by David Faxon
They fell among the flowers, locked tightly in a lover’s embrace, and made love, their lust heightened only by the sense of danger that accompanied it. It was brief, spasmodic, uninhibited; still no words, only expressions. Minutes passed, neither moved, both basking in the moment, both resigned to the consequences if they had been seen. Connery rose first, realizing he had been away from the village for too long. With a last touch he told her to wait a while before returning, then he left.
More than an hour passed. He waited anxiously- no sign she had come back. Maybe she had taken another way. He looked in the direction of her hammock hoping to see her.
Then it happened with alarming quickness. Something passed over his head, striking the hut behind him. Another followed, closer than the first. He quickly realized that arrows were being fired into the village, not one or two, but a barrage. He heard several screams. Panic followed. Frightened women gathered their children, herding them toward shelter while men scurried for their weapons. There had been no attacks in some time. They had relaxed their guard.
Connery reached for the only weapon in sight, a spear, and ran toward to where he left Wamura. He knew of woman stealers from countless stories told by Teman-e and was well familiar with the savagery of outlaw tribes. A second volley followed. In the excitement, it occurred to Connery that the shower of arrows might have been a diversion, allowing the Wakawakatieri to seize the young women. Wamura would certainly be one of them. Teman-e appeared from nowhere, shouting and motioning Connery to follow.
Machi-te tribesmen raced toward the Wakawakatieri. Within seconds, the two tribes clashed. Teman-e thrust his spear into one man, killing him instantly. Now fully engaged, it took every one of his skills to stay alive. A veteran of these types of skirmishes, most didn’t match the ferocity of this attack. It seemed impossible to beat them back. He glanced toward the river long enough to recognize one of the abductors who towered above the others. He knew immediately who it was. The mad man was among them and he saw an opportunity to avenge himself by killing Uxhomeb.
The mêlée continued at fever pitch, long enough to allow the kidnappers to flee into the jungle, carrying Wamura and two other women. The Wakawakatieri were masters at fading out of sight, as if they had never been there. Teman-e divided his men; half would confront the remaining attackers, he would lead the others in pursuit. Connery stayed close. Though Uxhomeb had a head start of only a few minutes that was all he needed.
Two days later, Teman-e and his men were still looking. Faint traces existed, but if another day was lost they would be gone forever. He kept driving his men, convinced he knew the most likely place where he would intercept them. They kept going all that night, when just before dawn, he instructed them to stay where they were. He would go on alone.
They waited, afraid of being over- run. No words were spoken. The forest, pitch black, eerily quiet except for insect noises, an occasional owl hooting. Time passed with no sign of Teman-e. Then he appeared from nowhere, as if he was a ghost. He had found the raiding party camped near the river with no guards posted. He expected they would be on their way before the sun rose. Now was the time to surprise them. His instructions were clear. Split the enemy camp, kill as many as possible and save the women. Each man knew if he made the slightest sound he would have to face the considerable wrath of Teman-e.
In the Wakawakatieri camp, the women were awake while most of their captors slept, exhausted from the intense chase. Teman-e signaled to his men, who released arrows with deadly accuracy. Three of the raiders fell. Uxhomeb reacted quickly, grabbed Wamura, cut the rope that secured her, and wrapped it tightly around his arm. Brandishing a knife and carrying her on his shoulder, he fled. Teman-e, Connery and three others in pursuit.
Uxhomeb ran like a deer with long, loping strides. He soon out-distanced them before stopping abruptly. He could go no further. Trapped by the river, he was like a cornered animal as Teman-e’s men closed in. He held his knife to Wamura's throat, using her body as a shield while moving further into the water. Connery was powerless as he saw her struggle to free herself. She looked at him with pleading eyes begging him to do something.
On the opposite shore, almost unnoticeable in the faint light, the largest creature in the Amazon basin watched intently. Almost sixty years old, he weighed nearly a ton. Humans hunted him for his skin. They used it to make high priced shoes and accessories. But he lived in a place lost to civilization and so survived. Despite his age and size, he was lightning fast, thanks to a long tail used to propel him at great speed through the water. He hadn’t eaten for a week; that’s when he swallowed a small deer, whole. Now he was hungry again, all his senses alert for prey, especially his ability to detect blood from a great distance. The black caiman could easily be mistaken for a large crocodile, his close relative, except for the bony ridge above his eyes, giving the appearance of spectacles. The splashing of water first attracted his attention, then the scent of blood. He entered the river in a silky move, hardly noticeable.
Connery saw the behemoth move from the opposite bank toward Uxhomeb and Wamura, eyes riveted on its intended prey. Connery waved frantically, but the savage ignored him, moving into deeper water. As he did, the caiman sprang. Water erupted in violent splashing. Uxhomeb lost his footing as the reptile sank its jaws into his upper thigh, pulling them under. Then it began its death spiral. Both victims submerged, reappeared terror stricken, then disappeared again. Connery was aghast as Uxhomeb, in the face of sure death, refused to release Wamura. Despite the obvious danger, he swam toward the wide-eyed and terrified girl in a last attempt to save her.
