At the small airstrip, Richard's plane had already landed and his guests were escorted to their living quarters. The setup was a conference room with tropical chairs made of bamboo. They were very sturdy and comfortable, so the crew had no problem gathering around this conference table.
Richard spoke. "I'm glad you were all able to make it. We have a tough, but rewarding task ahead of us. You all have been briefed on your assignments. As you know, this is not the actual spot where we will be working. As you recall from your maps, it's southwest from here."
Richard continued his speech, mostly directing it towards the five FBI agents. They sat in a group of their own just to the left of Richard. The leader of this team was Kyser Finley, a well-rounded man who had been crime fighting for years. He commanded a large number of agents at the Dallas office, but he had selected only the four agents beside him.
Wesley Zimmerman was the only one who questioned anything and everything that moved, was said, or was done. He grew up in a family that regarded themselves as of the highest quality, which caused aggressiveness in his style, but that trait was balanced by understanding loyalty to his commander. His best acquaintance was fellow agent Adam Newfield, who hardly ever spoke but was extraordinarily observant. Being friends with Wesley improved Adam's manhandling skills.
His relationship with Roy Beavers was not as dandy, and was just dealt with. Roy's loving and kind attitude was no way to approach criminality—at least in Wesley's eyes. Opposite in gender with a slight deficiency of physical output, but just as efficient, Pamela Slaughter was the icing on the cake to what would prove to be a resilient group. She got along with the rest of the group fine, except for a few erroneous remarks. Nevertheless, she shrugged them off and proved to be a tough gal who was well bred.
They all were loyal to Kyser, and rightfully so, because he was a fair man.
Brutus Salapore vaguely listened to Richard and put more effort into reviewing his notes. Thorough indeed, Mr. Salapore could always be seen working on something even when just sitting. This was no exaggeration; if he wasn't eating, shitting, or sleeping, then he was reading, writing, or reviewing. These facts made him the most prepared to go out here and get some work done.
The FBI team really didn't have a function but to patrol the area. Richard had panicked the last time, so he felt good with a few licensed shooters on his team.
"That is why I need you... ah, hmm..!" Richard grunted again to interrupt Susie and Andrew's lustful bon voyage. "As I was saying, Susie! We need you, so you and your spouse should keep your home affairs private, and at home. You are transportation to and from the site, also to haul any and everything we need."
He stopped for a moment and spoke again sharply. "Brutus! Are you not the leader here? Keep their hormones at a manageable rate, or they will definitely be of no use."
Brutus's face showed his acquiescence.
"Oh! Jerry Kratz is it." He acknowledged affirmatively and Richard continued on. "Pretty soon, we will need to transport heavy equipment here. So your first duty will be to sail a boat to the site and set anchor. The vessel I have provided can be used as an emergency medical facility. My dear old friend here, Doctor Julian Akbar, also specializes in language and medicine—quite some talent the doc has."
Julian grinned and invited his introduction with arms open.
"You say he specializes in language and medicine. What else does he specialize in?" asked Agent Zimmerman.
Julian remained silent, but he continued to gleam as he allowed Richard the honors.
"He also studies ancient antiquities and indigenous peoples of the Western hemisphere."
Wesley looked puzzled and glanced at Adam and Kyser before responding. "I hope this isn't some kind of science field trip, because I hated science."
Richard quickly soothed his confusion. "Oh no, believe you me! We are here to make preparations to build a state of the art export/import facility. In fact, a wonderful shipyard and maintenance complex. All of you will own the first shares. Just think of all the people who passed on Microsoft, and think about the few that owned the first shares. They are billionaires, to put it quite bluntly. Your money then can equal mine, well not quite mine, but possibly close. However, until then, you have to help me."
After Richard's blabbering, he almost had everyone sold, but Wesley had to question all he'd said. "I understand about all of your money, and all the money you want to make, but I have one question. Why did you call, or NO. Excuse me. What caused you to feel you need the FBI or a professor of antiquities?"
"That is what I had planned, but... that's another story. The fact is that I need a report on the area's constructability delivered into the investors' hands. The professor advised of the possibility of this area containing tribes who are territorial. It's possible they won't give up this unofficial land of theirs without a fight."
Wesley, for some reason, remained puzzled. "What gave you the idea to ask him if tribes were in the area? Have you seen any?"
Richard looked stunned and replied negatively. "Well Wesley, I did my homework. I know tribes are plentiful in tropical rainforests all over the world. I know also that they have some strange beliefs that can even be cannibalistic. I just want to have someone on my crew I can rely on if we happen to run into any of these savages."
His comments had sufficiently nourished Wesley's curiosity, but only for a moment, for his appetite was tremendous.
Klinton Westfield was the other member of the team who remained silent. He was a well-built man who was a good friend of Brutus's. The many years they worked together helped build that strong bond.
"You all know your jobs, so get ready to travel to the site at dawn. As for now, enjoy yourselves, as I have Caribbean foods being cooked as we speak. I also have mixed drinks, but don't get too pissy because we have a job to do."
Richard walked away and the crew adjourned, scattering their separate ways. Some remained in groups to talk, or some just had their own separate conversation.
Wesley and Adam approached the grill area, while the Kemps sat on rocks that trimmed a crystal clear stream. Andrew threw pebbles into the water and observed the evening sky.
"Baby! We've been married for little over a year now, and I think I love you all over again."
Susie seemed surprised by the comments and hugged her loved one tight. At this point, anything he said had the ability to lift her off her feet.
Klinton interrupted the bliss by blurting, "What are you two lovebirds doing out here? You know, when they say until death do us part, well! If that be the case, I'm sure your hormones will play a dominant role."
Andrew loosened his grip and replied to Klinton's friendly sarcasm. "What are you talking about?"
"Oh you know that old saying: live by the sword, die by the sword. How about the same thing that will make you laugh can make you cry."
"Hey! A man can't indulge himself into his wife, the one he loves and cares for, and cherishes?"
"OK! I didn't mean for you to get all mushy on me."
Klinton looked around and whispered to Andrew, but before the listener could understand a word, Susie intervened. "Get lost Klinton!"
"Alright, alright. I can see when I'm not wanted. That's OK, I'll let you newlyweds sicken yourself with an overdose of mush."
Klinton chuckled at his friends' love and joked with them only because they were loving friends.
Susie grabbed Andrew and seductively declared, "Now that we have gotten rid of our diversion..." She pecked him on the lips several times. "Sorry we were interrupted."
Smacks sounded, but no one could hear them because the sounds of nature proved prominent.
Wesley and Adam talked over some jerk and curry chicken, a Caribbean recipe that was unfamiliar to them. However, the way they devoured it proved it was delightful.
"Hey Adam, I didn't hear what you think."
"About what!"
Wesley looked at him in disbelief and said, "About this job. Doesn't something feel eerie."
"I don't feel anything. I'm just here to earn these twenty-five thousand dollars, in what, five days. You can't beat that. What, five thousand a day?" Adam's head filled with imagination when he wished this was his normal fulltime salary.
"I'm not disputing the money's good, but forget the money. Is it not strange he would call us just to look around."
"Hey Wes, cool out man. I'm glad he needed us."
Wesley sipped his drink and grunted in disagreement.
"Stop being so damned skeptical. It might just be a legitimate way to make a decent living for a change."
Wesley drank on and uttered softly, "Hmm... I hope you're right." He drank the last of his drink and grunted in the grimmest of tones. Wesley quickly fetched another drink, declining to follow Adam.
Adam walked towards the living quarters where nearly all the crew had gone. Kyser spoke to Richard, but no one could hear their conversation because they were some distance away.
Pam and Roy battled in a game of chess on the central waiting room display set, which was made of stone and commemorated the ancient Aztec civilization. The bishops, kings and queens, and other pieces were practically sculptured. Pamela was the one who decided to make better use of it, other than just as a simple display set.
It took some convincing just to get Roy to play. After trying to talk her out of it, Roy succumbed. She was a pretty good chess player, and it showed when she nearly checkmated him, but Roy was also worried about tampering with the beautiful piece and couldn't really concentrate. His heavy drinking did not make his play much better either, but not much worse as well. He was used to the heavy doses of alcohol because it almost ruined him.
Pam hollered across the room, "Hey Adam! Do you want next on the shellacking I'm putting on Mr. Beavers here."
