This Green Hell

TEN

Twenty minutes later, Captain Garmadia roared up to the waiting team in a camouflaged Humvee. The cigar between his lips pointed forwards like a small brown diving board as he seemed not to want to make eye contact with any of the HAWCs.

Sam walked around to the front of the enormous vehicle and had a quick look underneath. ‘Thought so. Armour’s been stripped out to make it lighter, and the suspension’s been raised for better ground clearance. Jungle Hummer — this’ll do nicely.’

He looked over his shoulder at Alex, who was staring in the direction they would be going. His face was slightly raised, as if he was trying to catch a scent on the breeze. Sam guessed what he was thinking.

‘Aimee’ll be fine,’ he said, walking up beside him. ‘She’s tougher and more resourceful than most of us put together.’

Alex half-smiled. ‘We need to get there, Sam. Something’s not right; I can feel it.’ He stood there a moment longer then drew in a deep breath through his nose and slapped his second-in-command’s shoulder. ‘Let’s load it up, Sam. You and Dr Vargis in the front with Garmadia; everyone else in the back — double time. And, Uncle, I’m not sure our Paraguayan captain is fully on board with our little vacation. Keep him honest, will you?’

Sam chuckled. ‘No problem. I’ll tell him my best jokes…and use satellite positioning to check his route. We’ll stay on track, I guarantee it.’

He started to turn away then stopped. ‘Gauntlets?’

Alex shook his head. ‘Not till we’re in deep jungle. Carry on.’

‘You got it.’ Sam walked off towards the team, leaving Alex still staring at the horizon.

Alex dozed in the cooled rear cabin of the Humvee, trying to unwind the coils of impatience that threatened to overwhelm him. However, rest was not coming easily to him; strange images formed in his head, and phantoms whirled and screamed through his subconscious. Some he might have recognised from previous missions, but others made him shift uneasily in his seat. Anyone watching him would have wondered at the way his brow creased, and his eyes moved rapidly behind their lids.

He saw a landscape, its plains dominated by dark and greasy looking protuberances that lifted and swelled like trunks of limbless trees. They were alive, but were not familiar.

There was a sound — a calling that grew louder. The lumpy mass opened hundreds of eyes, and saw him. The calling became screams.

He opened his eyes with a start, and shook his head to clear it. He noticed Franks looking at him and she raised her eyebrows. He nodded to her once, then turned away to check his watch and scan the jungle.

The vehicle, packed with the HAWCs, the scientists and their equipment, sped along the partially sealed road, only slowing when it had to leap across loosely packed gravel and swerve around water-filled craters. Alex noticed Garmadia never let the speed drop below seventy miles per hour.

The sparse bush and patchy grassland from the higher altitude gradually grew and thickened to become a wall of green either side of the road, sometimes up to a hundred feet high. In a few areas it was hard to determine individual trees as thick vines sewed them together in a mosaic of different hues.

Garmadia changed gears and accelerated across yet another wooden bridge in need of repair. Some of the short spans crossed shallow gorges that made Alex think of surface wounds slashed into the body of the jungle; others dropped hundreds of feet to streams of milky green water. Alex watched rotting fragments of timber fall away as they roared over the bridge and wondered how many more crossings it could take before a vehicle ended up tumbling into the green abyss.

Ramshackle shelters began to appear in clearings along the road. Small bands of stocky, brown people gathered inside and around them, talking and smoking long-stemmed pipes. With their coloured shawls and small round hats woven with bright feathers, they reminded Alex of flocks of exotic birds settled to feed.

Garmadia slowed the Humvee as they passed the shelters and most of the locals waved. Few smiled, however, and Alex wondered briefly what their relationship with the local military was like.

Several miles back, he had ordered Garmadia to turn off the air conditioning so there would be less of a temperature differential when it came time to leave the truck. The open windows let in the sounds and smells of the jungle, and, as they shot past another campsite, the delicious fragrance of roasting chicken.

‘I’m hungry,’ said Franks, leaning a little further out the window.

Michael Vargis rolled his eyes at her. He turned to wave to some small children who’d backed up when the vehicle approached. As he put his elbow on the window edge, the Humvee hit a large hole and his teeth came down on his bottom lip, cutting it slightly. ‘Ow.’ He placed his fingers against his lip and brought them away with a smudge of red.

Franks took his hand. ‘I know; it’s tough out in the field, honey. But don’t worry, Mommy can put a bunny plaster and a kiss on that for you later.’

She smacked her lips together in a mock kiss and Michael pulled his hand away from her. Even Alex had to turn away to stifle a laugh.

