Pray for Darkness: Terror in the Green Inferno

by James Michael Rice

  A few seconds passed before they understood. “Other guides?”

  Ernesto nodded. “Yes, the other guides for to help with the camping.”

  Brooke touched Ben’s arm. “You’ll like them. The other guides, I mean. They’re really nice.”

  Ben looked at her and shrugged. “The more, the merrier, right?”

  Ernesto gave the thumbs-up to Felix, who started the motor with a pull. Aiming the bow into the current, Felix gunned the engine. The propeller gargled as they glided upstream. Behind them, the mist first obscured and then swallowed the wooden stairway in a white veil. It was as though the jungle did not want to remember even the most primitive evidence of mankind’s presence.

  Clouds bloomed like black roses in the sky, blotting out the sun.

  At last the rains came roaring down.

  “So much for the dry season,” Cooper said glumly.

  “It’ll clear up,” Ben replied.

  Drifting in silence, the others watched and waited.

  ***

  But the rain did not stop, at least, not right away. For the first hour it blew in violent gusts, stirring up a fine mist that swayed back and forth across the river like a white curtain. Manning the tiller, Felix smiled while the rain drummed against his face and the wind tousled his shaggy hair. Years of experience combined with instinct, and he navigated the shallows with ease. He welcomed the rain and was thankful for this brief reprieve from the heat, however long it might last.

  Slightly forward of Felix and covered by the back of the plastic canopy, Ernesto sat beside the two guides, Felipe and Oscar, whom they’d picked up earlier in their journey. The brothers were chatting quietly in Spanish while Ernesto listened with half an ear, eyes wandering to the sky as though he were looking for a sign from the heavens. He had directed the Americans to unroll the rain flaps that were furled beneath the canopy, and now they sat inside a kind of tented tunnel, a little moist but dry for the most part. Meanwhile, the Americans did what they could to maintain high spirits, laughing and joking in spite of the bleak beginning to their camping trip. They watched and waited for the sun, especially Ben, who still felt personally responsible for the failure or success of this new adventure, but little of anything was to be seen through the foggy windows or beyond the bow, where the mist had erased all but a few hundred yards of river. One of the girls had brought along a deck of cards, and they were momentarily engaged in a half-hearted poker game when Auggie noticed a break in the clouds.

  “Hey, dude, check it out.” Auggie tried to get his friend’s attention, but Ben was peering at Brooke above his cards as though she were the only person there—as though she were the only person in the world.

  “What is it?” Ben said absently.

  “Look.”

  Ahead of them the sun had begun to burn away the mist, revealing the much-welcomed colors of the forest. Crowding the muddy banks, unbroken ramparts of green bristled with a variety of plant life: leafy palm trees; snarls of undergrowth; shiny green spears that resembled overgrown ferns; here and there, poking up through the canopy, thick towers of perpetual green.

  Cooper let out a celebratory whoop.

  The jungle beckoned them on.

  ***

  An hour later they arrived at a fork in the river. Several trees had fallen from the shore, their tangled roots still clinging to chunks of the dark soil from which they had pulled free. The peki-peki began to slow as Ernesto and Felix conversed in a volley of Spanish. Felix gestured toward the trees and shook his head solemnly.

  Janie turned to the others, pouting. “I think we’ve reached the end of the line.”

  Ben’s heart sank. “What do you mean?”

  “The campsite we were going to is somewhere down that branch of the river. The storm must’ve knocked the trees down and we can’t get to the site.”

  Ernesto came over and sat down beside Brooke. He looked at each of their faces in turn. He could tell by their disappointed expressions that they were already anticipating the bad news. “We cannot continue,” he said slowly. “The trees, they block the way to the camp.”

  Ben took a deep breath. “Isn’t there anything we can do?”

  Ernesto thought for a few seconds. He shook his head solemnly.

  “Is there somewhere else?” Ben asked. “You know, some other place we can camp?”

  “Mmm...” Ernesto’s face grew tight. He called over to Felipe, who was conversing with his brother. Felipe’s forehead wrinkled as he thought for a second. Then he responded in rapid-fire Spanish. He pointed upstream and nodded.

  “There is ’nother place,” Ernesto said, nodding slowly. “There is old Brazil nut camp. Mmm, but has not been used for a long while.”

