Amazon Burning (A James Acton Thriller, #10)

by J. Robert Kennedy

  Home.

  Part of him wondered why they needed to change anything. It had worked out well so far. They split their time between London and Maryland, Peru and Egypt. It kept things exciting.

  But it’s not a marriage.

  The boat pulled up to the shore, its shallow draft hull allowing them to get within a few feet. A ramp was thrown down and several of the crew quickly tied the boat to nearby trees, the anchor dropped. The clearing and nearby forest were inspected and the all-clear given. Acton was off first, Laura second with Reading and Milton taking up the rear. Acton placed Milton’s chair near the shore, pushing it down to make sure it was stable, then he and Reading helped him into his seat, the most comfortable on the boat. The crew of six had the clearing free of debris, a fire pit dug and ringed with rocks, then tents set up within less than half an hour.

  Acton had to admit they had skills.

  They had boarded the Juliana at the end of the main tour that most tourists took out of Manaus, a city buried in the heart of the Amazon Rainforest at the mouth of the Rio Negro where it emptied into the mighty Amazon River. This smaller, more maneuverable boat had taken them where few had gone before, deep into the jungle where their guides assured them tribes never before seen by modern man still lived to this day.

  How exciting would that be?

  To discover a tribe never before seen by “modern man”. To communicate with them, to learn their ways and culture. To destroy their entire belief system by exposing them to modern technology.

  He sighed.

  They need to be left alone.

  He would happily settle for seeing them from a distance, undisturbed, going about their daily lives as they had for thousands of years. And the thought reminded him of what he had seen from the boat. He walked over to the tree where he was sure he had seen something and examined the area, the only light now from the flickering fire ten feet away. He debated getting his flashlight but decided against it when the cook announced dinner.

  I’m sure it was nothing.

  But something made the hair on the back of his neck stand up as he turned, a feeling of forewarning he had felt too many times just before something took a turn for the worse. He eyed Laura, who smiled at him and patted a clear spot beside her on the ground.

  Perhaps we should sleep on the boat tonight.

  Northern Amazon

  Second day of the Third Moon

  Three days before the attack

  Tuk watched the man from his perch not twenty paces away. He was tall, taller than any man he had seen before. And there was another older man who appeared even taller. In fact all the pale ones were tall, including the woman.

  They must be from a mighty clan of warriors!

  The man turned away and Tuk shifted, a loose branch rustling slightly. The man froze, and Tuk could tell he was resisting the urge to turn around. Tuk prepared himself, ready to disappear deeper into the forest should it become necessary, but after only a few moments the man resumed walking toward the fire where a darker skinned man was preparing what Tuk assumed was food, the few wafts of it that had drifted his way delicious.

  You better keep that fire fed, otherwise you’ll have uninvited company.

  Every carnivore within half a day’s travel would be smelling this feast, the wind blowing inland. It would shift soon, out over the river, but these strange people didn’t seem to understand the ways of the Mother. He said a silent prayer for their safety. Fools didn’t deserve to die at Her hand, these people clearly not of this land.

  But where are they from?

  They wore strange things on their bodies, covering up most of their skin. In the tribes he had been exposed to, nothing more than a loin cloth was used to cover the private areas, and some tribes didn’t even bother with that. He reached down and felt his own cloth covering his manhood then tried to imagine what it would feel like to have his entire body confined by animal skins.

  What a waste!

  Like the stories from when he was younger.

  The Panther People.

  They had disrespected the mother, killing the stately creatures for their skins, abandoning the rest of the carcasses, all so they could adorn themselves in their shiny, black furs.

  Disgusting.

  But the Mother had her revenge on the tribe, the result an abomination, a fiction to scare respect of the Mother into the children of the tribe.

  Or was it a fiction? These people were clearly wasteful, adorning themselves in unnecessary skins just like the Panther People.

  As he sat watching these strange people eat around the fire, he wondered what the Mother thought of their coverings. Would She disapprove? Would She demand punishment? If She did, he hoped She would spare the woman. Tuk couldn’t tear his eyes off her, her appearance unlike anything he had ever seen. It was so exotic, he wasn’t certain it was beauty or novelty that attracted him. TikTik was beautiful, of that there was no doubt. In her entire tribe she was considered the most beautiful of them all, and Bruk, her betrothed, the most handsome in his.

  Tuk was far from the top.

  In fact, if there were a list, he would be at the bottom, he was certain.

  His pain overwhelmed him again and he felt his eyes burn with the memory of Pol. Pol should be here with him now, sharing in this fascinating experience. These pale people were so different, he knew the stories he would tell of this encounter would never be believed. In fact, he was so certain they would never be believed, he debated whether or not he should even bother mentioning it when he returned home.

  He couldn’t bear to not be believed. His word was all he had, his looks, strength, and skill as a hunter not virtues anyone except his mother recognized, and even she, he knew, was only humoring him.

  He blinked away the tears and glared instead at the man who was clearly the woman’s mate. As the fire lit her impossibly pale face and her light, reddish hair, he felt his chest tighten with excitement, his loins stir against their leather encasement.

