Pray for Darkness: Terror in the Green Inferno (16 page)

Thirty

As the sun began its slow descent, Ernesto unceremoniously chose a place to set up camp for the evening. It was a rather poor choice for a camp, he knew, surrounded by so many damaged trees and in such close proximity to a low-lying swamp, but he could see in the Americans’ eyes that they could go no further.

Unshouldering their backpacks, Ben, Auggie, Cooper, Janie, and Brooke all sank to the ground, alternating between guzzling water and panting like dogs. Meanwhile, Ernesto and Oscar engaged in a brief discussion regarding the layout of the campsite. The others could not understand all they were saying, but their gestures made it rather easy to follow the conversation. The air was thick with humidity and the stink of sweat; it was the smell of the human body being pushed to the extreme. Ben looked around at the glistening, dirt-caked faces, and what he saw alarmed him. Their eyes were glazed and unfocused, as though they had lost all sense of hope and purpose.

Brooke leaned against him heavily, resting her head against his lap. Her body was rigid, her muscles tense. He looked down at her and she smiled weakly at him through the wet tangles of hair. He found it difficult to return the gesture. When he was finally able to form some semblance of a smile, it felt cheerless and false, though if she sensed his apprehension she did a fine job concealing it. “Are you okay?” he whispered. Looking up at him, she nodded emphatically, and her face looked as open and innocent as a child’s. Ben ran his fingers through her damp hair, smoothing it back from her face. The tension left her body and she closed her eyes, her smile somehow deepening with his every touch.
Amazing
, he thought,
that she can still smile at all after what we’ve been through
.

There had been little preparation in their departure from the Brazil nut camp. Since they had left in such a hurry, they had only taken two of the tents—the boys’ large dome tent and Ernesto’s small pup tent—and even then they had not bothered to bring along all the poles and guy lines. Nor had they brought their sleeping bags and pillows. Ernesto spoke quietly to Oscar, who nodded in response. Then Ernesto came over to talk to them while Oscar used his one good arm to wield the machete and cut a nearby bough, which he used to sweep the ground clear to make way for the tents.

“We camping here,” Ernesto said. “For one night only. We have two tents. You can share the tents. It will not be too much room, but I think all can fit inside. We will set them up there, away from the old trees.”

“What about you?” Brooke asked. “And Oscar?”

Ernesto pooched out his bottom lip and shrugged. “We will stay by to keep a fire going.” He licked his lips and then added, “For to keep the insects and the animals away.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Ben persisted. “We can all share the tents.”

“Is okay,” Ernesto said. “We grew up on the river. We are used to sleeping outside, uh-huh.”

“I can stay up with you,” Ben offered. “We can take turns sleeping.”

A deep crease darkened Ernesto’s brow. “Mmm, is okay. Oscar and I can take turns asleeping by the fire.”

A terrible thought occurred to Ben:
He wants to keep watch—to make sure we’re safe. He doesn’t want us to know that there’s anything to be afraid of. He doesn’t want us to know that there’s something still out there.

“Anyway,” Ernesto went on, “we will set up the tents and gather for the food.”

Thirty-one

At home, while planning their Amazon adventure, Ben had been unable to find any reviews regarding the quality of the food that would be served during their jungle stay. In the spirit of preparedness, he, Auggie, and Cooper had each loaded up on emergency rations in the form of protein bars, hydration tablets, and trail mix. While Cooper had eaten all but one of his protein bars out of sheer boredom during the long flight from Boston to Lima, Ben and Auggie had both rationed out their portions, eating only one apiece during their hike in and around Machu Picchu. Now they dug through their backpacks in order to take stock of their remaining supplies.

Between them, they had seven protein bars, one bag of trail mix, two small bags of Corn Nuts, and five hydration tablets. Ernesto had also packed some bananas, a small amount of leftover mango chicken with rice from the previous night, and a package of plantain chips. After some discussion, they decided to eat the leftovers since the prepared food would be the first to spoil.

Stomachs grumbling, mouths salivating, they gathered around Ernesto’s bonfire as they waited for the food to cook. Gone completely were those feelings of camaraderie and the thrill of adventure that had been so prevalent the night before; they were too weary to socialize, and any sense of excitement had died with Felix and Felipe.

“Do you think— ” Janie began and immediately stopped herself. Bowing her head, she began to fidget with her fingers. “Never mind.”

Cooper leaned closer to her. “Think what?” he coaxed gently.

The once sassy brunette had said very little since the Brazil nut camp and had become increasingly more distant, almost to the point of abstraction. A few days earlier, Janie Castellano would have verbally castrated anyone who had the gall to treat her as the stereotypical “helpless female”, but tonight she had been uncharacteristically compliant when Brooke offered to put ointment on her burns, nor did she protest when Cooper began to scrub her face and neck clean with a Wet-Nap. Now, as she spoke, they turned to her expectantly, silently compelling her to continue. “Do you think we’ll have enough food to last until… until we get back?”