"No thanks!"
Adam was more interested in speaking to Kyser. Nevertheless, it was getting late, and everyone was heading to their rooms. Brutus had been embarked on a review of their situation all the while, but he was now exhausted from the staring at a laptop.
Wesley made his way to the quarters pissy drunk, as was Roy and some of the other members of the crew.
The night had conquered day entirely and the stars were no longer restricted from view. All sounds of nature creeped, and made their distinctions by vociferating broadly about the forest. If one were to tour the forest at this time, he might find the surroundings exhilarating, but not if he was a native to the surroundings.
The indigenous people had a bond with the forest, and so did the plant and animal life. This bond was so strong that the presence of foreigners was immediately recognized by the forest dwellers. This was a fact to the ancients because they believed every plant and animal on earth was designed to flow according to the laws of nature. They also believed that nature was expressed in the form of spirit, which were pure energy and consciousness absent physical form. Every living thing had spirit: plants, animals, and even humans, who are also animals.
A spirit with good intentions could sense a spirit with bad intentions. The crew was instantly sensed, especially because their intentions weren't exactly soaked in holiness. They wanted to destroy life for their own personal gain, and this was a direct blasphemy of life itself. Anyone who could commit such vandalism couldn't believe what the ancients believed. They knew for a fact that the earth was alive and represented the mother of life.
The modern-day members of the tribe hadn't been in touch with their ancestral knowledge for quite some time. Most of what they knew was passed down through oral storytelling. Even though some of their ancestors' cities had survived the ages, they had no access to them. Not that any tribal member would be able to read anything from those times, but most of the records had been destroyed anyway. This very fact caused their beliefs to become distorted and incomplete. However, the foundation of their beliefs remained intact, such as spirituality, sorcery, and nature having God-like tendencies.
It is believed that these people made the forest their permanent homes when the Europeans first colonized the West. There were even ancient texts that indicated the arrival of these Europeans would mark cursed times for their people. After generations, it is understandable how one could lose their civilized traits. However, it seemed they resorted to what their ancestors would have wanted. That is to live on the land and flow peacefully with nature.
That is what they did for thousands of years, with their immaculate cities of gold and designer stone, sturdy as a continent and thus still standing even to this day. The cities also resembled alignments that complimented the stars victoriously.
The curse was brought upon us to remember where we came from. In the old days, kingdoms got grand, because now that they were civilized and had amassed an enormous amount of culture, but they forgot where they came from. So now the curse would return them to the state in which they came, and they would now appreciate the next time the world was under their direction.
The curse has gotten out of hand. The lands that were once relied upon to evolve a civilized people were threatened by a worldwide epidemic. So, the spirits were called upon, and by chance, all parties setting foot on ancient soil were now asleep. There were chants of high praise. They were loud, as evil was near.
It was time, and in the deep expanses of the soon-to-be-explored forest lurked eyes that belonged to animals of all types, but how many and what kinds was impossible to know. Exactly how many belonged to fleeing descendants of those ancestors was also unknown. There are said to be many groups that speak languages unknown to modern civilization. However, these languages may be related to others that are known by outsiders, to similar dialects, and the professor specialized in language, but his skills were no guarantee that his companions would be able to communicate with the people they found.
In the vicinity of the project site were a few of those people whose language was unknown to outsiders. They danced around enormous trees and appeared to be trying to communicate with them, for they believed that the tree is the wisest living thing on earth. Everything about the lifecycle of a tree can be translated into human life experiences. They also believed the tree could be spoken to telepathically. Through certain sounds and vibrations produced with mouth and instruments, the tree was called upon for protection.
This is what was happening, and the vibration got very loud, penetrating the dream state. Everyone who stepped foot on this soil had an immense flash during their REM, and the entire crew was affected, some worse than others. Joe's image invaded Richard's nightmares, and it too flashed intensely.
The night carried on fierce in spirit, and the elements brewed in strength and terror. The forces of nature in this part of the world were thought to be spirits, and spirits could be called upon. This has been depicted in many cultures and communicated in multiple shapes of diverse distinctiveness. Even unsuspecting cultures have these ideas secretly placed to program the children. One example is the X-Men comic book superhero, "Storm." Her abilities to call upon nature's wrath and direct them in the purposes of her self-defense proves just that. Even the brave, beloved, and bizarre Tarzan, who beat the odds and survived being raised by animals, to eventually obtain an essence and spiritual unity with nature unheard of by modern-day man, is such an example.
Nevertheless, your heart must be clean and sincere to now step foot on ancient property.
The sun pierced the eastern horizon and the radiance from its rays were slightly visible. Muggy indeed was the air that seemed to hug you tight. The sun assisted, began to pound and sting like razor-sharp clippers performing a close edge.
The first individual to bear those strenuous conditions was Brutus Salapore. It did not fail, he was immediately drawn to the work planned for the day. They had to get up early anyway. He was to take the boat with Jerry and Klinton. Their first job was to scan the bank where the river split to flow west and south. Getting on shore was the second objective.
Brutus had to give a report to the investors as to the sufficiency of building such a structure. To do so he had to trek the jungle and decide how to go about producing this envisioned design. He walked out the door of his sleeping quarters to raise Jerry and Klinton.
Jerry had been up smoking a Salem while scarfing down black coffee. He was used to getting up early back on his Louisiana farm, which was where he acquired his talent to navigate—coasting the Mississippi River and Lake Bruin honed his skills.
"Early to rise makes a man healthy and wise! Well good morning to you Brutus."
The whole while Jerry smiled ecstatically, but Brutus walked on past, replying gracefully. "Yeah Jerry. We have a lot of work to do."
Jerry followed along to gather their final team member. Salapore briefed Jerry on their way to Klinton's room. They halted briefly before knocking on the door, and Jerry said, "This air reminds me of back home. The way it stuck to you felt like a cruel punishment. Even these damned mosquitoes are just as fierce."
Slapping one to smithereens was exactly what he was doing before admitting, "I think I have to give these here the edge."
Brutus knocked on the door while calmly replying, "Yeah, they do seem to attack fiercely, sacrificing their lives like kamikazes just to feed their young, and to die without knowing they'll grow, a pity."
They knocked harder now, with both contributing to the ruckus. "Klinton!"
Just behind the wood that divided them, Klinton lay there, seemingly lifeless, but the ruckus his comrades caused slowly respirited him. Opening his eyes was essential, and so he wiped the mucus that permeated them, because it rendered his sight temporarily useless. However, his ears worked fine because the noise from beating of the door could not be ignored. Klinton finally got out of bed to throw on his work outfit. It wasn't actually a uniform, but pieces of clothing he felt comfortable in.
He opened the door casually, a groggy look upon his face. He seemed annoyed.
"Its time to work! Man, let's get up! Klinton! Klinton!" Jerry continued in an enthused manner.
"I'm up, damn it! Just because y'all are workaholics, don't make me one. Shit! I just do my job, and I'm Audi-5000," Klinton said fiercely. "I'll bet you didn't have a problem getting old Mr. Outback up! Did you Brut? Hell no!"
Klinton uttered smoothly and directly. With a grim look upon his face, he said, "That's because you're used to being awakened by a filthy male bird, to remind you of your chores, to feed your swine and milk your bull's mate. I didn't have the luxury growing up sailing boats and building engines with sire and siblings. Mine was astray anyway, Brut! What's on the agenda?"
"You know what Klinton? You're crazy," Jerry replied.
Brutus took note as he continued to lead them to their destination. "Listen up, gentlemen! There's an island, basically lying on the equator, southeast from here. Captain Briscoe will take us by chopper. This is where we will rendezvous with the science vessel, and of course board it and set sail."
He grabbed Jerry's shoulder and reiterated, "Now this is where I need you. See, you have to sail us down the Amazon about a hundred and fifty miles southwest from our current position. This is where we reach the corner where the river splits, and also the spot where we will drop anchor. I guess a half mile or so off coast. It may be better to take smaller boats and view the coastline in that manner. Five square miles should be sufficient, so splitting up should yield faster results."
The men watched Brutus as he rambled on and hardly even noticed Jerry's interjection. "Well Brutus, are you sure we can split up? I mean, will both crews know exactly what we are looking for? It's only the three of us. He's the surveyor," he said, pointing swiftly and hastening to make his point. "You're the damn mathematician, or whatever. The engineer, excuse me! I'm just a boat captain."
