They came to a skidding halt, one after the other, at the riverbank. Oliver leaped off the bike and stared down. He couldn’t see where the kidnappers had gone.
“What do we do now? They got away!” said Oliver.
“We have to go after them!” said Celia. “We don’t have cable yet! And we can’t let Dad get eaten!”
“We don’t know that they are cannibals!”
“I fear, indeed, that they are cannibals,” a smooth voice from behind them said. The mayor stood by his idling Mercedes, puffing on a thin cigar. He looked at the long dart that Celia still clutched in her hand. “That is the weapon of the Cozinheiros. At least, that is what we call them. It means ‘the cooks.’ We do not know what they call themselves, as no one has ever met them and survived to ask.”
“Why do you call them the cooks?” Oliver gulped.
The mayor just tilted his head and nodded knowingly at Oliver.
“Oh,” he said. “‘The cooks’ sounds a little nicer than ‘the cannibals.’”
An angry crowd was beginning to gather behind the mayor. They were upset about their sheets and their naps and their games and their chickens. People did not go racing and shouting through Benjamin Constant. It was frowned upon.
“Can we call the police?” Celia asked. “Or the army or something? You’re the mayor!”
“Sadly, this tribe comes from the Javari Valley. My authority does not extend into that region. It is a land of protected tribes who neither have nor want contact with the outside world. We cannot trespass on their land.”
He nodded gravely, but some of the loggers behind him chuckled. Celia wondered why. There was nothing funny about a tribe of cooks kidnapping their father.
“So what should we do?” Oliver demanded. He was sick of all these adults who put them in danger and offered no help to get them out. It just wasn’t fair.
“Well,” the mayor thought out loud. “You have little time. From what we know of these tribes, they will not keep prisoners for long. Your only chance will be to locate their village and perhaps negotiate for the release of your father and Sir Edmund.”
“How do we do that?”
The mayor shrugged. “I cannot grant you permission to enter the valley. I can, I suppose, look the other way if you go on your own. But there will be no help for you from the authorities.”
“How are we supposed to find them in all that jungle?”
The mayor chuckled. “There are no secrets in the rain forest. You will be seen from the moment you enter their territory. All you must do is get there.”
“Where is their territory?” asked Celia.
“There is a bend where the river twists like an ampersand,” the mayor answered. “A small tributary breaks off from the main branch at this point.”
“What’s an ampersand?” Oliver asked.
“That weird ‘and’ symbol,” Celia said.
“And what’s a tributary?”
“It’s a smaller river,” said Celia.
“Wally Worm’s Word World?” the mayor asked.
Celia nodded.
“There’s a twist in the river,” the mayor continued. “A smaller river breaks off of it. If you follow that smaller river, you will arrive in the Javari Valley. I am certain that your enemies will come to you. It will only be a matter of finding the right ones.”
“The right ones?” Oliver wondered.
“There are many unknown tribes in the valley. You will be seen as a trespasser by all of them.”
“Great,” said Celia. “Just great.”
“How are we supposed to even get there?” Oliver asked. “We don’t have a boat.”
“Take mine!” a man shouted from the crowd.
“Or mine!” another shouted.
“Take my husband’s,” a woman called out.
Soon half the town had offered their boats to the Navel twins.
“Generous people,” said Corey Brandt.
“They just want to get rid of us,” said Celia.
“Well, it worked,” Oliver said. “Let’s go before they get too far away with Dad.”
“Why are you so adventurous all of a sudden?” Celia asked her brother as they climbed onto a small canoe with an outboard motor.
“No reason.” Oliver shrugged, glancing at Corey Brandt, who was starting up the motor.
“Oh,” said Celia. “I get it.”
Celia could understand Oliver trying to impress the TV star; she just wished they could do it from the safety of their hotel room. They had rescued their father before, as much as it annoyed them, but she worried that this time they’d all become dinner for cannibals in the process.
But she wasn’t about to say anything. She didn’t want Corey Brandt to think she was a wuss. She was way tougher than Oliver.
She just prayed she wouldn’t have to prove it in the jungle.
20
WE DO NOT HEAR PEACE DRUMS
THE SUN SANK below the horizon as they sped away from town. Darkness swept over them. Soon they could see nothing on either side of the river but the trees nearest the bank. Beyond them, all was black. Corey steered the boat and kept his camera propped between his knees so he could film himself. Celia and Oliver held flashlights they’d found and scanned the river for signs of … well, anything. Bugs swarmed in the beams of light.
They couldn’t hear each other over the roar of the motor, so they rode without talking. Celia thought about losing their father and becoming orphans. Oliver wondered if, somehow, their mother might show up to save them. She’d done it in Tibet. He really hoped she’d do it again. They could really use some saving.
Celia flicked her flashlight on and saw a big log up ahead, almost the same length as their boat. They were about to crash into it. Just as she was about to signal Corey to turn, her light caught a red gleam on the log, like a jewel.
“What the—?” she began to wonder, when the red gleam blinked and the whole log dove under the surface. “Alligator!” she yelled.
“What?” Oliver yelled back.
