Pray for Darkness: Terror in the Green Inferno (8 page)

Ten

The river, like the jungle, was always changing.

An hour after they left the lodge, the water became turbid and gray, the color of sewage. Gone were the sandy shores and swaying palms that, only yesterday, had conjured images of tropical locales and exotic women with rum libations. In their place, massive walls of green encroached the banks, which were little more than the suggestion of solid ground, jagged scrawls of dark sludge that descended quickly into the unknown depths below. The trees and underbrush were a tangled confusion of vines, branches, foliage; it was impossible to tell where one growth ended and another began. With its fan-shaped fronds and solid trunks, the previous day’s landscape had, for the most part, a familiar aesthetic, whereas this new landscape was a nightmare for the eye; like a child’s interpretation of a jungle, it resembled an unplanned, unfinished scribble of green with no discernible pattern and no perceivable boundaries.

The sputter of a diesel engine drew their attention to the shore as they passed an ungainly metal contraption that seemed to serve no perceivable function but to make noise and belch smoke. Save for three or four wooden bowls that had been arranged upon the trembling platform, there were no other signs of human life. Upon seeing the unmanned machine, Brooke’s mobile mouth turned downward.

“Hey,” Cooper said. “It’s another one of those gold extractors, right? Like from the other day?”

Brooke’s eyes narrowed. She crossed her arms. “That’s exactly what it is,” she replied in a voice that trembled with anger. Her small hand became a fist that opened and closed, opened, closed. “Those prospectors are destroying the river. And the vapors pollute the air. We’ve already seen some of the damage, but the long-term effects will be immeasurable. There are species here that haven’t even been named yet, and these assholes are going to wipe them out before they can even be discovered. For what? Some yellow rocks that can be found almost anywhere in the world?”

Ben studied her admiringly. This sudden outburst intrigued him. Her anger was passionate, deep, and instant, and it somehow made him like her even more.

For the next three hours, the going was slow, their progress impeded by the rocky shallows and by the occasional cluster of fallen trees. Several times they actually felt the wooden vessel scrape bottom—a cringe-worthy sensation, not unlike fingernails on a chalkboard—and the five Americans looked at one another and grimaced as they each grabbed for the nearest lifejacket. Only Felix seemed to have a sixth sense when it came to navigation, somehow lifting the propeller shaft out of the water just in time to save the blades from sure calamity. Gradually the river grew deeper, then wider, pushing the shorelines farther and farther apart, and now the sun beat down upon them, unobstructed by the canopy.

“Hey, what’s that?”

An island had appeared before them: a near-vertical ridge of land, which divided the river in two. A wooden staircase clung precariously to the escarpment, inviting the eye to follow it to the top of the rise, where an arrangement of stilted huts sat perched amongst the trees. The huts seemed to extend beneath the trees and out of view, suggesting a small community.

“What’s that?” asked Ben. “Some kind of village?”

“It’s a checkpoint,” Brooke announced. “Well, actually, it’s
the
checkpoint. We have to sign-in before we enter the reserve.”

“Wait,” said Ben. He turned his camera on and directed it at the petite girl. “I’m here with the lovely Brooke, somewhere in the heart of the Amazon, and we’ve just arrived at a small village set upon a picturesque hill. And Miss—?”

Since last night, Ben had wondered about Brooke’s last name, but it had felt rather awkward just to come right out and ask. Now, by means of the video introduction, he had left the door open for her to fill that blank herself.

“Harlow,” Brooke supplied, unknowingly laying that mystery to rest.

“Miss
Harlow
,” Ben said with emphasis, trying and liking the sound of her last name, “would you enlighten our audience, please?”

“Well, Mr.—?” Lips parted, eyebrows raised, she waited expectantly.

“Sawyer,” Ben replied, grinning behind the camera as he realized how the tables had been turned.
Wow
, he thought.
She’s a clever one.

“Well, Mr. Sawyer,” Brooke continued, “this little village is actually a checkpoint, where we will soon disembark from this here watercraft in order to sign the register—” She paused, trying not to laugh as she noticed Ben’s smile widen behind the camera. “The register is strictly a formality to ensure the safety of our group in the event that we enter the jungle, never to be seen again.”

