by WW Mortensen
“I’ve been meaning to ask about Robert,” she whispered. “What’s the connection there? How does he know Ed, exactly?”
Owen leaned in close, keeping his own voice low. “He’s only known him for a year or so, I guess. Ed had other guides, on and off, and was looking for a new one—someone who had an intimate knowledge of the jungle. Anyway, Sanchez came recommended, a one-time soldier in the Brazilian army—Special Forces, in fact. Grupos de Operaces Especiais—Special Operations Group.”
Rebecca raised her eyebrows. “I had a feeling he knew his stuff.”
“Yeah, makes you a little more comfortable, doesn’t it?”
“What about Enrique and the other men back at Base Camp?”
“Hired hands, essentially. Robert organised them. Apparently, not long before my arrival, they had trouble with one of the men— I think was his name was Cartana. I’m not sure of the specifics, but shortly after S2 was discovered, he ran out on them. Stole one of the boats one night when everyone was asleep and just disappeared.”
“Really? Interesting.”
Owen agreed. “More coffee?”
“Thanks.”
They sipped in silence. At last, Owen said quietly, “What about Jess?”
“Hey?”
“You’re trying to get a handle on everyone. You’re wondering about her, aren’t you?”
Rebecca shook her head. “Nothing to wonder about,” she said. “She seems lovely. Ed’s very lucky.”
“They make a nice couple.”
Rebecca realised he was teasing her. “Okay, tell me. How did they meet?”
Owen smiled. “Several months back, Ed had an appointment with an associate professor of archaeology from Lima’s Universidad de San Martin de Porres—you know, research stuff. Anyway, this guy was heading up a dig somewhere near Cuzco in Peru. Jessy was doing some field work on that same dig, part of her undergraduate studies, I guess. They got to talking. Obviously had similar interests…”
“Obviously.”
“…and now she’s deferred,” Owen finished. “She’s a nice girl, Bec.”
“I’m sure she is,” Rebecca said. “Trust me, I’m happy for them.”
Owen tilted his head.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You still love him.”
Rebecca opened her mouth to reply when a strange sound rose from deeper in the forest: a kind of abrasive clicking.
“What the hell is that?” Owen said. He leapt to his feet. Rebecca sprang up, too, her pulse quickening. The noise persisted, and at first, she couldn’t place it, but then it seemed to draw closer and become louder, and she thought it sounded like…
Barking?
Rebecca swivelled a full 360 degrees, anxiously searching the trees, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.
Owen raised the rifle. “I can’t see anythi—”
Out of nowhere, a figure appeared beside them, and Rebecca jumped. It was Sanchez. “Robert… thank goodness. What the hell is that noise?”
“I thought you might tell me,” Sanchez said.
The sound intensified, closing in on all sides—repeating, unrelenting.
“Maybe it’s the wind,” Owen said.
Sanchez lifted the second rifle from its spot next to Rebecca as the sharp reverberation swelled, echoing all around and yet still closing in. The three of them shrank from it, pressing back to back. Tensed, motionless, Rebecca peered through the darkness.
Nothing but the trees…
“The motion sensors?” Sanchez asked.
“No, nothing’s crossed them,” Owen answered.
Rebecca shook her head. “The sensors won’t help.” She lifted her gaze upwards, towards the canopy. “The sound… it’s coming from up there.”
13
With a slow, dreadful tingle, Rebecca felt the hairs prickle on the nape of her neck.
The sound was coming from the understorey above.
How high did Ed say the X40s reached? A dozen feet or more?
“Jesus H. Christ…” Owen breathed.
Sanchez didn’t panic. With slow, precise movements, he cocked his rifle and raised it.
The barking was now right upon them, sharp and loud in their ears.
Oh God…
• • •
Silence.
As suddenly as it had begun, everything fell quiet.
Dead quiet.
Except for the soft hum of the X40s and the gently crackling fire, there was no noise at all.
Nothing.
No-one moved.