After another hour, the breeze coming into the truck cabin was thick with the smell of damp vegetation and decay. Garmadia pulled off the road and onto a small hump of dry ground, killing the engine and leaping from the driver’s door almost in one smooth motion. He stretched his back.

‘This is as far as we can go by road. Now we enter the deep jungle. But first we find a guide — or, rather, they find us.’

The HAWCs stepped from the vehicle. Alex looked across to Sam, who gave him a small nod. Good, Alex thought; Garmadia had taken them in the right direction. He had no real reason to think the Paraguayan officer wished them ill, but he didn’t think the man would be all that unhappy if the HAWCs ended up lost in the jungle.

‘Let’s unload and take a few minutes to orientate ourselves,’ Alex told his team.

He looked at the emerald barrier in front of them. He could sense the crowded life force emanating from the dense, crazy tangle. The noise was amazingly loud: it seemed that everything that could buzz, thrum, croak or screech was trying hard to outdo its neighbour. His senses were almost overwhelmed by the crushing waves of movement and sound. He took a deep breath, exhaled, and ran his hand up through his damp hair. It was only about a hundred degrees, but it was impossible to cool down in the high humidity. The heat stayed with you, on you, all over you. It blanketed, suffocated and drained you.

He turned back to the team. ‘Any more questions about lack of heat and humidity, Franks?’

‘This’ll do just fine, boss. I’ll cool down in the hotel pool later,’ Franks said as she pulled her webbing pack onto her back and threw her XM29 over her shoulder. She methodically patted each of her pockets and belt pouches, and opened and closed holsters, checking on the clasps and the smoothness of the draw.

Alex smiled as he watched her professional movements. He liked Casey Franks. She made him laugh with her evil sense of humour, but also instilled confidence in her teammates with her I’ve-always-got-your-back attitude. Her only problem was she liked to fight way too much. The scar on her face was the result of a brawl in a bikers’ bar when she ended up on the receiving end of a broken bottle. Alex had heard that she’d left plenty of broken bodies behind before her face was finally opened up. Franks needed to learn when to stand and fight and when to walk away — and Alex wasn’t at all sure he was the right person to give that lecture.

She had cut the toughened suit sleeves from her jungle camouflage and he could see the muscles bulging in her arms as she worked smoothly through her tasks. Her five foot eight inch body carried a lot of coiled muscle power — Casey Franks was no lady and she’d be the first to tell you that. She finally pulled her plated gloves back on and punched one hand into the other to test the fit and knuckle impact. Satisfied, she headed over to Sam and Mak, laughing as she greeted them with a joke.

‘Ahhh, here we go…’

Alex turned at the sound of Garmadia’s voice and saw a small Indian boy standing just behind the first wall of trees. The kid looked about six or seven years old, and had skinny brown legs that poked out from oversized shorts. His feet were bare and muddy, and his small chest was covered by a huge T-shirt that just retained a faded image of Superman’s ‘S’ shield.

The Paraguayan soldier crouched down, took a small silver coin from his pocket, flipped it in the air, and then held it out to the boy. Tentatively, the kid stepped forward. He looked from the coin to Garmadia, then up at Alex and the HAWCs. Eventually his desire for the money outweighed his fear and he darted forward. Instead of releasing the coin, Garmadia held on to it and spoke to him calmly. When he had the boy’s full attention, he pointed to the jungle, then to the HAWCs. Alex heard the word norteamericanos several times. The boy looked at the HAWCs again with his eyebrows raised, nodded enthusiastically and said a few words back to the Paraguayan captain.

Garmadia nodded and released the coin, and the boy darted back towards the tree line. Halfway there, he looked back at the group and yelled, ‘Norteamericano,’ then pointed at his chest. When he had their attention, he looked at the HAWC soldiers in their striped battle fatigues, smiled and held his thumb up. ‘Superman, Batman, excelente!’

Garmadia chuckled. ‘To most of the children here, in the cities or the forests, North America is the country where the superheroes live.’ He dusted his hands together and stood up. ‘All right, now we wait. Either he will bring us back a guide…or not.’

Franks yelled to the kid as he sprinted into the jungle: ‘Up, up and away!’

He turned one last time to smile then slipped deeper into the green.

‘About three hours until nightfall,’ Garmadia said to Alex. ‘If we can make a start tonight, and march for most of tomorrow, we may reach the drill site by late evening, or very early the next day. Provided we are not surprised by a storm, or attacked by a jaguar, or fall into a sinkhole, or our guide doesn’t get us lost…’

‘Good enough.’ Alex turned to his team. ‘Okay, people, let’s assist Dr Vargis with her equipment.’

