River of the Damned

by Aiden James

  “I believe it’s because of the beauty that surrounds Cuenca, as well as the relative lack of crime,” she said, as we moved toward one of the city’s older sections. “It is safe to walk in many areas at night, where this is not the case in Quito or Guayaquil.”

  “It is beautiful,” I agreed, nudging Ishi from behind to get him to close his laptop. “You’re missing the sights, Ishi.”

  “I was just checking the weather forecast,” he claimed, which might’ve been partly true. But from peering over his shoulder, it sure looked like a wicked game of either Angry Birds or Bad Piggies was going on in a minimized screen on his computer’s desktop.

  “I could have saved you the time, Ishi—it’s going to rain!” teased Mayta. “Just like it is raining today.”

  True. Although where he and I came from, a slight drizzle hardly counted as rain. Rain that gets noticed is a crippling of plans sort of downpour, such as a monsoon.

  “The next fourteen days show heavy rain showers in just eight of the days, with moderate in four,” he advised. “There are two days that are almost clear.”

  “I’m afraid it will rain on those days, too,” I said, to which our guide to the rain-slick Amazon Basin agreed while chuckling. No doubt, Mayta was looking forward to witnessing how her two foreign companions handled staying drenched like muskrats for a day or two without relief.

  We soon arrived in front of a modest one-story cottage. Even before Mayta finished parking the Jeep, a man of similar heritage to hers stepped outside from the house. Not as tall as she, the man shouted something to her. Although my Spanish isn’t the greatest, I could tell from her response that he wanted to meet inside his home, despite the presence of a table with enough chairs to accommodate all of us beneath the covered front porch.

  “Leave your electronics in the Jeep, Ishi,” she advised, to which he complied. She locked the vehicle remotely as we headed up the walkway to where Marcos waited, just inside his front doorway.

  “So, these are the Americans you spoke of?” he asked, to which she nodded. “I am Marcos Quintana. Please, come inside.”

  Hard to believe this guy carried any quirky superstitions—especially considering his sure handshakes to Ishi and me that spoke of a powerful grip despite his slender build. Maybe this was also part of what he inherited from his Jivaro ancestors.

  “Please, sit down.”

  He motioned to the kitchen table, where a pair of toddlers played. He spoke to a pretty woman whom I assumed was his wife, using a dialect Mayta later explained was a combination between Cuencano and Shuar. The woman gathered up the youngsters and disappeared down a nearby hallway.

  “It should not take long for me to tell you and them what I discovered yesterday,” he told Mayta.

  “Did you find anything substantial to pinpoint where Dr. Pierce and the others might have gone?” she asked, once we had sat down.

  He offered us something to drink, a pale lager from a local brewery called Biela. It came highly recommended by Mayta, and since it would likely be my final taste of alcohol until we finished our search for the Pierce party, I readily accepted, as did Ishi.

  Meanwhile, Marcos shook his head in response to her question, while producing the shattered remains of Dr. Pierce’s satellite handset. The device looked as if it had been repeatedly stepped on and then bashed against a rock surface. In other words, the damage looked intentional.

  “This is all I found,” he advised. “Raul and I searched several kilometers in almost every direction from the map coordinates you gave us.”

  “What do you mean by ‘almost’?” she asked.

  “We only avoided the areas where the jungle is thick and where there was no sign of any recent disturbance,” he replied. “It’s unlikely anyone traveled through those areas, especially a group that includes twelve to fifteen people, as you stated were traveling with Dr. Pierce….”

  Marcos grew quiet, as if suddenly picturing something else, but didn’t care to share it with Mayta or us.

  “What is it?” she gently prodded him. “You know something important… I can feel it, Marcos.”

  “Raul’s momma still lives in Logrono, as you know,” he said, finally. “She spoke to us before we returned to Cuenca. She was very worried for our safety, but did not want Raul to become angry with her, as he often does. So, she waited to speak to us until after we finished our survey for you….”