Klinton grabbed Jerry's shoulder and replied, "And a damn good one!"
Brutus looked as if he could not disagree, he calmed the men with his soft and murky voice. "I guess it would appear we are a little undermanned. I wonder if Captain Briscoe has any qualifications to assist us."
Klinton replied, "Brutus, me and you can go on separate boats. I pretty much know what you're looking for. I may not be a civil engineer, but working with you for eight years has developed my skills."
Brutus replied in the same calm and easy manner. "I guess you're right. I have taught you well..."
Klinton interrupted smoothly, "Yes you have! I only have an associate of science in surveying and mapping, but working with you, I've learned a lot."
"What do you expect? I have a way of rubbing my talents off on my workers. It could be the equivalent of a doctoral program. Maybe when I retire I'll..."
Jerry was quiet for a moment, but couldn't help but interrupt. "That's all fine and dandy, Mr. Teacher and Pupil, but I'm the only navigator. Does Briscoe operate boats?"
Klinton blurted, "I really don't know who this Briscoe guy is."
Brutus did know and explained to his workers. "I think he has a few skills under his belt. I'm pretty sure it wouldn't be a problem to operate a small motorboat. In fact, from what I hear, he's quite skilled, possibly a hit man for Richard."
"You think!"
"I'm just kidding, he's just a good handy man."
The leader of the group explained the plan, especially to Klinton. He had to be sure Klinton would analyze the shores exactly as they should be analyzed. This was all done, and Brutus now advised them of the arrangements.
"OK Klinton! You and Jerry take the east bank, traveling south. Briscoe and I will take the north shore traveling west. We may need to travel up to five miles down river."
Brutus used his two-way radio to alert Briscoe of their readiness. He also wanted to explain that they needed his help. Briscoe was OK with that. He was in fact being paid well by Richard.
The three men waited for Briscoe at the helicopter. Briscoe was actually consulting with Richard while Brutus and his crew waited.
"They need your help," declared Richard. He continued on in a pumped-up manner. "Actually, I need to be getting the rest of the crew set. You go ahead. Brutus knows exactly what to do. I'm going to get Andrew and Susie, just help them out with whatever they need. By the time your crew is finished we should already be there."
Briscoe ran off to meet the men who waited for him, and Richard turned the opposite direction to get his crew ready to go. He rounded them up quickly, advising them to meet in the helicopter field.
Already in those fields, Jerry was saying, "I think that might be that Briscoe guy." They stared the best they could into the rising South American sun at the man that approached them. The humidity could be measured using only your skin, and the sphere now above the horizon made it evident that there was a blistering day to come. As early as it was, the crew still had to shade their eyes for Briscoe was traveling west.
He approached them rapidly with the old man's tower just behind him. The little man in fact watched on.
"I'm Briscoe," he said bluntly while reaching out his hand.
Brutus accepted his hand and replied, "Brutus! This is my crew, Jerry and Klinton."
They looked each other eye-to-eye before Jerry halted the standoff. "OK gentlemen! Are we ready? I hope you're a good pilot."
Brutus and Briscoe separated themselves from Jerry's seeming touchiness.
"That I am. I hope you're as good at whatever it is you do."
"The best," said Jerry, but before he could say anything else.
"Concentrate men. We have work to do," Brutus replied.
Klinton said nothing, just wanting the job to be over. The amount of his pay even slipped his mind. Jerry looked at Klinton and joked, "Why aren't you saying anything, boy? Yah getting scared?"
Amusement followed, but after that comments spilled from Klinton's lips instantly. "I told you. I just want to do my job. All that yibber-yabber, I really don't need. So if you'll excuse me, I need to concentrate on what I was thinking about."
"Whooah... The man is..."
"Let's go, men. We need to get this chopper headed for the island."
They complied with those commands, and off they flew.
"I told you gentlemen, we had to hurry because it will take us several hours to get to the spot. This time does not include the job we have to do once we get there," exclaimed Brutus.
Briscoe flew the chopper undisturbed, but Klinton responded to Brutus's previous reminder. "OK Brut! We are on the way. No need to huff and puff."
As Jerry listened he couldn't help but add his own two cents. "Yeah Brutus! We're the best you got. Shit man, we're all you got! We'll get the job done!" He slapped his hands on Brutus's shoulder.
"Well, I hope so, because it pays a lot of money."
"Oh yeah," drawled Jerry in a deep and groggy country accent.
Klinton said, "I don't care about the money! I just want to get the work done and get home. Unfortunately enough, I work with you lunatics. Jerry! I don't know what you are so excited about, because Brutus is going to pay you whatever he wants. Shit, we work for him."
Jerry wasn't fond of Klinton's prior comments. He had a disappointed look upon his face as he replied, "Brutus! We haven't discussed pay. I know we're salaried, but this isn't no ordinary job."
Brutus was obviously annoyed, but he did not look Jerry's way and responded casually to his comments. "This really is not a good time to be discussing salaries. We need to be concentrating on the work at hand. But, to keep your minds at ease, there will be huge bonus incentives for a job well done."
Jerry and Klinton looked at Brutus as if he had spoken uncivil words. Klinton didn't give a damn—he was used to Brutus and his impudence. That is why he set his mind on just getting the job done.
Klinton gazed out of the chopper's window and felt deeply that he didn't belong here, and he was certain that he really didn't care to be here. "I've been coerced!" He thought.
Jerry's actions were similar, but his thoughts were manifested verbally. "Is that the type of response you give? I'm out here... like Crocodile Dundee, slash Tarzan, some type of hybrid because I navigate boats, and I get an answer like that about my money? I thought we were better than that! We didn't even get a chance to talk about money. Forget, you called us in the wee hours of the morning and came just short of demanding our presence or our jobs were suspect. Oh, I'll give you a good job alright, but first, me and you must talk."
Silence loomed for a few moments before Jerry continued his raving. Looking at Klinton, he said, "You believe this..."
"Sit your happy ass down," declared Klinton, growing impatient with the noise.
Captain Briscoe looked back at Jerry and felt a little compassion. His empathy was because Jerry wanted proper compensation, and who could argue with that? As he brought the chopper down, Briscoe decided to comment only on the fact that he intended to land.
The landing and the following journey went smoothly, which led them to a well-equipped science vessel that made Jerry extremely excited. Neglecting to help the others check off all needed supplies, he quickly familiarized himself with the helm. He found touring the entire boat an ongoing thrill. He now understood who it was that he was working for. To supply such a vessel proved that Richard was a man of means indeed.
He thought hard now, "I need to talk to Brutus! Money like this..." Jerry immediately searched for Brutus to discuss his salary further.
Brutus was not far off, just at the other end of the vessel. He was setting up scopes and measuring equipment for the landscape. The vessel was large enough to carry three emergency boats, two had a motor and the other was a wooden paddle boat. This particular boat hung in the back of the vessel, and the motorboats hung on opposite sides.
"Excuse me... Brutus! Can we talk?"
"Sure! What is it plaguing your mind?"
"Well, I'm sure you know my concerns. I'm far away from home, and I don't know the dangers this job might entail. Look man! We're all the way out here! Do you see more than just duty?"
Jerry continued to rave on, not giving his boss much time to speak. Finally, Brutus did satisfy Jerry after advising him of his pay. It wasn't really what could have been, or should have been, but Jerry was not keen to current labor trends. Nevertheless, it was more than he had been accustomed to. He was eager to sail now, and that's what the crew did.
The other crew was being gathered by Richard Dickenson, alongside Kyser Finley. The two made small talk while waiting for the others. Andrew and Susie were the first to gather around Richard and Kyser.
"Hello, gentlemen," declared Susie with a delightful voice. She was this way because her spouse had his hands wrapped around her, and she continued to feel tremors from earlier that morning. The newlyweds truly had love, passion, and lust boiling within. They were unlike Jerry in that they were more informed as to their compensation. In fact, they just about doubled what Jerry managed to negotiate.
Wesley and Adam approached, and they too were engaged in their own small talk. "Adam!" Wes hollered. "You ready to fly in this jungle, to watch a bunch of smartass engineers survey land? I think you're right—this must be the easiest, not to mention most, money I have ever made on a side job."
