The Furies (41 page)

He didn't know what to say. If he argued that they shouldn't risk it, she might accuse him of cowardice. And, in a way, she'd be right. He was afraid of losing her. He didn't want to risk Ariel's life to save someone else's. “Two carbines won't make much of a difference. If the guerillas spot us, we're dead. End of story.”

“But if Mariela and the—”

“Look, I don't care about Mariela. I care about
you.
”

Ariel put down her rifle and looked at him. Her expression wasn't angry or accusatory. On the contrary, she seemed choked up, overcome by emotion. She bit her lower lip and leaned toward him. “Okay, I understand,” she whispered. “You're worried about me. You don't want me to get hurt.”

“I'm just wondering if it's worth—”

“Oh, John, I wish we didn't have to do this. I wish we could disappear, just you and me.”

She grasped his hand, and he choked up, too. The sadness in her voice was palpable. Ariel was resigned to her fate. She would never abandon her family, no matter how much she wanted to. Even in the face of certain doom, she'd stand by them. But John took some consolation in the fact that Ariel wished things could be different. She knew how strongly he felt about her, and she returned those feelings. If she weren't so damn loyal to her family, they could've been happy.

They sat there for a long while, holding hands and not talking. Then Ariel let go of him and reached into her backpack again. “I thought of something that might help us. Before we go wading through a swamp full of caimans, I might be able to draw the animals away from us.” She pulled out the medicine case holding the syringe and the nine vials of Fountain protein. “But I haven't tested the idea yet.”

John felt uneasy. “Wait a second. You want to inject me again?”

“No, no, this is a different kind of test.” She opened the case and removed one of the vials of yellowish fluid from its slot in the foam padding. Then she rose to her feet and surveyed the area around the kapok tree. “Okay, the coast is clear. Come on, this way.”

He stood up and followed Ariel as she left their hiding place at the foot of the kapok. They walked down the smallish hill, weaving between the trees that crowded the slope and being careful not to disturb the ant nests that clung to the lowest branches. In a couple of minutes they reached the waterline where the swamp lapped the hillside. Trees poked out of the floodwaters here, their trunks rising to great heights and their branches fanning out overhead to form the jungle canopy. Thousands of leaves floated on the water, which was the color of strong tea. John couldn't see anything below the surface.

Ariel halted at the water's edge. Then she pulled the stopper from the vial she was holding. “Remember I told you, back in Haven, that we modified the Fountain protein so it could enter cells by passing through their membranes? Well, that means the protein can also pass through other thin membranes, such as the skin of fish and other aquatic animals. If you added the concentrated fluid to a warm pool or pond, the protein molecules would diffuse through the water and seep into the animals' bodies.”

“You mean you wouldn't have to inject it into their bloodstreams?”

“No, the protein would go directly to their cells. And that would make Fountain's effects more intense and immediate.”

Holding her arm over the swamp, Ariel tilted the vial and poured its contents into the black water. The protein formed a bright yellow blot on the surface that quickly faded as it spread outward and downward. She watched the stuff disperse into the floodwaters for about twenty seconds. Then she took several steps backward, moving up the slope. “Step away from the water, John. I don't know exactly what will happen now, but I have a hypothesis.”

“Really? What—”

It was like an explosion. Dozens of creatures started thrashing in the swamp, spraying water and mud in every direction. As John leaped up the slope he saw a fantastically long snake raise its head to the surface and open its mouth wide. It was an anaconda, thick and black, and it was in distress. Several piranhas had sunk their teeth into the snake's skin and now they hung like medals on its coiling body. The anaconda writhed in the water, shaking off the clinging fish, but more of them attacked the snake, tearing into its flesh. Then an even larger reptile shot out of the water, a shiny black caiman with greenish eyes and a corrugated hide. The caiman opened its enormous jaw and snapped it shut on the snake's coils, biting the anaconda in two. Its death throes made the water boil, and the piranhas razored into its remains. Meanwhile, the caiman swam to the water's edge, clacking its jaw and hunting for its next victim.