  Ben’s face lit up. “But we can camp there?”

  Ernesto nodded. “Yes, maybe, but is farther down the river.”

  “How far?” asked Auggie.

  “Is not too far. Is… mmm…’nother hour-half, two-hours maybe.”

  Cooper raised his eyebrows hopefully. “Will there still be lots of things to see?”

  “Yes, still is nice for watching the animals, many different animals, and for the walking trails. Very nice things for the photographs.”

  “So, we can go there?” asked Janie. “It’s cool?”

  Ernesto looked at the sultry brunette and smiled with his eyes. “Yes, is cool. If you want, we can go.”

  “Yeah!” Ben practically shouted. He looked at the others. “What do you say?”

  Cooper, Brooke, and Janie each nodded in turn. All eyes settled on Auggie.

  Auggie shrugged casually. “We’ve come this far,” he said, intrigued by the steady, confident tone of his own voice. With a charming smile, he added, “No sense in turning back now, right?”

  Ben broke into a surprised grin. “Alright!” he exclaimed, clapping Auggie on the shoulder. Still beaming, he turned to Ernesto and said, “The Brazil nut camp it is.”

  Calm as ever, Ernesto got up and made his way to the back of the boat. There was a brief discussion between Ernesto, Felix, and Felipe. At last, Felix nodded and pressed the throttle. The peki-peki pushed forward, slowly gaining speed, and the five Americans began to laugh and cheer, and slap each other five.

  They were off again on a new adventure.

  Twenty-one

  After weaving its way through a shallow tributary, the peki-peki finally came to rest on a small, fan-shaped sandbar that sloped upward toward a hollow in the trees. Balancing on the bow, Felipe leapt ashore and secured the peki-peki to a thick trunk while the Americans gathered their belongings. Crouching by one of the benches, Ernesto waved his hand beneath it until his fingers located the hidden instrument. When his hand reappeared, he was holding a wood-handled machete, its long blade scarred from years of hard use.

  “Awesome,” Cooper murmured, watching as Ernesto tucked the blade inside a threadbare sheath.

  Joining Felipe on the shore, Ernesto handed him the sheathed machete and the two spoke briefly in Spanish. Nodding, Felipe started up the muddy bank and into the jungle.

  Cooper tapped Auggie on the arm. “Hey—where do you think the big guy’s going?”

  “My best guess,” Auggie said, smiling indulgently, “is that he’s going ahead of us to help clear the path.”

  Following Ernesto’s guidance, they pulled on the bulky rubber boots and unloaded the remainder of their gear. Felix and Oscar dutifully conveyed the bulk of the provisions—tents, water jugs, and two containers of edibles—to the shore.

  Jumping down onto the muddy bank, Cooper could hardly contain himself. Wide-eyed and grinning at everything and nothing, he said, “Woah, this place looks awesome.”

  “Yo,” Ben called from the bow. “A hand, please?”

  “Right.”

  Cooper turned as Ben passed the backpacks to him one at a time.

  Ben was gazing at the jungle, the ghost of a grin dimpling his cheeks. Auggie walked over and stood beside him.

  “Where’s the pat
h?”

  Still grinning, Ben turned to him and shrugged. “We don’t need no stinkin’ path.”

  Ben’s enthusiasm was infectious and Auggie smiled in spite of himself. “One for the grandchildren?”

  “Definitely one for the grandchildren.”

  Cooper’s voice came from behind them. “Hate to break up your moment, but you’re standing awfully close to the water’s edge, dudes.”

  Ben raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? And?”

  “Did you already forget about Big Boy? You remember, from the museum?”

  Auggie instantly recalled the massive caiman skull and began to slowly back away from the water.

  “Relax!” Cooper snickered. He stepped forward to deliver a playful punch on Auggie’s arm. “I was only fucking with you, dude. You should see your face!”

  “Are you greenhorns ready for this?” Brooke called over.

  Cooper gave her a puzzled smile. “Greenhorns?”

  “You know,” Janie blurted. “Greenhorns, city slickers, tourists.”

  Slipping on his Red Sox hat, Ben grinned sarcastically. “Alright, alright. I admit it. We’re just a bunch of dumb tourists, and we’d be lost without you, our fearless leaders.”

