by Mark Alpert
Ariel smiled, clearly proud of herself for thinking of such a clever trick, But John was still worried. The sight of the enraged caiman had unnerved him. “Are you sure about this? The last thing we need is a drug-crazed crocodile chasing us.”
She nodded. “All we have to do is wait ten minutes. The protein will be completely dissipated by then.”
John looked again at the swamp. Although all the animals had returned to the depths, the surface of the black water still heaved and rippled. “Let’s give it thirty minutes, okay? Just to be on the safe side.”
Later that morning they learned what had happened to Kuikuro. As they hiked across another stretch of high ground—a forested ridge that overlooked the north bank of the Yarí River—John spotted a break in the trees and caught a whiff of something burned and rancid. He gave a hand signal to Ariel, who raised her carbine and crept forward, careful not to make a sound. They skulked to the edge of a clearing that contained four large piles of smoldering wood. On closer inspection it became clear that the piles had formerly been thatch-roofed huts that the guerillas had torched the day before. Surrounding each charred hut were several blackened corpses.
Ariel glowered as she squinted through her rifle’s gun sights. The guerillas were long gone, but John thought she might start shooting anyway, firing into the air out of sheer rage. Instead, she scrutinized the ruins of Kuikuro’s village, looking for any evidence—footprints, bullet shells, cigarette butts—that could tell her something about their adversaries. As she studied the ground she spied a heap of palm fronds in the shadows just beyond the clearing’s edge. Stepping toward it, she tossed some of the fronds aside and uncovered a long dark slab of tropical wood, beautifully carved and sanded. It was a dugout canoe. Kuikuro and his tribesmen had hidden it so well that the guerillas had missed it.
Ariel stared at the thing for several seconds. Then she tilted her head back and looked up at the sky. “Thank you, Mother,” she whispered.
The canoe made all the difference in the world. After they put it in the water they could navigate the rain forest. They could drift with the current down the narrow channels that ran alongside the Yarí. They could paddle across the marshes and thickly wooded swamps, concealed by all the vegetation around them. And they could float silently past the guerilla sentries who were keeping watch over the Yarí’s main channel. For the next nine hours they moved like ghosts through the forest, making good time as they drifted to the east. By evening they were uncertain exactly where they were, but Ariel felt sure they’d passed the bend in the river where Sullivan’s allies lay in wait.
They paddled in the darkness for six more hours, trying to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the guerillas. Then a quarter moon rose above the trees, and as they steered the canoe into a new channel they glimpsed a wooden structure up ahead, shining in the moonlight. It was a simple square hut resting on poles sunk into the swamp. It had a plank floor and a thatched roof, but no walls. And it was empty, deserted. Except for a few fallen leaves, the hut’s floor was bare.
John was puzzled. There were no other structures nearby. The hut was entirely surrounded by jungle. “What the hell is this?” he whispered.
Ariel, who sat at the front of the dugout, looked over her shoulder. “It’s an Amazonian motel.”
“What?”
“Some of the tribesmen are nomadic. They move from place to place across the rain forest, depending on how high the floodwaters are. One of the local tribes uses this hut during the rainy season, I bet. But it’s unoccupied the rest of the year.”
“You think we can stop here for a few minutes? Because I really need to get out of this canoe.”
Ariel nodded. “Sure, let’s tie up. Just don’t expect any room service.”
They tied the canoe to one of the poles and climbed into the hut. John sprawled across the plank floor, delighted to get a chance to stretch his cramping legs. Meanwhile, Ariel opened her backpack and inspected their remaining supplies. Paddling the canoe had been hard work, and they’d already eaten more than half of their rations. Staring at her face in the moonlight, John could tell she was worried. They had no idea how much farther they’d have to travel downriver before they’d reach the Caño Dorado expedition. They might have to go hungry if they didn’t rendezvous with Mariela by tomorrow night.
In the end Ariel decided they should split one of the rations for dinner. She broke the bar in two and gave John the bigger piece. They ate in silence, mostly because they were so tired. John was dying to close his eyes, even if it was only for half an hour. He was going to suggest that they take a quick nap before moving on, but Ariel spoke first.
