Deadly Journey

by Declan Conner

  Tucking the Glock into the waistband of my pants, I helped her to stand. With one arm around her waist and the other hauling the packs by the straps, together, I stumbled with her over to the bushes. Crawling through a gap, we collapsed to the ground.

  ‘We’ll rest up here awhile, until you’ve fully recovered.’

  Leandra managed her first smile. I took off her boots and put them to one side. Drained of energy, I lay down. Facing away from her, lying on my side, I curled my knees toward my chest. Leandra cuddled up to me, fitting my contour, and she draped her arm over me. I hoped that she felt as safe as I did. I couldn’t help but think that there we were, in the middle of God knows where – surrounded by goodness knows who and what – yet I’d never felt as secure in my journey since the kidnapping to be there under that screen of bushes.

  We lay there for maybe fifteen minutes, then Leandra broke the silence.

  ‘I think I’m okay now. Do you want to move on?’

  Much as I wanted to take root, I didn’t want to wait and find out what sort of animals would use the lagoon as a watering hole. The responsibility hung heavy. It was like tossing a coin. Stay and get eaten by some wild animal, or move on and get pierced with a spear and bleed out. My earlier decision had nearly killed Leandra. I took the coward’s way out.

  ‘What do you think we should do?’

  ‘Well, I’m thinking the cocaleros are only fifteen minutes away. If this stream is the one they poured the chemicals into and we follow its route, it may take us less time. We’ll just need to be careful when we approach their camp. If they’ve fought off the natives, assuming there are hostiles out there, the cocaleros will have more firepower. It’ll be safer in numbers.’

  ‘Okay, boots on and let’s go, then.’

  Keeping close to the rock face of the gorge, we passed the lagoon to where the water drained over a boulder barrier to form a stream. We soon left behind the thunder of the waterfall. It was a hard slog following the stream. Underfoot was a quagmire of mud and decaying leaves. The rock face of the gorge transformed to a tree-lined bank, sloping in line with the incline down to the cocaleros’ production unit. Rounding a bend, I froze, signalling for Leandra to stop.

  I dropped to my haunches, beckoning Leandra to do the same. Sidestepping, I moved behind some bushes. My heart thumped fast and loud.

  Leandra joined me and whispered, ‘What have you seen?’

  ‘A body, draped over that tree trunk ahead.’ I pointed. ‘See that trunk spanning the banks over the stream?’

  ‘Yeah, I see it. One of the cocaleros?’

  ‘No, a native I think.’

  ‘One of ours?’

  ‘Not sure. I can’t see his face.’

  I drew the Glock from my waistband. Stretching my neck and listening, I was sure I heard a child whimper from the direction of the body.

  ‘Did you hear that?’ I whispered.

  ‘Hear what?’

  I heard the sound again; it was definitely a child whimpering.

  Chapter 32

  Strange Sounds

  Imagination has a weird way of making you think you can hear and see things that are not there – especially in unfamiliar surroundings. But this was not an illusion; there was definitely a body in plain sight. The child whimpering was another matter. There were so many strange sounds in the rainforest, I wasn’t sure if I really should chalk it up as a given.

  Below where the tree trunk spanned the stream, the bank was eroded down to rock. I imagined that during the rainy season, the stream would swell and hit the bend with force. The stream had worn the soil away to the strata, leaving an overhang. Large rocks and boulders were strewn on the ground. For now, the stream was merely a trickle by comparison.

  Turning to Leandra, I whispered, ‘Scan the area over to our right behind me. Tell me if you see anything move.’

  ‘Okay.’

  I scanned the area in front and to the bank on the right. ‘Listen, anyone could see us from the opposite bank. I think we should make our way to the boulders for cover. Keep low, but move quickly.’

  Grasping the butt of the gun with both hands and with eyes flitting in all directions, I moved swiftly to the first boulder. Looking up, I noticed that we were under the tree trunk. The body was clearly a hostile, draped over the makeshift bridge with arms and legs dangling. I could make out his face daubed with black and white dye. His bow lay in the stream, trapped on some rocks. Arrows had slithered from their quiver, which hung loosely by a cord around his neck. A pool of water trapped below his body was stained red.

