Event: A Novel

by David L. Golemon

  As the men moved forward to collect the offered bounty, they failed to notice as large bubbles appeared in the middle of the lagoon and slowly circled under the sunlight, then vanished after a moment. Nor did they hear the sudden silence that filled the trees around them as the birds grew momentarily still in their high nests and roosts, but they did see the small creatures look at one another as they jabbered back and forth and then slowly headed back toward the water. The first one, the one Padilla had saved from the murderous Suarez, was looking back at the newcomers to its beautiful world. To the men who were watching the strange exodus, it looked as if the animal were saddened at leaving.

  Padilla looked away from the lagoon and was amazed at the horde of fish as he counted over ten species of varying types. But just one caught his eye, and he bent over to examine it. He called Torrez over to see this wonder. The fish had huge scales and very strange fins on its lower belly toward the thick and powerful-looking tail. These most unusual fins looked as if they had small feet-like appendages on the very tips. The mouth was huge and filled with lethal-looking teeth, the jaw jutted far forward, unlike any fish he had ever seen, almost like a barracuda’s, only far more pronounced. As the two officers examined the strange fish, its eye seemed to roll and look at them, and as it did, the mouth snapped open and closed. They quickly straightened up and looked at the men who were starting to build fires for cooking and to guard against the coming night. Padilla once again bent down toward the large fish. He was looking at something on its blackened scales; he reached down and lightly rubbed the strange, coarse scales. The fish moved momentarily and then lay still. Padilla held his fingers close to his face and rubbed them together; small gold flakes gently fell to the tips of his worn boots.

  Padilla lay under one of the many ancient and beautiful trees that permeated the area with their massive roots projecting from the earth like a giant’s arms ripping through the fabric of a blouse. He had his booted feet close to their small fire, drying the thick leather as best he could. His diary was in his hands, and he had just finished recording the observations of this eventful day. His last entry written before he closed the small book declared that the battle with the Sincaro was due to his own negligence.

  He had considered not recording evidence of gold found lodged in the scales of the fish. But he had never omitted anything from his observations and would not start now. Pizarro would be startled to read about a source of gold so abundant that it was actually brought to the surface on the backs of fish. The captain shook his head at the thought as he placed the diary back into his tunic.

  Torrez lay beside Padilla, playing with one of the strange monkey-like animals that had appeared after the sun had set behind the dense jungle. The other men played with the numerous animals that came and went with their strange jabbering and constant curiosity of the many fires the men had built up. They were a nuisance as they emptied rucksacks and even a few of their precious black-powder bags, actually spilling the contents dangerously close to the fires. Padilla had eight of the men out on watch making sure the Sincaro didn’t make a return visit.

  “What do you make of them, my Captain?” Torrez asked, holding a small piece of bacon out for the visitor who sat on his chest, its tail swinging back and forth like a happy puppy. Its little claws finally stabbed the small piece of meat and popped it into its mouth, smiling and jabbering softly at the man, the mouth working frantically along with the small gills.

  “I think they are an offshoot or very close relative of the monkey, just one that happens to live in the water, surely not a design that God had intended.” Then the captain laughed. “But who knows the mind of God, but God himself?” Padilla watched Torrez and the animal a moment. “What is truly amazing is the fact that you can see their small gills working, moving like those of a fish, but then you notice that the rise and fall of its breathing is light, almost as if it is taking air through both systems. It must be so for them to live out of the water for such long periods of time.”

  “We need such devices, my captain, for breathing on board those stinking vessels of ours.”

  “Yes, if our friend Rondo over there gets a bellyful of beans and pork fat, the whole ship is in danger of choking to death or exploding like a musket,” Padilla joked.

  The two men were silent a moment as they listened to the comforting sound of the men as they spoke and talked of things other than death and this accursed mission. Then Padilla placed his diary in his belt pouch and looked over at his friend.

  “When we entered the water in the outer valley, the stone monoliths, what did you think of them?”

  “I was hoping that subject would not have arisen after the sun went down, if at all,” Torrez said as he gently laid the small animal on the ground and watched a moment as it scurried away. “As for what I thought at the time? They scared me.” He looked over at Padilla and could make out the captain’s eyes on him. “You know me, I fear no man, or for that matter, nothing I have come across before. But those carvings gave me chills as I looked upon them, even as I ridiculed our men for the same reason.”

  “The Watchers of this valley, gods of the lagoon, that’s what I called them in my diary. They were very old carvings, I suspect even older than some of the Inca dwellings we found in Peru.”

  “The age isn’t what concerned me, my Captain, it was the forms themselves. I would hate to run into one of those while bathing, I’ll tell you.”

  Padilla laughed loudly and was about to comment when a shrill piercing scream ripped through the night around them. The small creatures screeched and jabbered at the noise and shot off for the water, making little splashes as they dove for the safety of the lagoon. Padilla and Torrez were up in a second, Ivan with his sword drawn.

  “What is it?” Padilla called to his men as they entered the circle of light cast by the fire. The men were angry, yelling as they pointed forward toward the small shoreline.

