Sarita disappeared after serving their meal, not joining them. Ian got up as soon as he had finished and walked outside without a word. Emily watched him go, and her eyes met those of Wes. An understanding passed between them, but neither of them said anything. They turned to listen to Adriano, who was describing the trail they would be following through the jungle.
As Ian stepped outside, he noted that the weather seemed good, although it would probably rain. It always did, and he had grown to expect it. He moved along the Reys’ porch to where Sarita stood leaning against the corner post. “You didn’t eat anything, Sarita.”
“I’m not hungry.”
Ian leaned over and, seeing that she was avoiding his gaze, reached out and turned her face toward him. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “You don’t seem happy.”
“There’s nothing wrong with me. I just don’t like to see you go.”
“Well, I had planned to stay longer, but these folks need help. They’d never make it on their own.”
“They’re fools.”
Ian reached out and pulled a lock of her jet black hair. “I expect they are—but so am I. At least that’s what everyone around here has said about me for going into the Guapi country. To tell you the truth, I never expected to get out alive the first time I went in.”
Sarita smiled and turned to face him fully. She was not tall, and as she looked up at him, there was a wistfulness in her voice as she said, “I remember when you first came. You were very sick.”
“That’s right.” He touched her cheek and then shook his head. “I would have died if it hadn’t been for you and your grandfather. I’ll owe you my life for that.”
“Those were good days, except for you being sick, of course. When you got well enough to leave, I thought you’d never come back. That happens to people that go into Guapi country.”
“God had to take care of me. There’s no other answer.”
Sarita moved a fraction closer and reached out and put her hand on his chest. “How long will you be gone, Ian?”
“I guess until the Winslows get all their pictures and information they need.” He could tell she was sad, and it troubled him. She had beautiful eyes; he had always admired them, but now he saw that they were filled with sadness. Wanting to cheer her up, he said, “I’ll tell you what. As soon as I get back, you, your grandfather, and I will go down to the coast to Belém. I’ve been needing some supplies, and it’d be a good excuse. We’ll go have a good time. See the sights.”
“Really!”
“Sure. Now, don’t be sad.”
“I will try.”
She withdrew her hand from his chest and stood regarding him with an expression he could not understand. She was always a puzzle to Ian, this girl or woman. Sometimes he had to remind himself that she was not a child, although she was very young. He suddenly asked, “What about that fellow Joaquin de Souza?”
“What about him?”
“Well, he’s been hanging around a lot. I think he’s interested in you.”
“I don’t care for him.”
“Seems like a nice enough young fellow. And there was that other young fellow—Reginaldo something. You liked him, didn’t you?”
Sarita did not answer. She turned away from him and stared out into the clearing. They were close enough to the river so that they could hear its pleasant murmuring, always the background against which all other sounds were measured. “Be careful, Ian.”
Ian put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around. “I was born to be hanged. Don’t worry about me. We’ll all be all right, and you’d better watch out for that fellow Joaquin.”
“He means nothing to me,” Sarita said.
“Well, we’d better get started. I’ll miss you.”
Sarita took a quick breath. “I’ll miss you, too, Ian.”
Ian turned and went back into the house and said to Adriano, “I guess we’d better get moving. We have a long and difficult trip ahead of us.”
Adriano rose at once and said, “God be with you and keep you safe.”
“Thank you, Adriano,” Emily said, smiling. She turned to Sarita, who had entered the room, and nodded. “Thank you for your hospitality, Sarita.”
“You’re welcome.”
Moving out of the house, they descended the steps, and Ian picked up Emily’s pack. “Here you are,” he said. “Doesn’t weigh much now, but it’ll get heavier after we’ve been on the trail for a while.”
Emily slipped her arms through the straps. She had already measured them and found that they were snug and comfortable. “It doesn’t seem too heavy,” she said. “I can carry it.”