Ernesto felt the combined weight of their eyes upon him—eyes that burned with a dim and fragile hope—and he was glad when he did not have to lie to them. “Yes,” he said, nodding. “There is food all around us in the jungle. Fruits, nuts, flowers. Food, plenty of food, good food. So eat, eat. Is good for to keep up the energy so you don’t lose your strength.”

Dinner was ready. Ernesto served the meager portions in plastic cups and passed the containers around their little circle. The silverware had been abandoned back at the Brazil nut camp, and no one uttered a complaint when they were forced to eat with their hands. For dessert, Ben divided three of the protein bars in half and passed the pieces around the circle. It occurred to him that perhaps he should be more particular when it came to rationing their supplies, but in the end he decided to follow Ernesto’s advice about the importance of keeping up their strength.

Watching the embers burn, Auggie tried to picture Felipe before last night—the handsome movie star face, with its chiseled angles and dark eyes—but no matter how hard he tried, the memory would not come. In its place was a nightmare variant; the handsome, brooding features twisted into an impossible funhouse sneer, the movie star smile shattered and dripping with gore. Even this image was difficult to hold for very long, for it was quickly replaced by that of a hollowed-out cavern of a face, shattered beyond all recognition by Ernesto and his trusty rock. And Felix, poor jovial Felix, whose throat had been torn out while he was still alive…

Auggie shivered at the thought of the two bodies lying alone at the Brazil nut camp, left to the mercy of all manner of animal and insect life. He had never considered himself a religious person; though he had attended church as a boy and even received his first communion, he still found it difficult, if not impossible, to put much stock in anything that could not be examined, observed, or calculated in some scientific way. All the same, he felt there was something morally wrong about not giving the bodies a proper burial.

…Left them there. We just left them there like… like garbage.

What if it had been one of them back there? Ben or Cooper or the two girls? What if it had been him? Would they have also left his body behind to putrefy in the jungle heat?

Then a terrible thought crept into Auggie’s mind:
What if we all end up that way? Who would know? Who would ever know?

Suddenly, his throat closed and he began to choke on a mouthful of rice.

“Are you okay?” Brooke asked, rubbing his shoulder.

Auggie nodded, still choking. His shoulder muscles were full of knots and spasms, and her touch had a salutary effect that gave him the chills. Swallowing hard, the lump of food squeezed slowly down his throat and at last he could breathe again.

Thirty-two

“Talk to me,” Cooper pleaded gently. “Please.”

In the darkness of the tent, she could just see the vague profile of his high cheek-boned face in the moonlight. She was glad she could not see his eyes because that also meant that he could not see hers. She was afraid—more afraid than she had ever been in her entire life—and she did not want him to see her cry. The night song blotted out most other sounds, though on occasion she thought she could hear the murmur of conversation from the next tent over. There was a faint glow outside the tent wall, a flickering white dot in the distance, and she found some small comfort in knowing that Ernesto and Oscar were still out there keeping watch by the tiny fire.

“I’m scared,” Janie whispered, and the relief that followed this confession pleasantly surprised her. “I’m scared,” she repeated, as though tasting the words in her mouth for the first time. “I’m sorry, I—” The words died in her throat as she choked back a sob.

“Hey,” Cooper whispered soothingly. “Don’t apologize. We’re all scared, even Ben, though he doesn’t really show it. But Ernesto will get—”

“I just can’t stop thinking about Felix… and Felipe. I—I’ve never seen…” She shuddered at the memory of Felipe’s black eyes and bloodstained teeth. “Can we not talk about this anymore tonight?”

Cooper found her hand in the darkness. “That’s probably a good idea. Why don’t you try to get some sleep, okay? Ernesto and the big guy are both standing watch, and you need to rest for tomorrow.”

Janie laced her fingers with his. Then her lips, warm and wet, brushed against his skin as she kissed the back of his hand. This unexpected show of affection gave him pleasant chills, and for a fleeting moment he entertained the possibility of a sexual interlude, though he knew it was neither the time nor the place to indulge in such thoughts.

“Will you—will you watch over me while I sleep?”

“Absolutely,” he replied without hesitation. “You don’t even have to ask.”

“I don’t mean all night or anything,” she added quickly. “Just, you know, until I fall asleep.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

A pause. “You’re a good guy, Cooper...”

He was waiting for her to finish, and so he said nothing.

A few seconds passed before he realized she was crying.

“Hey,” he whispered. “It’s okay.” Reaching out blindly, his fingers found her face and he began to stroke her hair.

Rolling closer, she pressed her lips against him, fumbling in the dark and missing his mouth altogether. She found this amusing and was still giggling when his mouth found hers. He kissed her deeply, passionately. After, she put her head on his chest and they embraced one another. He stayed that way for some time, and when her breathing became rhythmic and her arms went slack, he knew she was asleep.

