by Nick Thacker
“That guy, right over there,” he whispered. “He’s in a black t-shirt and jeans, sunglasses. He’s one of the guys that attacked us at the cabin.”
28
BEN SAW THE MAN RHETT was describing immediately. He was standing to the side of the docks, between two smaller boats, and looking directly at their group.
“Everyone’s going to stick together,” Reggie whispered back. “We split up, we’re toast. There’s bound to be more of them patrolling.”
They continued walking, listening for further instructions from Reggie. Archibald, Amanda, and Paulinho formed one smaller group in the back, while Ben, Julie, and Rhett walked directly behind Reggie.
“He’s going to radio in and tell them which boat we’re heading toward, so we need to plan a distraction. Ben, you have that pack?”
Ben nodded, swinging the backpack he was wearing around to the front of his body.
“Left-side pocket, second from the top,” Reggie said. He didn’t explain more. Ben fished around for the zipper, then grabbed the small, cylindrical device. He held it tightly in his hand, at first surprised to find such an object in their gear, but then remembered the type of paranoid survivalist they were dealing with in Reggie. “Keep it hidden, and don’t throw it until I say.”
Reggie turned in a full circle, then faced forward and continued walking. “They’ve got two more grunts posted up beneath some of the stands on each side of the road. Sunglasses, jeans, and t-shirts. Same uniform. These guys aren’t trying to stay hidden — they know we know they’re there.”
Still doesn’t make me feel good about it, Ben thought.
“Everyone listen up,” Reggie said. “Take a look at the boat, and the path to it. It’s a straight shot. There are three boats about the same size docked near it, and five smaller ones crammed in-between. Memorize the location of our boat, and don’t forget it. Visibility’s about to get very restricted.”
The group visibly tensed, but no one stopped.
“Archie, you got this?”
Archie nodded, his smooth and controlled demeanor unchanged. “I will be perfectly fine, Reggie. Let’s get to our boat.”
Reggie smirked and addressed the group a final time. “When you hear me yell, you take off toward the boat. Don’t worry about sticking together, just get to the boat. Got it? Get on, get down, and don’t wait for anyone else.”
Ben saw nods all around, and Reggie nudged him in the side. “Ready? Three seconds.”
Ben nodded, clutching the cylinder in one hand and the Sig Sauer in the other. He felt the adrenaline starting to pump through his system, remembering the last time he’d been under so much pressure.
You’re going to push through this, just like last time. You’re the driver, he told himself, you’re in charge.
“Now!” Reggie yelled. Ben reacted on instinct, tossing the grenade in front of the group about fifteen feet, half of the distance to their dock.
The grenade popped on impact, but didn’t explode. Instead, thick streams of smoke poured out over the asphalt road, shielding the entire area in seconds. They ran forward, into the thickest section of smoke. Ben watched his feet, hoping each progressive step found asphalt or wood dock, and not open water.
He felt Julie bouncing at his side, her smaller body pressing into his as they ran forward in tandem. He wanted to reach out and grab her, to help her along, but he knew she was every bit as capable as he was, and he had a backpack and a gun to control.
Ben listened for any sounds of gunfire, or any indication they were being pursued, but heard none. A few people shouted cries of surprise when the smoke grenade detonated, but anyone between his group and the boat dispersed quickly enough. They didn’t run into any bystanders or tourists as they reached their destination.
The Adagio was suddenly in front of him, and he followed along its hull until he found the gangplank. He hoped the others had been as lucky, but he followed Reggie’s instructions and worried only about himself as he launched his body up the plank and into the boat. The boat’s engine noise was now matched by a gentle buzzing throb as his feet fell on the boat’s bottom deck. He swung the pack off his back and threw it toward the front of the vessel, then turned to wait for Archie, Rhett, Paulinho, and Dr. Meron.
They each walked up the plank without issue, and Ben helped them aboard. The four of them walked toward the front of the boat, then turned and followed Archie up a set of stairs Reggie was pointing them towards.