  Walking past him, Brooke reached out and casually knocked the hat off his head. “And don’t you forget it, mister.”

  Ernesto was waiting at the trees; his tiny backpack slung around one shoulder. Now he turned to them. “Ready? Okay?”

  With this, they unceremoniously set off for the defunct Brazil nut camp, following a circuitous trail that seemed to disappear completely at times, devoured by the hungry jungle. Every so often, they came upon the freshly cut vines and branches that Felipe had left behind as he forged on ahead of them with the machete, though Felipe himself consistently eluded them.

  Twenty minutes later, they stopped to rest. The walls of green pressed in around them, thick mats of underbrush woven with vines and leaves so dense you could barely tell where one plant ended and another began. The path itself was also overgrown. Exotic ferns sprouted from the ground between fallen branches and trees, and it was now so humid that it seemed as though they could scoop the water out of the air and drink it. Even Ernesto’s forehead was dotted with tiny beads of perspiration. As the Americans stopped for a water break, he scanned the trees with his binoculars.

  “Do you see anything?” asked Janie. She and Cooper had been walking side by side behind Ernesto and were now the closest ones to him. There was a dark V-shaped sweat stain on the front of her shirt, accentuating her cleavage, and her hair was pulled back into a messy up-do. Panting like a dog, Cooper lifted his sunglasses, placed them on top of his head, and looked at her admiringly. She immediately sensed his eyes upon her and gave him a flirtatious smirk.

  Ernesto looked at them and shook his head apologetically. There was nothing interesting to show them at the moment. In all likelihood, the animals had probably fled far in advance of their noisy arrival. Once they settled in at the camp, they would rid themselves of their cumbersome gear and go for a proper hike.

  “Are we ready for to continue?”

  Just then, Oscar appeared on the path behind them. Every visible inch of him seemed loaded down with gear: backpack, tents, food containers. In each hand he carried an Army green duffel bag stuffed to the breaking point. Smiling amiably as he passed them, he seemed entirely unaffected by the burden.

  A minute or two later, they heard the sound of footfalls, and Felix waddled up behind them, his face a river of sweat. On his back was a large frame pack loaded to the seams. Strapped to the outside of the pack were two tents and a large cooking pot. Like Oscar before him, Felix also had his hands full with two bulky duffel bags. Seeing the older man weighed down like a pack animal made Ben feel guilty, and he rushed over to offer him a hand.

  “Let me help you,” Ben said, reaching out his hands. Felix tried to protest out of decorum, but Ben persisted and the portly guide gladly relented.

  “Gracias, gracias.” Felix smiled amiably, handing him the two duffels. Despite his missing teeth, it was a friendly smile all the same.

  Ernesto had meandered on ahead, and the line was moving forward behind him. Checking their bags and stowing away their water bottles, the others huffed and puffed in the humid air as they struggled to keep up with him.

  “Hey,” Brooke said. “I’ll carry one of those.”

  “That’s okay,” replied Ben. “I think I can manage.”

  Brooke gave him a look. “Don’t be such a hard ass.”

  Ben blinked in surprise. “What?”

  “You heard me,” she said, playfully shooting him a dirty look. She extended her hand toward him in a give-me gesture, and he handed her one of the bags, grinning. “Don’t forget,” she teased, easily taking on the added weight, “you’re just a tourist here. Janie and I, we live for this shit.”

  “Ouch!” Ben said.

  Cooper laughed. “Ha! Remind me never to mess with you bitches.”

  “Damn right!” Janie exclaimed with a giggle. Walking past him, she turned and landed a solid punch on his bicep. “And that’s for calling us ‘bitches’.”

  “Ow!” Cooper said, rubbing his arm. “Geez, it was just a figure of speech!”

  Scurrying ahead, Janie turned and stuck her tongue out at him, and Cooper had to fast-walk to catch up to her. He had almost reached them when a branch jumped out, knocking his sunglasses to the ground.

  “Shit.”

  Bending over to retrieve his beloved shades, a tiny movement in the brush caught his attention.

  “Hey!” he called out. “I think I found a few of those bullet ants!”

  Janie called back to him in a sing-song from somewhere farther down the path. “Coo-per, we’re lea-ving!”

  “They look drunk!” he added in a bemused voice, getting down on his haunches to watch the ants lurching and bumping into each other. Turning around he saw Auggie loitering on the path behind him.