“I saw an alligator!”
“No you didn’t!”
“Yes I did!”
“No you didn’t! You saw a black caiman! They’re related to the alligator, but they are native to the Amazon River.” He smiled at Celia. “Nature Channel. Reptile Reruns Week.”
Celia rolled her eyes. She didn’t like the Nature Channel. And she really didn’t like Oliver knowing more than she did.
They sped onward for hours. Celia wondered why they hadn’t caught up with the Cozinheiros yet. Something wasn’t right. Their motorboat had to be faster than a canoe. She looked back at Corey Brandt, who was focused on driving the boat and not crashing into anything in the dark. She couldn’t believe that the teen star was really there and that he was helping them save their father. She wondered if he’d be upset that the kidnapping had messed up his expedition. She would apologize later. And maybe she’d ask him why he chose Annabel over Lauren at the end of Sunset High. She’d heard a rumor that it was because he was dating Annabel in real life.
Celia dozed off, thinking about Sunset High and celebrity gossip. Oliver too fell sound asleep. As they slept, Corey Brandt pulled out his cell phone and made a call.
“I’m going in,” he said. “There’s been a problem.”
Oliver and Celia woke to the screech of birds hunting for breakfast. A pod of pink river dolphins played in the wake of their boat, leaping from side to side in a playful race. The sun had risen and they were approaching the tight twist in the river that the mayor had told them about.
Corey turned the boat slowly onto the narrow tributary, and the dolphins did not follow. The trees hung over the banks, leaning in on each other from both sides to form an archway. The river looked like a long emerald corridor in the palace of a lunatic king. Mist rose off the water.
The thick canopy of trees blocked out most of the light, so everything was shaded in a green twilight, with streaks of sunlight breaking through to spar
kle on the river. The banks narrowed as they urged the boat forward. After a few minutes, they felt like they were in an entirely different world. Corey slowed the motor so they could hear around them.
The silence was shocking. An occasional insect buzzed. A tree rustled. Otherwise, there was nothing. It was as quiet as a school hallway on a Sunday, and just as creepy.
They listened carefully as they moved forward, deeper into the mysterious world of the Javari River valley. They scanned the thick foliage on the banks for any signs of life.
An ink-black jaguar eyed them lazily from a high branch. In this remote part of the world, the animals did not yet know to fear humans. They all kept their eyes fixed on the cat as they passed, but it didn’t move.
Celia watched the shadowy forest. She couldn’t decide if she was more worried about a wild animal attack or a blowgun attack. Oliver was pretty sure he was equally afraid of both. Corey steered with his mouth hanging open in awe. He kept swatting mosquitoes from his face.
“This is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever—,” he began, but a loud noise interrupted him, shattering the silence.
“I’d show you something new, but your book is overdue …” Madam Mumu blared. “I’d show you something new, but your book is overdue …”
Corey’s phone kept ringing.
“Sorry … sorry.” He fumbled for it. “Amazing we get cell service out here! You got Corey,” he answered it. “Oh, it’s you. How many times do I have to tell you that I’m in the Amazon? Well, I can’t help you. … You’ll just have to do it yourself. You’re the professional, after all.” He hung up and stared at his phone a moment, shaking his head. He put it back in his pocket. “Sorry about that. Personal shoppers … can’t do anything for themselves. Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth hiring them, you know?”
Oliver and Celia just stared at him blankly.
They would have continued sitting in awkward silence, but just then they heard a sound up ahead. The beating of drums. The beat was steady and loud and growing faster.
“War drums?” whispered Corey Brandt.
“I don’t think there’s such a thing as peace drums,” said Oliver.
“Shut the engine off!” said Celia.
“Shh!” said Oliver. They ducked low in the boat and listened.
Boom, boom, boom.
The sound came from in front of them.
Boom, boom, boom.
This time it came from behind. In the bush they saw nothing, but the beat continued.
Boom, boom, boom, called the drums ahead of them.
Boom, boom, boom, answered the drums behind.
“Come closer, come closer, come closer.” The beat ahead seemed to call out a language older than speaking.
“Come closer and we’ll eat you,” called the drums from behind.
Boom, boom, boom, boom. Boom, boom, boom.
The water was moving faster and starting to churn with white rapids where the river narrowed over jagged rocks. White foam splashed and sprayed in all directions. Water splashed into the boat. The drums from behind were closing in and the drums from the front were getting closer. The river pushed them forward.
And then they jerked to a sudden stop.
21
WE MAKE A SPLASH
THEY WERE STUCK. The boat had wedged itself into a large rock in the middle of the river.
“This is not a good place to be stuck,” said Oliver, listening to the drums and looking at the rapids ahead of them.
Corey tried to push the boat free with a paddle. It rocked and swayed but didn’t move. He tried to start the engine again. He pulled the cord, but nothing happened.
“Uncool,” he said.
“We’ve got to go,” said Oliver.
“We’re gonna have to swim,” said Corey.
“We can’t swim,” said Celia. “Caiman.” She pointed at a group of the black alligator look-alikes that were now circling their boat. “Try the engine again.”
