Michael Vey 3 ~ Battle of the Ampere (16 page)

J
aime, Tessa, and I continued our hike west through heavy jungle for two more days. At times the silence between us seemed as stifling as the jungle’s humidity. Jaime was angry. He was breaking orders and was leading me only because I had threatened to expose the voice if he didn’t. Tessa still hadn’t changed her mind about helping me rescue my friends, though I was pretty certain she felt guilty about it.

Late afternoon of the second day, Jaime led us up the steep slope of another hill, then abruptly stopped and dropped his pack on the ground. “This is where we will camp for the night.”

“It’s not even dark yet,” I said.

“Come with me,” he said. I followed him to a break in the trees. “There,” he said, pointing to a mountain on the opposite side of the river. “That is our destination. It is close. We can make it by tomorrow.”

“If it’s close, then we should keep going,” I said. “The army could move them at any time. They could be traveling right now.”

“No,” Jaime said, shaking his head. “If they are traveling right now, then it is already too late. We do not want to cross the river at night. There are things in the river that feed most at night. And we cannot make a fire to warm or dry ourselves after we swim. It is best that we wait until the morning. Once we reach the hill, I will make radio contact again. I will ask our people to tell us about the movements of the army.”

I looked back out over the river. “All right,” I finally said. I had to give him credit. In spite of his disagreement with my plans, he had been more helpful than he had to be. I think that secretly, despite his orders, he wanted me to rescue my friends. “Thank you.”

He looked at me with worried eyes. “Tell me that after you do not die.”

*

Food was running low. All we had left from Jaime’s camp was some beef jerky, dried banana chips, and hard rolls with packages of soft cheese. While Tessa and I set up the tent, Jaime left us to look for food. He returned about an hour later with a lumpy backpack.

He laid the pack down and fruit spilled out. Tessa held up an egg-size fruit with dark purple scales.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“It is the
aguaje
,” Jaime said. “It is delicious and very good for you.”

She peeled back the fruit’s skin and took a bite. “It tastes like a carrot.”

“It is very popular,” Jaime said. “Women who live near the rain forest eat it very often. They say it makes them more beautiful.”

“I feel more beautiful already,” Tessa said sarcastically.

Jaime handed me a different fruit. It was yellow and shaped like a bell pepper. “This is the
cocona
. It is also called the Amazon tomato. It is not sweet, but good to eat.”

I took a bite. Its taste fell somewhere between a lime and a tomato. I ate until I’d finished the fruit, then wiped the juice dripping down my chin.

“Thank you,” I said. “Was this hard to find?”

“Not so hard, but you must know what to look for. There are many fruits in the jungle, but much of it is poisonous.”

We finished eating, then set up our camp. It was the earliest that we had gone to bed since we’d started our journey.

*

I woke early the next morning. Tessa was still asleep, her soft breath rhythmically filling the tent. Jaime was gone again. I sat up, then crawled toward the tent opening. It was dawn and a new sun had begun its climb over the jungle canopy, painting a baby-blue sky with creamsicle-orange clouds.

Jaime had nearly finished packing up the camp except for our tent. He looked over at me.

“Good morning,” I said.

“
Buenos días
,” he replied. “Have some fruit.”

“Thank you,” I said. “You’ve already packed up.”

“
Sí.
We should get an early start.”

“How long have you been up?”

“Maybe two hours. I went down to the river to watch for Elgen patrols. One boat went by an hour ago.”

I held up a piece of brown fruit. “This is new,” I said, examining the avocado-size fruit.

“The
piton
,” Jaime said. “I found it this morning.”

“It looks like a mango.”

“It is a wild mango.”

“I love mangoes,” I said. “The greatest fruit ever invented.”

Tessa crawled out of the tent. “What’s the greatest fruit ever invented?”

I held up the fruit. “The mango.”

“I love mangoes,” she said. “Especially in smoothies with sweetened condensed milk.”

“That’s not going to happen,” I said.

“Eat it all,” Jaime said. “We cannot carry much across the river.”

“We’re crossing the river today?” Tessa asked.

“
Sí
,
senorita.”

“Good. That means we’re getting close.”

We finished eating, then Tessa and I packed up our tent and we all hiked down to the river.

Before coming out into the open of the riverbank, Jaime looked for several minutes through his binoculars, then set them down. “It is time to cross the river.”

“Where’s the boat?” Tessa asked.

“There is no boat,” Jaime said.

“Then how do we cross?”

“We swim.”

She looked at him in disbelief. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No. I am not kidding.”

“I don’t swim. I almost drowned in a hot tub once.”

I turned to Jaime. “We’ve got a problem.”

“There is no other way across the river.”

“You can’t swim?” I asked.

“I don’t swim
well
,” she replied. “And this isn’t a swimming pool. It’s a big, scary, muddy river with things in it that eat people. Why can’t we just take a bridge?”

“There is not a bridge for a hundred kilometers,” Jaime said.

“Then let’s get a boat. I mean, how are you going to take the radio across?”

“I have a waterproof bag. I will carry it across.”

“You should put
me
in a waterproof bag and carry me across,” she said.

“What if we found a log and floated across?” I said.

“We do not have time,” Jaime said.

“I don’t think we have a choice,” I said. “Tessa, will that work?”

“There’s still all those creatures in there. What if they’re attracted by our glow?”

“The jungle people swim in the river all the time,” Jaime said. “It is safer than crossing a street in Los Angeles.”

“Not real comforting,” Tessa said.

I looked Tessa in the eyes. “Come on, we’ll be okay. I’ll be right beside you.”

She looked exasperated. “All right. Just make sure it’s a really big log.”

“We’ll do our best.”

Jaime and I went into the jungle and after ten minutes of looking, found a log about seven feet long. In spite of its size, it was very light—like balsa wood.