The taste of blood and instincts borne millions of years ago, directed the caiman’s brain to kill. Connery was helpless as she vanished one final time, held tightly by an unyielding Uxhomeb.
The waters calmed except for the ripples radiating toward shore. Connery was left shaking, knowing the caiman pulled her deeper and deeper to an unthinkable fate. He swam back until he reached shallow water then turned to look one last time. He felt bitterness as never before. This land extracted its toll, drained him of all that was left of his spirit. There was nothing more to do, no reason to stay.
PART THREE
RETRIBUTION
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
Machi-te village
The raid that day was more deadly than anyone could remember. When the men returned, eight bodies were lined neatly inside the shabono. Rituals and ceremonies would last for several days. The most venerable of those who died was old Tochua. As a young man, he fought many skirmishes; never asked for nor gave any quarter to his enemies and was therefore highly respected. The attack came in the afternoon as he returned from foraging. In five seasons, he hadn’t gone into the jungle twice in the same day. Too old to move out of harm's way and too taken by memories of how he once fought, he stood, silently watching his final battle as if a part of it. Then he was struck down.
In a final show of respect, his skull bones would be ground to a fine dust then mixed with other liquids. Each tribe member would drink the concoction, ensuring inheritance of his strength and wisdom.
Despite the tragic losses, tribal life continued uninterrupted. Connery found things to occupy his time, but in a listless way. Teman-e knew he would soon want to leave. The only question was how. Each day he talked more of his world and his children. He thought he had done all he could to save Wamura, yet still blamed himself for her death.
He would leave and do it on his own. Not until Wamura’s death did that become crystal clear. What used to be days of anticipation plotting how they would fulfill their mutual desires, turned into days of drudgery. Each morning he awoke to the same dogs barking, the same jungle noises, the same chattering of women. His existence dulled without her presence. Whenever he went to the river, he remembered only her alluring image. The more forbidden she became, the greater his hunger for her. The day of the raid, he risked everything. He wondered what would have happened had fate not intervened once again. Yet, he c
ame to realize, it was naïve to think he could have lived happily ever after, content with the drone like, everyday existence in a jungle village. In a life far removed from what he was used to.
Each day preoccupied him with the thought of exactly how he would find his way back alone. He had no idea how to approach the problem. But he had learned the ways of the jungle from a master. He felt vastly more able to cope with what lay ahead.
He was prepared to leave within a week when something occurred that would change everything. A woman, her husband slain six months previous in a tribal skirmish, gave birth to a baby girl. At first, she was elated, but as weeks went by, she found the baby didn't respond as a normal child would. The baby was lethargic, wouldn't eat, wouldn't move. Week after week, the mother despaired. She began to neglect the child until one day she drowned her. Not long after the incident, three other young children fell sick with unusual symptoms no one had ever seen before. These weren’t the first incidents, but the baby’s death brought the problem to light.
More people were becoming aware of the increasing incidence of sickness, particularly among the children who were listless, uncoordinated. Even some of the younger adults appeared disoriented on occasion. Two recent births were stillborn. One was malformed. Fear was real. Guardara tried unsuccessfully to use his shaman powers to cure the illnesses. Connery himself was puzzled. He would talk late into the night with Teman-e as they struggled for answers.
At the same time, the gardens were doing poorly in spite of the new irrigation system. The main staple, manioc, was dwindling rapidly. To make matters worse, Teman-e and the other hunters found it more difficult to find game. One by one, life-sustaining sources dried up, the rainforest less willing to yield. It had been coming for months.
With the village clearly under stress, Guardara called a meeting of the elders. After two days of deliberation, it was decided the place that was home for more than twenty rainy seasons, would be abandoned. A major event in their lives. The tribe would look for a new location where food and water were abundant, and the strange sickness would leave them. It wouldn’t come without suffering. Seventy-five families, nearly three hundred people, would gather what they could carry and depart as a group for an unknown destination, knowing only that many dangers lay ahead. There were but three days to prepare. Anyone not ready by that time would be left behind with the sick and aged.
Women gathered fibrous leaves and wove them into carriers, one for each family member. They worked long hours into the night to finish before the day of departure, while the men dug and cut the sparse manioc. Each person would carry a pack containing essential food items. Three of the men would carry all the tools essential for hut construction. For the young, this was something new, even exiting. For the adults, it held raw memories of trekking through the jungle and the depredations that nomadic life would bring. Every day would present a new challenge, a new place to set up camp, the never-ending search for food. It could be three days, or thirty, before they found a suitable place.
On the morning they were to leave, dark clouds filled the sky, an omen of what lay ahead. Teman-e told Kesana to make one more carrier pack with plenty of ventilation. In it, he placed a colorful pet parrot. His children would be saddened if they had to leave him behind. Kep'e would carry it.