At this last part, Ben did laugh. He hit the STOP button and powered down the camera. “Holy shit,” he said. “That was pretty damned good. You should be a host on one of those travel shows.”

Brooke wrinkled her nose, blushing. “Thanks,” she said.

As the hill loomed closer, they began to feel the anticipation of movement. They’d been sitting for hours, and were eager to stretch their legs. Auggie grabbed his camera, looping the lanyard around his neck. He was fiddling with the lens when he felt something cold press against his arm. When he looked up, he saw Ben holding a bottle of water toward him.

“Here,” Ben said. “It’s getting really hot out there. You don’t want to get dehydrated.”

Auggie accepted the water with a half-smile. “Thanks, Mom.”

The motorized canoe glided toward the shore, the prow sliding to a slow stop as it kissed the muddy bank. Ernesto hopped off the bow and helped them off the gently rocking boat and onto solid ground.

As they started up the grassy slope, a flotilla of moths came twirling up from the long grass as though caught in a vortex. Their iridescent wings caught the sunlight and flashed shades of green. Cooper turned to Janie. “Those’re moths, not butterflies,” he explained.

Janie smirked at him. “Yes, I know.”

He had to look at her to see if she was joking, but she wasn’t. Cooper had clearly wanted to impress her with this modicum of knowledge and, seeing that she had stolen this small bit of joy from him, Janie felt a stab of guilt and hurried to catch up to him. She grabbed his hand and squeezed it, and in good time he was smiling again and order was restored.

“Hey, guys,” said Ernesto. “We are going for to sign the book in the ranger station. There is a bathroom if you need.”

“How long will we be here?” asked Ben. He glanced at his wrist instinctively and felt a brief moment of panic before he remembered giving it to Auggie for safekeeping.

“Mmm, ten minutes. We want to get to the research center soon, is still far.”

Auggie followed along behind Cooper and Janie, with Ben and Brooke coming after him, and Ernesto in the rear. Felix was not among them; he was apparently staying behind with the canoe. As Auggie walked, taking little sips from his water bottle, he wondered if that great explorer, Percy Fawcett, had ever come upon such a place during his adventures in the Amazon; a primitive civilization, one of the outliers on the edge of this new and forbidding frontier.

Janie and Cooper were side by side as they approached the stairway, but then Janie said something to him, something the others could not hear, and Cooper took off running, taking two steps at a time. Once at the top, Cooper let out a whoop and his voice carried out across the water and through the trees.

Raising his fists above his head, Cooper shouted gleefully. “I’m king of the world!” With that, he turned and vanished from sight.

The others gathered at the crest of the hill. From this high vantage point, they could see the true power of the Amazon, which had carved a deep groove through the rainforest. The river moved slowly through the jungle, rubbing up against the banks like a snake trying to shed its skin. Down below, Felix was leaning against the bow of the
peki-peki
as he smoked a cigarette.

Ernesto, leading them away from the viewpoint, explained that the park rangers rarely ever stayed at this post due to its remote location. Apparently, even the locals did not care for this degree of isolation. They crossed a small yard of sorts, overgrown by coarse grass and littered with rusted barrels, wooden carts, and various pieces of defunct farm equipment. Similar to its neighbors, the main hut crouched on stilts, and its wooden steps were sturdy in spite of their weathered appearance.

Ernesto led them up the lopsided steps, through the screen door, and into the dim interior, where the shade offered a welcome respite from the sun. A small desk contained a jar full of pencils and a ledger in the form of a spiral-bound notebook. The ledger was folded open, its place held with a small stone, so that the names, dates, and countries of origin written inside were plainly visible, many more than one might expect in this distant corner of the world. Ben read a few of the entries aloud: Germany, Spain, England, Canada, France, and so on. With a sense of humble pride, Ben signed his name amongst the others, those he now viewed as the chosen ones—fellow explorers from the far-flung reaches of the globe. When he was done, he jotted down Cooper’s name because his friend was still nowhere to be found.

Eventually, though, they did find Cooper. While they were busy signing the guest register, he was exploring an adjacent hut, which had been transformed into a makeshift museum housing rows of shelves upon which there rested dozens of glass jars of varying shapes and sizes. The jars were full of formaldehyde or some other kind of liquid preservative, and each one contained a specimen that had been collected from the jungle. Cooper moved from shelf to shelf, inspecting the contents of each jar, sometimes muttering softly to himself.