“This will work,” Jaime said. “This is the kapok tree. Natives make boats out of it.”

*

We carried the log to the river’s bank. Then Jaime secured the radio in his waterproof bag, leaving as much air in the bag as possible before sealing it shut. Then we fastened all our packs to the log and pushed it partway into the river.

“Remember,” Jaime said, “the current is strong. You must swim hard with the log.”

He waded into the dark water, holding the radio in front of him.
“Vámonos!”
he shouted, and then he plunged into the water on top of the bag and began kicking fiercely as the water’s current grabbed hold of him.

“Let’s go,” I said to Tessa.

Tessa glanced at me fearfully but still walked forward toward the log.

“I’ll get in front,” I said.

“No,” she said. “Get behind me. In case I let go.”

“Don’t let go,” I said.

“Like I’m going to on purpose!” she said. “It’s a log. There’s no handles!”

I moved behind her. “Here, just hold on to the pack’s straps; it will be easier than holding the log.”

“Okay, okay.” She stepped into the water. “It’s gross and dirty.”

“So are we,” I said. “C’mon, let’s get it over with.” We heaved the log into the river. The log submerged with us in tow, then quickly popped up again. Tessa clung tightly to the straps. She was terrified.

“I hate water!” she shouted, dripping and sputtering.

“You and Zeus,” I said.

“Don’t put us in the same sentence,” she replied.

The current pulled us about twenty feet out into the river, then swept us forward.

“We’ve got to swim hard to get across!” I shouted.

“How do I swim and hold on?”

“Just kick!”

We both kicked as hard as we could but made little headway against the powerful current. Jaime was twenty yards downstream from us but was already approaching the opposite bank. We were having more difficulty, as the log put us at the mercy of the river.

“Más rápido!”
Jaime shouted to us. “Swim more fast!”

We both kept kicking as hard as we could. We were quickly becoming waterlogged as the river repeatedly washed up over us and our log.

“Keep going,” I said. “We’re almost halfway there.”

I realized that by the time we reached the opposite shore we were going to be separated from Jaime by several hundred yards. Although he was only ten feet from the opposite bank, Jaime was still swimming, trying to keep up with us.

Suddenly Tessa screamed. “What’s that?”

“What?”

“In front of us.”

I looked forward. There was another log ahead of us. Except it wasn’t moving downstream.

“It’s just a log,” I said. “It must be stuck on something.”

“I don’t think it’s a log.”

I looked again. It wasn’t a log. It was a massive caiman. “Oh, crap.”

“Michael . . .”

“Climb up on the log!” I shouted.

We both tried, but the log just rolled back with us, dunking us underneath the water.

After our third attempt, Tessa shouted, “I can’t!” She turned back. “It’s coming!”

“Jaime!” I shouted. “Caiman! Caiman!”

He was far enough away that he looked at us without
comprehension. “Get your gun!” I pointed toward the approaching caiman. Jaime began swimming toward the bank.

“Michael!” Tessa screamed. She closed her eyes as the caiman opened its mouth just five feet in front of her.

“Enhance me!” I shouted. “Give me everything.” I pulsed the hardest I ever had. So hard, in fact, that the water around me actually sizzled. The reptile shook violently, then turned sideways and sank. Suddenly, all around us, fish began popping up on the river’s surface. They were everywhere, dozens of them.

“I’m going to faint,” Tessa said.

“Don’t do that,” I said. “Just keep kicking.”

It was another ten minutes before we were close to the opposite bank. Jaime had abandoned the radio and ran down the side of the riverbank to help us. He waded into the river up to his shoulders and grabbed the front of the log and pulled us in to shore. Tessa and I stumbled up to dry ground, then fell to our knees, exhausted. After she’d caught her breath, Tessa screamed at Jaime, “Don’t you ever make me do that again!”

“
Senorita
. . .”

“Don’t you ‘
senorita
’ me!” she shouted. “I almost got eaten by a crocodile.”

“Caiman,” I said.

“Sorry,” he said.

“Yeah, I bet you are,” she said.

Jaime looked at me sheepishly.

Tessa took off her shoes and poured the water out of them, then put them back on and stood up. “
Vámonos
,” she said.

I looked at Jaime and shrugged.

We were wet and uncomfortable, and the hike from the river to the top of the mountain took us six more hours. The one good thing was that by the time we reached our destination our clothes were mostly dry—at least as dry as one can hope for when hiking through a tropical rain forest.

From the mountain peak I could see the highway stretching east and west for at least five miles in both directions before it
disappeared into the jungle. I could see why Jaime chose this point to attack. The roadway was steep and rugged, and the jungle seemed to spill over the asphalt as if attempting to reclaim the road.

Jaime looked out toward the east with his binoculars, then handed them to me. “That is the direction they will come from.”

I lifted the binoculars and looked out over the fading ribbon of asphalt. “Are you sure this is the only way they can get to Lima?”

“
Sí
. This is the road they came on. I saw them. The road will go through Cuzco, then west to Lima.”

“Is it possible that they’ve already passed?” I asked.

“No. Look closely. There is fruit and dead animals on the road that are not flat. That many trucks would not miss anything.”

I looked out again and could see that he was right. There was some pretty bloated-looking roadkill. I handed him back his binoculars. “Thank you.”

“We will make camp, then radio the voice and see what he knows.”

*

We set up our camp a little off the peak on a mild downhill slope where the canopy was thicker. As we had no idea how many days we would be waiting, we took the time to carefully conceal our camp—gathering banana leaves and palm fronds to cover our tent. Jaime created a trip line of vines that would warn us if someone was near.

The sun was fading in the west when we finally stopped to eat dinner. Jaime handed us some reddish-orange pods he had cut open with his knife. The inside of the fruit was white, like boiled lobster, with a dark bean in the center.