by Koloen, John
“Of course, if you’d tried to help him, you would be dead, too, don’t you think?” Azevedo said.
“I know, but I feel bad. I feel like I should have done something.”
“Sometimes there’s nothing can be done. If you hadn’t climbed the tree as your boss told you to do, you would have walked right into the colony with him, or they would have found you standing on the ground, and they would have been all over you just like they were all over Javier.”
“I know. I know. I was lucky that I climbed the tree. I mean, they were all over him just like that,” Suarez said, snapping his fingers.
“Maybe you were luckier than you think,” Azevedo said quietly. “There’s no reason to think they can’t climb trees, and you said they were jumping all over him, right?”
“Yes, that’s true. They were jumping around all over the place, maybe three meters high. I don’t know. Maybe two meters. But it looked almost like they could fly, the way they jumped. I could see them down below me. And they made this terrible noise, like screeching, not loud but with so many of them it was like something out of hell. I prayed all night, I tell you, and I’m not as religious as most of my family.”
“Sometimes that’s all we can do,” Azevedo said comfortingly to the distraught guide.
46
Scanning the faces of his group, Duncan realized that if he took another vote about turning back, he might lose. Even Boyd looked concerned. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Azevedo and Suarez, leaning against a tree, talking. He watched as Azevedo patted Suarez on the shoulder several times and finally hugged him. Duncan even started to question whether they should retrace their steps back to the river. The thought of splitting up flashed across his mind, but he dismissed it quickly. They had only one guide.
As Suarez and Azevedo quietly rejoined the group, Hamel asked, “What are we going to do now? Shouldn’t we turn back?”
“No!” Suarez said emphatically. “We must go back for Javier.”
Out of respect for the obviously upset guide, the others hesitated before responding.
“What good would that do?” Hamel asked, looking at Duncan. “I mean if the bugs killed him, what’s to stop them from killing us?”
All eyes were on Duncan. Fear, which had been nonexistent until they found the Labrador and his owner, had grown to the extent that even Duncan could sense it in Cross and several others. It wasn’t just Hamel though he was the most outspoken. The students were more or less beholden to Duncan and feared him more than blaberus though that was changing.
“Why don’t you put it to a vote?” Cross suggested timidly.
Duncan wanted time to think. How much of a threat did the bugs represent? Obviously, if someone inadvertently walked into the colony, consequences were dire. But how likely was that? There was no way of knowing. The forest floor hid many things, including countless ways to die. He wanted to have a discussion but was concerned that he’d lose control of the conversation and the group. But he had to do something, show leadership, or he’d lose them anyway.
“Obviously,” he said, “whatever we do, we have to stick together. So splitting up is out. We only have one guide.”
“I’m going back for my friend,” Suarez insisted.
“What are you going to do when you get there?” Stephanie Rankin asked, more gruffly than she’d intended.
“Bring his body back. Or bury him. I don’t know. I just can’t leave him lying there.”
“What about the bugs?” Hamel asked.
“They were gone this morning. If they weren’t, I wouldn’t be here.”
“How far would we have to go to get there?” Boyd asked.
“It took me less than ninety minutes to get here.” Suarez didn’t mention that he jogged most of the way, stopping only for water breaks.
“Okay,” Azevedo said, “suppose we go back, and we find Javier’s body. Would it be all right with you if we bury him, mark his grave and then come back? You could come back later to retrieve it. Besides, we’ll have to notify the authorities. With two bodies, I’m sure they’ll send someone here to investigate.”
Suarez thought for a moment and nodded.
“Yes, yes, that would be good. Javier would be able to rest, and so would I.”
Although the expedition wasn’t conducted under democratic rules, Duncan felt that he couldn’t force anyone to follow Suarez to the body. But it was a question of whether to proceed or retreat, he decided.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Duncan said. “If you don’t go with us, you can stay here and wait for us to return. And tomorrow, we’ll start hiking back to the river. Anyone have a problem with this?”
It didn’t surprise anyone that Hamel and Cross decided to stay behind. But when Alison Peeples also asked to wait, Rankin, Boyd, and Johnson nearly gasped in unison.
“What!” Peeples said. “I just don’t feel like going, okay? I’m not feeling well. I think I’m coming down with something.”
The three exchanged muffled comments while Duncan gathered Hamel, Cross, and Peeples together to give them instructions. He cautioned them not to attempt to return to the river on their own.
“We’ll probably camp here another night and head back tomorrow, together. Any questions? Alison will probably want to get rest. And stay hydrated. This humidity is brutal.”
Even before the remainder of the group started the trek to bury Costa, their shirts were saturated with sweat. Humidity spiked, and huge gray clouds were piling up in the east. Although rain had fallen every day since the start, it was sporadic, and most of it came at night. As the two groups diverged, the three left behind busied themselves with setting up camp while the others tried to keep up with a fast-moving guide.
Cross, who was accustomed to getting her way and anxious after seeing parts of Suarez’ video, complained to Duncan just before he left.
