Pray for Darkness: Terror in the Green Inferno (10 page)

Fifteen

Deeper into the night, both predators and prey had grown ominously quiet. From some distant part of the rainforest, a bird uttered a lonely cry that echoed beneath the trees, bouncing around the canopy before slowly fading into oblivion. Not even the trees stirred, as if they too had been frightened into stillness.

Four dark figures slid stealthily through the underbrush. Their shadows glided with a swiftness limited only to animals well adapted to their surroundings. Here and there the canopy allowed pencil beams of moonlight to filter through. As the pearly light flickered across their bodies, the figures appeared as humans, walking upright in single file through the steamy night. Their bodies were crisscrossed with scars and open wounds that festered unattended, and their teeth were stained red with the blood of a fresh kill.

As a light rain began to fall, the foremost creature stopped to scent the wind, and the others fell in line obediently and began to do the same. Four mangled heads turned skyward, their faces no longer recognizable beneath the gaping wounds and calcified protrusions that sprouted from their heads like malformed horns. The one in front was significantly bigger than the others; roughly six feet in height and rippling with thickly packed muscle. This was their soldier and the alpha of the group, partly due to his strength and stature, and partly because it was he who had created the others in his own image.

The soldier and his progeny tasted the air in search of prey, basing the hunt on an instinct they knew nothing of.

A moment later, there was a rustle behind the cordon, and the straggler pried himself loose of the brier, still dressed in the remnants of clothing stained dark by his own dripping blood. Thin legs wobbling, he was slower than the others, for he had not yet evolved like them. There was a muffled grinding sound as his jaws ratcheted open and then snapped shut with such force that his molars shattered, the tiny pieces crumbling away into dust. Still the jaws worked tirelessly, wearing the teeth down to jagged little nubs.

Alert to his otherness, they waited patiently for him to turn. Instinct made them sympathetic to this, his awkward phase. At last he staggered into line, his face wet and glistening. A patch of hair and scalp had been torn away from the top of his head, and the wound was bleeding profusely and buzzing with hungry insects.

High above the canopy, the clouds shifted rapidly across the sky, and the stars disappeared and reappeared, repeating this celestial magic show until the heavens finally dwindled from gray to black, and the glittering lights faded completely, vanishing as though they would never return again.

Soon they resumed the hunt. Concealed by the perfect darkness, they swept the jungle clear.

Sixteen

They were awake before the sun.

As had become their daily routine, Ernesto came to get them, calling softly outside their curtained room until someone eventually responded. Today it was Auggie who was pulled from the womb of sleep, his bed being the closest to the door. Bleary-eyed, he flipped aside his covers, pulled free the bug net, and parted the curtain. Ernesto was standing in the black hole of the hallway, holding a flashlight that looked tiny even in his small hand.

“Hi,” Auggie mumbled, wiping away the grit from his eyes.

“Hello,” Ernesto whispered. “You have tirty minutes for to get ready for the clay lick. We will meet at the entrance?”

Half an hour later they were ready to go.

They found Janie and Brooke just outside the front archway, chatting with two couples they had all met in the dining hall the night before; an older man and woman from England, and a young German couple; a lanky man with an affable smile and his companion, a fair-haired girl who could easily have been mistaken as his sister.

The clay lick was only a short boat ride upstream from the dock. As the sky opened like a wound, they arrived at a narrow rise of land; a small island perched at the confluence of the main river and one of its many tributaries. As Felix guided the
peki-peki
to the shore, Ernesto picked up a bulky daypack and turned to the passengers. “Is here, the clay lick.”

After the gear and small folding chairs were unloaded from the
peki-peki
, Felix shoved off from the shore and pulled away. With a wave of his hand, he spun the bow around and headed back toward the research center, effectively stranding them on the nameless strip of land. Behind him, the wound opened wider along the horizon, and the rising sun spilled its crimson light across the treetops. The two couples plodded on ahead, carrying tripods, folding chairs, and long-range cameras, while the others walked behind with Ernesto, each carrying his or her own folding chair. The path ascended into a dark forest where the trees overlapped, creating a natural tunnel that gradually sloped down through a tiny meadow dotted with flowers. Crossing the meadow, they reentered the green dimness of the forest, where the trail immediately became a slick incline, and the increasing humidity made them break into a fresh sweat. At last the forest opened to a bald patch that overlooked the river from a height of perhaps twenty feet. Below them, an unnamed tributary of the river meandered slowly, throwing off little ghostlike wisps of vapor, and on the opposite side was a red cliff that rose another thirty feet before terminating in the undergrowth.