  A woman of light!

  It was as if she were the sun itself, the radiance of the Mother trapped inside this creature, its light escaping every pore, creating the white skin and light hair so strange to him.

  She was a creation of the Mother, delivered to him in his moment of need, to fill the void left by the loss of his friend, and to be his companion, at his side, for life evermore, TikTik forever out of his reach.

  But there was only one problem.

  The nine men between him and her.

  Rio Negro, Northern Amazon, Brazil

  Present Day

  Laura sat, rocking side to side, her arms folded, her beloved James tucked in behind her, his arms wrapped around hers as he matched her to and fro motion. Fabricio was playing the Portuguese guitar, its teardrop shape and twelve strings producing a uniquely beautiful sound. He and a few of the crew sang traditional Brazilian folk songs, the Portuguese lyrics completely foreign to her, but the beauty and warmth they represented not.

  She was feeling a little warm, the couple of glasses of wine starting to kick in, her eyes were beginning to droop. Reading was already dropping his chin onto his chest then waking up instantly from the surprise as he tried to stay awake. Milton had already gone to bed on the boat, his back sore and not up for sleeping in a tent tonight.

  She worried about him, wondering if he had taken on too much by coming on this trip. She hadn’t worried about him at the World Cup. There they were in civilization. If something happened he could get to a hospital with ease, and be flown back to the States in a few hours should it be necessary.

  But here, in the middle of the jungle?

  If something were to truly go wrong, they were a two to three day journey back to the tiny bit of civilization that had been gouged out of the center of the rainforest, where he would still have to be flown out of to get real care. Her private jet would be there waiting for them in three days when their journey was scheduled to be finished, but part of her was wondering if they should call thin
gs short and head home in the morning. The rest of their journey was only vanity, to be able to say they made it all the way to the border, but there was little if anything significant to see by way of unique features between here and there.

  “I was thinking…” she began.

  “What?” James’ voice was a whisper, the music still playing, the crew enjoying the entertainment as much as them, the rule on the trip—no alcohol. She was thankful for that, though felt a little guilty for having some herself. It was her experience however that too much alcohol amongst the hired help could lead to problems, and she had made it a rule whenever possible to have a dry policy for them. That was one of the reasons she actually liked working in Muslim countries since they were dry by law for the most part, so alcohol wasn’t as much of a concern. It still was, just not as much, the hypocrisy of the true believer something shared the world over.

  “Perhaps tomorrow morning we should head back.”

  She felt him nod into her shoulder. “I was thinking the same thing.”

  Her eyebrows climbed her forehead slightly as she turned her head to look at him. “Really?”

  He looked at the boat then at Reading. “I think Greg’s back is bothering him more than he’s letting on—”

  “That’s exactly what I was thinking. He’s not protesting people helping him anymore.”

  “Yeah, and that tells me he’s in pain.”

  “Then it’s settled?”

  “What’s settled?” asked Reading, his eyes semi-open.

  “We’ll head back first thing in the morning,” replied Laura.

  “Sounds like a fantastic idea to me,” said Reading through a stifled yawn. “I think Greg’s back is bothering him.”

  Laura felt James chuckle behind her as they both realized all three of them had come to the same conclusion. It made her feel warm inside that the four of them were in such good tune with each other that they could pick up on these things. She just felt bad that Milton didn’t feel comfortable enough to say something. Then again she knew men, and their pride would prevent them from admitting anything but the very worst, especially if they knew their troubles would affect the entire group.

  “So do we,” she said, raising her finger to get Fabricio’s attention.

  “Yes, senhora?”

  “First thing in the morning we’ll head back rather than continue on.” She smiled. “And don’t worry, you’ll still get paid for the full journey.”

  The man beamed as he began to strum again. “Thank you, senhora!” He relayed the news to the crew in Portuguese and smiles abounded as the men realized they’d get at least an extra day’s pay for no work. If everything continued to go well, the tip she intended to lay on each of them would make their year.

  “Bed time?” suggested James, to which Reading grunted his wholehearted agreement, immediately struggling to his feet with some windmilling of his arms that had Laura concerned for a few moments. Balanced, their friend said his goodnights and climbed into his tent, bitching and moaning the entire time until he was finally settled.

  James stood and pulled her to her feet. “Goodnight, everyone!” she said, smiling to the crew who all chimed in goodheartedly.

  “Don’t go to bed early on our account!” added James. There was some laughter as Fabricio translated. Laura unzipped the tent and climbed in, James directly behind her who zipped it up immediately and began a critter inspection with his flashlight. “All clear!”

  She quickly changed, careful to have the light in front of her so her silhouette wouldn’t provide a show to the crew, James the only one getting to enjoy the view, which from the grin on his face he certainly seemed to be.

  “See something you like?” she asked as her eyes drifted down. A bulge in his shorts was the response.

