Michael Vey 9, page 11
Kale slowed the boat as he pulled up to the dock.
“Jaime, amárralo, por favor.”
“Muy bien,” Jaime said, grabbing a yellow vinyl rope. Kale shut off the boat’s motor as Jaime lashed the boat to one of the dock’s wrought-iron cleats.
A tall, bearded European man wearing a Peruvian fedora and carrying a drink with a small paper umbrella sticking out walked onto the dock toward us.
“Bienvenidos, amigos,” he said enthusiastically.
“Hola,” Jaime said. “Gracias.”
“You are Jacinta’s friend, no?”
“Yes, I am Jaime.” They shook hands.
“I am Lars.” He looked back at us. “You are all joining us?”
“No,” Jaime said. “Just me.”
He smiled broadly. “You’re all welcome to stay. We have room for everyone.”
“Thank you,” Jaime said. “But they have other plans.”
“Well, we are happy to have you. Let’s get your things.” He turned and whistled. “José, come and help Mr. Jaime with his bags.”
A young Peruvian boy wearing a Chicago Bulls baseball cap and basketball shorts ran up to the boat.
“I only have a pack,” Jaime said.
“José, take Mr. Jaime’s pack to his room in the main lodge.”
Jaime handed his pack to the frowning young man, who slung it over his shoulders, then walked back toward the lodge.
“Gracias,” Jaime said to the boy, then turned back to Lars. “Let me say goodbye to my friends, and I will be right with you.”
Jaime walked back to the boat and crouched down next to me. “Good luck, Michael. I will be praying for your success. If you need me, you know how to reach me.”
“We’ll see you in a few days,” I said.
“Vaya con Dios.” He turned to Kale. “Time to go. Cristiano will know the place.”
“Bueno.”
Kale started the boat’s motor as Jaime untied the rope from the cleat, then threw it into the boat. Kale backed us away from the dock, then pointed the boat back downriver.
“I love badminton,” McKenna said. “Maybe we should stop there on the way back for a few days.”
Nichelle looked at her. “You’re kidding, right?”
McKenna said, “Not kidding. Just wishing.”
Cristiano, Ian, and I sat near the front of the boat.
“We’re about an hour from our drop-off,” I said.
Cristiano nodded. “Yes.”
“We’ll hike to the Amacarra trail. Then we’ll send up the drone.”
“What if they’re not there?” Ian asked.
“Then we’ll hike to the plant.”
“We’ll be short on water.”
“I know of a spring a few miles from the plant,” Cristiano said.
“We’ll be okay,” I said. A few minutes later I asked, “Will we pass another sentry before we get off?”
“No,” Cristiano said. “That would not be wise. We will get off a kilometer before the next sentry.”
About twenty minutes later Cristiano pointed to a small inlet ahead of us.
“Allí,” he said to Kale.
Kale steered the boat toward the shore. Once we’d left the main river, he cut back on power, and the engine putted into the small cove. Tree boughs and vines hung over the water and, in places, rubbed along the boat’s canopy. Monkeys and birds screeched wildly at our intrusion.
The shore was overgrown with branches and tree roots that spilled out from the banks over the water, making it hard to access the sloped bank. After a few moments Kale said something to Cristiano, who turned to me.
“The driver wants to know if we can wade into shore.”
“Zeus can’t go into water,” I said. “We need to get off on dry land.”
“Sorry, I forgot.” Cristiano turned and told Kale, who just nodded, his eyes set on the shoreline.
We putted along through the cove until we found a place where we could drive the boat into the shore. Kale said something. Then Cristiano said to us, “Hold on, everyone.”
Kale revved the engine, and the bow of the boat ground ashore. After grabbing the docking rope, Cristiano and I jumped off the boat’s bow onto the marshy bank. Above us a flock of brightly colored macaws took flight. Kale gunned the outboard a bit more while we pulled the boat up onto the bank.
“Much appreciated,” Zeus said, stepping off the bow onto dry ground.