“I don’t want to be insensitive here, but who’s paying whom here?” she said snarkily. “Can’t we just go back now and let the authorities deal with the body or bodies?”
“We’ve got no leverage,” Duncan said. “He’s going with or without us, and he’ll just quit if we give him an ultimatum, and we’d still have to pay him for the days he’s worked.”
“Couldn’t we just retrace our steps?”
“We could, maybe. Or we could get lost. Anyway, this is what we’re going to do and really, Maggie, please don’t try to hike out on your own. We’ll be back as fast as we can, okay?”
Unconvinced, Cross nodded and watched as Duncan rejoined his group and disappeared into the forest.
47
It wasn’t long before the gray clouds grew dark, and the first drops dripped from the canopy above the campsite. Fortunately, the two tents were up with rainflies attached. Peeples laid on her air mattress while Cross and Hamel sat on a log they’d moved near their tent. It wasn’t long before Peeples joined them, unable to relax in her stuffy tent, the price of draping them with rainflies.
“Do you think it’s a good idea what they’re doing?” Hamel asked, rhetorically.
“Personally,” he continued, “I think our fearless leader doesn’t have our best interest at heart.”
“What do you mean?” Cross asked.
“I know you have a thing for him, sweetie, but you obviously were afraid to go. And what about you?” he said, speaking to Peeples. “Are you really ill or is something else going on?”
Peeples gave him a critical look.
“I’m not feeling well,” she said matter-of-factly. “This heat and humidity is getting to me. I’ve never felt like this before.”
“Stop it, George,” Cross said sternly. “Could be you and I have overactive imaginations. Maybe we’re just cowards. I know I am.”
“Well,” Hamel said, “when you put it that way, I suppose you’re right. I mean, I don’t mind being
a bystander, but I’m not inclined to lead the charge.”
“You all think they’re in danger?” Peeples asked.
“I have no idea,” Hamel said. “I don’t want to think that, but you have to wonder whether we’re in danger just sitting here. What if the bugs show up? What then? It’s not like we can defend ourselves.”
“The guide said the insects left the area,” Peeples said.
“Yes, but he wasn’t talking about this place, in particular, and he didn’t say where they went. For all we know, they could be waiting for them.”
“Like an ambush?” Peeples said sarcastically.
“Maybe,” Hamel said, defensively. “Could be. You don’t know. Maybe they’re organized like ants or something. We don’t know much about them, do we?”
“For all we know, maybe they’re headed our way,” Peeples said and regretted saying it.
Cross stood and faced her companions.
“I don’t think this is very helpful. The reason I didn’t go is that I’m a physical coward. Always have been. I admit it. I like to take small risks, like trying out a new restaurant, but going into the jungle after a dead body, that doesn’t appeal to me.”
Hamel nodded in agreement. Peeples said nothing for a moment as she stared at Cross’s khaki shorts. She wondered whether it was fear that caused her to feel ill. She hadn’t felt this until it became clear that the previously harmless insects had turned into killers. It reminded her of her fear of snakes, which she tried to overcome but couldn’t. Twice she’d tried to desensitize herself to the reptiles and both times she failed miserably. She could watch them when separated by glass enclosures but shivered uncontrollably when handlers tried to present them to her. It didn’t matter whether they were garter snakes or poisonous. Seeing them in the wild caused her to run like a frightened child. The thought of thousands of the insects swarming over her body had a similar effect, except she couldn’t run from her thoughts or fears. It was the thought that made her feel ill, she decided, because sitting on the log she was not afraid and didn’t feel ill.
“I’m a coward, too,” Peeples blurted. “I don’t know, after seeing that video and the thought of those insects eating that poor man alive…”
“We all have a problem with being eaten alive,” Hamel said, trying to be supportive.
Peeples grimaced, and Cross sighed.
“Well, at least we can agree that we’re all cowards, right?” Hamel said.
“No question about that,” Peeples said, feeling better and unashamed.
48
Duncan asked Suarez to slow down, that the others were having difficulty keeping his pace despite having left most of their gear at the campsite. Suarez was impatient and inclined to disobey, but when he saw Professor Avezedo bring up the rear, he waited for everyone to catch up and then took the lead but made sure that he remained within sight of the group. For this reason, it took several hours to reach the area where the bugs had attacked Costa. Avezedo urged caution as they approached the field where the body lay.
“We don’t know anything about these insects,” Azevedo said, shaking his head. “Other than they are predators and they are organized in such a way that apparently thousands of them can be brought to bear quickly.”
“You make them sound like an army,” Boyd said.
“That’s a good analogy,” Azevedo agreed. “I think they are. I think they are more like ants than cockroaches in that regard.”
They paused at a clearing where the trail abruptly ended in the field of deep grass where Costa’s body lay. Suarez pointed at the tree he’d climbed. From the ground, they could not see the body nor an indication of where it was. Suarez regained his perch on the tree, and after a moment pointed toward a patch of disturbed grass that could only be seen from above.
“He’s there,” Suarez said. “Maybe twenty meters, thirty meters. Not far. Do you see?”