“I’m sorry, John,” she said. “I haven’t been fair to you.”
“Fair?” He didn’t know what she meant. “Are you talking about the rations?”
She shook her head. “You’ve done so much for me. You’ve helped me at every turn. And what have I done for you?”
“Well, let me think about it.” He smiled. “I’ve never been to a foreign country before. That’s something.”
“John, please. I’m serious.”
“So am I. You’ve made my life more interesting. Ever since I met you, my life has been interesting as hell. A little terrifying too, but that’s all part of the package, right?”
He was trying to make her smile, but it wasn’t working. Her face was sad and knowing, like the face of a doctor who’s about to deliver some bad news. She looked him in the eye. “You know what I thought the first time I saw you? In that bar in Greenwich Village? I said to myself, ‘This man is unhappy. He’s been unhappy for a long time.’”
John nodded. He couldn’t deny it. He wondered, though, why Ariel wanted to talk about this now. “Were you surprised? You’d already seen all the news stories on the Internet. You knew what happened to my daughter.”
“To be honest, I was mystified. From the very beginning, I could tell you were hiding something. Something that wasn’t in any of the stories I’d read. And you’re still hiding it.”
He frowned. “Wait a minute. Whatever secrets I was hiding, they were nothing compared with yours.”
“Agreed. But I’ve told you all my secrets. You know everything about me. Or at least all the important things.”
“And now you want to know everything about me? So we’ll be even?”
“No, that’s not the reason. I thought talking about it might help you. But if it’s just going to make you upset…”
Her voice trailed off. She turned away from him and gazed at the black wall of surrounding jungle. Then she raised her head and stared at the quarter moon. The silver light bathed her face.
John’s heart softened as he looked at her. He recognized that Ariel’s intentions were good. She wanted him to share his past with her because she thought it would ease his unhappiness. And maybe she was right, maybe it would help. So why was he fighting it? Why did it frighten him so much?
He cleared his throat. This was going to be hard. “Okay. You know about Salazar, right? He was mentioned in all the news stories.”
She turned back to him. Her eyes gleamed in the moonlight. “He was the gang leader who ordered the drive-by shooting that killed your daughter.”
“We grew up on the same street in Kensington. Miguel Salazar was his full name. He was a year younger than me.” John grimaced. He didn’t like to think about the bastard. “Even as a kid, he was scary. He never smiled, never laughed. I once tried joking with him and he threw a brick at me. In other words, he was perfect for the drug business.”
“Both of you were in the same gang when you were teenagers, right? That’s what the news articles said.”
“But I left the Disciples, and Salazar stayed. I started working with Father Murphy’s Anti-Gang Project, trying to steer kids away from the drug crews. Salazar preferred recruiting the younger kids, the twelve- and thirteen-year-olds, because they were more impressionable. And he demanded total obedience. If any of his kids stepped out of
line, Salazar would beat him with a hammer. So he hated the Anti-Gang Project. It threatened his control.”
“Is that why he ordered the shooting?”
John nodded. “I don’t know if he was trying to kill me or just send a message. But it didn’t matter. His boys drove down our street at two in the morning and strafed our apartment. They blew out the windows of the living room. Then they fired at Ivy’s bedroom.”
This was the most difficult part, remembering the moment when he’d rushed into Ivy’s room. The shattered window, the glass on the floor. The constellation of bullet holes in the newly painted walls. Ivy slept with so many blankets heaped on top of her than John couldn’t tell at first whether she’d been hit. But he knew, he already knew. She was a light sleeper. She would’ve woken up if she’d been able to.
Ariel came toward him, edging across the hut’s plank floor. But she didn’t say a word, and John was grateful for her silence. It gave him the strength to continue.