Michael Vargis had removed all of the medical boxes and packs from the truck and stacked them on the grass. Most were small compact field-equipment cases holding computers, microscopes, centrifuges, and several portable batteries in case there was no generator out in the field. There was also a single, reinforced brushed metal case. Alex picked it up and the tips of his fingers tingled. Strange, I can sense radiation, he thought.

‘What’s in here, Dr Vargis?’

‘Michael can carry that, Captain Hunter,’ Maria Vargis replied. ‘It contains micro field X-ray equipment, which is pretty delicate, so please be careful when you’re putting it back down.’ She turned away, indicating the conversation was ended.

Alex knew she was lying, but he could wait to find out why. Instead, he lifted the box that contained the battery packs. It was heavy and he knew that carrying its weight for over twenty-four hours would just about kill anyone else. He thought of some of the miniaturised technology he’d worked with in the HAWC labs — weapons and comm device power packs that contained ten times more power at about a hundredth the size. Guess there’s more money in war than in medicine, he thought as he strapped the heavy box to his back.

Twenty minutes later, the boy emerged from the jungle with another slightly older youth, who, judging by his facial features, was probably related to him. The younger boy walked up to Garmadia. ‘Él es mi hermano Saqueo,’ he said, then indicated himself with his thumb. ‘Yo soy Chaco.’

Garmadia turned to Alex. ‘His name is Chaco, and this one here is his big brother, Saqueo — he will be our guide.’

Garmadia pulled a map from his pocket, spread it on the ground and pointed to their current location, then at a red circle about forty miles inland towards the river. He asked Saqueo several questions and the boy nodded to each, replying in a language that Alex thought sounded sometimes like Spanish.

‘It’s a mixture of Guarani, Tupi and Spanish,’ Sam said softly, appearing beside Alex and squinting while he listened.

‘Can you understand it?’ Alex spoke without turning.

‘Some. The Spanish, no problem, but the Tupi and Guarani, just a word here and there. Only had a few hours to pick up the basics on the plane.’

‘Okay. Make sure our captain’s playing it straight, but keep your language skills quiet for now,’ Alex ordered.

Garmadia took two bank notes from his pocket and showed them to Saqueo. He gave one to the boy and made a show of putting the other one back in his pocket. The gesture was clear: this one now, the other when we get there.

‘He can take us to the drill site,’ Garmadia told Alex. ‘And he’s confirmed it’s a 24-hour trek — maybe a bit longer seeing we are not local.’

‘Good. Tell him we want to leave immediately. How long until they can be ready?’

‘Two strong legs and a jungle full of food — they turned up ready, Captain Hunter.’

Garmadia folded the map and got to his feet. He said something to Saqueo and pointed to the piles of equipment. Alex watched as Chaco darted over and lifted one of the small packs onto his shoulder; he’d obviously decided he was coming as well.

‘No. Tell him he can’t come.’

The boy looked up at Alex in shock, understanding the near universal negative. He started to argue with Garmadia, his older brother joining in. The pair of them created a high-pitched chatter that had the captain covering his ears and waving them away.

‘I cannot stop him,’ Garmadia said with a shrug. ‘He will come anyway.’

Alex thought for a second. The two boys stood frozen in anticipation, waiting for a decision from the man who was clearly the group leader.

‘Okay, just to the river. But neither of them is to enter the camp,’ he said.

Though neither boy had a grasp of English, the word okay was obviously universal as well. Chaco was beaming again.

‘Gracias, señor.’

‘What about the truck?’ Michael Vargis said as he shouldered his pack.

Garmadia spoke without turning. ‘It will be safe where it is. We are far from any of our borders, and the Indians have no use for something this large. Just make sure the doors and windows are closed so nothing can take up residence in it.’

‘Let’s move. Chaco, Saqueo, after you.’ Alex made a sweeping gesture towards the tidal wave of vegetation that looked like it was about to crash down on top of them.

Saqueo went out at lead point, but Chaco fell in next to Alex, looking first up at his face, then down to the belt circling his waist with its strange mix of metal objects and pouches. His eyes alighted on the green and black gloves with their hardened ceramic armour. He reached across and tapped one with his small brown hand, feeling the toughened plates, then looked back up at Alex. ‘Como Batman, si?’

Alex shook his head and said, ‘HAWC.’

Chaco’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Hawkman?’ An even more excited look lit his face.

Alex groaned. It’s going to be a long trek, he thought.