As hard as everyone tried to see where Suarez pointed, they couldn’t see, not from ground level. It all looked like an unbroken sea of tall grass undulating in a slight breeze. Lowering himself, Suarez took out his machete and started to cut a path through the grass, expecting the others to follow. Ten meters in, he paused and looked back. Nobody followed.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
“What are we waiting for?” Boyd asked.
“You first,” Carlos Johnson responded, gesturing toward Suarez.
“Why don’t you finish cutting the path,” Duncan said. “We’ll just get in your way.”
“Chicken,” Boyd said as he started toward Suarez.
Duncan grabbed him by the shoulder.
“Let’s just wait until he finds the body,” he said.
Everyone seemed satisfied by this, and Duncan waved to Suarez to continue, which he did, stopping several times to look back at the tree to get his bearings. From the tree, he’d thought he had a clear view of where to go, but at ground level he was less certain. Nothing seemed to stand out. Where he could see a patch of disturbed grass from twenty feet, from the ground, it looked different.
Then the stench hit him, carried by the light breeze. He hadn’t expected this. But it came in waves, and he knew Costa was near. Several more swings of the machete and suddenly he stood over Costa’s body, sprawled face down, his clothes reduced to tatters and only skinny strands of flesh dangling from his nearly skeletonized corpse. He instinctively crossed himself and looked away. It was difficult to see his friend like this and, in a way, he didn’t want anyone else to see him like this either, concerned about his dignity. But he had no choice but to wave the others to join him.
Boyd led the way and nearly fell on top of the body, his foot catching on a root. Duncan grabbed him as he stumbled and pulled him back. Suarez didn’t like the way everyone crowded in to gawk at the body, which looked much like the body they found with the Labrador. Within moments, Boyd started documenting the scene, which upset Suarez, who put his hand in front of Boyd’s camera.
“No, no, no,” Suarez said. “You shouldn’t do this.”
Boyd looked at Duncan, who nodded. Boyd pocketed the camera, somewhat annoyed. Duncan asked Suarez what he wanted to do with the body. The young guide looked back toward the end of the path where the ground was relatively clear.
“We should move him back there. It will be easier to dig.”
At first, nobody did anything other than steal looks at the body. Then Duncan pulled out a poncho from his daypack and started stomping on the grass near the body. He laid the poncho alongside the body.
“We need something to grab it with,” he said. “Anybody got gloves with them?”
Glances were exchanged.
“How about a T-shirt?” Stephanie Rankin said, digging into her daypack. “We can tear it up and use that.”
Using his pocket knife, Boyd cut the shirt into wide strips, handing several to Duncan and Suarez and keeping two for himself. Together, the three of them surrounded the body and gingerly took hold of Costa’s arms and lower legs and, lifting it only slightly, slid it onto the poncho. The ground was covered with dead insects and damp where his blood had saturated the soil. Everyone skittishly moved out of the way or scurried ahead as the three of them carefully carried the body out of the field and back to the path where they set it down gently and set about digging a shallow grave.
Boyd and Duncan started the grave with their folding shovels while the others watched. Suarez moved away, struggling with his emotions, watching from the corner of his eye. Then it occurred to him that they would need to mark the grave, and he collected stones and piled them near where the grave was being dug.
While this was going on, Johnson, Rankin, and Azevedo sat on a large log that had fallen near the path.
“I can’t really believe what’s happening,” Rankin whispered.
“What can’t you believe?”
“This,
” she said, pointing toward the deepening grave. “I mean, this was supposed to be an expedition, and now it’s turned into this, a cemetery and a crime scene or something. I mean, two bodies in two days. This is not what I expected.”
“Nobody expected this, miss,” Azevedo said.
“Yeah,” Johnson said. “There’s nothing we can do about it. Besides, we’ll be headed back tomorrow.”
“And what do we get out of this? We didn’t find the blaberus. This is not going to help me finish my M.S.”
“Did you collect any specimens?”
“Specimens?”
“Yeah, there were plenty on the ground back there. I thought you were going to collect specimens.”
Rankin grew quiet.
“You’re afraid, aren’t you,” Johnson said.
“I am not,” she protested.
“Yes you are,” he said quickly.
“I am not,” she said, rising from the log. She started toward the field but stopped abruptly.
Looking at Johnson, she smiled.
“Would you come with me?”
“What will you give me if I do?”
Listening to them bicker amused Azevedo, who stood up.
“I’ll go with you,” he said.
Rankin stuck her tongue out at Johnson and followed Azevedo into the field, pouting and glancing back at her fellow student.
49
After a brief ceremony led by Suarez, Costa’s remains were covered with earth followed by the stones Suarez had gathered. He carefully arranged them into a mound at the head of the grave. Using his knife, he roughly carved Costa’s name and date of death into a chunk of wood that he’d picked up from the forest floor and sandwiched it into the stones so that it stood erect, extending four feet above the ground. He tied his red bandana near the top to make it easier to find, as he planned on retrieving the body for a Catholic burial.