  “And?” said Mayta, when he wouldn’t continue, shaking his head as if whatever had frightened Raul’s mother also frightened him badly.

  “The Jivaro usually stay far away from any town near the jungles, and especially Logrono,” he said, after taking a deep breath and turning his attention completely to her again. “But a number of warriors followed Dr. Pierce and his people as they traveled north through Colombia. Raul’s momma said the warriors intended to kill the ‘unwanted whites’ for invading their land without first seeking permission to do so.”

  Ishi and I exchanged looks, confirming we had screwed up royally by agreeing to come to Ecuador. But there was more.

  “Do they laugh at our beliefs?” Marcos pointed at Ishi and then me, while the question was obviously posed to Mayta alone.

  “No, they don’t,” she assured him. “They believe in them like I do.”

  I nudged Ishi with my foot under the table to play along, and he and I both nodded convincingly.

  “Okay… then I will tell you the rest,” said Marcos. “Raul’s momma told us that a local shaman in Logrono felt the presence of a very bad man who leads this band of warriors. It is another shaman, and one who is legendary in the area for being very powerful… and very evil.”

  “And you think this other shaman is responsible for what has happened to Dr. Pierce and his family?” she asked, sounding sympathetic despite her eyebrows furrowed as if she thought this last part was utter nonsense.

  “I do,” he said after another moment’s hesitation, as if he either saw through her response or merely despised the fact he had to discuss this villain. “She said the Jivaro shaman is known as Shuratu, and he practices the ancient traditions—including beheading his victims and then shrinking their heads. He wears them all, and it is said that you can hear the heads knocking against each other from his waist as he moves through the Amazon jungles…. They were told not to return to the jungle by the shaman in Logrono, but they ignored the warning.”

  “And by ‘they’, you mean Dr. Pierce and his party?” I asked, mindful to speak in a respectful tone.

  “Yes,” said Marcos, the intensity of his gaze causing me to look away. It was as if he could see inside my heart, and in no way did I want him to clam up after discovering my wavering belief. Not that I discounted everything, since I had experienced much during the past year that would support the claims he was making. But the part of me that clings to the pragmatic continues to put up a remarkable fight to remain skeptical... even as it had become damned near impossible to support anymore. “Dr. Pierce scoffed at the warning… and now they are gone.”

  That was the last thing Marcos would say in Ishi’s and my presence, other than beseeching Mayta to reconsider our intended journey into the jungles near Logrono. But turning back now would mean having to face a heartbroken and disappointed Agent Jacobs and whatever wrath awaited us from Agent Spence. Avoiding either one seemed most wise…. Fear of repercussions and jail time easily won out over the potential downside of running into the shaman known as Shuratu and his band of Jivaro warriors.

  At least for now.

  Chapter Six

  “Is there anything important we should know about?”

  We had just returned to the Jeep, and I hoped I wouldn’t have to spell out further what I was getting at. Marcos had whispered something into Mayta’s ear as we left, and her response was an expression of surprise and horror.

  “It’s not important, since we won’t be able to verify what he told me,” she said, sounding subdued and obviously still shaken by what he had told her.

>   “Why don’t you try us anyway?” I said, hoping I sounded nonchalant. “After all, it’s soon going to be the three of us against everyone else out there in the jungle.”

  “So, you think they are already dead?” She studied me intently through the rearview mirror, repeatedly holding my gaze until she merged onto the main thoroughfare leading out of Marcos’ neighborhood.

  “Why, don’t you?”

  “I don’t know what I think yet,” she said.

  “Yes. I do think they’re dead… or held captive and wishing they were dead,” I said.

  “I also think they are dead,” said Ishi. “And, I think if we run into this Shuratu out in the jungle, we might soon be dead, too.”

  “Marcos told me that he has seen shrunken heads before on the black market,” she said, finally, after we had reached the highway system leading out of Cuenca toward Colombia and the general vicinity of Logrono. “Some recently… and he feels the recent ones could have come from this witch doctor.”