A humungous snake head glared ferociously through a hazy yellow liquid, eyes dim with malice, its mouth forever open to reveal the backward curving fangs that seemed ready to strike. Attached to the jar was a faded label that simply read “Bushmaster – viper.” Cooper had never before heard of a bushmaster, and he was somewhat excited to add this to the long list of other dangerous species that lurked in the rainforest.

All along the shelf were dozens of other curiosities, each with its own jar and descriptive label: a huge eel, coiled upon itself like a spring was identified as “Baby electric eel”; a tiny reptile, barely the size of Cooper’s hand, was dubbed “White Caiman”; various kinds of frogs; something that looked like a pig fetus. The top shelf on the opposite wall was wider than the rest, for it housed a specimen unlike any other: resting atop the horizontal plank was an enormous skull, wide at the crown and growing more and more narrow toward the snout. Rows of large white teeth dotted its lengthy jaws.

In the dusty light, Cooper read the small index card tacked to the shelf below the skull:
Negris Camis: Black Caiman.
Beneath this was a bit of additional information, written by a different hand:
Black Caimans can reach lengths of up to 4.5 meters and reside in Oxbow lakes.

“Holy shit,” murmured Cooper. Suddenly, he sensed a presence and, looking up, saw that the others were gathered around behind him. He’d been so absorbed in studying the details of each creature that he had not even noticed them until now. “Hey,” he said quietly. “Did you see the size of this thing?”

Ben raised his eyebrows. “Four and a half meters. What does that come out to, Professor?”

“A little under fifteen feet,” Auggie answered without hesitation.

“Fifteen feet?” Cooper yelped. “That’s one big boy. Remind me not to go swimming around here.”

Behind them, the screen door opened silently and a shadow appeared in the doorway—a thin black smudge etched in a rectangle of light. Stepping into the museum, Ernesto said, “Hey, guys? It’s time we should go. Uh-huh. Time to the research center is still little while.”

Cooper turned to the others. “You guys ready?”

They began to file out into the bright daylight.

Auggie was standing before the great caiman’s skull, staring into the empty holes where the creature’s eyes once gleamed with a cold, reptilian intelligence. Beads of sweat glistened on the boy’s high forehead, tracing silvery lines from his hairline down to the narrow tip of his chin. Ben watched him for a few seconds but Auggie did not stir.

“Hey,” Ben said, “we’re leaving.”

Auggie continued to stare into the empty eyes as though gazing upon all the secrets of the ages. The vacant eyes held him, and even as he felt a strange shudder in the pit of his stomach, he could not look away.

“Auggie-dog?”

Auggie stirred suddenly. He took a step back and raised his camera so that he could fit the skull and the placard into the frame. In the bright flashes that followed, the room was transformed into something that reminded Ben of some cheap carnival sideshow. Satisfied, Auggie raised his head from the viewfinder and his eyes looked like caverns in the gloom. “Alright, man. I’m ready.”

Out of the darkness and into the light, they began down the well-worn path, moving at a steady clip to catch up to the others, leaving the tiny village to the solitude of the afternoon shadows.

Eleven

Littered with stray branches and fallen leaves, the path to the research center was a narrow affair, barely visible in places, and flanked by thin gray trunks. The trees seemed closer, the shadows darker, making that other path, the one at the Amazonia Lodge, seem like a major highway by comparison.

Janie and Cooper took the lead. Janie knew where she was going and only lagged a little because she found it enjoyable to witness a newcomer’s reaction to the place she had, for the course of the past month, called home. Cooper found excitement in the smallest of things; every leaf, every twig, every sound held a mystery to him.

Auggie watched them from behind. They were talking animatedly about something or other and probably ruining their chances of seeing any wildlife that might have been ahead. Treading carefully over the mat of leaves, Auggie kept his eyes on the ground, looking for, but hoping not to see, signs of movement there. His mind flashed back to the museum—the bushmaster with its hooked fangs and malicious gaze; the kind of creature that would bite you just
because
, just for
fun
. Suddenly, he was glad of Cooper’s excitable nature. Perhaps scaring away all the animals was not such a bad thing at the moment, especially if that included snakes.

