Amazonia: a novel

by James Rollins

  9:23 P.M.

  Kelly sat cross-legged beside her brother’s low hammock.

  Wrapped in a thick blanket, Frank sipped weakly through a reed straw poking from a cantaloupe-sized hollow nut.

  Kelly recognized it as one of the fruits that grew in clusters along the branches of the Yagga. The nut’s content was similar to coconut milk. She had tasted it first when one of the tribesmen in the healing ward had brought it over to her brother. It was sweet and creamy with sugars and fats, an energy boost her brother needed.

  She waited as Frank finished the contents of his natural energy drink and passed it to her, his hand trembling slightly. Though awake, his eyes were still hazy with a morphine glaze.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked.

  “Like a million bucks,” he said hoarsely. His eyes twitched to the stumps hidden under the blanket.

  “How’s the pain?”

  His brow furrowed. “No pain,” he said with half a laugh, strained joviality. “Though I swear I can feel my toes itching.”

  “Phantom sensations,” she said with a nod. “You’ll probably feel them for months.”

  “An itch I can never scratch…great.”

  She smiled up at Frank. The mix of relief, exhaustion, and fear in her own heart was mirrored in her brother’s expression. But at least his color had much improved. As horrible as their situation was here, Kelly had to appreciate the healing sap of the Yagga. It had saved her brother’s life. His recovery had been remarkable.

  Frank suddenly yawned, a true jawbreaker.

  “You need to sleep,” she said, getting to her feet. “Miraculous healing or not, your body needs to recharge its batteries.” She glanced around and tucked in her shirt.

  Around the cavernous chamber, only a pair of tribesmen remained in the room. One of them was the head shaman, who glared at her with impatience. Kelly had wanted to spend the night at her brother’s side, but the shaman had refused. He and his workers, the tribesman had explained in stilted English, would watch over their new brother. “Yagga protects him,” the shaman had said, brooking no argument.

  Kelly sighed. “I had better go before I get kicked out.”

  Frank yawned again and nodded. She had already explained to him about tomorrow’s plan and would see him at first light. He reached out and squeezed her hand. “Love you, sis.”

  She bent and kissed his cheek. “Love you, too, Frank.”

  “I’ll be fine…so will Jessie.”

  Straightening, she bit her lip to hold back a sudden sob. She couldn’t let go of her feelings, not in front of Frank. She dared not, or she’d never stop crying. Over the past day, she had bottled her grief tightly. It was the O’Brien way. Irish fortitude in the face of adversity. Now was not the time to dissolve into tears.

  She busied herself with checking his intravenous catheter, now plugged with a heparin lock. Though he no longer needed fluid support, she kept the catheter in place in case of emergencies.

  Across the way, the shaman frowned at her.

  Screw you, she thought silently and angrily, I’ll go when I’m good and ready. She lifted the blanket from over her brother’s legs and made one final check on his wounds. The sap seal on the stumps remained tenaciously intact. In fact, through the semitransparent seal, she saw a decent granulation bed had already formed over the raw wounds, like the healing tissue under a protective scab. The rate of granulation was simply amazing.

  Tucking back the blankets, she saw that Frank’s eyes were already closed. A slight snore sounded from his open mouth. She very gently leaned over and kissed his other cheek. Again she had to choke back a sob, but couldn’t stop the tears. Straightening up, she wiped her eyes and surveyed the room one final time.

  The shaman must have seen the wet glisten on her cheeks. His impatient frown softened in sympathy. He nodded to her, his eyes intent, repeating a silent promise that he would watch closely over her brother.

  With no choice, she took a deep breath and headed toward the exit. The climb back down the tree seemed interminable. In the dark passage, she was alone with her thoughts. Worries magnified and multiplied. Her fears bounced between her daughter, her brother, and the world at large.

  At last, she stumbled out of the tree’s trunk and into the open glade. An evening breeze had kicked up, but it was warm. The moon was bright overhead, but already scudding clouds rolled across the spread of stars. Somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled. They would get rain before the morning.

  In the freshening breeze, she hurried across the wide clearing, heading toward their tree. At its base, she spotted someone standing guard with a flashlight—Private Carrera. The Ranger pegged her with the light, then waved. At her side, Tor-tor lay huddled. The jaguar glanced up at her approach, sniffed the air, then lowered his head back to his curled body.

  “How’s Frank?” Carrera asked.

  Kelly did not feel like talking but could not dismiss the soldier’s concern. “He seems to be doing well. Very well.”

  “That’s good.” She jabbed a thumb to the ladder. “You should try to get as much sleep as possible. We’ve a long day ahead of us.”

  Kelly nodded, though she doubted sleep would come easily. She mounted the ladder.

  “There’s a private room on the third level of the dwelling left empty for you. It’s the one on the right.”

  Kelly barely heard her. “Good night,” she muttered and continued her climb, lost in her own worries.

  At the top of the ladder, she found the deck empty, as was the common room. Everyone must have already retired, exhausted by the number of days with so little sleep.

