Insects: A Novel (14 page)

“Think there’s enough ventilation?”

“Ventilation? For what?” Johnson asked.

“For us, of course,”

“Oh,” Johnson snorted, “we’d stand outside, you know, and wait for the clothes to dry.”

Boyd gave him a skeptical look.

“You’re not serious, are you? I mean, it’s still raining …”

“Off and on,” Johnson interjected.

“”Off and on, yes, but even when it’s not raining, the humidity is like it’s raining. You know?”

“At least we’re not sleeping on the ground. We’re high and dry!” Johnson said, pulling up a corner of his air mattress.

51

Everyone was cheerful
when they woke to partly cloudy skies and sunlight. The worst was over, they agreed, around cups of instant coffee and nutrition bars. Despite the pervasive wetness, most got a decent amount of sleep and were energized by the prospect of reaching the cabin by late afternoon. From there, they’d call Gonzalo Juarez and be back in civilization the next day. They decamped quickly, their packs bulging as they spent little time organizing the gear. Why bother when they wouldn’t be using it again, at least not on his trip? By eight, they were on their way on the last mile to the shallow river, after which they’d be on dry land the rest of the way.

Antonio Suarez woke refreshed and took the lead toward the river. He dedicated the remainder of the expedition to his dead boss and friend, Javier Costa. The primitive path was soft from being saturated with rain. Large puddles dotted the forest floor. And the air was alive with mosquitoes, which they combated by spraying themselves with Deet. The air was heavy and warm, so it mattered little that most of their clothing was damp or still wet. But their focus was less on the weather than on making the trek back to the cabin as quickly as possible. There were brief discussions about leaving equipment behind to speed up the hike.

“We don’t need the tents anymore, do we?” Peeples asked those around her.

“And the sleeping bags,” Johnson said. “They’re wet and too heavy, and they aren’t going to dry out rolled up like they are. What good are they?”

“Come down to it,” Boyd said, “all we really need are the clothes on our back, our shoes and whatever food’s left.”

“And what happens if we run into a problem?” Rankin asked.

“What problem?” Boyd asked.

“Like what if it starts to rain hard again? Wouldn’t it be good to have a tent? Besides, you know we’ve camped two nights, not just last night. Do you really think we can make it back to the cabin in one day?”

“Sure, why not?” Johnson said. “We’re not gonna spend any time foraging for carcasses. That’s what took so long.”

About the time they decided what was necessary and what wasn’t, they found themselves sloshing in water several inches deep. The leaf-covered forest didn’t look inundated, but the trail was clearly flooded. Duncan asked Suarez to lead the group to a high spot just off the trail where they bunched together to keep their shoes out of the water. What concerned Duncan was that the forest was already filling with water, and they weren’t in sight of the stream.

“What do you think, Antonio?” Duncan said. “Think it’ll get much deeper?”

“I don’t know. Mr. Howard, I don’t think so much. But the river might be filled so crossing it might not be easy. At least not like the other day when there were just a few centimeters of water.”

Duncan considered the options for a moment.

“Tell you what, I’ll go ahead with Antonio and see what’s up. No point in everybody getting soaked more than we have to.”

Boyd nodded in agreement.

“Maybe we should move back a bit to where the trail isn’t flooded. We’d have more room and we could take a break.”

Duncan handed his pack to Boyd, who struggled to maintain his balance while also carrying his pack. Suarez hung his pack from a low-hanging tree branch, and the two made their way toward the river while the others retraced their steps and made themselves as comfortable as possible by sitting on their packs. Almost immediately, they began snacking on their remaining nutrition bars and trail mix. The mood remained elevated, and they talked as if the cabin were just around the next bend.

52

Suarez and Duncan
had barely gone a hundred yards before the water was up to their ankles. The trail was slippery, and they had to move cautiously, sliding their feet instead of taking steps. Progress was slow, and it didn’t help that the water got deeper the farther they walked. By the time they could see the river, the water was up to their knees, muddy, swirling and pushing against them. Both banks were underwater and the stream’s channel, where the current was strongest, was at least fifty feet across. They stood there for several moments looking for ways to cross, but the entire forest floor was underwater and swirling.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit!” Duncan said loudly.

“I think you are right, Mr. Howard,” Suarez said.

Since there was no longer a trail that could be seen under the water, Suarez took the lead and shuffled in the direction they had come. As a guide, he was accustomed to making note of anything noticeable and out of the ordinary to prevent him from getting lost, but since they were following a trail, he paid little attention to landmarks. As a result, their progress was slow, as Suarez used his feet to feel the inundated trail. The consistency of the muck and grass were a contrast to the leaves and sharp broken branches that lay alongside the trail. Once they were in ankle-deep water, they were able to see where the trail eventually came out of the water, move quickly toward it and then double-time through the mud to where the others were relaxing.