  “Is that the term they use down here for a nefarious shaman?” I teased.

  “No.” She smiled weakly. “It’s the one I use for assholes preying upon the superstitions of the poorly educated in our country…. But, if someone like this has convinced a tribe of Jivaro warriors to follow him, then it is a very dangerous mission we are on.”

  “Maybe we should call it off,” Ishi suggested. “The broken satellite phone and Marcos’ testimony that he could find no sign of them should be acceptable proof, no? Why endanger anyone else?”

  He had a point… a great one this time.

  “Then what will become of Brandon, I worry?” she said. “He lost his parents in a car accident in Quito two years ago, and now the loss of his love, Sandra.”

  I hated myself for feeling torn. On the one hand, it made complete sense to head back to Quito, get on a plane, and tell Agent Jacobs the news man-to-man…. Or, Ishi and I could try to make a break for it. But that would likely mean immediate seizure of our assets stored in two banks—everything we own. Or, we could….

  “Why don’t we shorten our plans and spend a day or two looking over the area,” I suggested. “Then we could honestly state that we visited the area near Logrono. If we find anything pointing to the group’s survival, then we can continue to search. And, if not, then we can call it off with a clean conscience… or, at least conveniently clean enough.”

  At first, it appeared that my suggestion would be overruled—either by a decision to immediately head back to Quito or proceed to explore the jungles near Logrono for as long as it took to find Dr. Pierce and his cohorts—the original plan. In fact, neither Mayta nor Ishi gave my idea much consideration until we stopped at a market off the highway, located roughly halfway between Cuenca and Logrono, to shop and eat our lunch. Satisfying three rumbling stomachs brought a clearer perspective, or so it seemed.

  “I believe your idea is a good one,” said Mayta, after our meal. She encouraged Ishi and me to join her in the store to pick up the perishables we would need for our trip, as well as any non-perishable items we might have previously missed from our lists. “Why not plan to spend just a few days while purchasing supplies to last a week, in case we find something that supports extending our search?”

  “That sounds like a solid plan,” I agreed.

  Ishi remained hesitant about staying any longer than a couple of days, but finally nodded his consent when I assured him I would have his back—and neck—protected from Shuratu and any other Jivaro headhunter.

  To ensure we made the most of our remaining daylight, since the sky above remained overcast, we headed straight for the wilderness edge after completing our purchases, instead of stopping next in Logrono. Knowing that the modern version of the city was built several kilometers from where the original Spanish settlement was erected in the mid-sixteenth century, the actual sacred Incan sites protected by the Jivaro would be much deeper in the Amazon Basin from that point. It made sense to not waste time rehashing what Marcos and his friend Raul had already gleaned from the townsfolk.

  Mayta had brought a large canoe strapped to the roof of her Jeep, and although we had hoped to not actually need it, the swollen waterways made the canoe a necessity. In all likelihood, many of the pathways traveled by Dr. Pierce and his group had since been flooded—especially during the past two weeks of steady rain each day. This development meant we would leave nearly half of our food supplies locked inside the Jeep, and would return for them if we decided to carry on. Of course, due to the heat and humidity that was certain to steadily get worse, it also meant most of the perishables would come with us and we would rely on the remaining non-perishables hidden beneath the Jeep’s seats for emergency sustenance.

  “They could be anywhere out there,” lamented Ishi, as we set out to cross the first tributary.

  “This is true,” said Mayta. “But we will know more once we reach the other side and have a chance to look around.”

  Her advisement soon proved to be prophetic.

  Just beyond the trees, the path resumed from its submerged starting point. For the time being, we stashed the canoe and most of our supplies behind a large cluster of bushes far enough away from the water’s edge to be considered safe. Then we set out on foot into Ecuador’s southern rain forest.