Slowly, the sounds of the forest—the normal sounds of the forest—returned, one after another. The reverberation didn’t.
All around, leaves rippled gently in the breeze. Everything returned to the way it had been only minutes before.
Owen hadn’t lowered his rifle. He looked at Rebecca. “What the hell just happened?”
Rebecca was at a loss, her pulse racing. “I don’t know.”
“It was one of those things, those creatures,” Owen said. “Christ, more than one of them by the sounds of it.”
“We don’t know that. We don’t know what it was,” Rebecca said. Her mouth was dry. “You said yourself it could have been the wind.” Even to her, the words sounded weak.
Owen snorted and spun on Sanchez. “I don’t understand. I thought the attack on you and Ed was a random one. I thought the trip out to S2 was safe? We need to wake Ed—wake everybody—and work out what the hell to do!”
“Amigo,” Sanchez said, still scanning. “Listen for yourself. Whatever it was, it has gone. There is nothing out there. Not now.”
Rebecca looked at both men before sweeping the trees once more. Sanchez was right. Whatever had made the sound was no longer there. She wondered if, like Owen had suggested, they should wake the others anyway, but dismissed the idea. What else could they do, other than keep watch? The group sure as hell couldn’t break camp while it was still dark. She sensed Owen arriving at the same conclusion. He lowered his rifle. He was the first to take a seat, but only after several more minutes had passed. He was shaking.
Sanchez was still up with them when the sun began to rise.
14
“You said you never had any trouble, that you hadn’t come across any more of those creatures,” Owen said to Ed as soon as the others had woken and dragged themselves from their tents.
Ed, Jessy, and Enrique had, amazingly, slept through the incident. They were curious to hear of it now, but their questions went unanswered. No-one had seen anything. The motion-sensors hadn’t been tripped. There had only been the strange sound.
Ed said, “We haven’t had any trouble. Who knows what caused that sound? We don’t even know it was a living thing—and in fact, I’m certain it wasn’t. There was a decent wind last night, which probably caused the trees to scrape against each other. That would explain why you thought it was coming from all around.”
Owen shook his head. “But you must have had concerns,” he said. “You brought those black boxes…”
“And we brought rifles, too, for jaguar and caiman, as a precaution.” His jaw tensed, and he pointed into the jungle. “But if there was something out there, the boxes did their job.”
Owen opened his mouth and then closed it. Judging by his manner last night and again this morning, Rebecca concluded that Jessy had been mistaken yesterday in thinking that Owen knew more than he was letting on. He was far too edgy.
“You’re spooking me,” Jessy said. “Let’s just pack up and get moving, hey?” She was over by the moai, camera in hand. Since waking, she’d spent the bulk of her time documenting the statue, taking video and audio notes. Rebecca sensed a shift in the younger woman’s emotions: now, her eagerness to get to S2 outshone all else. To Jessy, the moai was merely an appetiser, a hint of a greater reward, and the payoff, it seemed, outweighed the risk.
For her part, Rebecca’s instincts nagged her, but she chose to keep her feelings close. She packed her gear and
dismantled her tent in silence.
Again, they hit the trail single-file, each of them casting a final appraising glance at the stone moai as they passed. Then they were gone, consumed by the jungle. Rebecca was lost once more in her thoughts.
They set a solid pace through the shaded forest, but their progress wasn’t as swift as yesterday. The morning was again warm and humid, but today they bore extra weight in the form of the two fully laden storage crates. The equipment was needed at Advance Base Camp. Jessy, walking in front of Rebecca, suggested they carry one of the crates between them. It was a good idea, though not as easy as it sounded. Jessy seemed to stride along effortlessly, and Rebecca had to walk twice as fast as her taller companion just to keep up.
Machetes slashed, and foliage slapped against bodies. Feet stamped through the undergrowth. Above them, birds shrieked noisily, squabbling for fruit in the leafy crowns of the emergent trees.