“Is the largest clay lick in the world,” Ernesto explained with an obvious note of pride. “The birdess come every day and circle to look for predators. When they feel is safe, they makes the noises and then they come down to eat the clay, uh-huh.”

Right now, the clay lick was an empty slab, absent of life. Ernesto produced a small propane stove and a titanium teakettle from his pack and set about the task of boiling water, while the foreigners picked their viewing spots and readied their cameras.

“They’re professional photographers,” Brooke explained. “They’ve been here for about two weeks. And the guy with the beard—he’s putting together a documentary for BBC.”

The boys nodded, impressed. Auggie looked at his small camera and felt a pang of envy toward the professionals. They were arranging their tripods and testing out their telephoto lenses.

“Would you like?” Ernesto said, appearing with the pot of boiling water and a basket full of metal cups and various tea bags. Cooper recognized the telltale green wrapper immediately.

“Coca tea!” he exclaimed. The boys each took a cup and a packet of the earthy tea. In the early dawn, they were content to sip the stimulating beverage as they faced the clay lick, waiting.

Auggie looked over at Ben, who was sitting with his video camera balanced on his lap and staring at the clay lick with that faraway smile; then at Cooper, who was flirting back and forth with Janie.

Leaning forward, Brooke tapped Auggie on the arm. “You want to look that way first,” she told him, pointing. “You’ll hear the birds before you see them. Then they’ll start to come in groups. The little green parrots will arrive mostly together, then the blue parrots, followed by the scarlet macaws, the blue-and-yellow macaws, and so on. Not necessarily in that order, of course, but you get the idea.”

“Amazing,” Auggie breathed softly as the heat rushed into his cheeks. Turning his head, he saw that she was the closest person to him now. Smiling to herself, her eyes were full of wonder as she gazed across at the clay lick. He imagined what it would be like to have a woman look at him that way, with such intense interest, as though he were the most important thing in the world. As his imagination ran away from him, the heat began to spread from his ears down to his neck, and he felt the maddening urge to scratch himself.

All at once a loud, discordant squawking broke the tranquility, and the sky exploded with flashes of color. A bright red macaw circled above the clay lick as dozens of his kindred landed in the branches of a tall tree that poked its crown through the roof of the canopy. Soon the branches of the surrounding trees were aflutter with birds of all plumages, their harsh cries echoing up and down the river.

“Oh, look,” she said, pointing again.

A cluster of green parakeets flew frantically from the left, finding a separate tree on which to stake their claim. Auggie leaned toward Cooper. “This is gonna be great. It’s too bad you didn’t bring your camera.”

Cooper tapped two fingers against his temple. “It’s all up here, my friend.”

Birds arrived from all directions, and soon the vivid reds, blues, greens, and yellows of their bodies dotted the treetops like Christmas decorations. Their agitated cries became hushed, almost conversational, as they surveyed the area for any potential threats. At last there was a series of loud squawks—a battle cry that spread through the treetops—before the various flocks took wing and descended on the clay lick by the hundreds.

Auggie found that his lens was just sufficient to capture the birds at this distance. Zooming in on a pair of scarlet macaws, he saw how their bright wings shivered convulsively as they fed. Auggie snapped several pictures, checked the images with the preview function, and then focused on a group of green parrots. He smiled, and suddenly all his fear and apprehension seemed to vanish. Little by little, he had surrendered himself to the lure of the jungle life, in ways that surprised not only his two friends but also Auggie himself. Though he still conducted himself with the utmost caution, never straying far beyond the main grounds and never after dark, there were several occasions when he had ventured out on his own—drenched in insect repellent, and camera in hand—only to reappear an hour or two later, triumphant in his return.

On such occasions, Auggie felt a growing sense of pride as he recounted his brief adventures and showed off his newest photographs, much to the delight of his friends. Having studied all the facts and figures of the region, his inquisitive nature was beginning to pay dividends. Not only was he putting his research to good use, but he was also gaining some firsthand experience. For the very first time, he understood that the intellectual mind need not be confined to classrooms, libraries, and lecture halls, for the only true way to learn about the world was to be a part of it.

