of a way out but the man is very angry and he’s afraid he’ll shoot him so he took off.”
“Surely, he couldn’t have flown to Manaus,” Duncan said. “It took us hours to get here.”
“Oh, no,” Suarez said, shaking his head. “Not long after they take off the man starts to have pain in his belly. He is just making sounds and is bent over. He tells Marcio he needs to see a doctor. That something is wrong inside him. So, Marcio turns around and lands in Jacareacanga and helps the man off the plane, who is in so much pain that he can barely walk. Right away he sees that the man’s shorts are wet as if he peed but he sees from the passenger seat that it is blood. He doesn’t know what is happening so he helps the man sit down under a tree in front of the office and goes inside but no one is there. When he comes back out, the man is curled up on his side, and he’s hitting his stomach with his fist. The man asks for water and Marcio gives him a bottle from his plane and tried to help him drink but he pushes him away.”
“So, he just left him there?” Cooper asked.
Suarez nodded.
“Marcio felt sorry for the man but he thinks it’s God’s justice for having hit him in the head.”
Duncan and Boyd knew as soon as stomach pains were mentioned that Reptilus had gotten into Braga’s body.
“He should have let us check him out,” Boyd whispered to Cooper.
“Yeah, he just kept running. Serves him right.”
“I’m glad you’re back,” Duncan said in Portuguese, sounding out the words carefully.
The pilot looked at him quizzically.
“He was always coming back,” Suarez said. “He’s my friend. I would do the same for him.”
120
While Suarez related the pilot’s story, Josias emerged from the forest carrying leaves that may have been aloe vera and immediately began squeezing a gel out of one of them onto Paulo’s wounds. H
e told Paulo that he would feel better soon.
Since the plane would carry only three passengers, a decision had to be made as to who would be first. There was no question Paulo would be on the first flight, but then it got complicated, more complicated than anyone expected as the miner whom Braga shot came out of the bush, blood dripping from his left hand, along with his companion. Shirtless and dehydrated, they asked for water. Though Boyd recognized the wounded man as Ramon Gaspar, he hesitated to respond, as he had only a couple of bottles in his pack and had no idea how long it would have to last, but Marcio handed them a bottle from his plane, which they shared.
While Suarez and the pilot talked with the miners, Boyd approached the plane, saw dried blood on the passenger door and, behind the front passenger seat, Braga’s daypack. He tried to get the pilot’s attention, but he was talking to the miners who were begging him for a ride. Surprised at its weight, he unzipped the main compartment to find Braga’s gold-filled jars, which captured his attention only momentarily, as the treasure he sought was his Iridium satellite phone. Locating it in one of the pack’s exterior pockets, he pressed the power button and smiled as the small screen lit up.
“Hey, hey,” he shouted, holding the phone up like a trophy. “Look what I found.”
Cooper quickly joined him alongside the plane, the two high-fiving, exhilaration overcoming their exhaustion.
“You gonna call for a chopper?” Cooper asked eagerly, leaning into the plane to check it out.
“Definitely,” Boyd said, enthusiastically. “Forget this old crate.”
Boyd stepped away from the plane, pulled out the antenna and selected a number from the phone’s contact list and waited for a connection. Meanwhile, Cooper inspected Braga’s pack, his eyes widening as he pulled out one of the jars, examining it closely. Unlike Boyd, whose only interest was in preserving his specimens long enough to be paid a quarter-million dollars, Cooper stood to make less and instantly found justification to take at least some of the gold to compensate. He’d gone through all the hardships and now that he had time to think about it, it wasn’t fair that he would be paid less, though while he squeamishly watched Boyd cut the squirming bugs out of Harden’s thigh, he understood why his companion was getting the big bucks. But where to put the gold? He was shirtless like the others, his only clothing his hat, cargo shorts, socks and hiking shoes. Leaning into the plane’s cramped cabin, he made certain no one was watching as he opened one of the jars, transferring a portion of its contents into his side pockets that he hoped didn’t bulge noticeably.
Boyd, who had been walking in small circles while on the phone, returned to the plane, looking like he’d just won a lottery.
“Good news, man, we’ll be flying out in style. They’ll be here in three, four hours.”
The two fist-bumped and as they moved away from the plane Boyd couldn’t help but notice Cooper holding his hands against his side pockets.
“What you got there?” he said.
Cooper stopped and whispered, “I didn’t think it would be noticeable.”
“You took the gold?”
“Shhh. Not so loud,” Cooper said. “Just a little. Hell, I deserve it. You deserve it. We all deserve it.”
Boyd stroked his chin thoughtfully but couldn’t find any reason to disagree. They’d been through a lot, and more than likely Braga would be dead in a matter of days from infection or blood loss. He imagined the damage a single bug could do, gouging painful holes, swelling the belly with toxins, perhaps entering the abdominal cavity and lacerating other organs until it died.
“Do you think I should put it back?” the suddenly self-conscious Cooper asked.
“That’s up to you,” Boyd said, still giddy from the prospect of escape. “Did you by any chance find our passports and phones and stuff?”
“I didn’t look.”
“Maybe we should all just split it,” Cooper suggested as he watched Boyd stick his head in the cabin and pull out Braga’s pack.