Like the day before, the group took its first break after two hours. As it approached midday and their second break, they came to an area of denser vegetation that had them swinging their machetes with fervour. It was here that Ed halted, removing his hat and wiping the sweat from his forehead. “This is where it gets tricky,” he puffed, pointing.
Rebecca followed his gaze. Only a few feet from where they stood, the forest floor fell away sharply, descending into a deep gully. She heard trickling water at the bottom, and through the thick foliage, saw a shallow stream.
“You’ll be happy to learn we’re almost at Advance Base Camp,” Ed said. “But this is the ravine I told you about.”
Sanchez removed his pack and pulled out two nylon climbing ropes, each coiled in a figure-eight.
Rebecca looked from them to Ed and then out over the ledge. “You’re kidding, right? We’re rappelling down?” The stream was about three or four storeys below them. The face of the ravine was almost perfectly sheer. She’d never abseiled in her life.
And she hated heights.
Near to where they stood, Sanchez chopped away the foliage and secured one of the ropes to a sturdy anchor. After testing the rig, he donned a harness and leapt backwards, falling instantly from view. By the time Rebecca peered after him, he was already at the ravine’s base.
“Well… that looked easy,” Owen said sarcastically.
Ed hauled the harness topside and Jessy went next. Having abseiled before, she was at the bottom in no time.
Rebecca turned to Ed, everything she’d been dreading confirmed by the look on his face. “Ed, I don’t know about this. When you said there was a ravine crossing, I imagined we’d do it on foot. Isn’t there another way? What if I hike along the ridge, find an easier place to descend?”
“There is no other way, Bec,” Ed said, “and we haven’t the time, in any case. It’s perfectly safe. Even if you slip—and you won’t—the safety rope will catch you. I know you hate heights, but trust me, you’ll be back on the ground before you know it.”
Rebecca squirmed. It was the way she’d find the ground that bothered her.
Owen was down next, followed by Enrique, Priscilla strapped snugly to his back. The harness appeared at the top again. Only Ed left. And her.
Shit.
There was no alternative, and Rebecca knew it. Wondering how she’d gotten herself into such a predicament—feeling somehow duped—she walked to the edge of the cliff face and mumbled another curse. “I suppose this is payback for dragging you to all those art galleries,” she said, reaching for the safety gear.
Ed smiled. “That modern stuff you like was never my thing.”
Slipping her legs through the two leg loops, Rebecca pulled the harness up until it was firmly around her thighs, attaching the wide nylon belt securely around her waist. She donned a snug-fitting helmet, strapping it tightly under her chin and adjusting it for comfort.
She was ready to go. Ed issued instructions, his tone calm. “Trust me, it’s easy.” He showed her the small, metal belaying device which attached her to the rope, and how she was to use it in controlling her descent. “Get as horizontal as you can, place your feet flat against the rock. Take it slow and you’ll be fine.”
After a few deep breaths, Rebecca shuffled to the edge and leant back, taking most of the weight on her legs. It felt comfortable enough, but she hadn’t looked down yet. She paused, eyes closed, summoning her courage. From below, Owen and Enrique called out words of support.
Here goes.
Rebecca opened her eyes and looked down.
The ground rushed up at her, bringing with it a wave of dizziness. Ignoring it, she started her descent. Then she stopped.
Damn!
She’d gotten no more than a single step below the edge. Try as she might, she couldn’t drop herself fully over the lip. “I can’t do this.”
“You can,” Ed said. “The first step is the hardest, and you’ve already taken it. Just lean back and let the rope take your weight.” He smiled. “Hell, if I can do Abstract Expressionism, you can do this.”
“Our dates were never this dangerous. And to be honest, I think you secretly liked that stuff.”
“Postmodernism, maybe.”
“See, I told you!” Rebecca said with defiance, and with that she steeled herself—
—and leapt over the ledge.
The descent was slow and bumpy. She spent most of it bashing against the rock face, her heart thumping loudly in her ears. Suddenly, her feet touched something hard and she looked down.
Solid ground.
