The team continued silently and without incident for another four hours, stopping twice to drink and once for a quick MRE to recharge a bit. The sun was now getting lower and disappearing behind the top of the tree canopy. The sounds of the jungle began changing, as the day creatures and night creatures began their shift rotation. Fuzzy walked back to Julia and began chattering away quietly. They conversed for a quite a while, bringing Mackey and Cascaes over to wait for the outcome of the mysterious conversation. When Fuzzy was finished, Julia turned to the two Chrises.
“Fuzzy says we’re getting close to where the Pampidos had left their warnings. It will be dark soon, and he’s getting a little stressed.” She smiled. “I am paraphrasing.”
Cascaes pulled out his small computer and pulled up the GIS map. He compared his present location on the map with the notes on Julia’s map. “Julia, according to your map notes, and our present location, we aren’t that close yet. Maybe another two and half miles. Does he understand miles?”
Julia smiled through her camouflage paint. “Not only doesn’t he understand miles the way we do, he doesn’t understand time, either. These guys aren’t big on past, present and future tenses. It gets very confusing. Unless they are talking about a story from the ancestors, I never know exactly how much time we are talking about.”
“Great,” mumbled Cascaes. “Ask him why he thinks we’re close.”
Julia repeated it back to him, and he responded by climbing a tree. They all looked at each other.
“You mind telling me what the fuck he is doing?” asked Mackey, hot, tired and cranky.
“I have no idea,” said Julia.
Fuzzy disappeared for what felt like a long time, up into the canopy. When he reappeared, he was carrying a dead monkey.
“What the hell…” Cascaes started to say, and then he watched Fuzzy pull out a small wooden dart with green feathers attached to it. Fuzzy chattered away at Julia for a moment, then stopped and started examining the monkey.
Julia scratched her head. “I have no idea how he does that. Little Fuzzy over here says that the Pampidos were hunting here. Apparently, they hit this little guy with a blow-dart but he managed to escape and die up in the tree. I asked Fuzzy how he knew the monkey was up there, and I take it from his nasty explanation, that when the monkey died from the poison in the dart, which they get from blue tree frogs, by the way, they tend to shit their little brains out. He saw a nice spray of monkey poop all over the trees and leaves and knew what had happened immediately. He wants to know if he can keep the monkey. I told him yes.”
“Holy shit,” said Mackey.
“No pun intended,” said Cascaes quietly.
“Okay, so the Pampidos have been out this far, but this is still pretty far from the warning signs, right?” asked Cascaes.
Julia shrugged. “I have no idea. Right now, Fuzzy is happy to have his favorite food, but it will start getting dark soon, and he is going to get skittish about continuing on in the dark.”
“We can give him night vision,” said Cascaes.
“Chris! Are you out of your mind? You let him see glowing images in the dark and he will die of a heart attack. These guys are scared of night spirits. Night vision will definitely put him over the edge.” She folded her arms. “So now what?”
“So now our little friend and his monkey take you back to the boat and you go home. I’ll send one of the guys back with you to help with the raft. We’ll call you by radio when you can come back with the boat,” said Cascaes.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” she snapped back.
“It isn’t a request, ma’am. We are going to be going into combat tomorrow or the next day. It’s bad enough we have Theresa along—not a sexist comment—but she hasn’t trained with us at all. This is no time to start bringing in new personnel.”
“Look, admiral, you are going to need every member of your team, and Fuzzy is going to be a huge help tomorrow when you need to find the Pampidos territory border. He is better in the jungle than any one of your men—so admit it and stop thinking you have to baby-sit. I did the course at Langley, too.”
Mackey put his hand up before Chris could answer. “Stand down senior chief. She’s right. I don’t want to lose any of our crew if we can help it. Julia has kept up as well as any of the men. When it’s time to assault, we can keep her and Theresa out of direct combat. And Fuzzy has been amazing. He’s better than the damn computers or a bloodhound. I think we should keep moving until he won’t go any further, then find a place to overnight. We’ll move out real early and push hard tomorrow.”
Cascaes didn’t like it, but it wasn’t his call, and he also recognized that he was feeling slightly overprotective beyond professional feelings. When they went back to Fuzzy to tell him they wanted him to go forward, they found him squatting over the monkey, its head opened with his knife. He was happily eating the brains. Cascaes and Mackey looked at each other and grimaced. Fuzzy smiled and offered some to them on his fingertips, which was very generous since it was his favorite food. They politely declined. Julia explained that when he was finished, they wanted to keep moving forward. They chatted back and forth for a while, and finally Julia explained that he had agreed to keep going for a while more—just as soon as he was finished with dinner.
No human ear would have been sensitive enough to hear the slightest rustling of leaves as three Pampidos hunters melted back into the jungle, then began running like shadows towards their small village only a few kilometers away.
Chapter 29
Nightfall in the Jungle
Fuzzy had led them for another few kilometers on the trail that was visible apparently only to him. Cascaes continuously checked their location against his GPS computer and relayed that location back to Langley where Dex Murphy was being updated every hour or so on their progress. As dusk turned to twilight, Fuzzy began getting nervous. Even though he hadn’t lived in the jungle like the “wild Guaranis”, he still believed in the animal spirits that came out at night. Fuzzy worked his way back to Julia and told her it was time to find a shelter.