"I think it's going to be pretty boring, if you ask me." Adam looked at Wesley as if he waited for a response.
"I guess you're right, but if the money's good..."
They approached Kyser Finley and the others, where greetings were exchanged, and Roy and Pam finally dragged themselves along.
"OK, listen up! Once again, I would like to thank you all for being a part of this team. This shouldn't take long, two full days at the most. Then we are out of here. Obviously we need two choppers, so if I can break you two love birds up."
He grabbed Susie Kemp and placed her on the opposite side of Andrew.
"Who's the best pilot?" asked Richard.
They both hesitated before Susie exclaimed, "Why, of course, Andrew. Clearly, he taught me."
Richard turned to Andrew and said, "I'm riding with you!" He proceeded to separate the team, and they boarded their respective helicopters.
At the small airstrip, Richard's plane had already landed and his guests were escorted to their living quarters. The setup was a conference room with tropical chairs made of bamboo. They were very sturdy and comfortable, so the crew had no problem gathering around this conference table.
Richard spoke. "I'm glad you were all able to make it. We have a tough, but rewarding task ahead of us. You all have been briefed on your assignments. As you know, this is not the actual spot where we will be working. As you recall from your maps, it's southwest from here."
Richard continued his speech, mostly directing it towards the five FBI agents. They sat in a group of their own just to the left of Richard. The leader of this team was Kyser Finley, a well-rounded man who had been crime fighting for years. He commanded a large number of agents at the Dallas office, but he had selected only the four agents beside him.
Wesley Zimmerman was the only one who questioned anything and everything that moved, was said, or was done. He grew up in a family that regarded themselves as of the highest quality, which caused aggressiveness in his style, but that trait was balanced by understanding loyalty to his commander. His best acquaintance was fellow agent Adam Newfield, who hardly ever spoke but was extraordinarily observant. Being friends with Wesley improved Adam's manhandling skills.
His relationship with Roy Beavers was not as dandy, and was just dealt with. Roy's loving and kind attitude was no way to approach criminality—at least in Wesley's eyes. Opposite in gender with a slight deficiency of physical output, but just as efficient, Pamela Slaughter was the icing on the cake to what would prove to be a resilient group. She got along with the rest of the group fine, except for a few erroneous remarks. Nevertheless, she shrugged them off and proved to be a tough gal who was well bred.
They all were loyal to Kyser, and rightfully so, because he was a fair man.
Brutus Salapore vaguely listened to Richard and put more effort into reviewing his notes. Thorough indeed, Mr. Salapore could always be seen working on something even when just sitting. This was no exaggeration; if he wasn't eating, shitting, or sleeping, then he was reading, writing, or reviewing. These facts made him the most prepared to go out here and get some work done.
The FBI team really didn't have a function but to patrol the area. Richard had panicked the last time, so he felt good with a few licensed shooters on his team.
"That is why I need you... ah, hmm..!" Richard grunted again to interrupt Susie and Andrew's lustful bon voyage. "As I was saying, Susie! We need you, so you and your spouse should keep your home affairs private, and at home. You are transportation to and from the site, also to haul any and everything we need."
He stopped for a moment and spoke again sharply. "Brutus! Are you not the leader here? Keep their hormones at a manageable rate, or they will definitely be of no use."
Brutus's face showed his acquiescence.
"Oh! Jerry Kratz is it." He acknowledged affirmatively and Richard continued on. "Pretty soon, we will need to transport heavy equipment here. So your first duty will be to sail a boat to the site and set anchor. The vessel I have provided can be used as an emergency medical facility. My dear old friend here, Doctor Julian Akbar, also specializes in language and medicine—quite some talent the doc has."
Julian grinned and invited his introduction with arms open.
"You say he specializes in language and medicine. What else does he specialize in?" asked Agent Zimmerman.
Julian remained silent, but he continued to gleam as he allowed Richard the honors.
"He also studies ancient antiquities and indigenous peoples of the Western hemisphere."
Wesley looked puzzled and glanced at Adam and Kyser before responding. "I hope this isn't some kind of science field trip, because I hated science."
Richard quickly soothed his confusion. "Oh no, believe you me! We are here to make preparations to build a state of the art export/import facility. In fact, a wonderful shipyard and maintenance complex. All of you will own the first shares. Just think of all the people who passed on Microsoft, and think about the few that owned the first shares. They are billionaires, to put it quite bluntly. Your money then can equal mine, well not quite mine, but possibly close. However, until then, you have to help me."
After Richard's blabbering, he almost had everyone sold, but Wesley had to question all he'd said. "I understand about all of your money, and all the money you want to make, but I have one question. Why did you call, or NO. Excuse me. What caused you to feel you need the FBI or a professor of antiquities?"
"That is what I had planned, but... that's another story. The fact is that I need a report on the area's constructability delivered into the investors' hands. The professor advised of the possibility of this area containing tribes who are territorial. It's possible they won't give up this unofficial land of theirs without a fight."
Wesley, for some reason, remained puzzled. "What gave you the idea to ask him if tribes were in the area? Have you seen any?"
Richard looked stunned and replied negatively. "Well Wesley, I did my homework. I know tribes are plentiful in tropical rainforests all over the world. I know also that they have some strange beliefs that can even be cannibalistic. I just want to have someone on my crew I can rely on if we happen to run into any of these savages."
His comments had sufficiently nourished Wesley's curiosity, but only for a moment, for his appetite was tremendous.
Klinton Westfield was the other member of the team who remained silent. He was a well-built man who was a good friend of Brutus's. The many years they worked together helped build that strong bond.
"You all know your jobs, so get ready to travel to the site at dawn. As for now, enjoy yourselves, as I have Caribbean foods being cooked as we speak. I also have mixed drinks, but don't get too pissy because we have a job to do."
Richard walked away and the crew adjourned, scattering their separate ways. Some remained in groups to talk, or some just had their own separate conversation. For instance, Wesley and Adam approached the grill area, while the Kemps sat on rocks that trimmed a crystal clear stream. Andrew threw pebbles into the water and observed the evening sky.
"Baby! We've been married for little over a year now, and I think I love you all over again."
Susie seemed surprised by the comments and hugged her loved one tight. At this point, anything he said had the ability to lift her off her feet.
Klinton interrupted the bliss by blurting, "What are you two lovebirds doing out here? You know, when they say until death do us part, well! If that be the case, I'm sure your hormones will play a dominant role."
Andrew loosened his grip and replied to Klinton's friendly sarcasm. "What are you talking about?"
"Oh you know that old saying: live by the sword, die by the sword. How about the same thing that will make you laugh can make you cry."
"Hey! A man can't indulge himself into his wife, the one he loves and cares for, and cherishes?"
"OK! I didn't mean for you to get all mushy on me."
Klinton looked around and whispered to Andrew, but before the listener could understand a word, Susie intervened. "Get lost Klinton!"
"Alright, alright. I can see when I'm not wanted. That's OK, I'll let you newlyweds sicken yourself with an overdose of mush."
Klinton chuckled at his friends' love and joked with them only because they were loving friends.
Susie grabbed Andrew and seductively declared, "Now that we have gotten rid of our diversion..." She pecked him on the lips several times. "Sorry we were interrupted."
Smacks sounded, but no one could hear them because the sounds of nature proved prominent.
Wesley and Adam talked over some jerk and curry chicken, a Caribbean recipe that was unfamiliar to them. However, the way they devoured it proved it was delightful.
"Hey Adam, I didn't hear what you think."
"About what!"
Wesley looked at him in disbelief and said, "About this job. Doesn't something feel eerie."
"I don't feel anything. I'm just here to earn these twenty-five thousand dollars, in what, five days. You can't beat that. What, five thousand a day?" Adam's head filled with imagination when he wished this was his normal fulltime salary.
"I'm not disputing the money's good, but forget the money. Is it not strange he would call us just to look around."
"Hey Wes, cool out man. I'm glad he needed us."
Wesley sipped his drink and grunted in disagreement.
"Stop being so damned skeptical. It might just be a legitimate way to make a decent living for a change."
Wesley drank on and uttered softly, "Hmm... I hope you're right." He drank the last of his drink and grunted in the grimmest of tones. Wesley quickly fetched another drink, declining to follow Adam.
