Quest

Chapter 1

Thomas had never felt so hot in his entire life. The heat was sweltering, unrelenting, and scarcely a breeze stirred beneath the canopy of green. Creeping, clutching foliage dogged his every step. And the insects! They were an unrelenting cloud, biting and stinging him, and invading his every orifice. Civilization’s finest insect repellent had waged a losing battle against the onslaught.

“It’s getting late.” Denesh, his neck twitching in that annoying nervous tic of his, glanced up at the tattered bits of sky visible through the canopy of trees. “You know how quickly night can come on in this jungle. I don’t want to be stuck out here when it does.”

“I know.” Thomas took another look at his notebook. He had found all the landmarks up to this point, but this next one continued to elude him. Perhaps just a bit farther. Of course, he’d been telling himself that for the better part of the last hour, with no success. With a sigh, he tucked the notebook back into his pocket. They were close. He just knew it. His research had proved to be accurate up to this point, with all the landmarks exactly as they should be, so there was no reason to assume it would not continue to be so. They were on the verge of a discovery that would rock the world.

“Did you hear that?” Denesh shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking all around. He looked like a nervous bird, his head jerking to and fro as his eyes probed the jungle.

“I didn’t hear anything.” The truth was, Thomas was so focused on his thoughts that a truck could have driven over him and he probably would not have noticed until it was too late. “Let’s head back. Tomorrow we’ll get an earlier start and see how far we can get. We might even break camp and haul the gear along with us. That way we can range even farther.”

Denesh’s coffee complexion paled at the suggestion, but he nodded. A brilliant graduate student, he was finding the expedition difficult, to say the least, but he had braved it all without complaint. The young man had potential, assuming Thomas could ever get him back out into the field after this experience. He now stood stock-still, his knuckles white as he clutched the hilt of his machete. “I’m not crazy, Professor Thornton, I swear I heard something. It was the strangest sound. Like a giant sheet of sandpaper being dragged across the ground.”

“That’s probably what it was, then. Congratulations. You’ve solved the mystery.” He elbowed Denesh in the ribs, coaxing a weak smile. “All right, it’s time to test your woods craft. Do you think you can guide us back to camp without getting us hopelessly lost?”

Denesh took up the challenge, and only managed to lead them off course twice, but both times he found the trail again without any help from Thomas. By the time camp was in sight, he had a bit of bounce in his step. The promise of food, no matter how poor, and a camp bed beneath a screen of mosquito netting, seemed like high living in this part of the world.

Thomas sensed something was wrong the moment he entered camp. A quick inspection revealed nothing obvious that might be amiss, but still, things were not right. There was a tension in the air, as if the world were as taut as piano wire.

Derek and Emily appeared from the shadows on the far side of the encampment and hurried to meet him. They both appeared agitated.

“Doctor Thornton, I did not sign up for this trip only to be stranded in the middle of nowhere.” Emily’s freckled face was bright red, but whether from sunburn or anger he could not tell.

“Wait, what are you talking about? We’re not stranded.” The psychological toll this place took on travelers sometimes caused a person to crack. He hoped this was not the case with Emily, who, despite having a face and body that screamed ‘delicate flower,’ had been a trooper up to this point.

“Victor is gone.” Her voice trembled as she spoke and she looked like she was on the verge of tears. “He said he was going to hike back to the lagoon, take one of the boats, and go home.”

The news struck Thomas like a punch to the gut. If their guide was gone, that left him alone to get three students back to civilization. He supposed he could do it, but this meant the expedition was over. Damn. Another day or two might have done it. With serious effort, he regained his composure. Under the circumstances, it would not do to appear rattled in front of the others.

“But we still have the other boat, so we aren’t stranded.” He stared through the trees in the direction of the lagoon, as if his eyes could penetrate the miles of tangled greenery and see their remaining boat, their only path back to civilization, waiting there beside its dark waters. “But why did Victor just up and leave? Did he say anything?”

Emily gave Derek a look that said, “I told you so,” and Derek nodded.

“I think it’s been coming on for a few days, Professor,” Denesh said. “He didn’t like it here, and kept telling us it was a bad place and that we should not stay. He knew it would do no good to say anything to you, though. You were so focused on whatever it is you’re still doing out here.” He held his hands out to his sides in a gesture of confusion. “I do think Victor was on to something, though. There’s a wrongness about this place, and it’s got us all spooked.”

“Superstitious nonsense.” Thomas was embarrassed that he had been so focused on his search that he had failed to notice that one of his team was on the verge of abandoning the group. “He got into your heads, that’s all. He fed you tales about spooky stuff, and it took root in your psyche. Don’t let it control you.”

“It’s not just that, Professor,” Derek said. “I had to kill an opossum today.”

“Chestnut-striped,” Emily chimed in, proving she had been paying attention to her field guide.

“An opossum,” Thomas repeated, unable to keep the disbelief from his voice. He could not begin to fathom where Derek was headed with this.

“I know how it sounds,” Derek protested. “You had to be there, I suppose, but it’s not just that I killed it. I had to kill it. It came marching into camp in the middle of the day, which is strange enough in itself, and it went straight for our food. It ignored me when I tried to shoo it away. Then I kicked it and it…” He swallowed hard. “It attacked me. Turned on me, made this crazy noise, and sprang up like a mountain lion or something. It tore up my pants leg, but I got hold of it by the tail before it could bite me. Even then, it kept snarling at me.”

“An opossum snarled at you.” Thomas didn’t get it. Perhaps this was all just an elaborate ruse to get him to pack up and leave. Or maybe it was a joke.

“It was a snarl,” Emily added. “It sounded like a ferocious predator.”