  He stripped out of his clothes and turned the light off as he embraced her. His hands explored her body as hers did his, a growing urgency in his demands sending her heart racing as he ground into her, revealing just how turned on he was. Their tongues tasted each other, exploring the other’s mouth as her moans grew in intensity and she felt her own furnace of desire blaze with an intensity only James could produce.

  He lowered her to the ground, their sleeping bag providing a little bit of comfort, but she didn’t care. She wanted him, she needed him, and as she stifled her moans by locking onto his mouth even harder, she could care less about the crew twenty feet away still singing, or Hugh in the next tent already snoring.

  All she wanted was James inside her, right here, right now.

  She groaned when he obliged, her bliss only beginning.

  Jealousy raged through Tuk’s heart as he heard the moans not ten paces away. At the shore the dark men continued to sing, something being passed around now that looked like it held some sort of liquid, the jar unlike anything he had ever seen. In the firelight it was as if you could see through the clay, but he was certain it was simply his eyes playing tricks on him.

  A jar made of water!

  It was folly.

  But he paid them little mind. It was the Woman of Light that he cared about, and that man who was clearly her mate was now making love to the woman who was the solution to his problems.

  He didn’t care though. Once his plan was complete, the man would be gone, never to bother them again, and he alone would possess her. She would learn his ways, she would be cleansed of her current mate’s impurities, and she would join the tribe as his mate.

  And TikTik will be so jealous! And Bruk envious.

  It made him feel good. To know that he would be the one envied, that he would be the one admired for the first time in his life had his heart racing in anticipation. As the sounds continued from the covering they were sleeping under he could hear how happy she was and began to feel a twinge of regret at the idea of taking her from the others.

  Then he suddenly realized who these pale people were.

  The Spirit People!

  As he continued to watch he realized the stories were true, that it was indeed the Spirit People who lived on the Mother River. He had heard of spirits that walked amongst man because they chose to, and he realized now that if she were indeed one of the Spirit People, then there was no way he would be able to take her unless she was willing to be taken.

  He scratched under his arm, waiting patiently for the group to sleep. It didn’t take long for the water-jar to apparently empty and all but one of the dark men to board their boat, the other left to stoke the fire then apparently stand guard. He was fast asleep under a tree, a head covering hiding his face, an oddly shaped spear resting on his lap.

  The tent quieted down and the snoring of the man spirit soon could be heard. The Woman of Light exited their shelter then walked toward the boat, disappearing inside for a few minutes.

  This was his chance.

  Snoring continued from the two shelters and the guard against the tree. He crept forward, readying his blowpipe, inserting a carefully chosen dart. The last thing he wanted was to kill her, if that were even possible—kill a spirit? Perhaps a medicine man could, but not him, a mere man.

  The Woman of Light walked down from the boat and onto the shore. She approached her shelter, a smile on her face, and again Tuk felt a twinge of regret.

  She will only let you take her if she is willing.

  He raised his blowpipe and took a deep breath. Taking aim, he placed his lips over the end of the tube then with a sudden exhalation, launched the laced dart toward the spirit. She grabbed her neck, wincing, then immediately began to wobble, her knees losing control.

  Tuk leapt from the underbrush he had been using as cover and in an instant was in front of her. Her eyes bulged with fear, and a strange word came out of her mouth, louder than he had been expecting. The guard stirred, his head covering falling off its perch and onto his lap as the man woke.

  Tuk had no time. He bent over and lifted the Woman of Light at the hip, tossing her over his back as he spun and rushed into the forest, his experienced feet carryin
g him swiftly away from the camp. A loud cracking sound erupted behind him and he heard something hit a tree nearby followed by shouting, first by who he assumed was the guard, then soon by several others.

  But he had her.

  He had his spirit, in his arms.

  Which meant she had gone with him willingly.

  And he had found his mate.

  Acton bolted upright, wired, listening for what had woken him. He looked for Laura but she wasn’t beside him, sending his heart immediately racing. He knew something was wrong. A gunshot rang out and he leapt forward, grabbing for his clothes with one hand as he unzipped the tent with the other. Rolling out onto the ground he heard Reading to his right.

  “What the bloody hell is going on?” he roared as he burst from his tent. Shouts from the boat grew louder as more people woke up.

  “Laura!” he yelled as he struggled into his underwear then shorts, not giving a damn if anyone saw his nakedness. Reading was now on his feet, looking in the direction their guard was pointing. Nothing but unintelligible Portuguese was making it out of their protector’s mouth, but it was evident as Acton shoved his hiking boots on that he was terrified.

  “Laura!” he yelled again as Reading joined him.

  “Is she missing?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. She’s not in the tent and she’s not answering.” He looked at the boat and saw Fabricio rushing down the ramp, gun in hand. “What’s going on?” He spotted Milton on the deck. “Greg, check to see if Laura is on the boat, maybe the bathroom!”

  Milton nodded and disappeared. Fabricio spoke to the panicked guard for a moment then ran over, pointing into the forest. “He say a native took the woman!”

  “What?” Acton felt faint and he dropped to a knee, Reading thankfully taking over.