She relayed the information back to Mackey, who called Cascaes over to confer. They both wanted to keep moving for another few hours, and Julia tried pleading with Fuzzy. He was looking genuinely frightened, and refused. The two Chrises decided that Fuzzy was too valuable to leave, and that whatever time they lost by stopping early would be made up by Fuzzy’s expert guide service the next morning.
Fuzzy began his clicking and chattering with Julia for a bit, and she explained to Mackey and Cascaes that he needed to build a shelter to keep the spirits out. They helped him cut down a few very large leaves and ripped some huge pieces of bark from giant trees. They surrounded Fuzzy with the bark “walls” and placed leaves over his one-person apartment, and he curled up on the mossy ground and went to sleep. The team looked at each other, somewhat perplexed and entertained, and then set about securing a perimeter.
Raul Santos and Ernie P. moved quietly through the jungle together, weapons at the ready, and placed small computer sensors in a fifty-yard perimeter around their location in twenty-yard intervals. Anything that either moved or generated heat and weighed more than fifty pounds would light up on their small computer. They didn’t set booby-traps or claymores and would remain silent if possible.
After a dinner of cold MRE’s and some quiet conversation, the team set out small tarps with zip-up sleeping bags the purpose of which was simply to remain dry and free of insects. Cascaes took first watch with Smitty and everyone else tried to steal a few hours of sleep, weapons loaded and within reach. The quality of sleep one got in this jungle would be different than in the Everglades.
Chris made some instant coffee, which he drank cold, since they didn’t light a fire. He was sitting on a smooth rock, covered with thick green moss that made a comfortable seat. He smiled when Julia sat down next to him and pushed against his hip with her
own.
“Move over, admiral,” she whispered. “You’re hogging the whole thing.”
He smiled and felt himself blush. She had a funny effect on him. “There is no talking on watch. I bet you can’t last three minutes.” He stared into her eyes. Even covered with commando face paint she was beautiful, with high cheekbones and thick eyelashes.
She smiled and returned his gaze, then crossed her arms and made it a staring contest. After what seemed like a long time, she held up one finger—she was counting. They continued their contest until she raised her second finger, then her third. Cascaes leaned over and whispered into her ear.
“You win,” he whispered so quietly she could hardly hear, and then lightly kissed her neck.
Julia felt goose bumps on her arms, which she looked down to inspect, then showed them to Chris.
“Nice,” she whispered. “I think it’s been a while.”
She leaned over and kissed him full on the mouth, then whispered, “Goodnight.” She pulled his floppy jungle hat down playfully and stood up.
He watched her work herself into her thin sleeping bag, then cover herself up completely with the mosquito netting. She got herself as comfortable as possible, lying next to Theresa, and smiled to herself as she thought about her attraction to the navy SEAL only a few yards away.
The team rotated shifts throughout the night, allowing each man a few hours sleep. Though they monitored the computer all night, there was no activity beyond the sounds of the jungle at night.
Chapter 30
Vega’s Camp
The three Pampidos hunters ran the entire way back to their village from where they had spotted the soldiers. They had only seen six of Mackey’s crew, but knew from their camouflage uniforms and weapons it wouldn’t be wise to attack them without help. They ran through the village straight to Kuka’s oga, where they entered and knelt prone before their abrubicha, panting like racehorses.
Kuka, who was sitting with one of his wives when they entered, walked to his men and told them to speak. They reported seeing soldiers, who they thought were white men painted green to try and be invisible like them. They had seen six, and they appeared to be heading towards their village.
Kuka told the men to eat and rest, a compliment to their work, and headed out to find Enrique, whom he knew would not be happy. The last time white men came close to their camp, Vega had made Kuka take all of his warriors and Vega’s soldiers to find them. There had been three of them, and they fought hard when attacked. One of them had been able to escape, even though he had been wounded many times. The other two had been killed, but only after seven of Kuka’s men had also been killed. The Guaranis honored their enemies by eating them that evening over the campfires. Their skulls now served as a warning to others who would dare to venture too close to their village.
Kuka found Vega sitting with the three men who had been in and out of their village several times, but did not live there. He interrupted their conversation and began speaking too quickly for Vega to understand. After the third time, Vega’s face fell.
“You are sure? Soldiers are headed here? How far, Kuka?” he asked angrily.
Kuka counted to six, but time and distance was always tricky. Vega was guessing they were only a day away at most.
Vega turned to his Arab guests, his face red with anger.
“I told you your bombing would bring soldiers here!” screamed Vega.
He rarely raised his voice to the Arabs, but his anger had gotten the best of him. “If I have to move this damn village again, so help me God…” He stood and starting pacing. He pointed at Raman, whom he considered the leader. “This is your fault, Raman! I’ve got half a dozen soldiers coming here now—probably Americans, too.”
Raman’s face tightened. He wasn’t used to being spoken to in such a manner, and all three of the Arabs were miserable hiding out in the jungle to begin with. Their moods were already sour.
