Hurricane Gold (21 page)

Maybe the blow to his head had knocked him unconscious, or perhaps the wasp venom had paralysed him.

There was only one way to find out. James cautiously approached the trunk, all the while expecting Strabo’s ugly face to appear over the top of it, spitting obscenities.

James
had
to look.

He ignored the teeming insects, which were still spilling over the trunk, and scrambled up, feeling brittle bodies pop and crunch beneath him. He was bitten three times and stayed there just long enough to get a glimpse of what was on the other side before dropping back down.

‘What is it?’ said Precious, when she was saw his pale face. ‘What happened to him? Is he gone?’

James nodded.

Nothing could ever have prepared him for the sight that had met his eyes. The image, seen for only a brief moment, was burnt on his retinas.

A river of insects, perhaps 20 feet wide, the individuals swarming together like a single, giant creature, devouring everything in their path. It was a colony of army ants on the move. There must have been a million of them and nothing could stop them. Spiders, scorpions, lizards, even a snake, were struggling to escape, but sinking under a boiling, seething mass of black bodies and red heads with huge, slicing mandibles. The ants latched on to anything they could hold – a leg, a wing casing, an antenna, an eye – and after paralysing their prey with their bites they cut them into pieces.

And lying in the middle of all this was Strabo. James had been right about him. The combination of the wasp bite and the blow to his head had paralysed him as effectively as the ants’ bites paralysed the smaller creatures. His body was twitching and racked with spasms, but he couldn’t get up. The ants flowed over him, crawling into his clothing, his mouth, his ears, his nose. Biting at his eyelids and his lips. He was disappearing under a living carpet of ants.

James had heard tales about army ants. How they would march like this all day until nightfall, when they would nest in readiness for another expedition the following morning. The insects scurrying over the trunk had been trying to get out of the way. They were the lucky ones. They had escaped the juggernaut. The unlucky ones, the ones that hadn’t been quick enough, didn’t stand a chance.

‘James?’ said Precious. ‘What happened to him?’

‘He won’t be any more trouble,’ said James. ‘He’s out cold. Let’s get away while we can.’

He took Precious’s hand and they once more went back the way they had come. Going cautiously, not knowing what to expect. When they came to the spot where Strabo had dropped his gun, they stopped and looked for it, groping around in the tangled vegetation by the side of the path. It was hot dirty work. Water dropped from the leaves overhead and they were soon both soaked and filthy.

It was Precious who eventually found it. But no sooner had she jumped up, triumphantly clutching it in her hand, than Manny came thundering down the track.

‘They’re coming, Louis,’ he yelled.

‘Who?’ said James.

‘I dunno,’ said Manny. ‘The cops, I reckon, maybe.’

‘Who’s after you, Manny?’ said James. ‘Is it Mrs Glass?’

Manny thought for a moment, his face clouded. ‘Yeah,’ he said finally. ‘It’s her. It has to be.’

Before James could stop him, Manny had grabbed the gun off Precious and fired wildly back down the track. He then shouted, ‘This way!’ and pulled her deeper into the bushes.

James had no option but to follow.

They ran through the jungle, pushing branches and lianas out of their way, dodging between the tall bare trunks of the trees. They were heading down the side of a hill into deeper jungle and, try as he might, James could not get Manny to stop. In the end, he physically took hold of him and pinned him to a tree.

‘Wait,’ he said. ‘This is stupid. We’ll get completely lost.’

‘They’re coming,’ said Manny, looking around nervously. ‘They’re after me.’

‘I don’t think there was ever anybody after you, was there?’ said James.

‘I don’t know,’ said Manny fearfully. ‘I don’t know anything any more.’

James didn’t want to upset him. For now Manny seemed to have forgotten all about being pushed from the car. James needed it to stay that way.

‘It’s all right, Manny,’ he said. ‘We’ll look after you. Just calm down.’

He slapped his arm where a mosquito was feeding on him. He hated mosquitoes. Last summer he had been so badly bitten by a swarm he had nearly died. Now their bites hardly itched at all, but he still hated the evil little things.

‘I need to rest,’ said Precious, flopping to the ground.

‘We can’t stay here,’ said James. ‘We have to keep moving. We have to find food and shelter and a way out of this mess.’