Watching his friend intently, Ben thought about that old cliché, the one about carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. Although his was a much smaller burden, it was no less concerning at times. After all, he was the one who had planned this entire trip. Whatever happened—whether the trip turned out to be an utter failure or the thrill of a lifetime—it would fall squarely on him. Of course, Ben had planned the trip, so it appealed to his own sense of adventure. And Cooper was easy; he could practically entertain himself. Auggie, on the other hand, took interest in everything and pleasure in nothing, for he was too cautious to truly enjoy himself. Only now…

There was Auggie, smiling with camera raised, totally absorbed in the avian spectacle before him. Seeing this, Ben felt the burden of responsibility ebbing away, leaving him with a light, pleasant feeling.

Breathing a mental sigh of relief, Ben settled back in his chair to enjoy the show.

Sunshine crept tentatively up the tributary, filling the space between the watchers and the clay lick. Then, as the yellow light touched upon the morning haze, the clay lick came alive. Colorful wings flapped lazily as parrots and macaws and parakeets traded places up and down the red bank, scooping up the clay with their beaks, pausing on occasion to preen themselves. Soon their song became a cheerful note, and an atmosphere of celebration developed among them. Vibrant and carefree, the birds behaved as though they somehow knew that life for them would forever be an endless summer—that time would never rob them of their youthful splendor, and their delicate plumes would never know the bitter chill of winter.

Indifferent to the human intruders, they went noisily about their business while the humans looked on in quiet wonder.

Seventeen

The tree rose up and up, disappearing in the leafy roof of the canopy as if to touch the sky. Its brown trunk was the width of a cottage, the thick buttressed roots snaking out along the jungle floor like the tentacles of some mythical beast. Standing beside the great Ceiba tree with his video camera in hand, Ben felt humbled by its imposing presence.

Brooke gestured to a smaller tree nearby, its trunk tangled with a net of vines. “Look over here for a minute. These are the vines I was telling you about before.”

Ben zoomed out to get a shot of the vines. “So this is what they use for malaria?”

“Yeah, I think the native tribes grind it down and boil it in a tea or something. Sometimes they combine it with other plants as part of a spiritual ceremony. But the most amazing thing about it is that the jungle causes the disease but it also provides the cure. Almost everything we need to survive can be found right here… food, medicine, oxygen…” She smiled shyly. “Sorry, I’m rambling. I’ll shut up now.”

Ben smiled back at her. “No, this is awesome. I like listening to you ramble.”

Brooke rolled her eyes. She was blushing. “Okay, but can you put the camera away for a little bit?”

Ben slipped the video camera inside the dry-bag, first cinching up the top of the bag and then fastening the plastic clips to keep it watertight. “I know I’m really obsessive about this camera thing,” he said, putting the dry-bag away inside his backpack, “but I love the idea of putting a little movie together so I can show everyone how amazing this place is.”

When he looked up, Brooke was smiling at him.

For several seconds they stood in comfortable silence, admiring one another.

“Up there,” Brooke said suddenly. She leaned against him, touching his arm for balance as she aimed a finger straight up toward the vertiginous height of the tree. The unexpected softness of her touch excited him, made him shiver with delight. Perhaps seventy feet above them, a series of branches protruded from the top of the vertical trunk, splayed fingers that reached ever upward. Just beneath the branches was a long wooden box that dangled from a thick length of rope. The rope was looped through a pulley and attached to the trunk at intervals. At the base of the tree was a long coil of slack that was used for lowering the box by releasing the rope through the pulley.

“That’s one of the artificial nests. The macaws use it for breeding, and we climb up there to check the number of chicks.”

Ben had to tilt his head all the way back to focus on the wooden nest.

“Wow,” he breathed. “You go way up there?”

“Yeah. Janie and I both.”

“That’s badass,” he murmured, wondering if he himself would have the stamina to undertake such a harrowing climb.

She nodded reflectively. “Sometimes we use ascenders to get up there and take a look, but the majority of the time we can lower the nest down to the ground, where we weigh, measure, and take photos of the chicks to make sure they’re healthy. If one is unhealthy, we bring it back to the center to see if we can nurse it. When we first got here, we had this baby scarlet macaw—Janie named him Rex because she said he looked like a little dinosaur. He was just this sickly little thing, but we were able to hand feed him until he was strong enough to eat on his own.”

