Alex pressed his lips together and raised his eyebrows. “Understood.”
He lifted his glass, and the two downed another round.
***
Natasha entered the dimly lit tent and saw several men dressed in similar garb as the one who met them off the Chinook. They were a motley looking bunch, and she couldn’t help but feel a measure of intimidation.
One of them stood with his hands together in front of his chest. He flexed his fingers in one hand against those of the other, as if waiting for everyone to enter before speaking. Three others sat a table. Two stared their way, and the other was in the process of cleaning a handgun. The last man, a really big guy, was by himself several feet away near the back of the tent. He sat in a chair, a notebook and pen in his hand, and after looking up at Natasha, he dropped his head and began writing.
Ben, Matt, and Logan waited stiffly to the side. She was surprised to see Ben act as if he were somewhat intimidated too.
The next person stepped into the tent, so she moved over by Logan. It was Susan Klasse. Alex didn’t follow behind her. Neither did the man who greeted them. Before her imagination got the best of her, the man in front spoke.
“Hi, I’m the lead member of the security team. We are employed by a private military company called Redwater. I’m sure you’ve heard of the outfit. The U.S. government has kept us busy since the heat kicked up in the Mideast. My teammates call me Chief, you can call me Chief. My job, the security team’s job, is to protect all the members on this deployment. We aren’t here to tell you how to run your business, but if we feel a situation is too dangerous, we will step in and take control.” Chief removed his cap and swiped his jet-black hair from front to back. “Despite what we may look like to a bunch of civilians, especially most of you of college age, we’re not a bunch of blood thirsty hooligans. We are professionals. We expect to be treated that way, and we require respect. That said, we’re going to be spending a lot of time together over the next three weeks, so we will get to know each other. Feel free to get to know us. We won’t bite—unless we’re forced to.”
“Ah-ruff! Ah-ruff!” a slightly chubby Redwater member, looking to be in his forties, sitting at the table by Chief, barked.
Chief smiled. “That man, who could pass for Curly of the Three Stooges, is John Jones. We call him Caveman. You’ll find out why when you get to know him. He likes to cut up a bit. But I warn you, don’t challenge him to a wrestling match. He hasn’t lost one yet.”
“Hi ya’all,” Caveman said, waving his hand like he was the king in a parade.
Chief continued, “Sitting closest to me is Mr. Henry Hunter, a seasoned veteran who fought in Desert Storm. We call him Suge. You don’t call him Suge unless you ask him first.”
The black man lifted a hand in acknowledgement. He still had some youth about him. Natasha thought him to be in his thirties and ruggedly handsome.
“Next to Suge we have Tim Colter. We call him Bats. You can call him Bats too. His drawl gives away that he’s from Texas. He’s recently returned from Afghanistan.”
Bats was the one cleaning the handgun. He stood and slightly tipped his hat toward Natasha and the rest. The effort was a mock gesture at best. He looked like he was in his forties too.
“The big guy in the corner is Clint Perry, otherwise known as Meat—for obvious reasons. He’s from Maui and quite the artist. His dream is to save up enough to open a tattoo parlor. If any of you would like a tattoo on this trip, I’m sure he’d be happy to oblige.”
“All my inks are non-toxic,” Meat said, holding his pen up as if ready to draw the outline.
Meat was a big man, not fat—but massive. Tall, wide, with finely chiseled features on a square head. The pen had looked more like a toothpick when he held it up in his large hand. He was definitely a native of the Hawaiian Islands. The Samoan features of his face made it look like he had a perpetual happy expression.
A dolly pushed through the tent entrance with items from the Chinook. A member of Redwater steered it to the side. A second dolly followed, pushed by another Rainwater member. The two were definitely the oldest of the security team, and surprisingly, were identical twins.
“This is Ron Bartel,” Chief said, pointing.
“I’m Don,” Don Bartel said.
“Yeah, that happens a lot,” Chief said. “That’s Ron,” he correctly pointed.
“Roll Tide,” Ron said, his South Alabama accent thick.
“Don’t worry if you get these two confused. They answer to whatever name you call them. Ron and Don first saw action in Vietnam. Since then, they’re either hunting, fishing, or fighting a war.”