  Leandra grimaced, closed her eyes, and grasped my arm.

  ‘Let’s move on,’ I said.

  Moving to the next boulder, our boots scrunched the pebbles underfoot. As we dropped to our knees, breathing heavily, I heard the whimpering again.

  We exchanged glances and Leandra whispered, ‘I heard that!’

  ‘So did I. It came from under the overhang.’

  My eyes rose to look at the canopy above, searching for inspiration for our next move. I took off my backpack, took out the GPS transmitter, and handed it to Leandra.

  ‘Listen, slip this in your pocket. If anything should happen to me, press that button and stay put.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Don’t ask – just do it.’

  Leandra looked at me questioningly, but did as instructed. ‘What should we do now?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t know. It could be the hostiles luring us into a trap. If they can mimic bird and animal calls, they could imitate a child crying.’

  ‘But what if it is a child?’

  ‘I’m thinking.’ I didn’t have to think long. If it was a child and they were hurt, time could be of the essence. ‘Pick up some pebbles and on the count of three, toss them over to the overhang.’

  Leandra didn’t question me, simply picked up a pebble. Springing to my feet and with arms steadied on the top of the boulder, I gripped the Glock and took aim. ... Two, three. ‘Now.’

  The pebbles ricocheted off the rocks in front of the overhang. Taking slow, even breaths, and through sheer concentration, I was able to block out the sounds around me. As if in slow motion, I saw the barrel of a rifle rise over the rocks and a woman’s face appeared. I dropped behind our boulder.

  ‘It’s a woman.’

  ‘A native?’

  ‘No, I think it’s the wife of the head cocalero.’

  Leandra called out a ‘who’s there.’ ‘Quién se?’

  A tearful voice responded. ‘Simone. Por favor, ayudar?’

  ‘She’s asking for help.’

  ‘Tell her to put the rifle down, we’re coming.’

  Leandra called out and I bobbed my head to see the rifle disappear.

  We scurried over and squeezed behind the rock. The woman grasped Leandra’s arm, gibbering in Spanish. Her two daughters, one in her early teens and the other who looked to be around eight years old, sat huddled under the overhang, tears streaming down their cheeks.

  ‘Kurt, thank God you’re here.’

  The male voice was laboured, but it was instantly recognizable. I turned to see Carlos, propped with his back to a boulder. The shaft of an arrow protruded from his shoulder. His bloodied knife lay at his side. His fatigues were soaked with blood. His knuckles were white, grasping the rifle strap that he’d wrapped around the top of his leg as a tourniquet. There was a cut in his pants leg, exposing a large gash. Leaning against the boulder behind him was a spear with a bloodied blade. To one side, I noticed a syringe and an empty vial of morphine.

  ‘Looks like you’ve been in a war. I’ll take a look at that leg wound. It’s gonna need cleaning or it’ll get infected.’

  Carlos sucked air rapidly through gritted teeth. Slipping the backpack straps off my shoulders, I unzipped it and dug deep for the medical kit.

  ‘Try breathing more slowly.’

  He nodded his head. Picking up his knife, I extended the slit in his pants all the way to the bottom. Peeling the
material back, I winced.

  ‘You’re lucky. It looks as though the spear sliced through muscle and missed the artery.’

  I glanced across at Leandra and the woman. They were busy consoling the children. I passed him his knife.

  ‘Chew on the handle. This may hurt.’

  I poured some antibacterial fluid onto some cotton and wiped around the wound.

  ‘Ease off on your tourniquet and let’s see what happens.’ There was no sudden spurt of blood. My initial thoughts had proved to be right. ‘You’re gonna need stitches. The best I can do for now is to bandage it tight. You can let go of the strap.’

  A mixture of grit and determination, together with the morphine kicking in, helped him not to scream as I tied off the bandage.

  His T-shirt was stained with blood from where the arrow had struck.

  ‘Carlos, I don’t know what to do with the arrow.’

  ‘Don’t – pull – it out. Barbs.’

  I was pleased he’d reminded me about the barbs. I thought back to the arrows in the stream. They arrowheads were barbed all right. He was correct; pulling it out could snag an artery.