“I lost my mind. That’s the only way to describe it. Carol, my wife, she ran into the bedroom too and started screaming, but I didn’t even look at her. I ran downstairs and looked up and down the street. The car was long gone, but that didn’t stop me. I started racing across the neighborhood, trying to find Salazar.” John closed his eyes. It was a little less painful that way. “I went to the police, but they couldn’t do a thing. They didn’t even try to find any witnesses who saw the car. When it comes to gang shootings, there are no witnesses in Kensington. No one will say anything against the Disciples.” He shut his eyes tighter. He wasn’t in the rain forest anymore. He was back in Philadelphia. “This will tell you how insane I was. When I went to Ivy’s funeral the next day I had a gun tucked in the back of my pants. A forty-caliber SIG Sauer semiautomatic that I’d bought on the street for two hundred dollars. Just in case I spotted one of Salazar’s boys on the way to the cemetery. I was going to kill them all. Every last goddamn one of them.”
He felt Ariel’s hand on his upper arm. She gripped it gently, massaging his biceps. At the same time, she leaned close and touched her forehead to his. He could feel her warm breath on his cheeks.
“What stopped you?” she whispered.
He opened his eyes. Ariel’s face was so near, he couldn’t see her very well. He hesitated, nervous about how she’d react to the rest of the story. Then he forced himself to continue. “Father Murphy conducted the burial service. Afterwards he took me aside and said, ‘Give me the gun.’ He knew what I was planning to do. He could see it in my face. He even tried to reach behind me and pull the gun out of my pants. But I wouldn’t let him. I said, ‘Father, I love you, but right now you better stay out of my fucking way.’”
“But he didn’t, did he?”
“No, he didn’t give up. He was the stubbornest man I’ve ever known. Everyone else had already left the cemetery, but we were still out there by the open grave, shouting at each other. Finally he said, ‘Just give me the gun for twenty-four hours. Then I’ll give it back and you can do whatever the hell you want with it.’ And I said fine, okay, because I was tired of arguing with him and I knew I could buy another gun anyway. Then he made me promise two things, that I’d go to Saint Anne’s Church that afternoon and that I’d never tell anyone I’d given him the gun.” John frowned. “That should’ve made me suspicious. But I wasn’t thinking straight. I wasn’t thinking at all.”
Ariel shifted her head to the side, bringing her lips close to his ear. Her long hair brushed against his jaw. “What happened?”
“I kept my promise. I went to the rectory at Saint Anne’s. Father Murphy wasn’t there, but some of the old ladies in the congregation tried to console me. They held my hands and prayed and tried to make me eat a sandwich. I sat there for a couple of hours, dead to the world. I didn’t want to go home because I knew Carol was in the apartment, packing her things. She blamed me for Ivy’s murder, so she was moving out. She couldn’t stand to spend another minute with me.” He clenched his hands and winced. “And then I heard sirens, a whole bunch of them. A few minutes later someone burst into the rectory and yelled, ‘Father Murphy’s been shot! He’s dead, he’s murdered!’”
Ariel let out a soft “oh” of pain.
“I ran out of the church and rushed toward the sirens. They’d found his body in the basement of an abandoned row house. Just a few feet away were the bodies of Salazar and two of his boys. They’d all been shot in the head with forty-caliber bullets.”
She tightened her grip on John’s arm. “Your SIG Sauer was forty caliber.”
“The cops couldn’t find the gun. Their best guess was that another gang attacked the Disciples while they were having a sit-down with Father Murphy. He was just an innocent victim who got caught in the crossfire. It was a plausible story, and there was no evidence to dispute it.” He shook his head. “But I’ll tell you what really happened. Father Murphy killed Salazar and his boys. Then he shot himself. When the other Disciples rushed to the scene, they grabbed the gun and dumped it in the river. They didn’t want anyone to know that a seventy-five-year-old priest had just iced their captain.”
“Mercy.” Ariel bit her lip. “He killed them to save you.”
John was crying now. “He knew he couldn’t stop me from going after Salazar. And that I’d probably wind up dead or in jail for the rest of my life. So he did the job himself. And he sent me to the rectory to make sure I had an alibi.” His throat tightened, and he let out a sob. “But here’s the worst part. Father Murphy believed in heaven and hell. So he didn’t just sacrifice his life for me. He sentenced himself to eternal punishment. He gave up God Himself for me.”