She got up to help just as Corey yanked the cord back hard. She got a face full of the teen star’s knuckles, which knocked her backward on the boat, right at Oliver.
“Watch out!” Oliver called, but too late. She stepped onto the flashlight he’d set down on the floor. Her foot flew into the air and she went backward off the front of the boat, right past her brother, splashing into the river. It would have been a funny fall if it wasn’t about to turn deadly.
“Grab my hand!” Corey shouted, reaching over the edge to rescue Celia.
“Don’t lean so far out!” Oliver warned. “I don’t weigh enough! You’ll tip the—” But it was too late. Corey leaned out and the boat tipped up on its side, dumping them both sideways toward the water.
“Crud,” Corey said as they rolled out of the boat and into the river. He actually used a different word than crud, but our story is about to get bad enough without adding foul language to its troubles.
Oliver tried to hold on to the boat, which turned sideways and slid right off the rock upside down. The caiman disappeared below the surface to get out of the way. Oliver was being dragged down the river with the boat.
“Let it go!” shouted Celia.
“But your pack’s in there … with the remote control … and the … poop thingy!”
“You know it’s called a khipu!” Celia shouted.
“I like my way bet—” Oliver couldn’t finish his sentence. Something sucked him underneath the water.
“Oliver!” Celia shouted.
He kicked with all his might for the air and broke the surface with a gasp.
“Just the current!” he said.
“Swim toward the shore!” Celia commanded.
The three of them started to swim as hard as they could toward the riverbank, but the current was much stronger than they were. They were getting pulled into the rapids ahead of them and there wasn’t anything they could do about it.
Oliver stopped swimming.
“What … are you … doing?” Celia panted, still fighting her way toward land.
“It’s like a waterslide. We’ve just gotta ride it to the bottom!” Oliver answered.
“You … hate … waterslides,” she said.
“I hate a lot of things,” Oliver replied. “But I’m stuck with most of them!” He let himself be sucked along with the current. It was a heck of a lot easier than fighting a river. Celia lost sight of him in the roiling rapids.
“Oliv—,” she called out, only to get a mouthful of water as she was sucked under herself.
Celia had seen music videos where sweaty teenagers slam into each other over and over again, twisting and turning and knocking around from side to side, while a guitar screeches and drums rumble. A mosh pit, it is called, and it is a special feature of heavy-metal culture, long studied by anthropologists, but rarely experienced by eleven-year-old girls. But at this moment, Celia felt like she was in a mosh pit at the bottom of a river.
Her body slammed into the muddy riverbed and then the current tossed her up into a boulder. Then she was pushed aside and spun around and found herself gasping for air at the surface. Just as she caught her breath, she was pulled back under and thrust forward through a narrow channel of rocks, scraping her elbows and she passed. A sneaker whacked her in the head. She got angry that Oliver was kicking her until she realized it was her own sneaker, torn off her foot by the current. She reached out and grabbed it and found herself breaking the surface of the water again.
“Oliver!” she gasped.
“Celia!” Oliver called. She saw her brother a few feet from her, trying to swim toward land again. Corey Brandt was standing on the side of the river, soaked.
“Swim!” he called out.
Celia started to follow her brother. She let her head turn to the side to see why Oliver was swimming so hard and Corey Brandt was shouting. They were fast approaching a waterfall.
“Oh crud,” Celia said, except she didn’t say crud either. Then she and Oliver went right over the edge of the waterfall.<
br />
They tumbled head over heels through the air. Sheets of whitewater poured down on top of them as they kicked madly to the surface. They popped up in the calm brown waters of the pool at the bottom of the waterfall.
That wasn’t so bad, thought Oliver. Not nearly as bad as the giant waterfall they’d gone over in Tibet. Then he saw the splinters of wood that used to be their boat and realized that he had missed being smashed onto the rocks by only a few inches. Celia was treading water nearby. He was relieved she was safe, though she had a bloody scrape on her forehead.
“We gotta get out of the water fast,” Oliver told her.
“Caiman?” Celia gulped, suddenly picturing herself as dinner for an alligator-looking creature.
“No,” Oliver said. “But the Amazon is where piranhas live. Everyone knows that!”
Celia shot like a dart to the edge of the pool and practically leaped out of the water. Oliver followed close behind. Just as he was at the water’s edge, he saw their backpack snagged on a rock.
“I know what you’re thinking, Oliver,” Celia said. “Don’t do it.”
But it was too late. Oliver swam through the water and grabbed the backpack off the rocks and then made his way, exhausted, toward shore.
“Ahh!” he shouted, and disappeared below the surface, just a few feet from Celia.
“Oliver!” she screamed.
“It’s okay.” Oliver gasped, reappearing. “A twig brushed my leg. I thought it was a piranha.” He pulled himself out of the water and flopped onto the riverbank. Celia tied her shoe back on quickly.
“Listen,” she said.
“No more drums,” said Oliver.
The brush rustled and Oliver and Celia turned and grabbed on to each other. Corey Brandt came stumbling down toward them.
We Dine With Cannibals Page 10