Behind Auggie, Ernesto watched the jungle with passive interest, perhaps looking for something in particular. Not far behind, Brooke and Ben brought up the rear. In the eternal gloom beneath the canopy, Brooke’s green eyes seemed to glow with a secret light. As they walked, she turned her head sideways and said, “You’re going to love it here.” Ben grinned at her. As the shadows flickered across their faces, they looked at one another affectionately, silenced by a sudden shyness.

Soon they glimpsed what now seemed a familiar sight ahead: an opening in the canopy filled with daylight, an artificial clearing at the center of which rested a stilted lodge of bamboo and basic timber, a manmade stronghold against the encroaching jungle. With its open floor plan, small dining area, and arched entryway, the Wildlife Research Center was a miniature version of the Amazonia Lodge, but with the stamp of functionality over convenience. Ben stopped to admire his new surroundings. By all appearances, this was a true outpost, some relic of a bygone era built on the fringe of a new frontier.

Brooke was watching him intently. “What do you think?”

Ben was staring straight ahead. Now he turned to her, grinning. “This is more like it.”

“Hey, guys?” Ernesto said. “I can show you to the room.”

“Well,” Brooke said. “Janie and I have to take care of a few things for school. Do you want to meet up later on?”

“Definitely,” Ben said. “Where will we find you?”

“Right over there, in the dining area.”

“Okay.”

“Well, have fun, guys!”

“Thanks.”

“See you later.”

“Bye.”

Ernesto guided the boys down the hallway, past double rows of curtained doorways. At last he stopped at a doorway and tapped his finger on the curtain. Hanging just outside the doorway was a square wooden placard with the number 8 carved into it. Otherwise, the room was indistinguishable from all the others.

“This is the room,” Ernesto said. “If you like, we can meet in a little while to go for a walk in the jungle.”

Auggie was looking at the watch on his wrist, squinting to see the numbers. “How long till we meet?”

“Mmm, thirty minutes?”

Ben looked at Auggie and Cooper and did not see dissent among them. “Perfect,” Ben said. “Thanks, Ernesto.”

Cooper pulled aside the curtain with a flourish and the three boys entered their new quarters.

Bathed in honey-colored sunlight, the room was a tiny rectangle, barely large enough to accommodate the three single beds flanking the walls. Similar to the Amazonia Lodge, the extremity of the space was open to the jungle, and beyond the wooden railing, a cluster of fan-shaped fronds rippled peacefully in the breeze. Beside each bed was a simple nightstand, each one topped with a kerosene lamp; three flimsy shelves along the far wall, upon which they could store their toiletries and other essentials; aside from that, little else.

Auggie had set his backpack down and was readying his clothes for the hike. He held a shirt up to his nose and winced at the smell. “Do you think they have a washing machine?”

Ben chuckled. “Probably not. But they should have a sink or a hose so we can scrub them down with these.” He held up a little package of laundry wafers, each one roughly the size of a postage stamp. The wafers, Ben explained, dissolved in water to create suds for washing.

“Always the Boy Scout,” snorted Cooper.

Ben only shrugged, grinning.

“I gotta tell you,” Auggie said to no one in particular, “I was a bit skeptical about leaving the first lodge behind to come here.”

“Yeah? And now?”

A sheepish smile spread across the narrow face. “This place is the real deal.”

“Seems like we’re the only ones here.”

“Yeah, I don’t think we’ll see too many tourists this far out—”

“—or kids with laptops—”

“Now we’re way off the grid—”

“—or lines at the dinner buffet—”

“—most remote lodge in this part of the jungle!”

They grinned at one another in their excitement.

“How much time do we have?” Ben asked suddenly.

Auggie glanced at the watch on his wrist. It was an automatic gesture, one that he’d grown accustomed to over the course of the day. “We’ve got about ten more minutes before we’re supposed to meet Ernesto.”

Ben sprang up from his bed, energized by his new surroundings. “Let’s take a quick walk around this place and check it out. What do you think?”

Cooper was already up and heading for the door. “Shit, yeah,” he said, waving his arms excitedly. “What’re you waiting for? Let’s go exploring.”