John sprinted farther up the hill. Ariel ran beside him, looking over her shoulder at the feeding frenzy she'd triggered. They didn't stop until they stood fifty feet up the slope, safely out of range of the maddened animals. John's heart hammered against his sternum. “Jesus!” he gasped. “What the hell happened?”

“My hypothesis was correct.” Ariel's voice was calm and clinical. “Fountain has similar effects on a broad range of species. The protein stimulates the animals' metabolism and alters their behavior.”

“You mean it drives them crazy.” Panting, John pointed at the roiling floodwaters below. “So how is this going to make it easier for us to wade across the swamp? You just made it a hundred times more dangerous.”

Ariel shook her head. “The protein's effects should fade after a few minutes. It hits the animals fast, but it leaves their bodies fast, too.”

“But now there's a huge dead snake in the water, and who knows how many piranhas feeding on it. Every predator in the whole damn rain forest is going to swim over here.”

“That's what I'm counting on. We're not going to wade through this part of the swamp, John. We're going in the opposite direction.” She pointed at the slope on the other side of the kapok tree. “The water over there will be empty of predators, because they're all going to come here.”

Ariel smiled, clearly proud of herself for thinking of such a clever trick, But John was still worried. The sight of the enraged caiman had unnerved him. “Are you sure about this? The last thing we need is a drug-crazed crocodile chasing us.”

She nodded. “All we have to do is wait ten minutes. The protein will be completely dissipated by then.”

John looked again at the swamp. Although all the animals had returned to the depths, the surface of the black water still heaved and rippled. “Let's give it thirty minutes, okay? Just to be on the safe side.”

 

 

Later that morning they learned what had happened to Kuikuro. As they hiked across another stretch of high ground—a forested ridge that overlooked the north bank of the Yarí River—John spotted a break in the trees and caught a whiff of something burned and rancid. He gave a hand signal to Ariel, who raised her carbine and crept forward, careful not to make a sound. They skulked to the edge of a clearing that contained four large piles of smoldering wood. On closer inspection it became clear that the piles had formerly been thatch-roofed huts that the guerillas had torched the day before. Surrounding each charred hut were several blackened corpses.

Ariel glowered as she squinted through her rifle's gun sights. The guerillas were long gone, but John thought she might start shooting anyway, firing into the air out of sheer rage. Instead, she scrutinized the ruins of Kuikuro's village, looking for any evidence—footprints, bullet shells, cigarette butts—that could tell her something about their adversaries. As she studied the ground she spied a heap of palm fronds in the shadows just beyond the clearing's edge. Stepping toward it, she tossed some of the fronds aside and uncovered a long dark slab of tropical wood, beautifully carved and sanded. It was a dugout canoe. Kuikuro and his tribesmen had hidden it so well that the guerillas had missed it.

Ariel stared at the thing for several seconds. Then she tilted her head back and looked up at the sky. “Thank you, Mother,” she whispered.

The canoe made all the difference in the world. After they put it in the water they could navigate the rain forest. They could drift with the current down the narrow channels that ran alongside the Yarí. They could paddle across the marshes and thickly wooded swamps, concealed by all the vegetation around them. And they could float silently past the guerilla sentries who were keeping watch over the Yarí's main channel. For the next nine hours they moved like ghosts through the forest, making good time as they drifted to the east. By evening they were uncertain exactly where they were, but Ariel felt sure they'd passed the bend in the river where Sullivan's allies lay in wait.

They paddled in the darkness for six more hours, trying to put as much distance as possible between themselves and the guerillas. Then a quarter moon rose above the trees, and as they steered the canoe into a new channel they glimpsed a wooden structure up ahead, shining in the moonlight. It was a simple square hut resting on poles sunk into the swamp. It had a plank floor and a thatched roof, but no walls. And it was empty, deserted. Except for a few fallen leaves, the hut's floor was bare.

John was puzzled. There were no other structures nearby. The hut was entirely surrounded by jungle. “What the hell is this?” he whispered.

Ariel, who sat at the front of the dugout, looked over her shoulder. “It's an Amazonian motel.”

