Ghost Flight

32

The noise of the forest closed all around Jaeger – the cries of wild animals high in the canopy; the beat of a thousand insects pulsating from the bush; the rhythmic croaking of a chorus of frogs, signalling that wetter ground lay somewhere in front of him.

He could sense the humidity rising and the sweat pouring off of him. But something else was niggling at him – something beyond the precariousness of their present predicament. He felt as if they weren’t alone. It was an irrational feeling, but one he just couldn’t seem to shake.

He did all he could to leave as little sign as possible of his passing, for as time went on he felt more certain than ever that they were being watched – the eerie sensation burning into the back of his neck and shoulders.

But movement was painfully difficult, especially with the weight he was carrying.

In so many ways, the jungle was by far the toughest of all environments to operate in. In the snows of the Arctic all you really had to worry about was remaining warm. Navigation was simplicity itself, for you’d nearly always manage to get a GPS signal. In the desert, the key challenges were staying out of the heat and drinking enough water to keep you alive. You’d move at night and lie up during the day in the shade.

By contrast, the jungle offered a plethora of dangers – ones that nowhere else could equal: fatigue, dehydration, infections, trench foot, disorientation, sores, bites, cuts, bruises, disease-bearing insects and ravenous mosquitoes, wild animals, leeches and snakes. In the jungle you were forever fighting the close, suffocating terrain, while the Arctic and desert were wide open.

And then of course there were the killer spiders – and hostile tribes – to contend with.

Jaeger was reminded of all this as he weaved his way through the dense undergrowth, the ground slippery and treacherous underfoot. His nostrils were assailed by the heavy scent of dark, musty decay. The terrain was dropping away from him as they approached the Rio de los Dios. Soon they’d hit the northern bank of the river – at which point the fun and games would really begin.

The higher you climbed in the jungle the easier the terrain tended to get – for it was invariably drier underfoot and the vegetation thinner. But sooner or later the Rio de los Dios had to be crossed, and that meant dropping down into denser, boggier ground.

Jaeger took a moment to catch his breath and survey the route ahead.

Straight ahead lay a deep ravine, which no doubt drained water into the Rio de los Dios during the rains. It looked wet and marshy underfoot, the ground starved of any sunlight. The gully was thick with medium-sized trees, each boasting a crop of vicious spikes that protruded several inches or more from the trunk.

Jaeger knew those spine-covered trees well. The spikes weren’t poisonous, but that didn’t matter much. He’d fallen against one once, during a jungle training exercise. The tough wooden spines had pierced his arm in several places, the wounds quickly turning septic. Ever since, he’d called them the ‘bastard trees.’

Strung between those perilous trunks were thick vines, each armed with cruelly hooked thorns. Jaeger pulled out his compass and took a quick bearing. The ravine led due south, the way that he needed to go, but he figured it was best avoided.

Instead he took a bearing west, fixed his eyes on a tall, mature stand of hardwood trees and proceeded to head that way. He’d box his way around the ravine, then turn south a little further on, which should bring him directly to the river. Every twenty minutes he allowed himself to put Narov down, both for a breather and to grab a slug of water. But never longer than two minutes and then he was on his way again.

As he climbed, he shrugged Narov’s weight higher on to his shoulders. He wondered for an instant how she was holding up. She’d not said a single word since they’d set out. If she’d lost all consciousness, the river crossing would be next to impossible, and Jaeger would be forced to come up with a different plan of action.

Fifteen minutes later, he skidded down a shallow slope, coming to a stop at a solid-looking wall of vegetation. On the far side he could just make out a moving mass – the odd glint of sunlight flashing through to him.

Water. He was almost at the river.

Mature jungle – vegetation that had remained undisturbed for centuries – generally consisted of a high forest canopy, with relatively sparse growth on the forest floor. But where such virgin rainforest had been disturbed – like having a highway slashed through it, or here where a river carved into its depths – secondary vegetation would spring up in the clearings formed.

The Rio de los Dios cut a tunnel of sunlight through the jungle, and on either side it was a riot of dense, tangled bush. The vegetation that loomed before Jaeger was like a dark and impenetrable cliff face – high forest giants, fringed with smaller palm-like bushes, with tree ferns and vines reaching right to the forest floor. Next to impossible to negotiate with his load.

He turned east, following the riverbank until he hit the ravine that he’d boxed his way around. At the point where it plunged into the river, the terrain was largely swept clear of vegetation, leaving a tiny rocky beach no wider than your average English country lane.

It was enough. From there they could launch their river crossing – if Narov was still capable of making it.

He lifted her off his shoulders and lowered her to the ground. There was little sign of life, and for a horrible moment Jaeger feared that the spider toxins had claimed her as he’d carried her through the jungle. But when he felt for her pulse, he noticed the odd shiver and spasm ripple through her limbs, as the Phoneutria venom tried to work its way deeper into her system.

The shakes were nowhere near as bad as they’d been at first, so the antidote was clearly working. But still she seemed dead to all his attentions; comatose to the world. He lifted her head, supporting it with one hand as he tried to get some liquid into her. She gulped down a few mouthfuls, but still there was no sign of her opening her eyes.

Jaeger reached for his backpack and pulled out his GPS unit. He needed to check if it could see enough sky to acquire a usable signal. It bleeped once, twice, and thrice, as satellite icons flashed on to the screen. He checked their position, the grid provided by the GPS proving that his navigation had been bang on.

For a moment he stole a glance at the river, contemplating the crossing that lay before them. It was a good five hundred yards across, maybe more. The dark, sluggish water was interrupted here and there by slender mudbanks, which barely broke the surface.

Worse still, on one or two of them Jaeger spotted what he’d most feared to find here: the sleek forms of giant lizard-like creatures, sunning themselves in the mid-morning heat.

The beasts before them were the largest predators the Amazon had to offer. Crocodiles.

Or more accurately, this being South America – caimans.