“He kept everything, passports, wallets and phones,” Boyd said, handing Cooper’s belongings to him before joining Duncan and the others, who were making decisions about who would board the plane first.
“The chopper’ll be here in three hours,” he whispered into Duncan’s ear. “There’s room for the three of us.”
121
Josias had never flown and was leery of climbing into the plane, even if it meant he would be back in Jacareacanga in a half-hour. Time wasn’t a consideration for him because to his way of thinking only the present counted. Having grown up in the rainforest he had no fear of it, knew how to find water and food and could build a hammock out of vines using his machete, the only tool he needed, so that he didn’t have to sleep on the ground.
“I will be home soon,” he told Suarez, who offered a ride in Marcio’s plane, since the pilot wanted to refuel in Jacareacanga before returning to Manaus.
True to Josias’s promise, Paulo’s spirit had brightened. He insisted to his cousin that he was feeling better and that he wanted to go home as quickly as possible. Marcio told the group that he had room for one of the miners, but not both of them and that he would not return after refueling, since the Americans were waiting for a helicopter. After a brief argument, the wounded miner appealing for compassion for his injury, Marcio agreed to take him, leaving the second miner with no choice but to go with Josias. The miner was fearful of the Munduruku reputation as fierce warriors and cannibals, but that was from the long-buried past. The tribesman was cordial and, while he didn’t understand why the miner seemed aloof toward him, he nonetheless was happy to have a companion who spoke Portuguese for his journey.
Duncan hugged Suarez as he prepared to board the plane, the pilot impatient to leave. Once the plane was out of sight, Josias shook the Americans’ hands, smiled happily and quickly disappeared into the shade of the forest, the miner following closely behind him.
The Americans sat together in the shade of a palm at the edge of the forest watching as flames started to engulf the trees lining the bank of the riverbed, several kilometers of alternating strips of cleared and uncleared land separating them from the fire.
“That must be the diesel,” Boyd said as a fireball erupted, sending dark plumes of smoke into the murky sky.
“Could be the kerosene,” Cooper said.
“Doesn’t matter,” Boyd said. “In a couple hours we’ll be on our way to Manaus.”
“And then back to the U.S.A.,” Cooper said, exuberantly, his hands curling around his pockets, fingering individual nuggets through the cloth.
“What do you think the gold is worth?” Boyd asked.
“I don’t know. It’s heavier than I thought.”
Duncan sniffed, coughing briefly.
“You took the gold?” he asked.
Cooper nodded, smiling. “Some of it.”
“How you gonna get it through customs?”
“Huh?”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Boyd said.
“What do you mean?” Cooper said. “The company is flying us back, aren’t they?”
“All they care about are the specimens. Once they got ’em, they’re done with us. They’ll probably dump us in Manaus.”
“Shit, man,” Cooper said, deflated.
“You could sell it at a bullion exchange,” Boyd said.
“How would I do that?”
Boyd shrugged.
“No idea. Might not be worth it.”
“What do you mean? It’s worth thousands, for sure.”
“Yeah, but do you speak Portuguese? Do you even know how to find an exchange?”
Cooper sighed.
“What would you do?” he asked Duncan, who was fiddling with his phone.
“I’d leave it here. Maybe you should’ve given it to that miner. He’s the one who earned it.”
“Now you’re just making me feel bad.”
“They haven’t gone that far,” Boyd said. “Maybe you can catch up to them, do a good d
eed.”
“You’re kidding,” Cooper scoffed.
Surprising both of the young men, Duncan stood, brushed the sand off his legs and grabbed Braga’s pack.
“We’ve got a few hours. It might be enough to change his life. For you it’s just icing on the cake. It’s the cake for him.”
122
“He’s crazy, isn’t he?” Cooper asked after Duncan left with Braga’s gold.
Boyd nodded, looked up a number on his phone and entered it into the satellite phone, stood up and took several steps while the connection was made.
“Hi, hon,” he said loudly, and then listened to his tearful and joyful wife. “I’m safe and I’ll be in Manaus tonight. You’re at that hotel where Howard stayed, right? Don’t go anywhere. I’ll call when I get in. Gotta go. Love you.”
“Your wife?” Cooper asked.
“Yeah,” Boyd said, looking toward the forest. “You got someone you want to call?”
Cooper shook his head.
“Not really. I’m just glad I got my credit cards and passport. Damn, I thought I lost everything when they took our stuff.”
The two shared the next to the last bottle of water while watching the fire, smoke rising in billowing columns, the top angling in their direction, driven by upper level wind. The ceiling had risen dramatically, from several hundred feet to well over one thousand, giving them a clear view at ground level.
“Do you think the fire will kill the bugs?” Cooper asked as they chatted to kill time.
“Maybe.”
“I’d like to think so, sort of get even with them for what they’ve done.”
“They’re just doing what they were born to do. Can’t take it personally. I mean, you can, obviously, but it doesn’t matter what we think.”
“I’d like to think they’re turning into ash.”
The conversation continued sporadically until Boyd grew uneasy about Duncan’s absence. Shifting position, he stared at the opening into the forest where Josias had gone. Cooper stood to stretch.