  Marcos had taken pictures of the path and surrounding areas, both with his Nikon camera and his cell phone when the Nikon’s battery died. So, much of what we found in the next hour looked quite similar, if not identical, to what his cameras had captured. The barren path gradually became more filled with trampled-upon vegetation. By the time the grass and weeds rose above our ankles, a mile or so from where we had left the canoe, we were nearing the end of what Marcos and Raul had explored. Likely, this was where the locals would also turn back…. To our right was another seasonal waterway, and to our left stood the imposing and largely unexplored tropical woods reported by Mayta’s buddy.

  “Well, so far we have seen nothing that tells us where they could be… no clue as to where they have ventured,” I advised, stating the obvious.

  “I guess we should go back and get the canoe,” said Mayta.

  “Or, maybe we should take a moment and picture what Dr. Pierce would have done when he and the others reached this point,” Ishi suggested. “Faced with the same choices—though there was probably very little water around them—what would he have likely done?”

  “That’s brilliant, Ishi,” I said, after a moment’s consideration. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of this. “He was searching for a lost city of Inca gold, and they sure as hell don’t make reliable maps for places like that.”

  Ishi chuckled, while Mayta regarded me curiously.

  “Since Dr. Pierce was looking for this lost city, then we should do the same!” Ishi enthused. “Find the cavern said to be filled with Incan gold and I bet we will also find them!”

  “Or, what’s left of them,” I added, hating the sudden image of a family of shrunken heads. But hope of a rescue was still alive, and would remain so unless we stumbled across evidence of violence involving the Pierce party. “Where would you look for something off the beaten path that even the greediest treasure hunters have yet to find?”

  Just in case they mistook this as a topic for open discussion, I added a dramatic ‘Ta-da!’ to go with both hands pointing in exaggerated fashion toward the jungle to our left.

  “They could’ve made it to another jungle entrance on the other side,” said Mayta, motioning to what looked like the path’s deteriorating continuation across the waterway to our right.

  Was she trying to be a contrary ass? Or, was she just that reluctant to abandon her own suggestion to retrieve the canoe and journey where others have frequently gone?

  “Tell you what, Mayta…. Why don’t you look there and Ishi and I will hack through this forest mess over here?” I suggested. “We can meet back in an hour at this very spot. Surely one of us will have found something by then, and if not, we can set up camp ri
ght here and decide where to search next in the morning.”

  The rain had subsided to a barely detectible drizzle. However, an ominous rumble in the distance spoke of a fresh thunderstorm on the way. We would have at most an hour to look for clues before a deluge arrived. Once it hit, we’d be better off shutting things down for the evening—especially if the coming downpour lasted several hours.

  Mayta headed back down the path toward the canoe, and Ishi almost took the bait to follow her. But he heeded my urging to help me hack away at the overgrown vines and foliage where I was drawn to explore next. I could clearly picture the elusive treasure that had captured Dr. Pierce’s fancy as much as it would’ve seized my own.

  “What happens if she gets into trouble?” he worried, after I handed him a machete before resuming my efforts to cut a path large enough for us to move through.

  “She’s a big girl, and will be fine,” I said. “Besides, my hunch is she’ll be back in a moment to find out if I’m right or not.”

  “But, it might be best to try and find the path made by Dr. Pierce and his workers instead of making a new one, Boss… don’t you think?”

  I paused to study his face. The uneasiness was getting worse.

  “Ishi, I’m not trying to follow the path to where they’ve been, but rather where they might be right now, this very moment,” I said, careful to not upbraid him for his faltering courage and unwillingness to trust the instincts that had made him and me a tidy fortune over the years. “Dr. Pierce and his team set out to find the Inca’s gold hidden out here more than a month ago. All that finding their path would provide is a damned snapshot of the past…. We need to know where they are this afternoon, and I think if they’re still alive then they have either found the cave they sought or are still trying to find it. So, your idea of looking for the place as if we were Dr. Pierce is really the only viable excuse to be out here in this mess.”