  One man stood at the head of the others and was holding the limp and obviously lifeless body of one of the little creatures. He had the small animal clutched by its broken neck, and it dangled, almost formless in the firelight.

  “You bloody bastard!” one of his men yelled. “Why did you have to do that?”

  The man who was standing and facing everyone was none other than Suarez. The huge man stood his ground and stared back at the men, almost daring them to make a move toward him. He had no armor and his scarlet shirt glimmered as if with blood in the firelight

  “What is happening here?” Padilla asked, knowing all too well the answer to his question.

  One of the soldiers stepped forward, a boy of only twenty, pointing to where the big man stood.

  “That bastard did that for no other reason than the want of killing.”

  “He bit me and I will kill anything I wish, man or animal,” Suarez said, still looking at the group rather than at his captain, shaking the lifeless body of the harmless creature.

  “The man is mad, Captain, we must put him down as we would a dog with the foaming sickness,” Torrez hissed, stepping closer to Suarez and forgetting his earlier words of restraint. His sword was pointing straight at the big man’s chest.

  “He bit you by accident, you’re the one who pulled the bread away and allowed his teeth to strike you instead of the bread,” another man said as the others shouted agreement.

  “Suarez, you have caused enough trouble, and it ends here, now, tonight,” Padilla stated flatly and without emotion. He reached over and made his lieutenant lower his sword. “This will be my responsibility; you will stand down, my friend.”

  “You must not go into armed combat, my Captain, we cannot risk you. I will do it.”

  Suarez tossed the dead creature onto the sand, backed up three paces to the water’s edge, and slowly drew his sword.

  “I will make quick work of the man who comes for me,” he said, slicing the sword through the air.

  The rest of the men placed hands on swords or pistols, demonstrating their
willingness to dispatch this man. They would make sure he brought them no more ill will.

  “Stand down, all you men,” Padilla said as he advanced, drawing his own thin blade, not removing his eyes from Suarez. “This is your captain’s duty.”

  Suddenly small explosions of water erupted from the lagoon as dozens of the small creatures burst through to the surface, some clearing the water by two and three feet. They hurriedly swam to the far side of the lagoon, and before the men knew what they were looking at, the fast and agile animals were all scrambling up trees and large bushes on the opposite shore. They jabbered back at the water they had just exited and then grew suddenly quiet. That was when the men noticed that the animal sounds in the deep night had ceased, as if the entire jungle had grown mute as the two Spaniards faced each other.

  Suarez had backed further into the water waiting for the advance of Padilla. But he had turned at the sound of the small creatures and their noisy flight from the water.

  “Rondo, take five men and follow the shoreline and see what you can see. Something has frightened them,” Torrez ordered.

  Rondo pointed out five men, and they broke free from the group and started to walk slowly down the slim shoreline, buckling their armor and drawing their swords as they did. Rondo cocked his two pistols and then placed himself at the head of the small band of Spaniards. They walked cautiously, and then they disappeared around some bushes at the turn in the lagoon.

  Padilla was as calm as the night around them as he advanced on the larger Suarez. He slowly brought his sword up toward the other man’s barrel chest. Suarez smiled and moved deeper into the water and swung his own sword in a slow deliberate arc, parting it with a swish. Then as he saw the anger etching the face of Padilla, he backed deeper into the dark water.

  The remaining men in camp froze when they heard the large man shout in terror as he was grabbed from beneath the water, his legs jerked out from under him so hard that one moment he was screaming and the next he had vanished. The big man surfaced briefly, splashing and in shock with the whites of his eyes showing brightly, and then he was quickly pulled into the lagoon before he could utter a second cry of pain or terror at what was happening. Suarez quickly disappeared below the roiling surface with nothing but bubbles and two quick slashes of his shining sword to mark his trail to death’s door.

  “What in the name of God was that?” Torrez yelled as he ran to the water’s edge.

  Men pointed, and then they all saw the bubbles and a sharp “V”-shaped wake surface as something was traveling fast toward the far side of the lagoon, toward the spot that Torrez had sent Rondo and the five others. They soon heard splashing and screams of terror splitting the quiet night, and two loud reports as Rondo fired his pistols. Then amongst the screams of men and the dying echo of the gunshots, they all heard a sound they would take with them to their graves. The roar was like a deep echo of an enraged demon from their nightmares. The horrid sound reverberated and sent chills down their spines.

  The screams of his men ended as suddenly as they had begun, and in an instant the night became still once again.

  Torrez was suddenly at the stunned Padilla’s side, pressing his armor into his hands. The captain sheathed his sword and slipped the heavy iron onto his back and chest. Then they watched the spot where the men had disappeared just moments before. Suddenly a dark figure of a man emerged through the bushes and stumbled forward, obviously wounded. Two soldiers ran to the man and brought him into the bright circle cast by the firelight. There were deep gouges in the man’s face and arms as if he had been mauled by a tiger. The punctures in his armor were deep and ragged. The soldier’s left eye was missing and he cried out, claiming for all to hear that the Devil had risen from the water.