We took all the packs and the RADD case off the boat and drank our fill of water. Then Cristiano and I helped everyone else off the boat.
After we were all off, I waved to Kale. “Gracias.”
“Gracias, señor.”
Cristiano and I pushed the boat back out into the river. Kale fired up his outboard motor and spun the boat around. He casually waved at us, then drove off. I felt as stranded as we were.
“Let’s get into our camouflage,” I said.
We changed into our camouflage clothing. Then, after Ostin had set our coordinates, we followed Cristiano into the jungle.
Our path through the jungle quickly turned dark, a roof of thick branches always above our heads, leaving us in enough shadow that the faint glow of our skin could be seen. Zeus and Cristiano carried the machetes and cleared the thicker foliage, while Ostin tracked our location. I carried both my pack and the RADD case.
It took us nearly an hour before we reached the Amacarra trail, which I would have missed without Cristiano.
“This is it,” he said.
“This is what?” Zeus said.
“The Amacarra trail.”
“Not much of a trail,” Nichelle said.
“It is narrow. The Amacarra move in a single file, so the trail remains hidden from most eyes. But, as you can see, it is cleared of all heavy branches and bushes. And there are stones in marshy places.”
“Let’s go,” I said. We moved much faster on the trail. We had gone about a mile when we came to a place where there was a small clearing in the canopy.
“We’ll rest for a minute,” I said. “Let’s put up the RADD.”
Everyone sat down on their packs and took out their water. We were all dripping from sweat and the jungle’s dense humidity. Ostin and I set up the drone while Cristiano looked on.
“I’m curious to see if it works,” Ostin said.
“If they’re using RESATs, it will work,” I said.
“It’s the thickness of the cave walls I worry about,” Ostin said.
I took the drone’s controls, put on the goggles, and then sent the drone straight up through the clearing above us. I could see us getting smaller as the drone climbed. I wanted to take it high enough that the Chasqui couldn’t see or hear it.
“I’m headed northeast,” I said.
“Just stay parallel to the river,” Cristiano said.
I had only flown two miles when the remote in my hand began to beep. A blue diode flashed.
“We’ve got RESATs,” Ostin said.
“Let’s see how far.” I had flown the drone another seven thousand meters when an orange light flashed quickly, went steady, and then began flashing again.
“That’s the source. Go back to it.”
I reversed the drone’s course until the orange light was steady again.
“There,” Ostin said. “That’s the RESAT.”
“That’s the cave,” Cristiano said.
Ostin looked over the coordinates, then logged it into his GPS monitor.
“It’s seven kilometers.”
I looked at my watch. “At this rate we’ll be at the cave a half hour earlier than we planned. Which side of the cave is the water entrance?” I asked.
“It is farther south. This trail runs south of the cave, so we will be close.”
I pushed the home button on the drone, and it switched to autopilot. It was only a few minutes before it was above us again and slowly descending. We put the drone back into the case. I hid the case in some bushes.
“Aren’t you taking the drone?” Zeus asked.
“We don’t need it anymore.”
Zeus looked disappointed. “It’s a nice drone.”
“I’ll get you one when we get back.”
We had hiked another ten minutes when Ian said, “Hold up, everyone.”
“What is it?” I asked.
“There’s something on the trail.” He turned to me. “It looks like bodies.”
“Chasqui?”
“Hold on.” He shook his head. “It might be. The boots look military. It’s hard to see. There are at least a dozen vultures around them.”
“Vultures eat people?” McKenna asked.
“Of course,” Nichelle said. “We’re just meat.”
“The king vulture and the yellow-headed vulture are Amazon canopy dwellers,” Ostin said. “And indiscriminate carrion eaters.”
“I liked the way I said it better,” Nichelle said.
“See if you can tell who they are,” I said to Ian.
Ian just stared for a moment, then said, “There are three men. At least what is left of them. Black uniforms, utility belts. Their guns are on the ground, so they must have had them out…. Wait…. Okay, I see them.” He turned to me. “Chasqui patches.”