Ian did not answer. He had put, by far, the biggest load in his own knapsack. Now he swung it onto his shoulders and waited until Wes had strapped his knapsack on. “Good-bye, Adriano. You take good care of your grandfather, Sarita.”
A strange feeling came over Emily as she followed behind Marlowe. Wes fell in step behind her, and as they left the clearing and entered a trail, she looked back suddenly and saw the Reys watching them. She was leaving civilization and going into a world that was totally foreign to anything she had ever known or experienced. Fear came to her for a moment, for despite her bold words she knew that the Amazon rain forest was a dangerous place to tread for the inexperienced. She forced the thought from her mind and focused on keeping up with Ian. She was very thankful that he had agreed to be their guide.
Soon they were out of sight of the Reys’ house, and a strange sense of isolation crept over her. The jungle was dense, and a light rain began to fall. She was wearing a sun helmet, but the rain dripped down onto her neck and gave her an unpleasant sensation. The path was a narrow, endless tunnel that wound through emerald-colored foliage. The strangest feeling came to Emily as she looked up and saw the faraway treetops forming a dense canopy that shut out most of the sunlight. She had the feeling that she had been suddenly reduced to the size of an insect, so massive was the forest. Her eyes moved constantly, taking in all the strange sounds and sights of the jungle, which seemed to be a solid wall of vegetation. At times there appeared to be no path, but Ian always found a way. She was aware that she would be terribly lost if it were not for him. They were moving slowly, completely enveloped by the jungle. Her view was limited to a few feet, and she kept her eyes on Ian’s back. From time to time she glanced up to the tops of the trees, where the pale rays of the sun peeped through from time to time. Finding herself falling behind, she gave herself up to the effort of keeping up with Ian.
The rain began in earnest thirty minutes later, and Emily turned to see Wes, who looked as miserable as she felt. This is a rain forest. Emily smiled briefly. I guess we can expect showers.
Ian turned and studied Wes and Emily. “All right?” he said.
“I’m fine,” Emily said, but already the straps had begun to chafe her shoulders, and the load seemed much heavier.
On and on the three wound their way into the depths of the jungle under the tall trees. Overhead there was movement of various kinds, and Emily saw a group of monkeys once. What Ian had said floated back into her memory, and she shook her head involuntarily. I don’t think I could eat a monkey, but I may have to.
By the time the sun was higher in the sky Emily was soaked. The rain had done its part, and then she had begun to perspire. The heat and humidity were overwhelmingly stifling, and she now had to keep her thumbs under the straps of her knapsack because the weight of the gear pulled at her. She had determined to avoid anything that would even sound like a complaint.
Finally Ian said, “We’ll take a break here,” and swung his knapsack to the ground. He kept his rifle in his hands, and his eyes moved constantly, sometimes high up in the trees and other times scanning the territory into which they were headed. Now he sat down and watched as his two companions did the same. “How are you making it?” he asked pleasantly.
“You were right,” Wes said grimly. He took out a handkerchief that was already soaked and mopped his fa
ce. “This pack gets heavier as we go along.”
“I expect you’ll need to make a couple of pads. The straps are going to be cutting into your shoulders before long. I should have thought of that. You can use a pair of socks or any kind of garment.”
As the three sat resting, Emily was again aware of the ominous setting in which they found themselves. Overhead the trees laced their branches together so that they almost made a solid canopy. But on the jungle floor, away from the river, the grass was thin, for there was not enough sunlight to support it.
“I always thought the Amazon River Basin had fertile soil,” Wes finally remarked. “This ground seems pretty poor.”
“It is poor. The rainfall carries the nutrients off so that they don’t enrich the ground.”
Emily sat listening as Ian spoke quietly of the Amazon. It was obvious he knew a great deal about the river.
“This river is not like any other in the world,” Ian said. “It drains half of a continent. The Amazon Basin is about three-fourths the size of the United States.”
“How deep is the river?” Wes asked.
“Well, at Obidos it’s a mile and a half wide and two hundred feet deep.”