Finally, everything was in readiness. Before leaving, they ate plantain and some yams left from the night before. That would be all they would have until evening. Families gathered outside the shabono, each heavily laden, to say one last farewell to those unable to make the journey. They would never be seen again. One by one, they approached the solemn group, placing before them what little they could spare. No words were spoken. Guardara and the elders, accompanied by Teman-e and a select few warriors, moved to the front as the rain began. The long procession marched silently on the trail leading to the deep forest. It had quickly turned from dust to mud. No one glanced back.
Connery walked with Teman-e and his children, toward the front of the group. He supported the pack on his forehead, held by a hemp strap. It weighed close to sixty pounds. It wasn't long before the band cut into him. Stragglers found it difficult to keep pace and drifted further and further toward the back.
Around noon, Guardara stopped. The old man seemed to have an endless reservoir of energy and had no difficulty staying with the younger members. They were heading upriver in a northerly direction. Connery wondered just what it was they were looking for and how they would know when they found it. How long would they travel? What would happen should they run into other tribes who, more than likely, would be unfriendly? These were questions he would ask, but Teman-e was in deep discussion with the elders, some of whom, seemed worn out and the journey had just begun.
By early evening of the first day, they had come to a suitable place to rest. It was at a bend in the river with a flat, sandy beach. The men found dry wood and before long, fires flickered and women prepared the first meal away from home. Afterward, council members met again. They would have talked late into the night were it not for weariness.
Connery finally found his moment to ask questions. Teman-e explained that the elders were concerned about other tribes. How would they react to possible incursion of their territory? Perilous consequences could result if they relaxed their vigilance. But that was only one of the issues that had to be dealt with.
In the vastness of their part of the Amazon, journey by foot could take days or weeks. Movement from place to place became a great physical challenge. They had to cut their way through the jungle. Daily progress was meager. Other times they would face physical danger that extracted a price in lost lives. This happened on the fifth day when the tribe came to a magnificent waterfall that fell two hundred feet to the bottom of a deep gorge. Someone long ago, cut down a tall tree that spanned a chasm of more than a hundred feet. It offered the only means to get to the other side. Teman-e sent a man to see if the tree was safe, or whether it had rotted in places. Straddling the thick trunk, he inched his way across, then returned with his opinion that, indeed, it was safe, but slippery in a few places where moss had grown. They began to cross.
The men accepted the challenge, but the women and children were fearful. Eventually, they went in small groups guided by the men. Most remained calm and avoided looking down. One woman, however, was attempting to hold her child and at the same time, the woven basket that contained all she possessed. They were nearly across, when the basket slipped from her grasp. She instinctively reached for it, lost her balance, and toppled from the tree taking her child with her. An audible gasp rose as the two flailing bodies descended to the rocks below. Then there was silence, except for the wailing sound of her older child who had been a few steps behind. Someone took his hand, and the group moved on in continued silence, reconciled to their loss. They remained stoic, for there would be other tragedies in days ahead.
The ideal location for the new village would be near water, but not so close as to have it destroyed during monsoon season. The men would clear the jungle of vegetation and trees, then erect huts. That night, Connery lay beneath a tree thinking about how he would find his way back. He fell asleep, exhausted by the day’s events, haunted with the image of the tumbling woman and her child.
CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR
On the 15th day, they still hadn't found a suitable location. Several were promising, but the scarcity of manioc was always the deciding factor. Tiredness and frustration led to belligerence at the slightest provocation. Teman-e and a few others were cool headed and quick to prevent minor altercations from becoming more serious. Toward evening, the group wended its way through an obscure trail searching for the 15th campsite. The night air cooled, creating a light haze that hovered well below the treetops.
Teman-e was the first to see it. The darkened outline of several huts emerged. An extremely isolated village could mean danger if its people were hostile. But how would they have been allowed to come so close without alarm cries being sounded? Men readied their bo
ws. They were at their most vulnerable, but the confrontation everyone feared, never came. Several men advanced, expecting a hail of arrows.
Teman-e thought, they should have seen us by now, yet there is no sign of life. With six handpicked warriors, plus Connery, they crept closer. Close enough to smell death's stench. The jungle had quickly reclaimed the village. Teman-e was first to enter the communal hut and choked with the repulsive odor. He thought it must be from the bodies of the elderly, left behind but was surprised to see corpses of young adults, even a few children. He called to Connery.
“There is sickness here, maybe the same as our village, maybe worse. I will tell them to go back!”
Connery’s first thought was of a highly contagious disease. Maybe small pox. If that were true, he and the others were already exposed. But a closer look showed no signs of pustules. Some bodies were in an advanced state of decay, others were in better condition and may have died only a few days prior. A cursory exam indicated their deaths weren’t from smallpox.
There was a familiar odor. One he couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t pungent, but pleasant smelling. He told Teman-e he had his own suspicions and wanted to look near the river. He suspected the tragedy was man made, but that was only a hunch. What he didn't know was that the uninhabited village lay only twelve miles from the gold mining operation of Companhia do Azevedo Limitada, now under the reckless management of Paulo de Santana.