Adam walked towards the living quarters where nearly all the crew had gone. Kyser spoke to Richard, but no one could hear their conversation because they were some distance away. Pam and Roy battled in a game of chess on the central waiting room display set, which was made of stone and commemorated the ancient Aztec civilization. The bishops, kings and queens, and other pieces were practically sculptured. Pamela was the one who decided to make better use of it, other than just as a simple display set.
It took some convincing just to get Roy to play. After trying to talk her out of it, Roy succumbed. She was a pretty good chess player, and it showed when she nearly checkmated him, but Roy was also worried about tampering with the beautiful piece and couldn't really concentrate. His heavy drinking did not make his play much better either, but not much worse as well. He was used to the heavy doses of alcohol because it almost ruined him.
Pam hollered across the room, "Hey Adam! Do you want next on the shellacking I'm putting on Mr. Beavers here."
"No thanks!"
Adam was more interested in speaking to Kyser. Nevertheless, it was getting late, and everyone was heading to their rooms. Brutus had been embarked on a review of their situation all the while, but he was now exhausted from the staring at a laptop.
Wesley made his way to the quarters pissy drunk, as was Roy and some of the other members of the crew. So were Edward and Gary thousands of miles away, but they continued to have a good time and had no plans to turn in any time soon.
Across the city, Gary's good time was an illusion, but he made the best of his intoxication. Sitting at the bar, he turned his head instantly when arms grabbed his shoulders. It was Edward Pullins with a great big smile upon his face.
"What's up! Cheer up!"
"Yes, easy for you to say. You're getting all the women."
Edward's smile burned like fire and refused to extinguish, but the commotion in the far corner of the bar nearly acted as a commonly used fire prevention tool. He noticed someone dressed expensively and buying everyone drinks. It was obviously this guy laced with alcohol who was walking a thin line between being just obnoxious and unbearably obscene. However, he would eventually fall over into that gray area because the bartender became annoyed.
Tee asked the detectives to scare him a little. He didn't want to instantly eject the man from the bar, because he was spending quite a bit of money. However, if he didn't calm himself, then ejection was inevitable.
Gary jumped off his stool eagerly because this was his only real action all night. Edward followed along reluctantly, feeling he was off duty, and that was that. Gary rushed on, so he followed. They approached closer to the commotion and noticed a well-dressed man in the middle of the crowd.
Gary said, "Excuse me sir! You're going to have to calm down, or you'll be asked to leave."
Edward watched the man respond. "Well who the fuck are you?"
This attitude ended Edward's silence quickly. "That doesn't matter! What matters is that bartender over there sent us over here because he's tired of your disturbances."
The spiffy man continued to be obnoxiously entertaining to the people who were watching and benefiting from his generosity. Gary reached out and grabbed the man.
"Hold up! Get your fucking hand off me. I don't know you," declared the drunken man, jerking from Gary's grasp.
"Look sir, do you want to go to jail?" asked Edward.
The well-dressed individual puffed himself up and replied, "I don't give a damn. I'll bail right out. If I'm a disturbance, then let him tell me." He pointed directly at Tee. "Who are you anyway, talking about jail. I haven't committed any crimes."
The two detectives immediately flashed their badges and reached for the man.
"Hold up, Hold up!" the man yelled, jumping back and thereby resisting their attempts to restrain him. He continued blabbering. "Look man, I don't want to go to jail. I didn't know you were police, and I definitely didn't know I was a disturbance."
Gary had already grabbed the man's arm and maintained a squeeze. "Now you know," Gary advised with a heavy dose of attitude in his tone. He was eager to boot him out and was not paying any attention to the man's plea to give him a break.
"Look officers, I'm just trying to relieve some tension. Let me buy you some drinks."
"Oh we don't accept bribes," said Gary.
"Give me a break. You police always want to arrest someone, but when you need them, where are they? No where to be found."
"Shut up!" Gary blurted with bitter annoyance.
The man got more emotional. "Oh yeah! You don't want to hear that. They talk about the good, but hush-hush about the bad."
Edward said, "Handcuff this fellow. We are taking him down ourselves."
Gary responded gracefully.
"That's fucked up—you all taking me to jail."
"We asked you to leave and you refused."
"Look officers, I'm a law-abiding citizen..."
"You look like a drug dealer to me."
"Now I'm being stereotyped! Oh, a man like me can't have expensive shit? That's fucked up. You have to be confirmed rich. You know what, fuck you! Take me to jail. I'm not rich, but well on my way thanks to a certain, should I say, misfortune. It happened to turn an unfortunate into my good fortune."
"Is it something you want to tell us?" Gary asked.
"No! I don't want to tell you shit. Except that if I were a white man then you would have passed me off as a rich and well-established American citizen, but since I'm black I'm a drug dealer, a thug, or some sort of criminal. The fine things I have on must have come through illegal means. I know it, yeah, I know it. And if you think so, then you're wrong. The fact is rich people get away with murder. Where were you guys when I needed you, when that rich motherfucker abandoned my friends."
Edward looked at Gary and abruptly stopped what he was doing, paying strict attention to the last thing he heard. "What rich guy?"
"Man I can't talk with these handcuffs on."
Edward began walking again as if no conversation had started.
"OK, OK, some rich man named Richard."
"Last name," exclaimed Gary.
"I don't recall his last name. We had a job in South America and I was the only known survivor."
The detectives were shocked. "Survivor of what?" they said simultaneously.
"I really can't tell you—it happened so fast. What does it matter? He abandoned my friends and I definitely won't be going back."
"Well, did you see anyone get murdered," replied Edward.
"No! I just ran and actually fell asleep in a tree. He arrived the next morning."
"He? The rich man?"
"Yes, that's why I'm here. I haven't heard from my partners and I fear they might be dead, like Milo."
"You called the office, didn't you?"
The man failed to respond to Edward's comments, but he obviously felt relieved at being released from the handcuffs.
The detectives offered to escort the man home after he told them his name. Detective Pullins talked with him one on one.
"Look, I didn't tell you this. I'm investigating that case, but I hit a little snag. Are any of your partners named Joe Geshy?"
"No, and that name doesn't ring a bell, but if you need any help, I will do whatever I can! Those are my friends, lost in the wilderness."
Edward thought things over for a moment while his partner could only wonder what he was pondering.
"We can help each other. I help you with details and you help me by finding my friends and co-workers, but wait a minute. You said you hit a snag. What kind of snag?"
Gary took it upon himself to answer. "The captain won't fund this one."
"Why not?"
"Because the evidence is not clear, but wait, you could testify that Richard had abandoned your crew."
Edward rejected that idea. "No! We won't tell the captain this bit of information because something tells me he's not that interested in successfully closing this case."
Gary wondered what his partner was scheming. "Why not Edward? Why are you going to keep this a secret from the captain."
"Something tells me he doesn't want this case solved, or at least by me."
Edward turned to the man and said. "Well Nick! I'll help you find your friends. You seem well off financially, can you contribute to our expenses? We can all go there together."
"Oh no! I'm not going back there. I'll fund the trip, but I'm not going anywhere, but especially that place—it's creepy."
"What's so creepy about it."
"That thick forest overnight, but I suppose you'll find out."
"What were you doing out there, you and your crew?"
"He paid me for a job, money that me and my crew were to split, but they didn't return. The job was incomplete."
"Well, why did he pay you?"
"I threatened to tell what happened. He told me to basically shut my mouth or he would report the check he had written me stolen."
Edward looked at his partner. "Now do you still believe there's nothing going on with this Dickenson character."
Gary couldn't disagree. "Are you going?"
Edward replied, "Of course."
"Well, I'm with you."
The men exchanged information so they could get together in the morning to make preparations for South America.
The night had conquered day entirely and the stars were no longer restricted from view. The detectives escorted Nick home and turned in themselves soon after. Many of Richard's crew had turned in because they had a busy morning as well.
All sounds of nature creeped, and made their distinctions by vociferating broadly about the forest. If one were to tour the forest at this time, he might find the surroundings exhilarating, but not if he was a native to the surroundings. The indigenous people had a bond with the forest, and so did the plant and animal life. This bond was so strong that the presence of foreigners was immediately recognized by the forest dwellers. This was a fact to the ancients because they believed every plant and animal on earth was designed to flow according to the laws of nature. They also believed that nature was expressed in the form of spirit, which were pure energy and consciousness absent physical form. Every living thing had spirit: plants, animals, and even humans, who are also animals.