Reggie flew back to Ben’s spot from the front of the boat. “Kick the plank out!” he yelled. “They’re searching the boat behind us, and we need to move!”
Ben did as he was told, and without pause felt the entire boat float away from the dock. The skipper was already disembarking as the gangplank fell into the brownish waters of the Manaus Amazon. Ben fingered the weapon in his left hand, swinging it up and to the front of his body, bringing his right hand along its other side. He switched his grip, tucking his left hand under and around his right trigger finger, naturally feeling the proper hold. He waited, watching the thick cloud of smoke grow to fill the new cavity left by the large boat.
Ben kept his tense posture, squinting into the smoke, but no shots were fired through it. He couldn’t hear anything but the normal noise of daily activity on the shore, knowing that their smoke-fueled getaway was only a minor attraction in the overall insanity of the busy docks and marketplace.
Their distraction had so far worked, but Ben wasn’t about to lower his guard. Reggie stood next to him, also scanning the cloud for anything out of the ordinary.
“Think they’re going to fall for it?” Ben asked.
“They already did, since we’re still alive,” Reggie said. “But that doesn’t mean they’re going to just walk away. They’ll probably —“
He cut off his words in mid-sentence, and Ben turned to face him. Beyond Reggie, Ben saw in the distance a flurry of activity in the smokescreen. The wisps wriggled in the air, then parted. A small boat, powered by a single tiny engine driven by one of the two men onboard, broke through their visibility barrier and launched forward toward the Adagio. The high-pitched whine of the tiny engine sat atop the remainder of the Manaus marketplace noise, but it was all Ben could hear.
He pointed, but Reggie was still focusing straight ahead. The Adagio was now in open waters, but it was still gaining speed. The smoke bubble was billowing upward and receding as it lost strength, punctured by the many currents of wind and air competing against it. Reggie’s eyes were fixed on the dock they’d just left, and Ben looked that direction, for a moment ignoring the single-engine craft.
A man stood at the end of the dock, the characteristic sunglasses and t-shirt, staring at the Adagio as it entered the Amazon’s main channel. He seemed to be grinning at them, but Ben was already training his eyes on the man that stood next to their grinning enemy.
This man was larger — far larger, if the first man was a normal-sized human being. The second man was all muscle, his glistening bald head and rippling arms poking out from an unfortunate shirt that was in no way intended for appendages that large. Still, Ben cared little for the man’s appearance — it was what he carried that held his and Reggie’s attention.
The man had a long tube in his hands, and he was slowly lifting it up and onto his shoulder. It sat there for a moment, and time seemed to stand still. Ben had the handgun, but he wasn’t clueless. He knew his weapon was no match for what the man was about do.
“Get down!” Reggie yelled. Ben ignored him, and instead raised the 9mm up and got into a firing stance. Surprisingly, Reggie did the same, also ignoring his own instructions. They both began firing, but it was too late.
The behemoth pulled the trigger and the RPG left the barrel of the launcher and flew straight toward them.
Ben stood still, watching his fate unfold before his eyes. A part of his mind screamed at him, trying to override his animal instinct to fight. He pushed it away, instead listening to his gut. If we can just get close
…
Their shots, flying faster than the man’s rocket, landed in the water in front of the dock and the two men. One of Ben’s bullets hit the boat behind the men, lodging into the hull of the vessel. He heard the impact, even from their distance from it across the water.
The rocket landed, hitting a submerged object in front of the boat. The explosion was mostly contained under the water, but the effects of the blast were no less damaging. Ben felt his feet give way beneath him, and the terrifying realization that he was airborne hit his stomach and his mind at the same time. He reached out with a free hand for anything that might hinder his trajectory, but found nothing. The boat, thankfully, was large enough to survive the massive onslaught of water flying toward it, as well as the force of the blast’s wave that pushed against it. The boat’s reactive motion stopped Ben in mid-flight, aided by the hard, unforgiving surface of the wall separating the deck’s walkway from the interior of the craft. He hit the wall shoulder-first, crumpling down to the deck as the boat’s starboard side lifted completely from the water and into the air. He noticed, again, the unwelcome feeling of vertigo as his body became airborne.