“Except for a few hours on Saturdays when it’s football season,” Don said.
Matt stepped away from the group, and said, “I’m Matt King, associate professor of Zoology at Southwood University. I think I speak for all of us in saying how excited we are to be here and pleased Ace Corporation has gone to great lengths to offer protection. We will certainly cooperate any way we can. I’m sure there’s a protocol for us to learn.”
“There is, and we’ll teach you everything you need to know before we head out,” Chief said.
Ron and Don pushed the dollies over the side of the tent next to a long table. One of the two, Natasha wasn’t sure if it was Ron or Don, began lighting cans of sterno. The other unloaded large aluminum pans covered in foil onto the table.
Matt continued, “Our leader, Professor Alex Klasse, must be with the Mr. Cooper who met us off the helicopter. Let me introduce the rest of my group.” Matt moved away from his crew so as not to block anyone from view. “First in line is Ben Wilson.”
Ben closed his left eye, made a gesture with his right hand like it was a gun, and then flexed his thumb like he fired it in Chief’s direction.
“Next is Logan Sandler.”
Logan gave a firm, polite nod.
“Natasha Kamdar.”
Natasha smiled and slightly cocked her head to the side, still feeling a bit awkward. She was about to spend three weeks with a group of strange men. The thought marred the excitement of dinosaur hunting.
“Ben, Logan, and Natasha are students about to enter graduate school. Lastly we have Susan Klasse, wife of professor Klasse.”
“Pleased to meet you, gentlemen,” Susan said.
Natasha had never heard Susan Klasse use such a pleasant tone this whole trip. Apparently the woman was capable of turning on the charm when she wanted.
“Chief, food’s about ready,” Don said.
“All right. Guys, this will be the best meal we’ll have until we come back. So, chow down,” Chief said.
“Not unless I get me a Brontosaurus. I’m gonna make burgers out of that thing,” Caveman said as he rose from the table, hurrying to be first in line.
The security crew wasn’t bashful and certainly didn’t act like gracious hosts. It was every man for himself in the food line.
Ben spread his hands like What the hell, and headed for the end of the line. Logan followed, and Matt hung back, letting Susan go next, and he took his position behind Natasha.
“You okay?” Matt asked.
“Sure, why wouldn’t I be?” Natasha actually appreciated his concern. Where the hell was Alex? But she didn’t want to get too chummy with Matt. Nothing good could come from that.
“I didn’t mean anything by it. I feel—and I can tell you and the others feel it too—that this isn’t going to be a Disney adventure. It’s real, and it’s probably going to get rough out there. I just want you to know, I’ll be watching out for you. So, if you need anything…”
Natasha almost snapped a dismissive retort, but hesitated, not wanting to come across negatively. “Thanks.” There, just leave it at that.
The big guy sitting alone at a table, Meat, was the only member of his team not in line. He remained in his chair, vigorously dotting a page on his notebook with the pen.
Meat sat near the end of the line, and as Natasha approached, she saw what he�
��d been working on. It was a black and white drawing of her head and face. A red rose adorned her hair on one side. The large man looked up and caught her gaze.
“Do you like it?” He stopped drawing and turned the picture for proper view.
“That’s amazing. I can’t believe you drew that in the short amount of time we’ve been here.” The picture had a photographic quality to it. A technique she’d seen somewhere before.
“Ah, it’s nothing. Beauty always inspires me. I draw a lot of flowers because of that. That’s why I put a rose in your hair. Beauty compliments beauty,” Meat said without any lecherous intent in his tone.
Matt started to say something, but Natasha raised her hand to wave him off, and said, “Thank you. That’s nice of you to say.”
“You’re welcome.” Meat tore the page from the notebook and offered it to her. “Here, have a Clint Perry original. Hopefully one day it’ll be worth a million dollars.” The big guy laughed and shook his head as if boyishly embarrassed at the suggestion.
Natasha took the picture and held it closer, drinking in the details. She remembered the technique used to draw her face was called stippling. A pen is used to make dots, and the denser the collection of dots, the darker the picture. That’s why Meat’s drawing resembled a black and white photograph. The rose was just drawn and looked a bit cartoonish.