“Dead Chasqui soldiers on the secret trail.” I turned to Cristiano. “I thought you said the Chasqui didn’t know about this trail.”
“They didn’t.”
“Well, they do now.”
“Maybe they just found it. Maybe that is why they are dead.”
“Who killed them?”
“I think the Amacarra. Or maybe the Chasqui.”
“Why would the Chasqui kill their own men?”
“The Chasqui kill their own men all the time. If they were trying to desert the Chasqui, the loyal guards would hunt them down and execute them by firing squad. I have seen it many times.”
“It’s simple enough to tell,” Ostin said. “Do you see bullet holes or darts? The blowgun darts are made of wood, with fur or feathers on the end.”
Ian kept looking. “Yes. I see one. Three. Six darts.”
“I told you the Amacarra do not like the Chasqui,” Cristiano said.
“You’re sure they’re dead?” I asked Ian.
He looked at me darkly. “If not, we won’t have to worry about them.”
“Why is that?”
“The birds ate their eyes out.”
“I’m going to be sick,” McKenna said.
“Let’s check them out,” I said. “Keep going.”
We’d hiked about two hundred more meters when we came to the flock of birds, squawking, pecking, and jostling each other for position over the dead men. It reminded me of a Black Friday sale at Walmart. They flew off at our arrival.
Cristiano walked up to one of the corpses and pushed it over with his foot. There were two darts in its back.
“I’m guessing the poison is from the poison dart frog,” Ostin said.
“They are more likely to use the poison from the curare plant,” Cristiano said.
“Yes, but these men are still on the trail. The curare poison from the chondrodendron tomentosum can take ten to fifteen minutes to kill. They would have tried to make it back to the cave.”
“What’s to say they’re not going to shoot us right now?” Nichelle said, looking around.
“I don’t see anyone around,” Ian said. “But look at these foot tracks.”
“One was barefoot,” Ostin said. “The Chasqui had boots.”
“Look how deep they are. He was running.”
“So the Chasqui were chasing someone barefoot,” Zeus said.
“It must have been an Amacarra native,” I said.
“Whoever they were chasing couldn’t have shot them in the back,” Ostin said. “The guards must have run into an ambush.”
“What are the Amacarra doing this close to the Chasqui?” I asked. “I thought they hated them.”
“They were always keeping an eye on us,” Cristiano said. “We were their unwelcome neighbor.”
“How long have these bodies been here?” I asked Ostin.
Ostin looked at the corpses. Then he knelt down and dipped his finger into a black bottle-cap-sized spot of blood that had fallen onto a leaf.
“What are you doing?” McKenna asked.
“It’s still tacky. We’re in around eighty-seven percent humidity, so I’m guessing this happened about eight hours ago.”
“Early morning,” I said.
Ostin nodded. “Yes.”
I turned to Cristiano. “Will the Chasqui be looking for them?”
“Yes, though probably because they thought they were deserting. If it was a morning patrol, they would have been expected back around two.”
“That would be three or four hours ago,” I said. “This is an opportunity we were hoping for. Those guys are about our size. We can put on their uniforms. Cristiano, put your uniform back on.”
We stripped the bodies, then went through the pockets. We didn’t find much—a magnetic key, some coins, and a bag of chewing tobacco.
Then Ostin, Zeus, and I dressed in the uniforms. Zeus was taller than the tallest guard, so his pants were about an inch above his ankles, but they still fit at his waist. Ostin and I were pretty close fits. We dragged the bodies off the trail, then walked back out.
“Ian, keep a watch for Chasqui patrols.”
“What about the Amacarra?” Nichelle asked.
“Them too,” I said.
About a hundred yards from where we found the bodies, we came to where the Chasqui had started chase. We hiked about another forty minutes, the jungle getting darker with each passing minute. Suddenly Cristiano said, “There it is up ahead. The water to the cave.”