Almost immediately she began to dream, watery snippets of memories: she and Brooke and their friends dancing on the beach in Panama City during spring break; a random conversation with her mother about her Aunt Beatrice, crazy Aunt Beatrice, who was going back to rehab for the umpteenth time. The dream at last shifted to a more recent memory: she was dangling high above the ground as she peeked inside one of the artificial nests, and inside she saw a young chick, a baby macaw. The macaw was mewling softly, and as it lifted its bald head, she could see that it was badly deformed. Its eyes were the eyes of a hooked fish, and from the center of its tiny skull there sprouted a whitish-gray horn with several points, like the twisted roots of a tree. In the dream, she drew back from the chick in blind terror, flailing wildly as she became hopelessly entangled in the ropes that held her. One of the ropes found its way around her neck and she started to choke, hanging like a
piñata
sixty feet above the green earth. Then, mercifully, her dream faded to black.

Feeling her shudder, Cooper held her tighter, wondering what she was dreaming about.

After a time, though he struggled against it, he eventually joined her in sleep.

Thirty-three

Still wavering in and out of sleep, Brooke rolled onto her side and reached out her arm in search of warmth and comfort, but her hand passed too quickly through the chill air, landing with a soft thud on the nylon floor. Inching closer, her hand continued forward in search of contact, but where Ben had been sleeping beside her there was only an empty space. All at once the alarm bells began to ring inside her head, and she sat up on her elbows, no longer sleepy but instantly awake.

It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the darkness, and when they did she was able to confirm what she had already feared: Ben was gone.

Please… let him be okay.

Rolling over, she saw that Auggie was still there, sleeping soundly in the fetal position.

Fumbling for the tab, Brooke unzipped the tent door and crept outside. Like a beacon, her eyes were inevitably drawn to the dim glow of Ernesto’s fire, perhaps twenty yards away. She could see the dark outlines of people there, vague shadows that blocked the light, though it was difficult to tell if there were two men or three. Perhaps Ben had joined the two guides to keep vigil over the fire? This seemed likely, only too likely, knowing Ben. Hugging herself against the chill air, she had just decided to join him when she heard branches breaking behind the tent.

She whirled around and froze, staring into darkness.

“Ben?” she called. Maybe he had only popped out for a bathroom break. Had she not been so skittish, she would have stayed asleep, and he would have done his business and been back inside before she’d even noticed. Now here she was, creeping around in the dark like a stalker, suddenly feeling like a fool. Well, she did have to go pee, but unlike the boys, she did not have the luxury of just whipping it out any old time she had to go. No, for her it was not so easy. As a girl she had to drop her pants and squat… which meant that she needed someone to stand guard for her. Surely, Ben would understand that. At the very least, she thought this was a valid excuse as to why she had come looking for him.

“Ben?”

Inside the tent, she heard Auggie murmur something unintelligible, and then some part of him, maybe a leg or an arm, made the fabric bulge as he shifted positions in his sleep.

Peering into the darkness, she listened.

There was only the susurration of insects, her own shallow breathing, and now, she noticed, something that boomed like a drum inside her ears.

“Hello?”

The voice came from behind her. Near the fire.

She turned and saw a familiar figure standing there, illuminated by the dim light.

Ben.

Brooke felt a prickle of fear slither down her spine. She had to fight the desire to run to him, to race into the light as quickly as possible, to throw herself into his strong arms. But before she could do so, the rational part of her that told her if she were to make a sudden move of any kind, something very bad would happen to her. Backing away slowly, she turned and started walking toward the fire.

“Hey!” Ben said, coming toward her. “What’s wrong?”

Behind him, Oscar was slouched over against a tree trunk, apparently asleep. Ernesto was watching her, and now he stood up behind Ben, somehow managing to look at ease and totally alert, as always.

Brooke had started walking toward him when, behind her, a single branch snapped beneath an invisible weight. To her frightened ears, it seemed as loud as a firecracker, a gunshot, a stick of dynamite. She shivered, her legs suddenly boneless. Somehow, she wasn’t sure how, she knew she was being watched. The sensation was almost palpable, like a cold fire that started in the pit of her stomach and worked its way into her heart. She managed one more step and then froze, unsure if she could move even if she wanted to.

Eyes—watching her.
Studying
her.

The logical part of her was convinced this was simply her imagination running rampant.
If a tree falls in the forest and there’s no one there to hear it… does it make a sound?
Sure, yeah sure. Except she
was
there to hear it, and that’s probably exactly what she had heard, just some rotted old branch falling off a tree. And even if she was right, even if there was something out there watching her, it was probably just a monkey or a pig or some other little creature. But even as she told herself these things, the undeniable reality was this:

They were not alone.