“That’s a big river,” Wes said in awe.
“Yes, it is big. It handles about ten times the Mississippi’s volume at Vicksburg. There the Mississippi’s about a third of a mile wide and only seventy feet deep.”
“Where does the Amazon start, Ian?” Emily asked.
“Well, it starts high up in the Andes in Peru. Just a trickle, but it goes for almost four thousand miles, and it’s got a flow sixty times greater than the Nile River. Not quite as long as the Nile, but it’s much bigger.”
Finally Ian stood up and said, “We’d better head on. Let’s see if we can make some sort of pads for those shoulders.”
Emily searched through her bag and picked out her two shirts, which was all she had been allowed to bring. She fashioned two pads, and Ian came over to help her adjust them.
“That ought to be better,” he smiled.
“Thank you,” she said coldly.
Ian noticed her tone but said nothing about it. “We’d better get on our way.”
They moved on down the pathway, and although Ian did not quicken the pace, Emily found that the heat and the humidity drained the strength out of her. She gritted her teeth and was thankful that she had padded the shoulder straps.
Once just before noon Ian suddenly lifted his rifle, and the echoes of the explosion seemed to roll through the jungle itself.
“What was it?” Emily said.
“A wild pig. A small one.”
Ian moved out into the thickness of the jungle and came back with the carcass of a small pig. “I think we’ll cook this up and eat it. It’ll make us feel better.”
“Can I help?” Emily said.
“I’ll let you do the cooking. I’ll clean it. Wes, see if you can find some dry wood.”
Finding dry wood proved to be quite a problem, for everything seemed to be soaked. Nevertheless, by the time the meat was roasting over a crackling fire, Emily realized that she was hungry.
“I’m starved to death. I don’t see how I could be after that breakfast,” she protested.
“The jungle saps the strength out of you. You’ll have a good appetite.”
They had nothing to eat with the pork except a little salt, but Emily found the meat delicious. They took a two-hour break, and Emily suspected that Ian was pampering them a little bit.
“He never seems to get tired,” Emily whispered to Wes once.
“No, he’s used to it. But I’ll tell you what, I’ll be ready for bed tonight.”
“So will I,” Emily said.
****
“This looks like a good place to camp,” Ian said as he pulled off his knapsack. “Why don’t you two take it easy? The first day’s always the hardest.”
“No, I want to help.” Both Wes and Emily spoke up at once.
“Well then . . . Wes, you set up the tents, and I’ll go see if I can find some fresh meat. Emily, you can gather some wood for a fire.”
Emily busied herself making a fire as Wes struggled with the tents. He had to find saplings to use for braces and pegs, and once both of them looked up from their work when they heard a faint shot.
“Hope he doesn’t come in with a monkey,” Emily said.
Wes laughed. “So do I, but I expect we’ll be eating monkey meat before this trip is over.”
Emily discovered she was dead tired and was looking forward to going to bed in her tent. Ian came in with a small animal that looked like a deer, no more than two and a half feet high.
“Venison for supper. I’ll dress it out.”
It was an hour before they all sat down to eat. The tents were up, and Emily insisted on grilling the venison steaks. Once again they had nothing to go with the meat, but she found the taste of it delicious.
After they had eaten, they sat around the fire talking. All around them the jungle reached out and rose high in the air, so that she felt very small.
“What are the Guapi like, Ian?” Emily asked.
“Very unusual people. I don’t really understand them a great deal.”
“Do the men have more than one wife?”
“Oh yes. It is an accepted part of their tradition.”
“What about their spiritual condition?” Wes said.
“It’s hard to say about that. I tell them about God, and they tell me about their god. I think they’re waiting to see if my God is stronger than theirs.”
“Is the language hard?” Emily asked.
“Very hard. I learned Portuguese pretty easily. My teacher said I had a natural flair for it, but the Guapi language is terribly difficult. They make a few sounds that I can’t possibly make.”