Everyone rose expectantly as Duncan and Suarez approached. Stray rays of sunshine peeked obligingly through the canopy, creating puddles of bright light wherever they reached. From where they’d sat, things were looking up.

“The river’s flooded,” Duncan said matter-of-factly. He was on the verge of telling them that there was no way out but didn’t.

“What do you mean, it’s flooded?” Hamel asked reflexively.

“Both banks are underwater. We couldn’t get closer than a hundred feet, and the water was knee deep. It’s flowing fast, and it’s spreading out. This place is gonna be underwater in another hour or so.”

“That fast?” Boyd asked.

“Yeah, we can’t stay here.”

“But, but how are we gonna get to the cabin?” Rankin asked nervously.

“We’re not,” Boyd said, pointedly. “Didn’t you hear him?”

“Can’t we do something?” Rankin asked. “Can’t we use ropes or something to get across?”

“We don’t have enough rope,” Duncan said, “and even if we did, it’s too treacherous. The water is deep, and it’s moving fast. Some of us might make it and some of us might not. Too much risk.”

“Can’t we use a log or something and float across?” Hamel asked. “I’ve seen it done in Westerns.”

“Don’t be silly,” Margaret Cross said. “This isn’t a movie, and you’re not a stuntman.”

All but Duncan and Azevedo exchanged glances as it dawned on them that they were trapped. Some were worried.

“What’s plan B?” Rankin whispered to Johnson, who shrugged.

After a moment of whispered comments, some of them snarky, Cody Boyd approached Duncan, who was engaged in an intense conversation with Suarez. Boyd stood at a respectful distance while they spoke but heard almost every word. Boyd stepped forward as soon as the conversation ended.

“What are we going to do, boss? The natives are getting restless.”

“You restless, Cody?” Duncan asked.

“Sorta. I mean, I ... I didn’t expect this. Did you?”

Duncan was trying to think. He wasn’t paying attention to Boyd. He was focused on the problem that, as the leader, it was his job to solve.

Suarez had told him that the entire forest would be flooded by nightfall. He’d been through this before with his boss, but never alone. He wondered for a moment whether he was up to the task and frantically worked with the professor using Duncan’s topographical maps to plan an escape route.

With Suarez watching and making suggestions, Azevedo penciled in a route that would bring them to higher ground, but parts of it were no higher than the surrounding forest floor. Optimally, they wanted to take only high ground but that proved impossible. Some areas were lower than others. They drew alternate routes, but each of them had its limitations. When they’d exhausted the possibilities, they returned the map to Duncan, who studied it for a moment.

“I’m afraid there is no easy way,” Azevedo told Duncan. “We can get to the high ground, but Antonio thinks we have to do it quickly. He says the entire forest may fill up with water.”

“Is that right, Antonio?”

“Yes, Mr. Howard.” Sweeping his arm around him, he added, “Everything will be under water. It’s all coming from the north and east.”

“How much water?”

“Who knows?” Azevedo said. “A few inches, a few feet, it could be dangerous. We won’t be able to see the ground or the trail if there is one. It will be easy to step into a hole.”

“What if it stops raining?” Duncan asked.

Suarez looked at Azevedo and shrugged.

“The water’s coming from miles away. Even if we don’t see any rain, the water is going to get higher,” Suarez said bleakly.

Duncan stared at the leafy litter under his feet. The ground was wet and soft but nothing like what he saw near the river. How long would it be before where he stood would be under water?

“How far do we have to go to get to high ground?” Duncan asked, looking at the map.

“Seven, eight kilometers,” Suarez said.

“How long will it take?”

Suarez looked at Azevedo as if he had the answer.

“I think you young people should go ahead.”

“Pardon me?” Duncan said.

“I’m going to slow everyone down. My knees are killing me.”

“We’re not leaving you behind,” Duncan said forcefully with Suarez nodding in agreement.

Azevedo disagreed, shaking his head.

“Look,” he said, “the water is rising, and it will be flooding across the forest like a giant lake. You want to be on high ground when this happens. You know, there will be snakes, maybe caiman, who knows what else.”

Suarez looked at Azevedo nervously.

“It’s okay,” Azevedo said to Suarez. “I will slow you down. I’m not saying I’m just going to sit here and wait for the water. I’m going to follow you.”

“How will you do that?” Suarez asked.

“You’ll leave trail markers for me, and I’ll follow them. You’ll see, I’ll get there after you have a fire going. You will be moving quickly, and I’ll be on a leisurely walk. You’ll see.”

Suarez was skeptical. Duncan wanted to believe Azevedo because it would make things so much easier for him but, looking around him, he saw no immediate threat that would justify leaving the old man behind. Optimistically, if the water spread from the river they’d crossed, then they might even be able to stay ahead of it simply by walking. But as he looked at the markings on the map, he noticed there were multiple tiny streams that would have to be crossed. What if they were already filled with overflowing water? He realized he knew nothing of what lay ahead, only what lay behind. For all he knew, they were already sandwiched between two overflowing streams and the goal of reaching high ground was impossible. What then?