The feeling didn’t last long, however, and he hit the railing hard, landing in a heap next to Reggie.
“You okay?” Reggie yelled as the boat settled back onto the river. Reggie was already standing, reloading his own pistol from a pocket on the side of his pants. Ben pulled himself up, pushing away the nausea and throbbing pain in his shoulder, and lifted his weapon once again to fire at the men on the dock.
It was only at that moment Ben remembered the single-engine boat. The engine was sputtering, but still alive, having been throttled down as the driver pulled up alongside the tour boat and floated about twenty feet away. He peered out between the railings at their attackers. One of the two black-shirted enemies were communicating via walkie-talkie to the man farther away on the dock, but the other one, having let go of the engine’s steering column, was now wielding a small automatic rifle and aiming it at Ben.
He winced, waiting for the man to start shooting. Instead, he heard the quick pops of three rounds from Reggie’s gun and saw the man with the rifle flip backwards as he tripped over the edge of the boat. The second man dropped the walkie-talkie, fumbling with it as he grabbed at his own weapon. Reggie made quick work of the man, firing another two rounds at him, hitting him once in the leg and once in the chest. He disappeared into the bottom of the boat, only his backside showing as he lay dying.
Reggie looked at Ben. “It’s a lot easier when they’re close,” he said, shrugging.
Reggie didn’t wait for Ben to respond. He fired more shots at the two men on the dock, and Ben silently followed suit. They were far out of range of landing a good hit, but their ruse worked well enough to distract the larger man from loading the RPG once again. Eventually the two men lost interest and ran up the dock, ascending to the street level and into the crowds.
Ben finally started breathing normally again, his body still reeling from the shock and adrenaline. He blinked a few times, forcing the breaths in and out slowly to calm his nerves.
“They’ll be back,” Reggie said, grabbing Ben’s forearm and pulling him away from the railing. “Time to get inside and meet our crew.”
Ben nodded, not sure how they’d ended up with this man, capable of staying completely calm in these sorts of situations.
“Good job, by the way,” Reggie said. He wore the same grin as always, the slight smirk betraying no sign of distress or even acknowledgement of what they’d just been through. “We’ll get you shooting straight before this trip’s over,” he added.
The boat was moving quickly now, making progress upriver. Ben wasn’t sure if they would be followed by any other boats, but he forced himself to continue looking forward. He followed Reggie toward the bow of the boat, where a small staircase rose steeply to the next level. Reggie pushed open a door at the end of the stairs, and Ben saw the bridge and small control room in front of them.
He scanned the room for Julie and found her standing at the opposite side of the room, flanked by Amanda and another man. Rhett, Archie, and someone else were kneeling on the floor. Julie, upon seeing Ben enter, ran toward him.
“I’m — I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner,” she said, gasping for breath. “It’s Paulinho, he’s hurt.”
29
JULIE STEPPED AWAY FROM BEN and returned to the group standing over Paulinho. “It happened when the boat rocked. We came up here to meet the captain and crewman, but then heard the explosion. Then everything went sideways.
“It was an RPG,” Reggie said, walking the few paces to the center of the room where Paulinho lay on his back. “How bad is it?”
Archie Quinones turned to them. “Hard to say. He hit his side, mostly, but it could have ruptured his appendix. He can’t walk, at least not yet.”
Julie looked around. The captain, Juan Esquivel Garcia, had returned to the helm, steering the boat upriver and focusing his attention out the long, shallow window. His only crewman, an aging, squat Brazilian who had introduced himself as Carlo, had slowly backed away from the scene in the middle of the room and was now standing to one side, still staring wide-eyed at Paulinho. Reggie and Archie were holding Paulinho behind his shoulders, while Amanda held his feet, and all three were trying to lift the man from the floor. Ben walked over to help. Rhett, still in pain from his own injury, stood awkwardly nearby.