‘We need to go back,’ said Precious. ‘We have to stop her.’

‘Which way is back?’ said James. ‘We’re lost. If we ever get out of this jungle we can worry about Mrs Glass. In the meantime our main concern is survival.’

‘We had the papers, James,’ said Precious. ‘We had them in our hands. And now she’s got them. I handed them to her on a plate.’

‘There was nothing we could have done,’ said James. ‘Don’t be so hard on yourself.’

‘I’m going to get them back,’ said Precious. ‘I won’t rest until I do.’

‘All right,’ said James hotly. ‘But as long as we’re in the middle of this jungle, miles from civilisation, there’s nothing we can do.’

It was a sullen, silent group that set about trying to find a pathway or track of some sort and three hours later they were still wandering completely disorientated in the forest.

They were just about to give up all hope when they came across their first sign of civilisation. James spotted a big old tree, the bark of which had been cut in a herringbone pattern. A sticky, rubbery substance was oozing out of it and dribbling down the trunk into a burlap bag.

A little further on they found another tree that was being similarly harvested and then they stumbled upon a crude path that had been chopped through the jungle. They followed it, passing several more trees dripping sap. At last they caught the odour of wood smoke and cooking and through the foliage up ahead they could make out a camp in a clearing.

James put a hand on Manny’s arm.

‘Keep quiet,’ he said. ‘Don’t say anything. Let me do the talking. Please. Whoever they are, I don’t want to scare them, and for God’s sake, put Strabo’s gun away. If you start waving that around, we’re sunk.’

Manny nodded mutely, like a little child told to behave by his father, and James led them into the camp.

21

The Chicleros

The camp was primitive but looked comfortable enough. There were mosquito nets draped everywhere and hammocks slung from trees. Metal boxes held provisions and there was a tank for freshwater.

Four men stood around a large iron pot set over a fire. It was filled with a thick, sticky, glue-like substance and one of the men was stirring it with a pole. The men looked fierce and half-wild, as if they had been living here in the forest for months. They had long black hair and the dark skin of Indians.

A woman sat by another fire, preparing food, with a small grubby-faced boy.

The men stared at the newcomers and one of them idly slapped a machete against his leg.

‘
Hay alguien que hable ingles?
’ James asked, and after a pause one of the men stepped forward.

‘Sí,’ he said. ‘I speak a leetle Ingleesh.’

‘We are lost,’ said James. ‘
Perdido
. We had an
accidente
…’

The man frowned and peered at the gash in Manny’s head. He whistled and beckoned his friends over. They crowded round Manny, staring and talking quietly to each other. James was worried that they would set him off.

‘Be careful,’ he said. ‘Not too close.’

While Manny wasn’t looking, he tapped his own skull to indicate that Manny wasn’t quite right in the head. The man nodded an understanding and waved his companions back.

‘Please,’ said Precious, ‘we are very hungry.
Memuero de hambre
.’

‘You want eat?’ said the man and mimed taking food to his mouth with one hand.

James nodded wearily.

‘We need food, and we need a guide,’ he said. ‘Someone who can show us the way to a village or town.’

‘
Un guia?
’ said the man.

‘Sí,’ said James. He wasn’t sure if he could trust these men, but, right now, they were his only hope, so he added. ‘We have money, we can pay.
Pesos
.’

The man smiled. ‘First eat,’ he said.

James sank to the ground, relieved. The smell of the cooking was delicious. It may have only been a clearing in the jungle, but this place suddenly felt like the best restaurant in the world.

The woman served up a meal of beans, rice, tortillas and fiery chillies. James ate every scrap of it and washed it down with cold water. When the three of them had finished eating, they sat in a sort of stunned silence, letting their bodies regain their strength.

James felt lazy and contented. His spirits had been lifted by the simple food and he could look on the bright side again.

Once more they had escaped death. Mrs Glass had the papers, but she was alone now. There was none of her gang left. That was justice of sorts.

He turned to Precious and smiled at her.

She smiled back at him. It was the first time he had seen her smile all day.

She looked quite beautiful.