“I flung it across the camp and it smashed into that tree over there.” Derek nodded at a kapok tree with a trunk nearly ten feet in diameter. “It should have crawled away, but it got up and came right at me again. I kicked it away and it still kept on coming at me. Finally, I had to stomp it to death.” Derek’s eyes fell, clearly upset by the memory.

“So you had an encounter with a rabid opossum and now you believe Victor’s stories about the bogeyman. I’m disappointed in you.”

“It was not rabid.” Frustration was now clear in Derek’s every word. “You don’t understand. It didn’t appear crazed at all. Its actions were purposeful, and, I don’t know, it was almost as if it thought it was a giant predator and I was the small animal in its way. It never seemed the least bit frightened, or even wary, just determined. It was like there was no question of it doing what it wanted to do, and I could pose no threat to it in any way.”

“I work at a vet’s office every summer,” Emily added. “Even in the early stages of rabies, if an animal goes into the aggressive state, it’s accompanied by other symptoms, like disorientation, trembling, loss of muscle coordination. I saw none of that. That animal was different. We kept the body if you would like to look at it.”

They led him to the spot where the opossum lay. Thomas took his time examining the disfigured remains of the small mammal though, in truth, he doubted he would recognize even the late-stage signs of rabies. He kept his features calm, letting the silence and his own serenity settle the nerves of his upset students. Finally, he gave a diagnosis of “perhaps” and rose to his feet.

“Our notebooks are complete, Doctor Thornton. They have been for two days. Victor took half the remaining supplies. Let’s just go home.” Emily sounded as if she were on the verge of tears.

The pleading tone grated on his nerves. They had to leave, he understood that, but that did not mean he had to be happy about it. To have come so close and yet failed. It would be another year, at the soonest, before he could return, and that was assuming his sponsors would fund another trip. He had promised results, and they were not going to be happy when he returned empty-handed. “Fine,” he said, rising to his feet. “Pack up as much as you can. We’ll leave in the morning.”

Derek’s and Emily’s faces relaxed, and each thanked him profusely, assuring him that this had been the best field ecology trip ever, and that they couldn’t wait to get home and tell their families all about it.

Denesh did not appear to share in their joy. He frowned, his eyes fixed on a spot deep in the jungle.

“What’s wrong with you?” Emily nudged him. “Lighten up a little.”

“Quiet.” The tone of his voice silenced everyone in the group. “Something’s coming.”

Thomas turned to look in the direction Denesh indicated in time to see three figures stride out of the jungle. They were short and stocky, with glossy black hair cut short in the Yanomami style. Their bodies were painted orange-brown with black smudges all over that put him to mind of a jaguar. Each was armed with a stone-tipped short spear and a stone axe. They moved directly toward the camp, their faces blank, and their strides resolute.

“Who are they?” Derek whispered. “There aren’t supposed to be any natives in this area.”

Actually, very little was known about this region. The area was so remote that it had remained unexplored in modern times. The satellite photos Thomas had inspected revealed nothing but a blanket of unrelenting green.

“I have no idea. They must be from an undiscovered tribe.” Thomas shook his head. These men had the general look and build of the natives of this region, but he noticed subtle differences. Their faces were narrow, and their noses longer. He could not discern eye color from this distance, but they were definitely not the brown one usually found here. Curious, he took a step forward, but Denesh stopped him with a firm grip on his forearm.

“Let me do it. I know a smattering of languages from this area. Perhaps I can get them to understand me. If this actually is a tribe that has avoided outside contact, and we can communicate with them, I could write quite the paper on it.”

He walked toward them, his open hands at his sides, and spoke to them in a language Thomas did not recognize. The natives neither acknowledged his words, nor broke their stride. Denesh tried again in three other languages unfamiliar to Thomas, and then in Portuguese. Nothing.

The men continued their silent approach, their faces still devoid of emotion. Their movements were not exactly robotic, but were steady and measured, almost military in their regularity.

“They’re like zombies,” Emily whispered.

Thomas grew more nervous with each step they took. Maybe he too had been spooked by Victor’s suspicions, but something was very wrong. His hand itched to take hold of the machete that hung from his belt, but he dared not make any movement that insinuated violence. The results could be deadly.

Denesh gave up his attempts at verbal communication. He dropped to one knee, slipped off his wristwatch, and held it out as a supplicant would a tribute.

The men stopped in front of him. The one in the center gazed down at the wristwatch and then, as casually as a businessman would brush lint off of his suit, he raised his hatchet and brought it crashing down on Denesh’s head. The young man crumpled to the ground, blood pouring from his split scalp.

Emily screamed at the sight of her friend lying dead on the ground, and she turned and fled. Derek drew his .38 revolver and emptied it in a wild spurt of gunfire. At least two bullets hit one of the warriors, punching through his chest and spraying gore on the man who strode directly behind him — yet the wounded man did not stumble, nor did he so much as blink. He kept coming.

Derek stood like a statue for a moment that seemed frozen in eternity. With a sudden gasp, he shot a glance at Thomas, and then back to the bloody warriors who bore down upon him, their implacable gazes locked on the frightened young man. Derek shrieked, threw his pistol at the first warrior, watched it bounce harmlessly off his chest, and then fled after Emily.

Thomas felt for his own pistol and realized he had not even bothered to carry it with him today. He didn’t own a gun in his “real life,” and still was not in the habit of keeping one at his hip. Now he was quickly altering his opinion on the necessity of firearms.

As the silent warriors turned their attention to him, he slid the machete from his belt and raised it in what he hoped was a threatening pose, but they stalked after him, undeterred. His courage draining faster than his bladder, he turned on his heel and fled blindly into jungle.