Emily listened for a time, but soon she grew weary. She said, “I think I’ll turn in, if you don’t mind.”
“I hope you sleep. Be sure to keep your net in place. These mosquitoes are fierce.”
Indeed they were thick, and Emily arranged her netting carefully before she lay down on a blanket. She was lying on the earth with nothing but a small piece of rubberized cloth underneath, and she thought about how easily a snake could slither into her tent.
She had expected to fall asleep at once, but sleep came slowly. She was well aware that outside the small camp lurked jaguars and anacondas. Some of those snakes got to be thirty feet long, and according to some of the natives, anacondas were able to swallow a human being. Her exhaustion was so intense, however, that she had no time to be afraid, and she prayed, “Oh, God, keep us safe. That’s all I can pray tonight. . . .”
The next day was a grueling repeat of the first. Emily kept up, despite chafed shoulders and a sense of weakness. By the time they camped for the night, she was totally exhausted and felt terrible.
Ian had shot some kind of bird that he had stewed in a pot, but Emily could eat little. Ian moved closer and said quickly, “Don’t you feel well, Emily?”
“I think I’m just tired. I believe I’ll go to bed early.”
Emily practically crawled into her tent and fell down without rolling up in her blanket. She felt a chill and shivered as she drifted off into a restless sleep.
Sometime during the night she awoke, and her teeth were chattering. She was freezing to death, and then suddenly a light appeared. “What is it, Emily?”
She tried to sit up and found that she was too weak. “I . . . I’m freezing.”
Ian said quickly, “You’ve got malaria.”
Alarm ran through Emily. “What will we do?”
“We’ll just have to stay here until you get over it.”
Emily was aware that he had opened the fly to her tent and was putting another blanket over her. She opened her eyes but could see nothing in the murky light of the tent. “Will I die?” she whispered.
“God willing, you’ll be well.”
Emily remembered little of that night, except she woul
d either burn up or freeze to death. She was conscious that Wes and Ian were there, and from time to time one of them would whisper encouragement to her.
Sometime near morning she knew that Ian was beside her, trying to get her to drink water. It was one of those times she was burning up and refused to keep the cover on. She sipped the water greedily, and then when he eased her back onto the blanket, she whispered, “I’m not much good, am I?”
“Malaria can get anybody.”
“Have you had it?” she whispered.
“Oh yes.” He reached out then and pulled the cover over her. “I know it’s hot and it hurts, but you need to sweat it off.”
Emily lay there, her mind wandering. She felt miserable and drained of all strength, drifting in and out of sleep. She was also aware that Ian was sitting there saying nothing, but his presence was a comfort.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“I Can’t Forgive Him!”
“I don’t know what to think, Ian,” Wes said, shaking his head in despair. “I’ve never seen Emily so sick like this.”
“She’ll be all right,” Ian said.
Ian was standing beside Wes some fifteen feet away from where the two tents had been erected. It was the third day of Emily’s fever, and Wes’s face was pale and drawn with worry. He gnawed on his lower lip nervously and ran his hand through his brown hair, now lank with the heat.
“I’ve never been where there was no doctor available,” Wes muttered. “I don’t mind telling you, Ian, I’m pretty scared.”
“God knows our future, and I believe He’s going to pull her through this.”
Wes searched the face of the other man and finally shook his head. “I wish we had never come to this place! We must have been crazy.”
Ian put his hand on the young man’s shoulder and said, “I know it doesn’t mean much to say ‘don’t worry,’ but I’ve seen God do wonderful things, even for people who don’t believe.” He turned then, removing his hand, and stared at the tent where Emily lay. There was no breeze at all on the floor of the forest, and the only sounds came from a far-off troop of monkeys as they made their way through the canopy and the shrill cry of a bird. “Your sister’s a believer, and you’re a believer, and so am I. So you and I will just have to pray for her.”
The Amazon Quest (House of Winslow Book #25) Page 21