She wasn’t sure what to do. They were being chased by mercenaries, their ship had nearly exploded and sunk, and now members of their team were being injured left and right. She wanted to pull Ben to the side, out of earshot of the rest of the group, and discuss what they were getting themselves into. She was scared, but she knew Ben was feeling the same way — they all were.
She knew what he would tell her, too. They needed to stay the course; they needed to figure out how to solve this riddle, and they needed to do it before the others caught up with them. She didn’t understand why, or how they would pull it off, but she knew it was the right answer.
An idea suddenly occurred to her. “Isn’t there a small medical facility somewhere close to here? On the river?”
Reggie and Archie looked over at her.
“Someone I used to work with at the CDC stayed there for a while during their residency. It was some sort of hybrid facility, shared by the Brazilian government and the regional tribes. I think they rented it out for research.”
She watched as Reggie and Archie mulled it over for a moment.
Archie spoke. “Yes, there is. It is accessible from the main river, but it is difficult to spot from the water, and it’s on the way. It would be a good way —“
“We can’t waste any time,” Reggie said, cutting him off. “It’s already going to take three days at full speed, without stopping, just to get to our tributary. From there, it’s a half-day’s walk, at least.”
“But Paulinho needs help,” Julie said. “And we don’t have anything here that can help him.”
“They may not have anything there, either,” Reggie said. “I know of the place — it’s basically a field hospital, but it’s really meant to be a checkpoint for researchers traveling up and down the river. A few beds, some basic medicine, and a surgeon I wouldn’t trust to pop a zit. Nice guy though. Met him in town years ago; said he was taking over at this station way out in the sticks, stuck right at the edge of a huge open area just off the river a mile or so.”
“It’s our only hope —“
“It’s not. Staying ahead of whoever’s trying to kill us, and making sure we stay on track, is. Paulinho’s going to be fine, he just needs rest.”
Julie flashed a glance over to Ben. Aren’t you going to help me?
Ben just shrugged. She realized the four of them were still holding Paulinho in the air. She backed away to the side, motioning for them to take the man downstairs.
“Where are you going to put him?”
“There’s a tiny bedroom toward the back
of the boat; the skipper usually claims it for personal use, but he’s agreed to let us stash him there for a bit.”
Julie looked at Captain Garcia, and he nodded once in return.
“We’ll know pretty quickly whether or not there’s internal bleeding,” Reggie said. The four of them, carrying Paulinho, walked by her and stopped just before the stairs. “It ain’t the best answer, but it’s all we’ve got.”
Julie didn’t accept this. “No. Stop. He needs help. We aren’t going to just wait around to see if he gets better or worse.”
Ben and Amanda, holding Paulinho’s feet, began descending down the steep steps. Reggie and Archie lifted him to shoulder height and walked slowly forward. Paulinho groaned as they jostled him around.
“I’m with you.” Rhett was suddenly at her side, and she nearly jumped as the young man spoke. “He needs help. It’s a good idea to stop there.”
Julie waited for an answer that didn’t come until the entire group had made it all the way down the stairs. They paused for a moment to readjust their hold, then continued walking across the deck toward the back of the boat. Julie and Rhett followed closely behind.
“Julie,” Reggie said, “it’s a good sentiment. Under normal circumstances, we would have to stop. But now? There is no help. We’re it. After we leave the city, the only other living organisms out here want to kill you or eat you — or both.”
Julie felt herself growing more and more frustrated. No one else offered any input. She knew she was stubborn, but she also knew she was right. “Anyone else want to weigh in?”
Amanda looked her way. “Julie, it’s too —“
“Save it,” Julie said. “Ben?”
Ben shrugged, then looked around, then back at Julie. “I’m fine with whatever you want to do.”
Rage flashed inside Julie. You have got to be kidding me. “Seriously? You are fine with whatever I want to do?” The group had made it all the way to the tiny room, and Reggie and Archie were focused on configuring Paulinho’s head and upper body to fit through the door. Julie watched on in disbelief. He could die.