Duncan called the group together and outlined his plan, passing around the map so that everyone could see where they were going. Everyone had a concerned look
,
and some started to ask questions. He didn’t want to get into a debate, aware that the water was rising behind them and, for all he knew, the same could be happening in front of them.

“We don’t have time to go over everything in detail. I think we need to get on the trail and make time. We’re talking about a four to five-mile hike. It shouldn’t be a hardship. Take a few minutes to tighten up your packs, put on some Deet and focus on getting to high ground.”

Hamel, Boyd, and the others stifled their questions as they concentrated on reorganizing their belongings and repacking. No one had to say anything about covering their packs to protect them against rain. The sunlight that had started the day no longer filtered through the canopy. It was dark enough on the forest floor that only Hamel wore sunglasses.

“Unless you want to get soaked again, keep your ponchos handy,” Duncan said.

When everyone was ready, he asked Suarez to take the lead but not to be out of sight of the group. From the start, Azevedo brought up the rear, and everyone was aware of it, especially Suarez, who kept a slow pace, but not slow enough to help the limping professor, who fell farther behind with each step. They had barely gotten out of sight of their campground when Suarez approached Duncan.

“The old man needs help,” Suarez said.

Duncan exhaled deeply.

“I can see that,” he said.

At first, using ropes and towels, they wove a sling to carry Azevedo. Boyd and Johnson did the heavy lifting. They divided most of their gear, as well as Azevedo’s, among the others. This approach did not last long. Some of those carrying Boyd and Johnson’s gear complained about it. They stopped again.

“We need to dump non-essential stuff, and by non-essential I do not mean Cody’s and Carlos’ stuff,” Duncan ordered. “We’ll break for five minutes.”

Suarez sat with Azevedo. He was concerned about the professor’s health. Azevedo shrugged.

“I feel like I’m holding everyone back. I’m disappointed in myself.”

“Don’t be,” Suarez said quickly, then scoured his brain for something encouraging to say.

“I’m an old man, Antonio. I’ve lived a good life and now, who knows, it is coming to an end.”

Suarez, optimistic by nature, hated defeatist talk, but he held Azevedo in high esteem. Azevedo was an important professor while Suarez was an assistant guide, hardly the person to give the old man behavioral advice.

“I just wish you would stop thinking like that,” he told the professor in Portuguese.

Suarez approached Duncan, who was rearranging his gear, to tell him about Azevedo’s defeatism, hoping that he, as a professor, would be able to speak to Azevedo on equal footing. At the same time, Hamel asked loudly, “How do we know what to leave behind?”

Duncan moved toward Hamel.

“First thing, we don’t need so many tents. We can fit three people per tent, so that means tossing two tents.”

Hamel frowned. He didn’t like the idea of a crowded tent. He was about to say something, but Maggie Cross put her finger to her lips, and he backed off.

“Same goes for cooking gear. Let’s have one stove per tent, but keep all the fuel bottles. Keep all the food, all the water, all the water purification stuff, the pills and the filter straws. Keep the necessities and cut down everything else.”

“Toilet paper is a necessity, isn’t it?” Rankin asked.

“Only while you got it,” Johnson said.

“If there’s room,” Duncan said. “We’ve got four-five miles to go, and we need to make time. Use common sense.”

The five-minute break grew to fifteen minutes before Boyd and Johnson lifted Azevedo with the makeshift sling. Duncan spoke to him briefly, finally insisting that they would not leave anyone behind. The discarded items formed a mound, with tents, clothing, scientific gear cascading down the side. Even though there was no reception, everyone kept their cell phones.

Duncan had hoped to make time with everyone carrying less gear and lighter packs, but they stopped again after covering less than a half mile. Boyd and Johnson labored under the sling, which cut into their shoulders with every step. While they made adjustments and rolled up T-shirts to pad the ropes across their shoulders, Azevedo took the opportunity to thank them for helping him and insisted that it would be better for the group if he stayed behind.

“No way,” Boyd said emphatically. “We’ll figure this out.”

“But I’m just slowing you down.”

“Professor, I have great respect for you, but there is no way that we are going to leave you behind. So you may as well forget about it.”

Another five hundred yards and the jury-rigged sling unraveled.

“This isn’t working,” Boyd blurted in frustration while helping Azevedo to a nearby log.

He and Johnson reworked the sling while the others dropped their packs and talked quietly. Duncan directed Suarez to scout the trail as far as he could go in five minutes and then return to report what he saw. After reassuring himself that Azevedo was okay, Suarez jogged away from the group, disappearing behind a small rise. Ten minutes later, and the reconfigured sling was ready, but the guide had not returned.

“Where’s Antonio?” Duncan mumbled to himself while looking at his watch. “Where is Antonio?”