Meat got up from his chair and filed in line behind Matt. Some had already sat down to eat.
Natasha wasn’t sure what was on the menu, but roasted meat of some sort mixed with stale air in the tent, making her aware she was hungry. “I hope there’s bacon. I can never get enough bacon.”
“Well, it looks like the party has started without me,” Alex said. He stood near the tent’s entrance, with Cooper next to him.
Chapter 7
Natasha stretched her arms high and yawned. It was shortly after they ate, around 3 o’clock in the afternoon. The air carried a slight irritant, and the sun was well into its daily journey across the sky. Breathtaking mountains to the west formed a wall as far as the eye could see. Beyond that ancient barrier the adventure began. At this point, it called like a Siren to a lonely sailor lost at sea. The anticipation of discovering what was on the other side had her mind wandering.
Lunch was better than she had expected. The food loaded on the Chinook had been freshly prepared and had remained warm on the ride over. She was told MREs would sustain them for the three-week trip. Even though entrees like Meatballs with Marinara Sauce, Mexican Style Chicken Stew, and Lemon Pepper Tuna sounded delicious, Natasha doubted the dishes would taste as good as those with the same name at a nice restaurant.
Chief and a few of his men had gathered her crew behind the tents by the strange vehicle she first saw when they landed in the Chinook. The vehicle was longer than a bus and about as tall. It was unique to anything she had ever seen, although, according to Chief, the All-Terrain Tracked Carrier had been used in various configurations by many nations of the world since early 2000. Its primary function was to act as a troop carrier.
The ATTC, or Warthog as this variant was named, looked like a stretched Humvee with tracks—like a tank—instead of wheels. The vehicle was large enough to easily hold the 14-member gang heading into the great unknown. Attached behind the main vehicle, called the rear cabin, a similarly configured troop carrier—minus the cab—doubled troop capacity. For this trip, that’s where all the supplies were stored. And to one-up that, a car sized smaller version of the Warthog rested on a platform behind the rear cabin. Up front, the smaller vehicle had a blade similar to that of a bulldozer and a machine gun mounted on the roof.
In a way, the Warthog looked like a military version of an RV, all the comforts of home as you cruised to your destination, and a smaller vehicle to detach and take quick trips away from the monstrous home base.
“This baby may look big and bulky and a pain in the ass to drive, but it isn’t. It has hydraulic steering for ease of maneuverability and rubber tracks to soften the ride. It has a very light footprint, and can travel through water, mud, sand, swamp, and snow. It’s tall enough inside to stand and move around in, so your ass doesn’t fall asleep. It’s even air-conditioned,” Chief said, slowly pacing from one side to the other in front of the group. He’d maintained eye contact with someone at all times.
“What kind of sound system does it have?” Ben asked.
Chief stopped cold in his tracks, and shifted a lazy eyed gaze at the athletic student. “It’s called, Shut the fuck up when I’m giving instruction.”
Alex looked over at Ben and slightly shook his head.
Ben raised animated eyebrows and nodded. “I like it.”
Chief ignored the comment and pointed to the roof of the cab in the front. “Now, the gun you see on the roof jutting from behind the armored plate, is a weapon specially designed for Ace Corporation. In fact, all of the weapons on this trip are custom made. Only the Redwater troops will have the custom weapons, because of their specialized nature. You, however, will be issued standard semi-automatic pistols for personal protection. That is, only if you know how to use one. We don’t have much time before we head out, but Ron and Don will give you a quick lesson when issuing your guns later on.” Chief raised his arm and motioned to someone behind the group.
Ron—or Don—stepped over with an assault-type looking gun. Natasha had heard of AR-15s and AK-47s, but didn’t really know how to differentiate the two.