“Calm yourself, Seńor Vega,” said Raman through clenched teeth. “First of all, there are only six of them. You must have over a hundred savages here, plus your own men. You’ll deal with them like you did last time.”
Vega was furious now. “Last time I almost had Kuka quit on me after a bunch of his men were machine gunned. Then I had to move my entire operation deeper into this godforsaken jungle and add another day to our coke shipments. It cost me a lot of money, Raman.”
Ali Aziz, always calm and methodical, sat twirling his beard as usual. “Calm, Señor Vega. We must all remain calm. We will pay you for any inconvenience. You will find these soldiers and kill them. No one will ever find them, and your camp can remain right where it is. We will get you some extra weapons next trip to make sure you are properly protected. And I doubt that these are Americans, anyway. They have no reason to be here. The soldiers are probably Paraguayan police, pressured to make a show of force. You won’t have too much trouble.”
Vega tried to calm himself and contemplated that. “Perhaps,” he said, “but they are only a day or so away. We need to get organized immediately.” He stood up and spoke to Kuka, and the two of them left their Arab comrades in the hut as they set off to organize their small army.
Kuka found a small boy and spoke quickly to him, sending the boy to the center of the village to begin pounding on a large drum that would bring all of the warriors running. Vega jogged down to the coke barn, where a few of his men sat outside smoking and playing cards. He told them that there were soldiers coming, and they immediately scrambled to find the others. Within ten minutes, all ten of Vega’s men had their AK-47s loaded and were down by the village. Kuka’s warriors had assembled and awaited instructions.
Vega walked into the center of the village with his men behind him and approached Kuka. He spoke to him in Guarani, appealing to his pride and warrior mentality. He loudly called upon the Great abrubicha Kuka to assemble only his bravest warriors to fight the intruders. He would need them to be great fighters, fast and fearless, to attack those that would destroy their homes and kill their women and children. It was a decent enough speech to work the men into a frenzy, and the drums began almost immediately, followed by whistles and singing from the women.
Kuka ordered his men to prepare, which meant painting themselves and putting on their feathers, stringing their large bows, and preparing their poison arrows. They would gather their weapons, eat a hearty dinner of meat, and then take off silently into their jungle to kill anyone that dared entered their territory.
Vega walked back to his cabin followed by his men, knowing they would need a few minutes for the Guaranis to be in full battle dress. Besides being fearless warriors, they had the ability to scare the shit out of their enemies by merely showing up—over one hundred natives, painted red and green, with small feathers tied in their hair. Bones and animal teeth were pushed through their earlobes, noses and lower lips, and their stone-age weapons looked as menacing as any AK-47 up close.
Vega’s men had put together backpacks full of ammunition, water and smoked meats, fish, and plant roots. They pulled their packs on and made sure their weapons were loaded and ready, then assembled in front of Vega. Carlos, one of Vega’s best men, asked if there was any specific plan. Vega told Carlos to leave behind two men with him, and take everyone else to follow the Guaranis back to where they spotted the intruders.
The three Arabs watched silently as the men prepared to move out. Then Raman broke the silence. “Perhaps we should consider having a few of your men lead us back to the river. It might be a good time to try and get to the airport, if the police are more concerned with the jungle.”
Vega looked at him and resisted the urge to call him a coward and slit his throat.
“No, Raman. You started this mess. You’ll stay here until it is over.”
Ali Aziz, seeing Vega’s anger seething, said, “Of course, Señor Vega. We will stay until the situation has been taken care o
f. I’m sure it will only be another day or so, and then we will be out of your hair.”
Vega ignored him and walked out followed by his men. He told Carlos to keep an eye on them and make sure they didn’t try and make a run for it. He didn’t trust them, and their little business arrangement of convenience was beginning to look less attractive. Carlos and three men stayed in camp with the Guarani women and children, and a handful of older men. The rest of the men were painted and prepared for battle and sat chewing coca leaves.
Kuka emerged from his oga, looking quite impressive. His head was encircled with orange feathers, and his body was covered in painted green polka dots. He carried his alligator tooth-lined club and had a knife tucked in his loincloth. Long porcupine quills had been inserted through his nose making him look even fiercer. He shouted to his warriors, who shouted back and began chanting, now high on coca leaves. The three young hunters who had spotted the soldiers trotted out into the jungle to lead the way, followed by Kuka and his warriors, who brandished clubs, spears, knives, large bows and arrows and blowguns. Vega’s men followed the seemingly endless line of warriors into the jungle.
Within a few moments, the Guaranis had gone silent, and trotted through the woods without making the slightest noise. They were invisible, and headed for battle.
Chapter 31
Operation Jimmy
Mornings were loud in the Paraguayan jungle. The birds weren’t singing, they were screaming. So were the monkeys and various other animals that scampered overhead in the giant double canopy of ancient trees. The sun was barely up, and already the jungle had exploded into activity. Moose had been up early, and dug a deep pit where he burned some sterno to boil water for coffee. No longer worried about light giving away their position, the tiny fire was safe, since it didn’t produce much smoke.
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