  Cooper stood up, beaming. “These ants are totally hammered!”

  Auggie merely looked at him and shrugged.

  “Hurry up, you slowpokes!” Ben shouted, and his voice already sounded smaller, as though it had traveled across a great distance.

  “Yeah, yeah.” Balancing the sunglasses on top of his head, Cooper hurried to catch up.

  As Cooper disappeared behind a screen of trees, Auggie lagged behind on purpose. He had already swallowed a liter of water, his bladder was full, and he’d been waiting for an opportunity to relieve himself in private. Feeling the ache of anticipation, he waited for the others to wander out of sight. Then he quickly unzipped his pants and tilted his head to the sky, feeling almost euphoric as he pissed on the side of the path. After a few seconds, he opened his eyes. Looking down at his stream, he saw that his urine was a dark yellow, and he recognized this as a sign of dehydration. He was already feeling shaky, and he wondered what would happen when his drinking water was all used up. Still pissing, he waved his hand at some flies that had begun to swarm around him, perhaps attracted by the smell of urine. In any case, he was easy prey at the moment, and the thought of a bite or sting on his exposed penis made him shudder. He finished abruptly, shook off, and quickly zipped up his pants.

  Adjusting his safari hat, he listened for the others. There was no wind, and the foliage drooped with the humid air. In the absence of human noise, the rattle of cicadas was overwhelming. It was the sound of a thousand rattlesnakes shaking their tails in unison, only much louder. Otherwise, the forest was suddenly very still. So the others had gone on ahead, and had not even noticed his absence. Had they really gone on so far that he could not hear them at all? It was not surprising, then, that so many great explorers had ventured into the Amazon never to be seen or heard from again. One could wander off the path and vanish in seconds, invisible to any passersby. It occurred to him that he could have unwittingly pissed on the bones of some fallen explorer, and the sweat began to cool on his back. What if he too became lost? How long
would it take before his body decomposed and nature claimed his remains? He shivered. Okay, time to catch the others.

  He started to double-time it down the path, eyes glued to the ground in search of snakes and spiders. The jungle here was not as pretty as it had looked at either the rainforest lodge or the research center. It was darker. Swampy. Ominous. It even smelled different; sort of rotten, like decomposing leaves. Still, senses on high alert and his shirt soaked through with sweat, he was amazed at how alive he felt at that moment.

  Eventually the old fears came creeping back to him. He could not shake the feeling that he was being watched, that they were all being watched, and well beyond the natural scope of things. Of course they would be watched in the jungle; right now there would be hundreds, if not thousands of things that watched, smelled, and sensed their presence. No, this was different. This felt more like being observed, and that implied the presence of something sentient, something with a purpose.

  He tried to shake the feeling by turning his thoughts elsewhere. As he walked deeper into the covert, he began to think about the missing explorers again. He wondered what that would be like to just… disappear. Forever. What would people say about him after he was gone? Augustino Fernandes disappeared while exploring the fabled Amazon—this epitaph sounded far more romantic than, say, killed in an unfortunate accident, or died of natural causes. What would people say about him when he did not return home by the end of the week? What would people say when he did not return at all?

  A few minutes later he came upon a little bridge. It wasn’t much of a bridge, really; little more than two logs cut in half and fastened together, and badly rotted at that. Beneath it was a small stream, perhaps six feet wide and extending a little ways in both directions before being swallowed up by the vegetation. Arms extended for balance, he started across. He had almost made it to the other side when he noticed the unusual flower.

  At the end of a long green stem, vivid pink petals peeled back to reveal a crimson pistil. The flower seemed to grow from the mossy stump of a fallen tree that protruded from the center of the stream, forming a kind of natural pedestal. It was a good fifteen yards away, but even at that distance the sudden splash of color beckoned the eye. Continuing on, Auggie did not trust himself to take the photograph until his feet were on solid ground. Lifting his camera, he walked along the shore until he was almost directly opposite the flower. Zooming in, the pink petals leapt into sharp detail. He thought it would make a brilliant photograph, if only he could get a little closer, but the muddy bank and the stream itself were obvious deterrents. Snapping off a few pictures, he checked the screen and frowned. Not bad, but none of the pictures did the flower justice.