As she laughed at the memory, Ben marveled at the way the afternoon shadows accentuated her cheekbones. Again he wondered how her beauty had escaped him on that first night at the lodge. From the onset, he’d felt an instant attraction toward Janie—tall, voluptuous Janie, with her olive skin and bedroom eyes. Brooke had merely been an afterthought, the cute little sidekick with the quick wit and a ready smile.
A few degrees south of beautiful
, he remembered thinking. Looking at her now—the wet strands of hair poking out from beneath her bandana; the tiny beads of sweat glistening on her chest; those expressive eyes and well-formed lips, always on the verge of smiling—he thought she was the most hauntingly beautiful woman he had ever met. It was amazing how something as simple as conversation, a brief interaction, and the way someone looked at you could change your entire perception of a person.

Suddenly, the humor left her face and her voice became strained. “Now they’re building that Interoceanic Highway… did you see the construction when you left the dock back in Puerto?”

Ben nodded. He had a vague recollection of seeing a dozen or so construction vehicles, bulldozers, and other pieces of heavy machinery parked along the dirt road leading from Puerto Malaka to the river dock where Felix had met them in the
peki-peki
; it all seemed so long ago.

“They’re destroying so much jungle just to build another goddamned highway, and it’s already had a huge impact on the mating habits of the local animals, especially the bird population. People just don’t get it. The jungle is a fragile place, and once it’s gone, it’s gone.” Brooke’s voice rose passionately in the telling of her story. Suddenly she paused, blushing. “Sorry,” she breathed, the cheerful color returning to her voice. “I was rambling again.”

“Don’t apologize” Ben said gently. He paused. “Look, I’m not going to pretend I know a lot about this stuff, but I love the outdoors in general, and I love this place. I think it’s bullshit that anyone would want to tear it down, especially to build a road that no one even needs…”

“Anyway,” Brooke continued, “we got Rex back to health, and he still comes to visit the lodge sometimes, almost, you know, like he’s coming to say ‘thank you’.”

Brooke’s fingers were still resting on his arm, and now they moved unconsciously, caressing his bare skin. Ben knew he was staring, but he was unable to look away. Her head was tilted all the way back and she was still focused on the artificial nest. Sunlight filtered down through the canopy, creating a sparkle effect across her face and illuminating the depths of her eyes. After a few seconds, she turned and looked at him. Ben now saw that her eyes were not entirely green, for they had different depths he had never noticed before, delicate brush strokes of scarlet and tiny flecks of hazel and black, an ever-expanding universe of color. It crossed his mind that he should kiss her now. Her plump, smiling lips beckoned him, practically daring him to make a move. Leaning closer, he saw her mouth begin to open in anticipation. Eyelashes fluttering, she squeezed his arm.

Brooke saw the handsome face move in at last. A pleasant dizziness consumed her, as though she were no longer herself but a character in some romantic movie.

A branch cracked beneath the weight of some unseen creature, and their heads jerked in time toward the sound. There was silence as they scanned the underbrush for the source of the sound.

“What was that?” whispered Ben.

Brooke held up a hand to silence him. Her keen eyes remained fixed on the jungle, moving from trunk to trunk, bush to bush. There was the rustling of leaves and then—

There was no wind, yet ten yards away, a bush shook with movement. Something was lurking there.

Brooke twitched and Ben’s back went rigid. Instinctively, he positioned his body in front of her in a protective posture, his hands closing to form tight fists.

He called out. “Is someone there?”

All at once the undergrowth trembled with the sound of laughter.

“Shit! They caught us!”

Cooper and Janie popped up from behind the dense thicket where they’d been hiding.

Ben and Brooke looked at each other longingly, their romantic interlude now ended before it had begun.

Cooper galloped over and gave Ben a high five. “What’s up, man? Janie wanted to show me the bird house.”

Ben frowned. “Hey, where’s Auggie-dog?”

“The Professor?” Cooper said, walking over to rest his hand on the massive tree trunk. “I think he said he was going for a walk to take some pictures. He said something about a termite nest or something. He’s getting some really great shots, let me tell you.”

Ben nodded, relieved.

Janie batted her long eyelashes and smiled seductively. “Well,” she sighed, “I guess now it’s a foursome.” She was not wearing a bra, and the sweat had beaded along her tanned cleavage. Her nipples protruded slightly from the confines of a tight white tank top that left precious little to the imagination.

“Alright!” cheered Cooper. He put one arm around Brooke’s shoulders, the other around Ben’s.

“Okay,” Brooke said, sighing. “Well, what do you guys want to see next?”