James watched the men working. They had removed the giant pot from the fire to let it cool, and they were now stirring the rubbery contents and pulling out thick strands with a paddle, as if they were making toffee. When they were satisfied that it was the right temperature and consistency, one of the men rubbed a soapy paste on to his arms to protect them and scooped out a blob of the warm gum with his hands. He quickly dropped it into a wooden mould and spread it smooth. There was soon a mounting stack of golden-brown blocks, and, as each block cooled, the man carved his initial in the top of it.

James was curious to know what the stuff was and he forced himself to his feet and went over to join the men.

‘What is it?’ he asked.

‘
Chicle
,’ said Elijio, the man who spoke English. ‘We are
chicleros
.’

‘
Chicle
?’ said James, who had never heard the word before. ‘What is it? What’s it used for? Is it like rubber?’

‘Leetle,’ said Elijio. ‘Is for gom.’

‘Gom?’ said James. ‘You mean gum?’

‘Sí,’ said Elijio. ‘Chewing gom. We sell to the Yankees.’

‘Chewing gum?’ said James. ‘You’re harvesting chewing gum!’ He laughed. He had chewed gum before, but had never wondered where it came from.

One of the other
chicleros
broke off a piece of
chicle
and gave it to James to try. It was hard and almost tasteless, but after some vigorous chewing he managed to soften it.

He was still chewing it that evening as they sat around the fire watching the bats dart through the air chasing the insects that were attracted by the light. He had been negotiating a fee with Elijio for guiding them to safety and had agreed on 200
pesos
. The woman, meanwhile, had been preparing a paste from leaves and berries she had picked in the forest. James thought it was for another meal, but it turned out to be for Manny’s wound. They persuaded him that it would be all right, and she gently folded the flap of skin and bone back against his skull and smeared the paste all over it. Then she bound it tightly with a clean bandage and said some words to him that he didn’t understand.

James was glad that the gaping hole was hidden. The sight of it had been making him feel sick. It didn’t make any difference to Manny’s mental state, however. He seemed to be slipping in and out of reality and didn’t really have a clear idea of where he was and who these people were.

It rained in the night. James woke up soaked to the skin and covered in seed ticks that had got in through the mosquito net and were having a morning snack of blood. After their own breakfast of beans and tortillas, and several cups of strong, bitter, black coffee, they set off, with Elijio leading the way. It was cold this morning and a thin, damp mist hung in the trees. The
chiclero
knew the forest intimately and led them through its heart as easily as if they had been strolling through a well-laid- out city.

It was tough going; the paths weren’t straight and they frequently had to hack at huge leaves and vines that were blocking their way. When they at last stopped to eat, Elijio explained that they were still only about halfway to their destination: a small settlement on the banks of the Rio Usumacinta from where they could take a boat out of the jungle.

Lunch was more beans and cold tortillas. Last night this simple food had tasted like the food of the gods, but James found that he was already growing bored of the monotonous diet.

As they ate, a group of howler monkeys yelped and whooped at them from the branches above and a brilliant scarlet macaw swooped past, adding a thrilling splash of colour to the unbroken greys and greens of the forest.

When they set of again Precious quizzed James about where they were going.

‘As far as I can tell, the river goes all the way to the Gulf of Mexico,’ said James. ‘We should be able to get a boat up to Vera Cruz from there.’

‘Not Vera Cruz,’ said Precious.

‘What do you mean?’ said James.

‘JJ is safe,’ said Precious. ‘Dad’s with him. We don’t need to go there.’

‘What about you?’ said James. ‘You’re not safe. Don’t you want to go to your father?’

‘I can’t,’ said Precious quietly. ‘Not without fixing everything first.’

‘You’ve got to stop thinking about Mrs Glass,’ said James. ‘You’ll only make yourself miserable. Put her out of your mind.’

‘I can’t,’ said Precious. ‘She has to be stopped. It’s fate, James. It’s like God asked us to do his work.’

‘You’re sounding as crazy as Manny,’ said James with a smile. But Precious did not smile back. He realised she was serious about this.