“What?”

“Some of the tribesmen are nomadic. They move from place to place across the rain forest, depending on how high the floodwaters are. One of the local tribes uses this hut during the rainy season, I bet. But it's unoccupied the rest of the year.”

“You think we can stop here for a few minutes? Because I really need to get out of this canoe.”

Ariel nodded. “Sure, let's tie up. Just don't expect any room service.”

They tied the canoe to one of the poles and climbed into the hut. John sprawled across the plank floor, delighted to get a chance to stretch his cramping legs. Meanwhile, Ariel opened her backpack and inspected their remaining supplies. Paddling the canoe had been hard work, and they'd already eaten more than half of their rations. Staring at her face in the moonlight, John could tell she was worried. They had no idea how much farther they'd have to travel downriver before they'd reach the Caño Dorado expedition. They might have to go hungry if they didn't rendezvous with Mariela by tomorrow night.

In the end Ariel decided they should split one of the rations for dinner. She broke the bar in two and gave John the bigger piece. They ate in silence, mostly because they were so tired. John was dying to close his eyes, even if it was only for half an hour. He was going to suggest that they take a quick nap before moving on, but Ariel spoke first.

“I'm sorry, John,” she said. “I haven't been fair to you.”

“Fair?” He didn't know what she meant. “Are you talking about the rations?”

She shook her head. “You've done so much for me. You've helped me at every turn. And what have I done for you?”

“Well, let me think about it.” He smiled. “I've never been to a foreign country before. That's something.”

“John, please. I'm serious.”

“So am I. You've made my life more interesting. Ever since I met you, my life has been interesting as hell. A little terrifying too, but that's all part of the package, right?”

He was trying to make her smile, but it wasn't working. Her face was sad and knowing, like the face of a doctor who's about to deliver some bad news. She looked him in the eye. “You know what I thought the first time I saw you? In that bar in Greenwich Village? I said to myself, ‘This man is unhappy. He's been unhappy for a long time.'”

John nodded. He couldn't deny it. He wondered, though, why Ariel wanted to talk about this now. “Were you surprised? You'd already seen all the news stories on the Internet. You knew what happened to my daughter.”

“To be honest, I was mystified. From the very beginning, I could tell you were hiding something. Something that wasn't in any of the stories I'd read. And you're still hiding it.”

He frowned. “Wait a minute. Whatever secrets I was hiding, they were nothing compared with yours.”

“Agreed. But I've told you all my secrets. You know everything about me. Or at least all the important things.”

“And now you want to know everything about
me?
So we'll be even?”

“No, that's not the reason. I thought talking about it might help you. But if it's just going to make you upset…”

Her voice trailed off. She turned away from him and gazed at the black wall of surrounding jungle. Then she raised her head and stared at the quarter moon. The silver light bathed her face.

John's heart softened as he looked at her. He recognized that Ariel's intentions were good. She wanted him to share his past with her because she thought it would ease his unhappiness. And maybe she was right, maybe it would help. So why was he fighting it? Why did it frighten him so much?

He cleared his throat. This was going to be hard. “Okay. You know about Salazar, right? He was mentioned in all the news stories.”

She turned back to him. Her eyes gleamed in the moonlight. “He was the gang leader who ordered the drive-by shooting that killed your daughter.”

“We grew up on the same street in Kensington. Miguel Salazar was his full name. He was a year younger than me.” John grimaced. He didn't like to think about the bastard. “Even as a kid, he was scary. He never smiled, never laughed. I once tried joking with him and he threw a brick at me. In other words, he was perfect for the drug business.”

“Both of you were in the same gang when you were teenagers, right? That's what the news articles said.”

“But I left the Disciples, and Salazar stayed. I started working with Father Murphy's Anti-Gang Project, trying to steer kids away from the drug crews. Salazar preferred recruiting the younger kids, the twelve- and thirteen-year-olds, because they were more impressionable. And he demanded total obedience. If any of his kids stepped out of line, Salazar would beat him with a hammer. So he hated the Anti-Gang Project. It threatened his control.”