A spirit with good intentions could sense a spirit with bad intentions. The crew was instantly sensed, especially because their intentions weren't exactly soaked in holiness. They wanted to destroy life for their own personal gain, and this was a direct blasphemy of life itself. Anyone who could commit such vandalism couldn't believe what the ancients believed. They knew for a fact that the earth was alive and represented the mother of life.
The modern-day members of the tribe hadn't been in touch with their ancestral knowledge for quite some time. Most of what they knew was passed down through oral storytelling. Even though some of their ancestors' cities had survived the ages, they had no access to them. Not that any tribal member would be able to read anything from those times, but most of the records had been destroyed anyway. This very fact caused their beliefs to become distorted and incomplete. However, the foundation of their beliefs remained intact, such as spirituality, sorcery, and nature having God-like tendencies.
It is believed that these people made the forest their permanent homes when the Europeans first colonized the West. There were even ancient texts that indicated the arrival of these Europeans would mark cursed times for their people. After generations, it is understandable how one could lose their civilized traits. However, it seemed they resorted to what their ancestors would have wanted. That is to live on the land and flow peacefully with nature.
That is what they did for thousands of years, with their immaculate cities of gold and designer stone, sturdy as a continent and thus still standing even to this day. The cities also resembled alignments that complimented the stars victoriously.
The curse was brought upon us to remember where we came from. In the old days, kingdoms got grand, because now that they were civilized and had amassed an enormous amount of culture, but they forgot where they came from. So now the curse would return them to the state in which they came, and they would now appreciate the next time the world was under their direction.
The curse has gotten out of hand. The lands that were once relied upon to evolve a civilized people were threatened by a worldwide epidemic. So, the spirits were called upon, and by chance, all parties setting foot on ancient soil were now asleep. There were chants of high praise. They were loud, as evil was near.
It was time, and in the deep expanses of the soon-to-be-explored forest lurked eyes that belonged to animals of all types, but how many and what kinds was impossible to know. Exactly how many belonged to fleeing descendants of those ancestors was also unknown. There are said to be many groups that speak languages unknown to modern civilization. However, these languages may be related to others that are known by outsiders, to similar dialects, and the professor specialized in language, but his skills were no guarantee that his companions would be able to communicate with the people they found.
In the vicinity of the project site were a few of those people whose language was unknown to outsiders. They danced around enormous trees and appeared to be trying to communicate with them, for they believed that the tree is the wisest living thing on earth. Everything about the lifecycle of a tree can be translated into human life experiences. They also believed the tree could be spoken to telepathically. Through certain sounds and vibrations produced with mouth and instruments, the tree was called upon for protection.
This is what was happening, and the vibration got very loud, penetrating the dream state. Everyone who stepped foot on this soil had an immense flash during their REM, and the entire crew was affected, some worse than others. Joe's image invaded Richard's nightmares, and it too flashed intensely. Nick had felt deep sorrow for his friends and waved goodbye to them. He was slowly carried away by a mysterious force; however, his eagerness to leave was nil.
Edward rolled over in his sleep several times. He was suddenly and rudely awakened by Richard's image flashing in his mind. He sat up worrying upon the night sky, pondering heavily on why this had appeared to him. Could he really be dreaming about a man he doesn't know? He passed it off as anxiousness and laid his head back down. Tiredness crept inside of him, and it was more than sleepiness that drew him back to sleep so quickly.
The night carried on fierce in spirit, and the elements brewed in strength and terror. The forces of nature in this part of the world were thought to be spirits, and spirits could be called upon. This has been depicted in many cultures and communicated in multiple shapes of diverse distinctiveness. Even unsuspecting cultures have these ideas secretly placed to program the children. One example is the X-Men comic book superhero, "Storm." Her abilities to call upon nature's wrath and direct them in the purposes of her self-defense proves just that. Even the brave, beloved, and bizarre Tarzan, who beat the odds and survived being raised by animals, to eventually obtain an essence and spiritual unity with nature unheard of by modern-day man, is such an example.
Nevertheless, your heart must be clean and sincere to now step foot on ancient property.
The sun pierced the eastern horizon and the radiance from its rays were slightly visible. Muggy indeed was the air that seemed to hug you tight. The sun assisted, began to pound and sting like razor-sharp clippers performing a close edge. The first individual to bear those strenuous conditions was Brutus Salapore. It did not fail, he was immediately drawn to the work planned for the day. They had to get up early anyway. He was to take the boat with Jerry and Klinton. Their first job was to scan the bank where the river split to flow west and south. Getting on shore was the second objective.
Brutus had to give a report to the investors as to the sufficiency of building such a structure. To do so he had to trek the jungle and decide how to go about producing this envisioned design. He walked out the door of his sleeping quarters to raise Jerry and Klinton.
Jerry had been up smoking a Salem while scarfing down black coffee. He was used to getting up early back on his Louisiana farm, which was where he acquired his talent to navigate—coasting the Mississippi River and Lake Bruin honed his skills.
"Early to rise makes a man healthy and wise! Well good morning to you Brutus."
The whole while Jerry smiled ecstatically, but Brutus walked on past, replying gracefully. "Yeah Jerry. We have a lot of work to do."
Jerry followed along to gather their final team member. Salapore briefed Jerry on their way to Klinton's room. They halted briefly before knocking on the door, and Jerry said, "This air reminds me of back home. The way it stuck to you felt like a cruel punishment. Even these damned mosquitoes are just as fierce."
Slapping one to smithereens was exactly what he was doing before admitting, "I think I have to give these here the edge."
Brutus knocked on the door while calmly replying, "Yeah, they do seem to attack fiercely, sacrificing their lives like kamikazes just to feed their young, and to die without knowing they'll grow, a pity."
They knocked harder now, with both contributing to the ruckus. "Klinton!"
Just behind the wood that divided them, Klinton lay there, seemingly lifeless, but the ruckus his comrades caused slowly respirited him. Opening his eyes was essential, and so he wiped the mucus that permeated them, because it rendered his sight temporarily useless. However, his ears worked fine because the noise from beating of the door could not be ignored. Klinton finally got out of bed to throw on his work outfit. It wasn't actually a uniform, but pieces of clothing he felt comfortable in.
He opened the door casually, a groggy look upon his face. He seemed annoyed.
"Its time to work! Man, let's get up! Klinton! Klinton!" Jerry continued in an enthused manner.
"I'm up, damn it! Just because y'all are workaholics, don't make me one. Shit! I just do my job, and I'm Audi-5000," Klinton said fiercely. "I'll bet you didn't have a problem getting old Mr. Outback up! Did you Brut? Hell no!"
Klinton uttered smoothly and directly. With a grim look upon his face, he said, "That's because you're used to being awakened by a filthy male bird, to remind you of your chores, to feed your swine and milk your bull's mate. I didn't have the luxury growing up sailing boats and building engines with sire and siblings. Mine was astray anyway, Brut! What's on the agenda?"
"You know what Klinton? You're crazy," Jerry replied.
Brutus took note as he continued to lead them to their destination. "Listen up, gentlemen! There's an island, basically lying on the equator, southeast from here. Captain Briscoe will take us by chopper. This is where we will rendezvous with the science vessel, and of course board it and set sail."
He grabbed Jerry's shoulder and reiterated, "Now this is where I need you. See, you have to sail us down the Amazon about a hundred and fifty miles southwest from our current position. This is where we reach the corner where the river splits, and also the spot where we will drop anchor. I guess a half mile or so off coast. It may be better to take smaller boats and view the coastline in that manner. Five square miles should be sufficient, so splitting up should yield faster results."
The men watched Brutus as he rambled on and hardly even noticed Jerry's interjection. "Well Brutus, are you sure we can split up? I mean, will both crews know exactly what we are looking for? It's only the three of us. He's the surveyor," he said, pointing swiftly and hastening to make his point. "You're the damn mathematician, or whatever. The engineer, excuse me! I'm just a boat captain."
Klinton grabbed Jerry's shoulder and replied, "And a damn good one!"
