Curse of the Condor (16 page)

“None of this matters,” Conrado told him. “Even if I find out I didn’t kill Ryder, it won’t bring him back to life.”

"True," answered the wise shaman. "But maybe it'll bring her back to you."

Conrado already felt an emptiness in his heart without Jetta's presence. He knew he would love her forever. But he also knew they could never be together again if it really was him who killed Ryder. He had to know. If it was true, he’d turn himself in to the authorities. And if it wasn’t . . . he’d find the bastard who did it and make him pay.

“How do I contact this condor?” Conrado would try anything if it would bring him closer to the truth.

“Come, my son,” said the chief bringing him to the shaman hut. “I will lead you on a vision quest and you will soon have your answer.”

Chapter 22

Jetta woke up rubbing her head, feeling like she’d been run over by a truck. It took her a moment before she remembered what had happened. She heard Chatter in the tree above her, and looked up to see him hanging by his tail, picking another fig and devouring it greedily.

"Thanks for nothing," she said with a slight groan. She pushed herself up to her elbows. "I never should have tried the vine swinging trick without Conrado."

Just the sound of his name set a trigger of emotions through her body. Longing, wanting, caring, that turned into disgust, anger and hate.

"How could he do it?" she cried out, listening to her words in the air and also the silence all around her. She knew now the feeling Conrado always got when he sensed something was wrong. She felt like there was something, or someone watching her. She spied the blowgun lying on the ground, but it was too far away. She sprang to her feet and ran for it, diving to the ground to grab it as she felt a cold shadow descending upon her.

Her fingers came inches away from the blowgun, but she couldn't grab it because of the two bare, dark feet that now stood in her way. She knew these feet weren't Conrado's. Too small. And she'd seen enough of Conrado lately that she'd be able to identify him by just a toenail.

Her eyes scanned up higher, past the knees and to the dusty material wrapped around the subject's waist. She pushed back, jumping to her feet when she saw the native man. He didn’t look like a Yagua, and she could only hope he was friendly. But by the looks of the blowgun flung over one shoulder, and the painted stripes on his face, she sincerely doubted this was true.

She screamed. The native reached out for her, and she slapped away his hand and screamed even louder.

"Don't touch me, you savage! Get away from me before I - before I - " she didn't know what to say since she didn't have a weapon. Even if she had, she knew she'd be no match for the warrior man. She entertained the idea of kicking him in the groin, but figured he'd be too fast and probably break her leg in the process. Then she'd never be able to run away.

The young man said something very foreign to her. Then he repeated it, but she still didn’t understand him.

"What do you want with me?" she asked, backing away slowly. "Are you going to kill me? Did you already kill Conrado?" She looked him bravely in the eye, afraid if she'd look away he might attack her.

The young man did nothing to capture her, and this puzzled her. Then he said something else which she did understand. He said,
El Condor
.

"Condor, yes. That's him. Conrado. Where is he?" she asked, but he just stared. Then, before she knew what was happening, he threw her over his shoulder and carried her away. She screamed and kicked, frightened for her life. Frightened that she may be some cannibal's supper.

Chatter swung down from the trees, landing on her back and scaring her further. She screamed so loud, she swore the whole jungle must have heard her. And then when she heard the gun shot echoing through the trees and the sound of a bullet hitting something nearby, she knew someone had heard her.

The native put her down and picked up his blowgun to his mouth. Then he shook his head and disappeared into the trees.

"Wait! Come back," she found herself calling. Then she heard voices and realized how foolish she was being. If there was a gun shot, there was a gun. And where there was a gun, there would be a civilized man.

"Over here," she yelled, and ran toward the sound of the men's voices. "I'm over here. Please help me."

There was another gunshot, and her heart picked up speed.

"I'm unarmed," she called, looking for Conrado's blowgun, but realizing the native man must have taken it with him. "I'm not a threat. Please don't shoot. Please help me!"