“Oh, John.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and held him tight.
He was sobbing freely now, like a child. It would’ve been humiliating if anyone else were holding him, but Ariel knew what to do. Keeping her lips close to his ear, she murmured, “Hush, baby, hush. It’s all right, it’s okay.” At the same time, she rubbed his back, making circular “there, there” motions between his shoulder blades. It was simple, commonsense consolation, but it worked. Ariel understood and forgave him. She’s good at this, he thought. It’s yet another of her talents.
John stopped crying after a minute or so. He felt weak and shaky, but also relieved. He hadn’t realized until now how much his secret had burdened him. Grateful, he nuzzled his head against Ariel’s shoulder, luxuriating in her embrace. “You were right,” he whispered. “I feel better now.”
“I’m glad.” She patted his back. “But you haven’t finished the story yet. Tell me how it got into the newspapers.”
“Well, gang murders in Philly are pretty common, but this one made the news because of the priest connection. A reporter at the Inquirer called me after he heard that I worked with Father Murphy, and he got excited when I told him what had happened to Ivy. He asked if I was glad that Salazar was dead. So I gave him a quote, and the next day it was on the front page.” He shrugged. “And you know the rest, right?”
Ariel pulled back, holding him at arm’s length so she could look him in the eye. “Yes, I know the rest. In fact, I know the quote by heart.” She took a deep breath. “‘No, I’m not glad. Every death is a tragedy. My little girl is in heaven now, looking down at all of us, and I know she’s not happy with what she’s seeing.’”
He opened his mouth in surprise. “My God. You memorized it.”
“It’s a good one.” She smiled. “And I should know. I’ve heard a lot of quotes over the past four hundred years.”
John smiled back at her. Then he leaned forward and kissed her. He couldn’t help it. She was irresistible.
It was a good, long kiss. He hooked his arms around Ariel’s shoulders and pulled her close. She opened her mouth, warm and eager, and the tip of her tongue touched his. She smelled of salt and sweat and the black water of the rain forest. Her lips had the licorice taste of the ration they’d shared.
He didn’t want to stop. He couldn’t get enough of her. After a wh
ile he slipped his hands under her shirt and caressed her back, feeling her smooth skin and all the bony knobs underneath. Ariel shivered and grasped the back of his neck, kneading the muscles there. Then she pulled up his shirt and touched his nipple, moving her index finger in slow circles around it. Soon he was in a frenzy, out of control, like the animals that had churned the floodwaters after tasting the Fountain protein. He tore off Ariel’s shirt and unclasped her bra. Then she unbuckled his belt and unzipped his trousers. It was a mutual frenzy, a shared madness. While Ariel wrenched off his pants and boxer shorts, he slid his hands into her jeans and gripped the waistband of her panties. Within seconds they were both naked, their bodies shining in the moonlight.
John lay on his back on the plank floor. Ariel hovered over him, her knees on either side of his waist. She stretched her hand toward him and touched his cheek, stroking it gently. Then she gripped his erection and angled it upward, pressing its tip between her labia. Leaning forward and lowering her hips, she guided him inside her, slowly engulfing him.
The moon was above her left shoulder and its light silhouetted her. John could see the outline of her body and her long, gorgeous hair, but the rest was dark, a mystery. He grasped her waist as she rocked up and down, and though he could barely see her face he knew she was smiling at him. She laughed and ran her hands through her hair. Then she let out a moan and cupped her breasts, holding one in each hand.
She was unashamed, unafraid. Rocking faster, she let go of her breasts and reached down to her crotch. She rubbed her clitoris with her middle finger, jiggling it rapidly as he moved in and out of her. She moaned again, louder this time. “Oh, John. Oh, sweetness.”
Behind her voice he heard all the noises of the jungle, the nighttime chorus of frogs and birds and insects. The noises rang in his head, steady and loud, like the thumping of his blood in his ears and the slick, rhythmic smack of their bodies. He thought he’d have to shout if he wanted Ariel to hear him. When he spoke, though, his words came out in a whisper. “I love you, Ariel. I want to be with you forever.”