  Padilla ran over, knelt next to his soldier, and grimaced as the young man’s wounds were some of the worst he had ever seen. The rest of the men turned to the lagoon and watched. The jungle had grown quiet around them as the captain heard the man cough out the same words as before, only the ending was different. “The Devil has risen from the water and he has come for his offering.” Then the man’s eyes were void of life as his pain ended and darkness covered him.

  Padilla didn’t hesitate in ordering his men to form up. The sentries had entered the campsite with swords drawn and flintlocks aimed. They had lost seven men in as many minutes to something in the lagoon that he cared never to see or even hear again. He would leave this place, retreat, and never venture into the jungle again. They would return to Pizarro and tell him they were cowards and that he could punish them however he deemed fit, but he could never send them here again and that was good enough.

  “We march west tonight, and we stop only when we are under the light of the Lord’s sun once again.”

  The Devil can have his home, Padilla thought, and he prayed that no man would ever find this place again, for men were not meant to be here. He would give the map he had made of the valley to Father Corinth and warn him that this was truly the playground of demons.

  With the night sentries on the point, Padilla ordered his soldiers forward. But just as they nervously took their first step, the night exploded around them. The animal came at them, not from the water, but from the bush. It seemed to have followed the tracks of the soldier who had escaped it. The darkness around the screaming men was rent with the powerful and enraged cry of the beast as it attacked. Padilla felt the warmth of something striking his face, and then the coppery taste of blood filled his mouth.

  “Captain, into the water while there is time. Fall back, men, into the water and swim for it!” Torrez screamed as he pushed the shocked Padilla into the cool lagoon. “We can gain the trail on the other side.”

  Padilla was still trying to peer into the blackness as he was pulled away by Torrez. That was when the beast stepped closer to one of the open firepits and swiped its strangely formed hand at one of his men. The soldier was silent as the claws raked down his face and tore through his chest armor. As the Spaniards watched in horror, the animal was struck from behind with a sword, and then a shot rang out from a pistol. The beast did not slow down, even though Padilla saw the ball strike the animal in the upper chest, slinging scales and red meat into the air. The beast screamed a cry of outrage and quickly reached out and grabbed the hand that wielded the sword and easily lofted the man over its head. Then it threw the body against one of the large trees as if he weighed no more than a piece of firewood.

  Another Spaniard made a break for the trail they had used to enter the valley, and that was when Padilla saw the real speed of the creature. It easily headed off the soldier and attacked from the front, throwing its massive weight against the man and driving him to the ground.

  “Look at the size of this devil,” Padilla mumbled while Torrez pushed his captain into deeper water. “It is a man!”

  Padilla snapped out of his shock as the cool water closed over his head. He reached for the buckled straps that held his armor in place and quickly shrugged out of it. The heavy armor was sent to the bottom as Padilla pushed his way to the surface. As his head broke free of the surface, he saw Torrez ahead of him swimming for all he was worth for the far side of the lagoon. He started after his lieutenant while the screaming of his remaining men continued on shore.

  Padilla was starting to lose the strength in his arms after ten minutes of swimming blindly across the lagoon. His ears were filled with his own struggles and the roar of water ahead of him emanating from the waterfall. His arms were flailing and his knee-high boots had filled with water, and he was finding it very difficult to maintain the momentum needed to keep his head above water. He was starting to swallow more and more of the strangely cool and sweet water. He felt himself go under and was aware of water flowing down his throat. He thought he heard shouts as he began to give up his struggle and let the cool water embrace him.

  It was comforting because now he wouldn’t have to face any of his men who had survived and he could accompany those who hadn’t on their fi
nal journey toward forgiveness for what they had wrought on the innocent Sincaro. Captain Padilla even managed a smile as his lungs took in his last breath of, not air, but water. Suddenly he felt hands grabbing at him from above. Even his beard was pulled on as he was lifted up out of the water. His eyes rolled as he tried to catch one single blessed breath but found his lungs were full.

  “Captain, Captain,” Torrez shouted.

  Padilla felt himself rolled over and his back struck as if it were an anvil. He felt his spine pop as he was pushed on heavily by Torrez trying desperately to expel the water from his lungs.

  “Breathe, my Captain, don’t you leave me here in this black place!”

  Padilla felt the warm water vomit from his stomach and lungs, and the pain hit him in earnest when he tried to replace the water with precious air. He felt his body spasm as his lungs slowly brought in the needed oxygen. A loud moan escaped his shivering lips, and he slowly brought in another breath.

  Padilla rolled over and tried to sit up but failed miserably. Other hands quickly grabbed for him, and he was lifted to his feet. He looked over and saw that the two soldiers were Juan Navarro, a cook’s assistant, and Javier Ramón, a blacksmith. The captain saw they were only feet from the waterfall. He looked up and saw where the water cascaded from somewhere high above. He coughed, trying to clear his throat of the remaining water in his throat. He saw Torrez standing at the small shore, staring out across the lagoon.

  “The screaming of our men has stopped,” he said without turning as Padilla approached and watched the distant, dwindling fires of their destroyed camp across the lagoon.

  After a moment, Torrez took Padilla by his shoulders and turned him away from the distant scene of destruction. As they walked toward the wall of rock that ascended straight up from the lagoon and bordered the waterfall, Torrez knew they were being watched.