Then she saw the same three missionaries she'd seen when she was with Conrado earlier that day. She remembered Conrado said they were trouble, but she had no other choice. She wanted out of this jungle, and maybe they could help her. She shouted again, and ran toward them.

"Please help me," she said, hands above her head. "The native man is gone, so please don’t shoot.”

The men came through the clearing, guns raised, and she gasped. They were no longer dressed like missionaries, and the one with the withered hand had an evil look in his eye.

“Get her,” he ordered the other two men, and they came to her side and grabbed her by the arms.

“Wait a minute. What are you doing? I came to you for help. I’m a lost school teacher from America. My name is - "

“Jetta Fitzgerald,” said the overweight man with a laugh.

“Yes,” she said. “But how did you know?”

“Ms. Fitzgerald,” said the first man. “Where is the necklace?”

She froze. So Conrado was right. These men were trouble.

“What necklace?”

“Don’t play games with me,” he growled. “The crystal condor that I sent you in the mail.”

“
You
sent me?” The men released her, but still held their guns at the ready. She rubbed her arms as she spoke. “That trinket was from my brother.”

“That trinket was stolen by your brother from the Cave of the Condor.”

“No!” she said in a clipped voice. “Ryder didn’t steal anything.” She tried to convince herself, but the sinking feeling in her chest led her to believe her brother had reverted back to his old ways.

“He did, and he paid for it with his life.”

“You knew Ryder?” she asked with wide eyes.

“No,” he said. “But when the two missionaries he was with came back with that little trinket and his letter, I knew my ship had come in.”

“What are you saying? My brother is dead and you make it sound like a blessing.”

“I’ve been looking for that cave since the day the Nievezs’ died.”

Jetta’s eyes roamed to his withered hand. She recalled the story Conrado had told her of the missionary whose hand was struck by lightning.”

“You know Conrado.”

“We’ve been following you,” the thinner man said, putting his gun back in his holster.

“Following us? Why?”

“So Conrado would lead us to the cave,” said the heavier man.

“Why, he’d never do that!” she retorted.

“I’d hoped his guilty conscious would make him take that necklace back to the cave, but my plan didn’t work out. He has the necklace doesn’t he?”

When she didn’t answer, the man just nodded his head. His eyes swept the area, and a sudden smile crossed his face. He chuckled lowly.

“What is it, Prospero?” asked one of the men. “What makes you laugh?”

“We don’t need Conrado after all, Arlo. I just spotted the cave. I thought this area seemed familiar.” He grabbed Jetta by the hair and pushed her forward as he hurried over the jungle floor.

“Leave me alone,” she cried. “You have your cave, so you don’t need me.”

“Oh, that’s where you’re wrong,” he said with another laugh. “You see, I need someone to go inside and carry out my treasure. You, sweetie, are going to do just that.”

* * *

Conrado sat in the small, closed, dark hut with Toco across from him. One small flame burned in the middle of the room while Toco chanted something Conrado had never heard before. He’d never accompanied a shaman on a vision quest while growing up. He’d been asked several times, his tribal father telling him he’d earned the honor, but Conrado didn’t want to have anything to do with this hocus pocus.

"What are you doing now?" asked Conrado.

When Toco didn’t answer, Conrado knew he needed to remain quiet. It was hot in the hut, and Conrado felt the need to breathe. But he couldn’t leave now. He was here for a purpose, and he wouldn’t leave until he finished.

The chief mixed up a batch of vile-smelling potion. He handed it to Conrado, and nodded, looking at his mouth. Conrado wasn't sure what he was supposed to do, but figured he'd drink some.

He raised it to his mouth, and when Toco didn’t stop him, he knew he’d done as was required. Conrado swallowed quickly, feeling the burning as it made its may down his throat to his stomach. It was strong. Stronger than anything he'd ever tasted. Even the manioc beer the natives loved and lived on wasn’t as bitter as this concoction.

Toco held out his hands for the bowl, and downed the rest of the liquid.