Brutus looked as if he could not disagree, he calmed the men with his soft and murky voice. "I guess it would appear we are a little undermanned. I wonder if Captain Briscoe has any qualifications to assist us."
Klinton replied, "Brutus, me and you can go on separate boats. I pretty much know what you're looking for. I may not be a civil engineer, but working with you for eight years has developed my skills."
Brutus replied in the same calm and easy manner. "I guess you're right. I have taught you well..."
Klinton interrupted smoothly, "Yes you have! I only have an associate of science in surveying and mapping, but working with you, I've learned a lot."
"What do you expect? I have a way of rubbing my talents off on my workers. It could be the equivalent of a doctoral program. Maybe when I retire I'll..."
Jerry was quiet for a moment, but couldn't help but interrupt. "That's all fine and dandy, Mr. Teacher and Pupil, but I'm the only navigator. Does Briscoe operate boats?"
Klinton blurted, "I really don't know who this Briscoe guy is."
Brutus did know and explained to his workers. "I think he has a few skills under his belt. I'm pretty sure it wouldn't be a problem to operate a small motorboat. In fact, from what I hear, he's quite skilled, possibly a hit man for Richard."
"You think!"
"I'm just kidding, he's just a good handy man."
The leader of the group explained the plan, especially to Klinton. He had to be sure Klinton would analyze the shores exactly as they should be analyzed. This was all done, and Brutus now advised them of the arrangements.
"OK Klinton! You and Jerry take the east bank, traveling south. Briscoe and I will take the north shore traveling west. We may need to travel up to five miles down river."
Brutus used his two-way radio to alert Briscoe of their readiness. He also wanted to explain that they needed his help. Briscoe was OK with that. He was in fact being paid well by Richard.
The three men waited for Briscoe at the helicopter. Briscoe was actually consulting with Richard while Brutus and his crew waited.
"They need your help," declared Richard. He continued on in a pumped-up manner. "Actually, I need to be getting the rest of the crew set. You go ahead. Brutus knows exactly what to do. I'm going to get Andrew and Susie, just help them out with whatever they need. By the time your crew is finished we should already be there."
Briscoe ran off to meet the men who waited for him, and Richard turned the opposite direction to get his crew ready to go. He rounded them up quickly, advising them to meet in the helicopter field.
Already in those fields, Jerry was saying, "I think that might be that Briscoe guy." They stared the best they could into the rising South American sun at the man that approached them. The humidity could be measured using only your skin, and the sphere now above the horizon made it evident that there was a blistering day to come. As early as it was, the crew still had to shade their eyes for Briscoe was traveling west.
He approached them rapidly with the old man's tower just behind him. The little man in fact watched on.
"I'm Briscoe," he said bluntly while reaching out his hand.
Brutus accepted his hand and replied, "Brutus! This is my crew, Jerry and Klinton."
They looked each other eye-to-eye before Jerry halted the standoff. "OK gentlemen! Are we ready? I hope you're a good pilot."
Brutus and Briscoe separated themselves from Jerry's seeming touchiness.
"That I am. I hope you're as good at whatever it is you do."
"The best," said Jerry, but before he could say anything else.
"Concentrate men. We have work to do," Brutus replied.
Klinton said nothing, just wanting the job to be over. The amount of his pay even slipped his mind. Jerry looked at Klinton and joked, "Why aren't you saying anything, boy? Yah getting scared?"
Amusement followed, but after that comments spilled from Klinton's lips instantly. "I told you. I just want to do my job. All that yibber-yabber, I really don't need. So if you'll excuse me, I need to concentrate on what I was thinking about."
"Whooah... The man is..."
"Let's go, men. We need to get this chopper headed for the island."
They complied with those commands, and off they flew.
"I told you gentlemen, we had to hurry because it will take us several hours to get to the spot. This time does not include the job we have to do once we get there," exclaimed Brutus.
Briscoe flew the chopper undisturbed, but Klinton responded to Brutus's previous reminder. "OK Brut! We are on the way. No need to huff and puff."
As Jerry listened he couldn't help but add his own two cents. "Yeah Brutus! We're the best you got. Shit man, we're all you got! We'll get the job done!" He slapped his hands on Brutus's shoulder.
"Well, I hope so, because it pays a lot of money."
"Oh yeah," drawled Jerry in a deep and groggy country accent.
Klinton said, "I don't care about the money! I just want to get the work done and get home. Unfortunately enough, I work with you lunatics. Jerry! I don't know what you are so excited about, because Brutus is going to pay you whatever he wants. Shit, we work for him."
Jerry wasn't fond of Klinton's prior comments. He had a disappointed look upon his face as he replied, "Brutus! We haven't discussed pay. I know we're salaried, but this isn't no ordinary job."
Brutus was obviously annoyed, but he did not look Jerry's way and responded casually to his comments. "This really is not a good time to be discussing salaries. We need to be concentrating on the work at hand. But, to keep your minds at ease, there will be huge bonus incentives for a job well done."
Jerry and Klinton looked at Brutus as if he had spoken uncivil words. Klinton didn't give a damn—he was used to Brutus and his impudence. That is why he set his mind on just getting the job done.
Klinton gazed out of the chopper's window and felt deeply that he didn't belong here, and he was certain that he really didn't care to be here. "I've been coerced!" He thought.
Jerry's actions were similar, but his thoughts were manifested verbally. "Is that the type of response you give? I'm out here... like Crocodile Dundee, slash Tarzan, some type of hybrid because I navigate boats, and I get an answer like that about my money? I thought we were better than that! We didn't even get a chance to talk about money. Forget, you called us in the wee hours of the morning and came just short of demanding our presence or our jobs were suspect. Oh, I'll give you a good job alright, but first, me and you must talk."
Silence loomed for a few moments before Jerry continued his raving. Looking at Klinton, he said, "You believe this..."
"Sit your happy ass down," declared Klinton, growing impatient with the noise.
Captain Briscoe looked back at Jerry and felt a little compassion. His empathy was because Jerry wanted proper compensation, and who could argue with that? As he brought the chopper down, Briscoe decided to comment only on the fact that he intended to land.
The landing and the following journey went smoothly, which led them to a well-equipped science vessel that made Jerry extremely excited. Neglecting to help the others check off all needed supplies, he quickly familiarized himself with the helm. He found touring the entire boat an ongoing thrill. He now understood who it was that he was working for. To supply such a vessel proved that Richard was a man of means indeed.
He thought hard now, "I need to talk to Brutus! Money like this..." Jerry immediately searched for Brutus to discuss his salary further.
Brutus was not far off, just at the other end of the vessel. He was setting up scopes and measuring equipment for the landscape. The vessel was large enough to carry three emergency boats, two had a motor and the other was a wooden paddle boat. This particular boat hung in the back of the vessel, and the motorboats hung on opposite sides.
"Excuse me... Brutus! Can we talk?"
"Sure! What is it plaguing your mind?"
"Well, I'm sure you know my concerns. I'm far away from home, and I don't know the dangers this job might entail. Look man! We're all the way out here! Do you see more than just duty?"
Jerry continued to rave on, not giving his boss much time to speak. Finally, Brutus did satisfy Jerry after advising him of his pay. It wasn't really what could have been, or should have been, but Jerry was not keen to current labor trends. Nevertheless, it was more than he had been accustomed to. He was eager to sail now, and that's what the crew did.
The other crew was being gathered by Richard Dickenson, alongside Kyser Finley. The two made small talk while waiting for the others. Andrew and Susie were the first to gather around Richard and Kyser.
"Hello, gentlemen," declared Susie with a delightful voice. She was this way because her spouse had his hands wrapped around her, and she continued to feel tremors from earlier that morning. The newlyweds truly had love, passion, and lust boiling within. They were unlike Jerry in that they were more informed as to their compensation. In fact, they just about doubled what Jerry managed to negotiate.
Wesley and Adam approached, and they too were engaged in their own small talk. "Adam!" Wes hollered. "You ready to fly in this jungle, to watch a bunch of smartass engineers survey land? I think you're right—this must be the easiest, not to mention most, money I have ever made on a side job."
"I think it's going to be pretty boring, if you ask me." Adam looked at Wesley as if he waited for a response.
"I guess you're right, but if the money's good..."
They approached Kyser Finley and the others, where greetings were exchanged, and Roy and Pam finally dragged themselves along.