  Craning back, she stared at the dark upper stories, then crossed to the longer of the two secondary ladders.

  Third level, Private Carrera had said.

  Great…just what I get for being the last one to claim a room.

  The third story was a good deal higher than the other two. Built on its own level of branches, it was more a separate structure, a two-room guest house.

  Her legs aching, she mounted the long ladder. The wind began to kick up a bit as she climbed, whispering the branches, swaying the ladder ever so slightly. The gusts smelled of rain. Overhead, the moon was swallowed by dark clouds. She hurried up as the storm swept toward the village.

  From this height, she saw lightning fork across the sky in a dazzling burst. Thunder boomed and echoed like a bass drum. Suddenly, living in a giant tree did not seem like such a wise choice. Especially the uppermost level.

  She hurried as the first raindrops began pelting through the leaves. Pulling herself up onto the tiny deck, she rolled to her feet. The wind and rain grew quickly. Storms in the Amazon were usually brief, but they often came swiftly and fiercely. This one was no exception. Standing half crouched, she faced the doors that led to the two rooms on this level.

  Which room had Carrera told her was hers?

  Lightning crackled overhead in small angry spears, while thunder rattled. Rain swept in a sudden torrent, and breezes became fierce gusts. Under her feet, the planking rolled like the deck of a ship at sea.

  Beyond caring if she woke someone, Kelly dove toward the nearest opening, half falling through the flap, seeking immediate shelter.

  The room was dark. Lightning burst, shining brightly through a smaller back door to the chamber. The lone hammock in the room was thankfully empty. She stumbled gratefully toward it.

  As she crossed toward the hammock, her feet tripped over something in the dark. She fell to her knees with a sharp curse. Her fingers reached back and discovered a pack on the floor.

  “Who’s there?” a voice asked from beyond the back door. A silhouetted figure stepped into the frame of the doorway.

  On her knees, Kelly felt a moment of sheer terror.

  Thunder echoed, and a new flicker of lightning revealed the identity of the dark figure. “Nate?” she asked timidly, embarrassed. “It’s Kelly.”

  He crossed quickly to her and helped her to her feet. �
��What are you doing here?”

  She wiped the wet strands of hair from her face, now burning hotly. What a fool he must think I am. “I…I stumbled into the wrong room. Sorry.”

  “Are you okay?” Nate’s hands still held her arms, his palms warm through her soaked shirt.

  “I’m fine. Just feeling especially foolish.”

  “No reason to be. It’s dark.”

  Lightning crackled, and she found his eyes on hers. They stared at each other in silence.

  Finally, Nate spoke. “How’s Frank?”

  “Fine,” she said in a hushed voice. Thunder boomed distantly, rolling over them, making the world seem much larger, them much smaller. Her voice was now a whisper. “I…I never said…I was sorry to hear about your father.”

  “Thanks.”

  His single word, softly spoken, echoed with old pain. She moved a step toward him, unwilled, a moth drawn to a flame, knowing she would be destroyed but having no choice. His sorrow touched something inside her. That hard and fast wall around her heart weakened. Tears again welled in her eyes. Her shoulders began to tremble.

  “Hush,” he said, though she hadn’t said a word. He pulled her closer to him, arms wrapping around her shoulder.

  The trembling became sobs. All the grief and terror she had held in her heart released in a blinding torrent. Her knees gave out, but Nate caught her in his grip and lowered her to the floor. He held her tight, his heart beating against hers.

  They remained on the floor in the center of the room as the storm raged outside, swaying the trees, booming with the clash of Titans. At last, she glanced up toward Nate.

  She reached up to him and pulled his lips to hers. She tasted the salt of his own tears, of hers. At first, it was just survival in the face of the intense sorrow, but as their lips opened, an unspoken hunger awoke. She felt his pulse quicken.

  He pulled away for a moment, gasping. His eyes were bright, so very bright in the darkness.

  “Kelly…”

  “Hush,” she sighed, using his own word. She pulled him back to her.

  Wrapped in each other’s arms, they lowered themselves to the floor. Palms explored…fingers loosened and peeled away damp clothes…limbs entwined.

  As the storm hammered, their passions grew white hot. Grief faded away, lost somewhere between pain and pleasure, age-old rhythms and silent cries. They found the room too small, falling out onto the back deck.

  Lightning rode the clouds, thunder roaring. Rain lashed under the awning, sweeping across their bare skin.

  Nate’s mouth was hot on her breast, on her throat. She arched into him, eyes closed, lightning flaring red through her lids. His lips moved to hers, hungry, their breath shared. Under the storm, under him, she felt the exquisite tension build inside her, at first slowly, then ever more rapidly, swelling through and out of her as she cried into his lips.

  He met her cry with his own, sounding like thunder in her ears.

  For an untold time, they held that moment. Lost to the world, lost to the storm, but not lost to each other.