  ‘Listen, Carlos, we need to get everyone to the cocaine unit. I need to break the shaft so you don’t snag it in the undergrowth. I’ll leave a few inches of the shaft protruding.’

  He nodded, placed the handle of his knife in his teeth, and gave me the thumbs-up sign.

  Grasping the arrow with one hand, I gave the shaft a sharp twist with the other, snapping it cleanly. This time, the handle of the knife dropped from between his teeth and he screamed. His head slumped until his chin touched his chest.

  I picked up his knife and slipped it into my belt.

  ‘You go,’ he said. ‘Get... everyone to safety. Leave... leave the gun, take the rifle.’

  ‘We’re not leaving you here. We’ll wait.’

  Leandra joined me and pulled me to one side. ‘How is he?’

  ‘Weak. Somehow, we need to move him back to the cocaine unit. I’m just worried about that arrow. Moving him could cause more damage. At least we have his assault rifle as well as the gun. Can you use a firearm?’

  ‘The gun, yes. The rifle, no.’

  I handed her the gun and picked up the rifle. ‘It’s a double action safety. Take up the slack on the trigger then pull again to fire.’

  ‘Okay.’

  There was a sudden cacophony of animal calls. Carlos lifted his head. ‘Natives,’ he said and then groaned.

  ‘Ours or hostiles?’

  ‘Ours.’

  ‘Should we call out?’

  ‘No, just whistle.’

  I placed two fingers of each hand between my lips and whistled.

  ‘Simone,’ I heard a voice calling.

  The children became excited and both called out in unison. ‘Papa, papa.’

  First, the father joined us, followed by his two young sons, all carrying assault rifles. One of them was no older than my son Craig and it made me shiver. The family gathered in a circle, exchanging hugs. The youngest of the girls clung to her father’s leg.

  Leandra exchanged words with the cocalero, and returned to me with her report.

  ‘He says the Indians waited until the girls were washing at the stream with their mother. Some of them created a diversion, while others abducted his wife and daughters. I asked him about Carlos and he says he’ll get the natives to make a stretcher.’

  The cocalero tore his daughter’s grasp from his leg and then left us.

  ‘Why snatch them?’ I asked.

  Carlos said, ‘Like I told you, they wanted the chief’s daughter, but with him not accepting, maybe they thought they’d take these girls instead.’

  I shrugged my shoulders. The morality of the situation didn’t bear thinking about. Still, I couldn’t help but think that the cocaleros had brought it on themselves with the slaughter they had inflicted on the tribe.

  ‘Will they abandon the cocaine unit?’

  ‘No – too much to lose. Carlos used his hands to shuffle on his backside and grimaced. ‘No cocaine, no money. No money, no food.’

  ‘There must be other work they could get.’

  ‘I doubt it out here. Maybe illegal logging. Or burn the wood to make charcoal, unlicensed.’

  Whichever way I looked at it, the rainforest and its indigenous occupants were the losers.

  ‘Why the glum look?’ Leandra asked.

  ‘None of this should be happening. The natives should be left to get on with their lives.’

  Carlos laughed, until he choked with a throaty cough. He composed himself and looked me in the eye. ‘You hypocrite! What about your founding fathers and the Indians in your country?’

  I couldn’t answer him, not having a political bone in my body. ‘I’ll go and see if they’ve made the stretcher.’

  Truth was, I just wanted to take my mind elsewhere. His question was still burning a hole in my brain.

  ‘Take the spear and my backpack,’ Carlos said.

  When I picked up his backpack, my jaw slackened and my eyes widened. A poison dart was lodged in the back of the pack. Another half-inch higher and the dart would have struck him in the neck.

  ‘You were lucky,’ I said and used the discarded cotton to remove it from the pack and threw it to one side.

  ‘You think?’ Carlos said. ‘I don’t see it that way. Having a hospital around the corner would be lucky.’

  He grasped at his shoulder and moaned.

  When I squeezed past the boulder, I saw that the natives had lowered the body and laid it out next to the stream. The cause of the man’s demise was apparent, with a stab wound just below his rib cage and a gash across his throat.

  One of the natives stood with his legs apart in the rock-strewn stream, gathering up the arrows and returning them to their pouch. He stepped out of the stream and laid the pouch next to the body. Another man recovered the bow and placed it in the dead man’s hand.