‘Think about it,’ she said. ‘Every time we’ve tried to get away we’ve been thrown straight back at her. After the storm, in Puente Nuevo, she found me and JJ, then, when we got away from her, there was Manny. We got away from Manny, and there she was again, in Palenque. But each time, each time there was one less of them. Whatzat, Sakata, Strabo. I tell you, this was meant to be. We’re going after her, James. We can do it. We can get the papers. We can make everything all right again.’

‘She’ll be halfway to her island by now,’ said James.

‘You see, James?’ said Precious. ‘We know where she’s going. We can follow.’

‘I’m not sure this island she talked about, this Lagrimas Negras, is somewhere we’d want to be,’ said James.

‘If you won’t come with me, then I’ll go alone.’ Precious sped up and walked ahead of James, as if she was in a great hurry to get on. James caught her up.

‘You’re just a girl,’ he said. ‘What do you think you can do?’

‘I don’t know. But before this started I didn’t think I could do half the things I’ve done. You just point me in the right direction.’

It was dark when they arrived at a ramshackle collection of huts and tents on the river. The settlement was inhabited by rough-looking men, most of who seemed to be headed for the only building of any size: a rowdy bar from which yellow light spilt out into the muddy street.

They had been walking all day and James was too exhausted even to talk. Manny was red-eyed and feverish, more confused than ever, and Precious, after her brief blossoming of nervous energy earlier, had retreated into the sullen mood that James knew so well. He could hardly blame her.

James paid Elijio his 200
pesos
and he introduced them to a French logger who would take them on down the river. The tough little
chiclero
then bade them farewell and slipped back into the jungle. James wondered if he was intending to walk all the way back through the night. The journey certainly didn’t seem to have tired him out at all.

James was still chewing his gum, and he knew that whenever he chewed gum again he would remember Elijio and the
chicleros
working away in the jungle, tapping the trees for
chicle
and boiling it up, miles from civilisation.

There were rooms to rent behind the bar and James paid far too much for three beds for the night. The locals were content to carry on drinking, arguing and singing until daybreak. James spent another sleepless night.

He wasn’t alone. Manny kept getting up and pacing the room. At one point he walked out and James got up to follow him.

He found him outside, sitting on a step, smoking a cigarette he’d bought in the bar.

James sat down next to him.

‘Have you ever heard of an island called Lagrimas Negras?’ he asked.

‘Sure I have,’ said Manny. ‘Everyone’s heard of it, but it’s a fairy-tale, it don’t exist.’

‘Mrs Glass thinks it exists,’ said James. ‘She said she was going there.’

‘We all dream of going to Lagrimas,’ said Manny. ‘Every bad man with a big score and nowhere else to go. It’s a paradise for lawbreakers, where you can live like a king and nobody bothers you none. No cops. No judges. No nothing. But you gotta have a big pot of gold to get in. I tell you, if I had the dough, that’s where I’d be, Louis. That’s where I’d be.’

They talked some more until Manny’s mind slipped out of gear and James took him back into the room and put him to bed. He sat by him until he dozed off.

The next day they bought some basic provisions in the store and the French logger loaded the three of them on to a raft with a fat middle-aged Mexican and his donkey. Then they set off down the river with a flotilla of mahogany logs that were being floated to the timber yards in Tabasco.

Manny sat at the back and muttered quietly to himself, and James and Precious sat and watched the scenery drift by. The river water was thick and brown as tea. A fishing eagle splashed down on to it and came away with a fat silver fish. A great blue heron flew past. A crocodile wriggled out of the bushes and crashed into the water.

‘Do you really mean to go after Mrs Glass?’ said James.

‘I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,’ said Precious. ‘I once swore I’d kill her, and I
will
do it. She thought she could destroy my family and everything I love, well she can’t. Do you know the story of the Greek Furies?’

‘Vaguely,’ said James. ‘Weren’t they female demons of some sort? With snakes for hair?’

‘Yes,’ said Precious. ‘And when they were unleashed, you couldn’t stop them until they had finished their task, until they had chased down the wrongdoers and punished them. Well, I may not have snakes for hair, but I am not going to stop, and you had better believe it.’

‘I believe it,’ said James. ‘But I’m not letting you go off by yourself. It looks like we’re in this together. We’re stuck with each other till the bitter end.’

‘Till the death,’ said Precious.

‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,’ said James, looking into the rushing, turbulent water of the river.