  Act Five

  Root

  UNA DE GATO, “CAT’S CLAW”

  family: Rubiaceae

  genus: Uncaria

  species: Tomentosa, Guianensis

  common names: Cat’s Claw, Una de Gato, paraguayo, Garabato, Garbato Casha, Samento, Toroñ, Tambor Huasca, Aun Huasca, Una de Gavilan, Hawk’s Claw

  part used: Bark, Root, Leaves

  properties/actions: Antibacterial, Antioxidant, Antiinflammatory, Antitumorous, Antiviral, Cytostatic, Depurative, Diuretic, Hypotensive, Immunostimulant, Vermifuge, Antimutagenic

  Sixteen

  Betrayal

  AUGUST 17, 7:05 A.M.

  AMAZON JUNGLE

  Nate woke to find his arms around a naked woman. Her eyes were already open. “Good morning,” he said.

  Kelly inched closer to him. He could still smell the rain on her skin. She smiled. “It’s been morning for some time.”

  He rose to one elbow, which wasn’t easy in a hammock, and stared down into her face. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

  “I figured you could use at least one full hour of sleep.” She rolled out of the hammock, setting it swinging, and artfully drew off the single blanket and wrapped it around her.

  With one hand, he grasped for her.

  She stepped out of reach. “We have a long day ahead of us.”

  With a groan, he rolled to his feet and pulled his boxers from the pile of hastily discarded clothes as Kelly gathered her things. Through the rear door to the room, he stared out at the jungle.

  Last night, he and Kelly had talked into the wee hours of the morning, about fathers, brothers, daughters, lives, and losses. There were still more tears. Afterward they had made love again, slower, with less urgency, but with a deeper passion. Sated, they had collapsed into the hammock to catch a few hours of sleep before dawn.

  Stepping onto the rear deck, Nate studied the forest. The morning skies were blue and clear, last night’s storm long gone, the light sharp and bright. Raindrops still clung to every leaf and blade, glistening like jewels. But that wasn’t all. “You should see this,” he called back to the room.

  Kelly, now dressed in her khakis with her shirt half buttoned, joined him. He glanced to her, stunned again by her beauty. Her eyes widened as she stared beyond the deck’s edge. “How marvelous…”

  She leaned into him, and he instinctively circled her with his arm.

  Covering the upper limbs of the tree, drawn by the moisture, were hundreds of butterflies, perched on branches and leaves, fluttering through the bower. Each had wings about a handspan wide, brilliant blue and crystalline green.

  “Morpho species,” Nate said. “But I’ve never seen this color pattern.”

  Kelly watched one specimen waft by overhead through a beam of sunlight. It seemed to shine with its own luminescence. “It’s like someone shattered a stained-glass window and showered the slivers over the treetops.”

  He tightened his arm around her, trying to capture this moment forever. They stood in silence and awe for several minutes. Then distant voices intruded, rising up from below.

  “I suppose we should go down,” Nate finally said. “We have a lot to accomplish.”

  Kelly nodded and sighed. Nate understood her reluctance. Here, isolated above everything else, it was possible to forget, at least for a while, the heartaches and hardships ahead of them. But they could not escape the world forever.

  Slowly, they finished dressing. As they were about to leave, Nate crossed to the rear deck and unhooked the bamboo-and-palm-leaf awning so it fell back across the rear door, returning the room to the way he found it.

  Kelly noticed what he did and moved nearer, examining the hinges along the top margin of the door. “Closed, it blocks the doorway…pushed open and stilted, it’s a shade cover for the deck. Clever.”

  Nate nodded. Yesterday he had been surprised by the ingenuity, too. “I’ve never seen anything like it out here. It’s like my father mentioned in his notes. An example of the tribe’s advancement over other indigenous peoples. Subtle engineering improvements, like their crude tree elevators.”

  “I could use an elevator right now,” Kelly noted, stretching a kink from her back. “It does make you wonder, though,” she went on, “about the Yagga—about what it’s doing to these people.”

  Nate grunted in agreement, then turned to reassemble his own pack. There was much to wonder about here. Once ready, Nate gave the room a final inspection, then crossed to the door where Kelly crouched.

  As Kelly slung her pack to her shoulder, Nate leaned in and kissed her deeply. There was a moment of surprise…then she returned the kiss with a matching passion. Neither of them had spoken of where the two would go from here. Both knew much of their urgency last night had come from a pair of wounded hearts. But it was a start. Nate looked forward to seeing where it would lead. And if her kiss was a clue, so did Kelly.

  They parted, and with
out another word, they headed to the ladder leading down to the common areas of the dwelling.

  As Nate descended, cooking scents swelled around him. He reached the bottom rung and hopped off. After helping Kelly down, they both walked through the common area to the large front deck. Nate’s stomach growled, and he suddenly remembered his hunger.

  Around a stone hearth set into the deck, Anna and Kouwe were finishing the final preparations for breakfast. Nate spotted a loaf of cassava bread and a tall stone pitcher of cold water.