Amazon Burning (A James Acton Thriller, #10) (4 page)

Especially
when they were sitting on your chest staring at you when you woke up, and you
could physically feel them walking away.

That was
the first night and from then on he made certain the tent was sealed up tight
every instant it was ashore. There had been no more bedtime surprises, but many
campfire ones. He was loving the trip, of that there was no doubt, but he had
to confess he was looking forward to getting home and back into his comfortable
bed.

Or
Laura’s.

They
still hadn’t settled on living arrangements, though there hadn’t been much time
since the wedding. After their two week honeymoon, they had split some time
between his house and her flat, then came to Brazil for most of June, and then
straight to this cruise.

Thank
God it’s summer break!

The
subject had been avoided the entire time, and Acton wasn’t sure if it was
intentional or not. All he knew was that it would need to be settled soon,
since this little trip was over in four days, the Venezuelan-Colombian border less
than half a day away at which point they would turn around, return to Manaus
and take Laura’s private jet home.

Home.

Part of
him wondered why they needed to change anything. It had worked out well so far.
They split their time between London and Maryland, Peru and Egypt. It kept
things exciting.

But
it’s not a marriage.

The boat
pulled up to the shore, its shallow draft hull allowing them to get within a few
feet. A ramp was thrown down and several of the crew quickly tied the boat to
nearby trees, the anchor dropped. The clearing and nearby forest were inspected
and the all-clear given. Acton was off first, Laura second with Reading and
Milton taking up the rear. Acton placed Milton’s chair near the shore, pushing
it down to make sure it was stable, then he and Reading helped him into his
seat, the most comfortable on the boat. The crew of six had the clearing free
of debris, a fire pit dug and ringed with rocks, then tents set up within less
than half an hour.

Acton
had to admit they had skills.

They had
boarded the Juliana at the end of the main tour that most tourists took out of
Manaus, a city buried in the heart of the Amazon Rainforest at the mouth of the
Rio Negro where it emptied into the mighty Amazon River. This smaller, more
maneuverable boat had taken them where few had gone before, deep into the
jungle where their guides assured them tribes never before seen by modern man
still lived to this day.

How
exciting would that be?

To
discover a tribe never before seen by “modern man”. To communicate with them,
to learn their ways and culture. To destroy their entire belief system by
exposing them to modern technology.

He
sighed.

They
need to be left alone.

He would
happily settle for seeing them from a distance, undisturbed, going about their
daily lives as they had for thousands of years. And the thought reminded him of
what he had seen from the boat. He walked over to the tree where he was sure he
had seen something and examined the area, the only light now from the
flickering fire ten feet away. He debated getting his flashlight but decided
against it when the cook announced dinner.

I’m
sure it was nothing.

But
something made the hair on the back of his neck stand up as he turned, a
feeling of forewarning he had felt too many times just before something took a
turn for the worse. He eyed Laura, who smiled at him and patted a clear spot
beside her on the ground.

Perhaps
we
should
sleep on the boat tonight.

Northern Amazon
Second day of the Third Moon
Three days before the attack

Tuk watched the man from his perch not twenty paces away. He was
tall, taller than any man he had seen before. And there was another older man
who appeared even taller. In fact all the pale ones were tall, including the
woman.

They
must be from a mighty clan of warriors!

The man
turned away and Tuk shifted, a loose branch rustling slightly. The man froze,
and Tuk could tell he was resisting the urge to turn around. Tuk prepared
himself, ready to disappear deeper into the forest should it become necessary,
but after only a few moments the man resumed walking toward the fire where a
darker skinned man was preparing what Tuk assumed was food, the few wafts of it
that had drifted his way delicious.

You
better keep that fire fed, otherwise you’ll have uninvited company.

Every
carnivore within half a day’s travel would be smelling this feast, the wind
blowing inland. It would shift soon, out over the river, but these strange
people didn’t seem to understand the ways of the Mother. He said a silent
prayer for their safety. Fools didn’t deserve to die at Her hand, these people
clearly not of this land.

But
where are they from?

They
wore strange things on their bodies, covering up most of their skin. In the
tribes he had been exposed to, nothing more than a loin cloth was used to cover
the private areas, and some tribes didn’t even bother with that. He reached
down and felt his own cloth covering his manhood then tried to imagine what it
would feel like to have his entire body confined by animal skins.

What
a waste!

Like the
stories from when he was younger.

The Panther
People.

They had
disrespected the mother, killing the stately creatures for their skins,
abandoning the rest of the carcasses, all so they could adorn themselves in
their shiny, black furs.

Disgusting.

But the
Mother had her revenge on the tribe, the result an abomination, a fiction to
scare respect of the Mother into the children of the tribe.

Or was
it a fiction? These people were clearly wasteful, adorning themselves in
unnecessary skins just like the Panther People.