She’d made it!
Rebecca stepped out of the harness, adrenaline and relief coursing through her in equal measure.
“You did good,” Sanchez whispered in her ear, patting her on the back.
“I knew you had it in you!” Ed called from above. He hauled the harness back up, and once he’d lowered their equipment, began his own descent. Minutes later, they were all gathered together in a group at the base of the wall with their gear at their feet. Sanchez recovered the rope, pulling it through the anchor which remained fixed at the top of the ravine.
Still on a high, Rebecca cast her gaze about. They were standing amid waist-high fernery on a muddy bank that stretched a few feet to the water’s edge. Several medium to large-sized boulders lay strewn across the stream and in random clusters along its edge, all of them covered in slippery green moss and splotches of pale-coloured lichen.
They gathered their equipment and followed Ed beyond the boulders and into the stream proper. The clear, trickling water was only ankle-deep, and the gravelly riverbed was covered in dead brown leaves. High above their heads, the foliage joined hands in an arch. All around, thick woody vines hung in tangles that trailed down from the canopy like long, petrified snakes.
They were halfway across the shallow stream when they were assailed by hundreds of swarming mosquitoes.
“You know,” Ed told them, swatting almost obliviously at the impenetrable black clouds, “this tiny stream isn’t on any of the maps. We’re not sure where it goes, or where it comes from. It came as a surprise when we originally stumbled across it.”
Rebecca was already spraying herself with the insect repellent she kept in a pocket of her shorts. She offered it around, keeping her breathing shallow so as not to inhale the tiny insects.
They reached the opposite bank. Stepping from the stream, Rebecca felt the high she’d ridden since completing her descent rapidly deflate.
Looming before them, the rock face rose steeply out of the thick, ferny underbrush gathered at its base. Almost perfectly vertical, it was the same height as the wall they’d just come down; essentially, a mirror-image.
Rebecca groaned. “Great.”
• • •
Before tackling the ascent, they decided to take a break, and perched on a large lichen-covered boulder at the edge of the stream. Enrique handed out MREs, but without much of an appetite, Rebecca snacked on a chocolate bar and some fruit from her pack. Priscilla scampered over to her, and Rebecca gave her a wedge o
f apple.
“You two are becoming good friends,” Enrique said.
“Seems that way, doesn’t it?” It was strange. She’d never owned a pet in her life and was uncertain around animals—at least anything with fewer than six or eight legs—but she was enjoying the attention.
“Hey, look!” Jessy said, her voice tinged with delight. She pointed to the canopy above.
Rebecca looked up. Several dark forms moved through the overstorey: a troop of monkeys, perhaps eight to ten. Leaves shook noisily as the dark-furred animals leapt from one branch to another.
“Woolly monkeys?” Jessy asked Ed.
“Looks like it.”
They watched as the monkeys proceeded to feed above them, using their long tails to grasp branches and so keep their hands free to pluck fruit. The animals chattered incessantly between mouthfuls.
Priscilla watched them too, slightly alarmed by their appearance. She snuggled against Rebecca.
“They spend most of their lives in the trees,” Enrique said. “I do not think they will come down today, but if they did, you would see them walk upright, on their hind legs like us.”
The troop swung and played and fed for half an hour before retreating through the trees and disappearing.
Sanchez had spent this time preparing the equipment for the climb up the northern rock face. He’d go first, wedging camming devices into cracks in the rock and attaching carabiners through which a rope would run. Leaving the bulk of his gear behind, he began. And he made it look easy.
Rebecca could tell he’d done this before. He moved up the rock face with confidence, finding handholds with ease, gripping with his nimble fingers and pushing his body up with his legs. She suspected his military training had much to do with his speed and technique. In no time, he reached the top and hauled himself over the ledge. He disappeared, reappearing seconds later, probably after having placed on the ledge where he stood another anchor like the one he had placed on the gully’s opposing side. He peered over the ledge and tossed a portion of rope down to them. “Ready!”