Conrado watched as his surrogate father mixed up something else, brought it up to his nose and inhaled it. Conrado really didn't want to try it, but when it was handed to him, he knew he had no choice. He did as the shaman did, closing his eyes as he inhaled. A spinning sensation engulfed him, and he felt so dizzy he was sure he’d fall over. With eyes still closed, Conrado felt Toco take the bowl from his grip.

The shaman chanted a haunting tune, and Conrado could smell the fragrance of burning jungle flowers. This only added to his disoriented feeling, and the hut seemed to spin even faster. His stomach convulsed and he felt the bile rise to his throat. Then the chanting dissipated until it was nothing but the sound of crickets and jungle noises that had lulled him to sleep throughout his childhood.

His body relaxed, and he went into a dreamlike state. Reveling in the feeling of lightness and joy, relaxation encompassed him. The crickets chirped louder in his ears, the jungle monkeys and birds joining in the chorus until it was so loud he could no longer tolerate it. Then it stopped suddenly. A silence so thick and eerie that it sent shivers up his spine, and his eyes flew open. Or so he thought.

Instead of sitting in the hut on a vision quest, Conrado found himself standing in the jungle. The trees and foliage surrounded him like a blanket, and in a ray of light breaking through the jungle canopy, sat no other than the condor.

He remembered what Toco said. That he didn't need to fear the condor. That the condor was his guide and there to help him. He tried to speak, but his mouth didn't move. Instead, he thought - and heard his words aloud.

I'm told you may have seen what happened the day Ryder was murdered.

He didn't get an answer.

Can you tell me - was it me who killed my friend? Or was it - was it maybe someone else?

The condor stood before him, staring its beady eyes into him so intensely he thought he could feel his skin on fire. The bird didn't answer. Of course not. The bird was a bird and couldn't answer. He suddenly felt very foolish talking to a condor.

Go away,
he told it, but it didn't move. He tried to reach down and grab a rock to throw at it. That's when he realized his feet weren't touching the ground. When he tried to grab a branch, his hand went right through it. This was the weirdest dream he'd ever had. The stress he'd been under lately must surely be causing it.

I don't want you following me anymore,
he told the bird
. I don't want you bringing news of death and gloom all the time. Just leave me alone.

The bird raised its huge wings to take off, and as it did, Conrado found himself feeling sad. The bird was leaving. He should be happy, but yet it bothered him immensely.

Wait
, he called,
I didn't mean it
. The bird looked back once, but then continued. With just this glance, Conrado felt instantly comforted. As if invisible arms were wrapped around him, hugging him, putting him at ease.

He realized he was no longer on the ground in the understory. Now he was high above the canopy and somehow looking out from the condor's eyes. He was the condor. He was
El Condor
. The bird of the dead was a part of him. A part of his spirit. Or a spirit guide as Toco had told him.

The wind blew against his face, his large wings flapping effortlessly, pushing him through the sky. The sun felt hot on the back of his neck as he soared higher and higher through the clouds. Then he held his wings out and glided toward the ground. The trees below him were no longer small spots of green and brown. He entered the jungle and perched atop a rock.

He saw two men below him. One of them wore the robe of a missionary. It was Ryder Fitzgerald. The other - the other was him. It was an eerie feeling to watch himself in the past. But he knew the spirit of the condor was presenting him with a very valuable gift. He sat back and watched the scene of the past.

“No,” said Conrado with a shake of his head. He swaggered, almost dropping the bottle of chicha in his hand. “You can’t go into the cave. I never should have showed it to you. Now just forget all about it.”

“Please,” begged Ryder. “Just let me peek inside the entrance. I have to know what’s in there.”

Conrado lay down on the ground, his head moving back against a rock, his eyes closing. Two other missionaries slept soundly not far away. In a matter of minutes, the nearly empty bottle of chicha fell from his fingers, and his chest moved up and down slowly with the loud sound of his relaxed breath.

Ryder took a flashlight from his pouch and retraced the steps the best he could remember to the cave not far away. Finding the entrance stone, he ran his hand across it. The flashlight lit up the etched condor engraved on the rock.