As he
sat watching these strange people eat around the fire, he wondered what the
Mother thought of their coverings. Would She disapprove? Would She demand punishment?
If She did, he hoped She would spare the woman. Tuk couldn’t tear his eyes off
her, her appearance unlike anything he had ever seen. It was so exotic, he
wasn’t certain it was beauty or novelty that attracted him. TikTik was
beautiful, of that there was no doubt. In her entire tribe she was considered
the most beautiful of them all, and Bruk, her betrothed, the most handsome in
his.

Tuk was
far from the top.

In fact,
if there were a list, he would be at the bottom, he was certain.

His pain
overwhelmed him again and he felt his eyes burn with the memory of Pol. Pol
should be here with him now, sharing in this fascinating experience. These pale
people were so different, he knew the stories he would tell of this encounter
would never be believed. In fact, he was so certain they would never be
believed, he debated whether or not he should even bother mentioning it when he
returned home.

He
couldn’t bear to not be believed. His word was all he had, his looks, strength,
and skill as a hunter not virtues anyone except his mother recognized, and even
she, he knew, was only humoring him.

He
blinked away the tears and glared instead at the man who was clearly the
woman’s mate. As the fire lit her impossibly pale face and her light, reddish
hair, he felt his chest tighten with excitement, his loins stir against their
leather encasement.

A woman
of light!

It was as
if she were the sun itself, the radiance of the Mother trapped inside this
creature, its light escaping every pore, creating the white skin and light hair
so strange to him.

She was
a creation of the Mother, delivered to him in his moment of need, to fill the
void left by the loss of his friend, and to be his companion, at his side, for
life evermore, TikTik forever out of his reach.

But
there was only one problem.

The nine
men between him and her.

Rio Negro, Northern Amazon, Brazil
Present Day

Laura sat, rocking side to side, her arms folded, her beloved James
tucked in behind her, his arms wrapped around hers as he matched her to and fro
motion. Fabricio was playing the Portuguese guitar, its teardrop shape and
twelve strings producing a uniquely beautiful sound. He and a few of the crew
sang traditional Brazilian folk songs, the Portuguese lyrics completely foreign
to her, but the beauty and warmth they represented not.

She was
feeling a little warm, the couple of glasses of wine starting to kick in, her
eyes were beginning to droop. Reading was already dropping his chin onto his
chest then waking up instantly from the surprise as he tried to stay awake.
Milton had already gone to bed on the boat, his back sore and not up for
sleeping in a tent tonight.

She
worried about him, wondering if he had taken on too much by coming on this
trip. She hadn’t worried about him at the World Cup. There they were in
civilization. If something happened he could get to a hospital with ease, and
be flown back to the States in a few hours should it be necessary.

But
here, in the middle of the jungle?

If
something were to truly go wrong, they were a two to three day journey back to
the tiny bit of civilization that had been gouged out of the center of the
rainforest, where he would still have to be flown out of to get real care. Her
private jet would be there waiting for them in three days when their journey
was scheduled to be finished, but part of her was wondering if they should call
things short and head home in the morning. The rest of their journey was only
vanity, to be able to say they made it all the way to the border, but there was
little if anything significant to see by way of unique features between here
and there.

“I was
thinking…” she began.

“What?”
James’ voice was a whisper, the music still playing, the crew enjoying the
entertainment as much as them, the rule on the trip—no alcohol. She was
thankful for that, though felt a little guilty for having some herself. It was
her experience however that too much alcohol amongst the hired help could lead
to problems, and she had made it a rule whenever possible to have a dry policy
for them. That was one of the reasons she actually liked working in Muslim
countries since they were dry by law for the most part, so alcohol wasn’t as
much of a concern. It still was, just not as much, the hypocrisy of the true
believer something shared the world over.

“Perhaps
tomorrow morning we should head back.”

She felt
him nod into her shoulder. “I was thinking the same thing.”

Her
eyebrows climbed her forehead slightly as she turned her head to look at him.
“Really?”

He
looked at the boat then at Reading. “I think Greg’s back is bothering him more
than he’s letting on—”

“That’s
exactly what I was thinking. He’s not protesting people helping him anymore.”

“Yeah,
and that tells me he’s in pain.”

“Then
it’s settled?”

“What’s
settled?” asked Reading, his eyes semi-open.

“We’ll
head back first thing in the morning,” replied Laura.

“Sounds
like a fantastic idea to me,” said Reading through a stifled yawn. “I think
Greg’s back is bothering him.”

Laura
felt James chuckle behind her as they both realized all three of them had come
to the same conclusion. It made her feel warm inside that the four of them were
in such good tune with each other that they could pick up on these things. She
just felt bad that Milton didn’t feel comfortable enough to say something. Then
again she knew men, and their pride would prevent them from admitting anything
but the very worst, especially if they knew their troubles would affect the
entire group.