  The young boy who had brought us to the village by boat walked up to me and held out his hand. I guessed he wanted the spear and handed it to him. He strode over to the body and placed it in the other hand of the corpse. The older of those assembled started to chant. Stooping, he cupped his hands in the stream, gathering water. Raising his hands, he trickled the water over the torso of the body. He stooped again and picked up a handful of dirt, repeating the process.

  Leandra took my hand.

  ‘This is fascinating,’ I said. ‘Such respect.’

  The cocalero appeared through the foliage on the other bank, followed by two natives carrying a bamboo stretcher. Carlos came up behind me, defiantly cursing his situation. Two of the natives had moved him from cover and they helped him onto the stretcher. The wife and children followed. Then the elder of the tribe faced the other bank, put his hands to his mouth and made a call that sent shivers through my body.

  In the distance, I could hear the call returned.

  ‘What was that about?’ I asked, talking to myself.

  ‘He’s calling out for them to collect their dead,’ said Carlos.

  I shook my head in disbelief at the civility of it all. Then we set off in convoy.

  After we had trekked for maybe ten minutes, I caught up with Carlos to check on him. ‘How are you?’ I asked. He was sweating, and when I placed my fingers on his forehead, it was hot to the touch.

  ‘Crap. The only good thing is that the natives have received word we’re going to return to the villa tomorrow. That’s why they’re here.’

  ‘Hang in there, buddy,’ I said and stroked my bandaged palm, feeling the contour of the key. The villa had been the furthest from my mind. Here in the rainforest I was free, the only prison being in my mind and the fear of the unknown. Going back would be as big a gamble as staying.

  We continued onward for another five minutes. The stench of chemicals hung in the air. Entering the cocaine unit, I checked on Carlos. His fever had worsened. Slipping in and out of consciousness, he kept calling out for R
osanna, his girlfriend.

  ‘Is he dying?’ asked Leandra.

  Chapter 33

  Struggle for life

  Without a full command of the languages being spoken, I felt inept – somehow distanced from what was going on around me. We had the natives speaking in a mixture of Spanish and tongue-clicking sounds and the cocalero talking rapidly in an odd dialect, all of it hard to translate. If I hadn’t had Leandra with me, I would never have had a clue what was being decided. Even Leandra was finding it difficult to follow what was happening.

  ‘Have you worked out what they’re saying?’ I asked.

  ‘I think we’re going straight back to the village.’

  It soon became apparent that she was right. Two of the natives picked up the stretcher and set off walking. The young boy from the boat scurried ahead and took point. The elder of the natives signalled us to follow and he walked at our rear. Four more of the natives moved into the undergrowth, with two at either side to cover our flanks.

  When I glanced back, the family waved. Some of the tribe had stayed behind, I figured, to provide additional protection.

  Without the women of the tribe carrying their loads, we made far better progress than on the march inward. It seemed strange to be carrying the assault rifle. A sense of invincibility made me feel as tall as the trees that surrounded us. It helped that the Indians were covering our flanks, point, and rear. That, and knowing Leandra had the protection of the pistol, added to the secure feeling. All it would have taken was for me to have access to a cell phone and a signal, so I could phone my family, and I would have been at peace.

  Keeping up was difficult as the stretcher-bearers set a punishing pace. Two hours had elapsed when those up ahead stopped and placed the stretcher down. Dropping to the ground, I took out my water bottle, and took a sip of warm water.

  Screwing the top back on, I looked at Leandra. ‘You okay?’ I asked.

  ‘I’m fine. Exhausted, but fine.’

  ‘I’ll check on Carlos. You rest here.’

  Using my hands for leverage, I pushed myself up to a stand and, dragging my backpack, walked over to Carlos. When I knelt beside him, I saw that he was out cold. I say cold, though when I touched his forehead, his temperature was off the charts. I lifted his T-shirt at the neck. Around the point where the arrow had penetrated his skin, his flesh was crimson. I sucked air through my teeth at the sight of the infection. Taking the knife from my belt, I put down the rifle and decided to cut away his T-shirt to administer some antibiotic powder.