The stream of water was only a couple of feet wide. It snaked its way as a shallow creek toward some limestone jutting up from the ground, then disappeared into a crevice in the rock. As we got closer, we could hear the sound of the waterfall echoing in the cavern below.
“There is the entrance,” Cristiano said.
I walked up to the crevice and put my hand over the opening. “I don’t feel RESAT.”
“Neither do I,” Ian said.
“Can you see anything inside there?” I asked.
Ian shook his head. “Just a big pool of water.”
“No crocodiles?” Nichelle asked.
“No crocodiles. The piranha must have eaten them.”
“What?”
“I was joking,” he said.
“The hole is bigger than it was,” Cristiano said.
“There’s a reason for that,” Ostin said. “As the Amazon rainwater becomes higher in nitric and sulfuric acids, it reacts adversely with the limestone’s calcite by dissolving it.”
“In other words, acid rain is our friend,” Nichelle said.
“Another six inches, and we could all fit through that hole,” I said. “Who has the pickax?”
“I have it,” Zeus said. He took it out of his backpack, then took a swing at the rock. The blow fractured off only a small chunk, but it was loud enough to be heard over the jungle’s cacophony. He lifted the ax again.
“Hold up,” I said. “That’s too loud. They might hear us.”
“It’s better than an explosive,” Zeus said.
“If you’re trying to be quiet, pretty much everything’s better than an explosive,” I said. I turned to Ostin. “What’s the melting point of limestone?”
“I should have thought of that. Limestone is a sedimentary rock. It melts into magma at 1,157 degrees to 2,192 degrees Fahrenheit.” He turned to McKenna. “You could melt this.”
“Okay.” She knelt down next to the hole. “Where?”
“We just need to make a space big enough to crawl through,” I said. “Maybe take out these two sections on the sides.”
She put her hands into the water and grabbed the two surfaces. The water around her hands began to boil, then flashed to steam until a large column of it rose up to the canopy. The rock turned orange-red like lava, then sloughed off, falling into the hole. Within a couple of minutes she had melted a hole nearly two and a half feet in diameter.
“That’s big enough,” I said.
McKenna let out a deep breath. The water was still steaming as it cooled the rock.
“Can someone get her some water?” Ostin asked.
Nichelle took a water bottle from her pack and handed it to McKenna. McKenna downed the entire bottle. When she was done, Ostin dipped the empty bottle into the stream, then poured it over McKenna’s head.
McKenna let out a loud sigh. “Thank you.”
“We’ll let that rock cool down a bit more,” I said.
“So, if this cave is based on the human digestive system,” Nichelle asked, “what part of the anatomy is this hole?”
“That would be the rectum,” Ostin said.
“The what?”
“It’s the butt,” Zeus said.
“Great,” Nichelle said. “We’re climbing in through the cave’s butt.”
“Michael,” Zeus said. “Where do you want me?”
“We need you to guard this entrance while we’re in there.”
“I can help,” Nichelle said. “I don’t know what good I’ll be to you down there, but I can help Zeus keep an eye out. Magnify his lightning if needs be.”
“I’ll hang with Nichelle,” Zeus said.
“Cool,” she said.
I reached into the water. The stone was still warm but cool enough to touch. It was about a half hour before sunset, and the cavern below was pitch-black.
“Let’s go, Cristiano,” I said. “Show us the way.”
“Sure thing, boss.” Fully dressed, he sat on the rock with his feet in the hole. He started letting himself down by his arms, then dropped down into the pool. We heard a loud splash.
“How far a drop is that?” Nichelle asked.
“Around eight feet,” Ian said.
“How will they get back up?”
“We’re going to have to climb out,” I said. I took a rope out of my pack. I wrapped it three times around the trunk of a rosewood tree, tied it with a knot, and then handed the rope to Zeus. “Throw this in after we’re down.”
Ostin looked down into the abyss of the cave. “I don’t like jumping into something I can’t see.”