Chief took the rifle and held it in front of him. “This is called the JNY-Seven. We just call it a Seven. This rifle holds one hundred rounds of custom ammunition. The bullets are caseless, so we won’t be dropping brass all over the countryside. The projectile may be small, but it packs a nice sized wallop. There is a stable compound in the bullet that reacts upon impact. In other words, it’s an exploding bullet. We’re not entirely sure what we’ll be facing out there, but we will be prepared.” He pulled the rifle closer and held it in one arm, using the other hand to point. “This on top is a grenade launcher, used for widespread damage in a chosen area. There are three grenades in reserve. On the side here, is a version of a rocket-propelled grenade—for distance. The rifle will shoot single shots, three round bursts, or fully automatic. The trigger mechanism is actually part of a separate piece by itself, a pistol.” Chief pushed in a button, the hand-grip-trigger mechanism and a short section of gun barrel detached as a single piece—a handgun. “The rifle still can be used to fire grenades. This pistol is exactly like the sidearms the Redwater’s carry, and is interchangeable with the one in the rifle. Helps in battlefield situations. The pistol by itself can hold up to thirty rounds of ammo. So, I’ve run my yap enough for now. Any questions?” Chief looked directly at Ben.
“So where’s the gas stations to fuel this thing up? I know oil comes from dead dinosaurs, but I don’t think we’ll have enough time to make our own,” Ben said, a serious expression on his face. Apparently, he was determined to make a valid point without compromising his sarcastic nature.
Chief quickly pointed a finger at Ben. “Good question. We won’t need to fuel up during the trip.”
Logan raised his hand. “Does it run on a fuel cell? Is it solar powered in some way? I don’t see any solar panels.”
“We got something better than that. It’s nuclear powered,” Chief said.
“Nuclear power? Are you serious?” Alex sounded truly amazed.
“Yes. Not only the Warthog, but also the four-man vehicle on the rear. We call that the Mule. It’s nuclear powered too. We could run either vehicle three months without stopping before we’d have to change the rods.”
“But this thing is huge. Even if we make it past the mountains, there aren’t any roads for us to travel on. And from what we’re told, there’s thick forest covering some large areas. Are we just going to drive around aimlessly? What if on day one we find that we can’t go in any direction?” Susan said, standing slightly in front of Alex, her left hand on her hip.
Natasha saw Chief’s e
xpression soften as the woman spoke. A warm smile spread across his lips. So, Mr. Chief had taken a liking to the witch. Natasha could see why; Chief hadn’t spent any time with the sourpuss. Susan was an attractive woman, though. She kept her body in shape and only needed a little lipstick and eye makeup to pretty up her face. Natasha was seeing this now as if for the first time. Jealousy had blinded her from the beginning. This made her even bitterer toward Alex. Maybe he had other reasons—emotional reasons—not blackmail—as to why he didn’t divorce her.
“We aren’t going in as blind as you think. Even though the entire area is hidden under clouds thanks to magma being so close to the surface and the cold air blowing above the mountains, we still were able to make a map. Satellites using special radar mapped the surface down to one meter in length. So, with our onboard GPS, we have a map that shows us where we can travel. It also shows other points of interest like the location of the volcano, the various lakes, and even a nice size river. We might not be able to take the most direct route, but we shouldn’t have a problem getting to any point we want,” Chief said.
“Yeah, but this thing looks slow. How far can we explore in a three week period?” Logan asked.
“On the open road, a Warthog can go up to forty miles an hour. This version can top sixty. But, because there aren’t any roads in Patagonia, as the lady pointed out, we’ll just make the best time we can.” Chief paused, and motioned with his fingers, asking for more questions.
“Let’s talk about the gun on the roof,” Alex said, and stole a quick glance toward Natasha.
She saw a strange reaction on Alex’s face. What’s up with him? Then it dawned on her. Alex first looked at her, and then looked at Matt standing next to her. Alex wasn’t happy about something, and she thought she knew what that something was. It was the way Matt was looking at her and the story his body language told. Alex was jealous, and Natasha loved it.
Alex focused his attention back on Chief. “That looks like a deadly weapon. I’m sure it’s necessary for our protection, but I hope this would be used as a last resort. I’d rather run from a unique life form than fight it to the death. How sad would it be to come across an animal long thought extinct only to kill it? I’d rather not make the journey at all if I knew that would be the outcome.”
Lost World Of Patagonia Page 6