"OK, listen up! Once again, I would like to thank you all for being a part of this team. This shouldn't take long, two full days at the most. Then we are out of here. Obviously we need two choppers, so if I can break you two love birds up."
He grabbed Susie Kemp and placed her on the opposite side of Andrew.
"Who's the best pilot?" asked Richard.
They both hesitated before Susie exclaimed, "Why, of course, Andrew. Clearly, he taught me."
Richard turned to Andrew and said, "I'm riding with you!" He proceeded to separate the team, and they boarded their respective helicopters.
At the precinct, Edward and Gary sat at their respective desks and assumed they were alone. Everyone was either on duty or at lunch or somewhere else deep in precinct confines, except Rick Powers. He was walking down the hall towards the gentlemen.
Gary looked up at Edward and said, "Where are you going? I'm going with you."
Edward looked at him sternly. "Shhhh!!!" His index finger split his lips dead center and pointed to the sky. He moved as close as possible to Mr. Stevens and said, "I don't want this to leak."
Around the corner, that very statement halted Rick Powers. Rick wanted to know what wasn't supposed to be known. He eased alongside the wall and tried honing his hearing.
Edward whispered to Gary once more, "I'm leaving before noon. I have a hunch that, even if Richard didn't kill someone, he knows a lot about it."
Edward got even closer to whisper again, with even more reduction in volume. Rick tried hard to hear more, but the whispers became vague since the first comments. Richard changed his mind on going into the room with Edward and Gary, especially after hearing some portion of the scheme. He turned one hundred and eighty degrees to head down the previously trotted path, eager to reach George Gunther's office.
Barging into the captain's office was never a good idea, but he was intoxicated with hot news. Gunther looked up, startled, and declared bluntly, "Oh, this had better be good." Gunther held his hand over the receiver of the phone. It was obvious that his patience were wearing thin with his subordinate.
Rick clumsily carried himself into the captain's office with the thinnest of breath. "Captain, Captain," said Rick with excitement. "I heard Edward saying something about Richard."
"Well! What did he say?"
"He said something about Richard murdering someone, and he didn't want anyone to know."
Gunther looked intrigued by the information just given to him. "You're excused, Powers."
Gunther wondered what Edward hadn't reported. "Murder, that's absurd!" thought Gunther, but what if Edward really had something.
Captain Gunther told the person he was speaking to that he'd call them back, then called an authority within the precinct. The two collaborated on a plan. The first step was to call Edward into his office. He buzzed Edward at his desk, "Let me see you please, Mr. Pullins."
Edward looked at Gary and both were puzzled by the sudden summons. Edward headed for Gunther's office with butterflies tingling within his stomach. He walked hesitantly down the hall, wondering what Gunther could want with him. Edward slipped the door open as if regret gave him the power to do so.
As soon as he was fully inside Gunther's office, he was consumed with an anxiously heavy voice. "I called to notify you of a change."
Edward was baffled but responded in a tempered manner. "What change?"
"I'm taking you off the case."
"What?! What the hell is going on?" Edward's rage was nearly not containable. "Why am I being... what reason do you have for pulling me?" Edward stuttered with his speech, but he continued on frantically pleading his case. "What have I done? I don't understand."
"It's not for you to understand. I've just decided to make a change. I feel someone else would fit better on this case. Besides, you haven't gotten anywhere with the case yet, have you?"
Edward snarled and blurted, "No! I haven't, but who in the hell will be better than me."
Gunther ignored Edward's last comments and said, "Are you sure there is nothing else to report about this case?"
"No there isn't!"
"Hmm... Well, to answer your question, I'll make an announcement when I see fit. You're dismissed."
Edward was stunned and it delayed him from leaving the captain's office. When he did leave, he made sure that the door was slammed behind him. Edward's rage now boiled over. Before he could get back to his desk, he noticed fellow officers going through his files. Gary sat and watched with astonishment.
"Hey Edward, man! I asked them what they were doing, but they continued on as if I wasn't here."
Edward watched Gary through the corner of his eyes to hear him out, but most of his attention was drawn to the exploiting officers. "What the hell are y'all doing, Mike! Pete! What's going on?"
Detective Mike Sasson looked up and responded as if he owed his colleague nothing. "We are seizing all records for the Dickenson case, by order of the captain."
Gary and Edward stood there shocked, but it didn't stop Edward from declaring rudely, "This is bullshit!" Then he stormed out the door.
The humidity was far from letting up, for it had just begun. The crew who shuttled the science vessel experienced this from front row seats. Jerry stood tall in front of the boat where he steered and enjoyed the view. Briscoe and Klinton sat in the quarters and played cards, while Brutus walked alongside the boat railing checking out different views. They were a ways from their destination, so any view now was just recreational.
The helicopter crew had already caught up with the departed science vessel in no time. Susie Kemp's aircraft lead the way, with Richard and her husband close behind. Their flights were going smoothly, and besides the choppers' ruckus, you could hear small talk. Richard didn't have much to say, because he dealt primarily with Brutus Salapore. He in turn was the point of this entire trip. It so happened that he needed extra pilots for the extra men Brutus would need. The premonition of the professor's skills coming in handy was the reason he felt the need for this man's services. The FBI crew was considered a buffer for his protection, but uncertainty set in fiercely and was the cause for his dense thoughts.
What was about to occur was truly the unknown, and that fact heightened Richard's every sensation. Nevertheless, Richard did not restrict his pilots from proceeding. In his mind, all he needed was for Brutus to write the report, even if it was exaggerated. That was the driving force for his eagerness, and nothing seemed to be able to stop him. At least that is what he believed, especially since he could pay whatever price was necessary to get what he needed.
"So, Andrew! That is your name, right?"
"Yes it is," responded the pilot sarcastically.
"I'm sorry, I'm not good with names. So I see your wife is a pretty good pilot. She's really flying that baby."
He noticed her because she led the way to a sharp left turn. They were just about ready to land. It wasn't that short of a ride, and they were all ready to stretch out their stiffness.
One of the FBI agents blurted, "Damn, we're not there yet?"
Kyser Finley rode in the chopper with Andrew and Richard and heard the comments his fellow mates made clearly. It wasn't a problem until the same agent continued to blabber. "You know what, this is extreme! If we weren't making what you are paying us Mr. Rich guy, there's no way I would be on this trip, not for a penny less."
Kyser Finley immediately responded to the last comment. "Now that's not appropriate to say."
Richard said, "Oh no, that's OK! I like a man that is concerned about his money. That reminds me of me. You see how I'm able to pay all of you? Sure the hell is not by not worrying about my money. You see, this is why I'm out here. This project will leave me strikingly rich, allow me to reach another level in which you all become peasants. My goal is to be number one in the funds department."
Richard sat back indulging in the silence his listeners now bathed him in. Then he continued, "You know I do a little flying myself. Maybe we need to take three choppers so we can race."
"Just make sure I'm not a passenger!" Klinton replied meaningfully.
"It's just about time to land," Andrew indicated to Richard. Susie made that apparent as her helicopter dipped severely, and Andrew followed her same procedure. It was difficult to land because the jungle was very thick and would not cooperate. To find clearance was difficult because they didn't arrive at the already prepared landing field. Susie had drifted off course a little, but even so, the previously prepared area would be difficult to land in due to the thick trees. Andrew followed his wife's trajectory to a tee, until receiving a radio transmission.
"What is it baby?"
"This spot ahead is clear of trees, like a little patch, and it seems to be flat ground. I'm going to land here."
"Roger that!"
They landed the choppers on soft ground, and had to walk about 200 meters to the camp that was built by the late Gary Russy.
Drifting along in the beautifully equipped boat, Jerry shouted, "There's land just ahead of us."
Brutus approached Jerry to give him instructions. "Jerry! Sail the boat right along there."
He pointed exactly where he wanted and Jerry comprehended quite well. The next step was to drop anchor, for this was a good spot. A continuous scrape and rattle sounded loudly from beneath the boat, and before you knew it the boat was idle. The men quickly released the two motorboats.
"You think we should release the reserve boat?" Klinton asked.
Jerry said no, but Klinton had already started to untie the boat. Klinton did stop, but had neglected to tie the boat back tightly, and the inevitable was for the safety boat to drift away. For now it seemed secure, so the men paid no attention. They were more interested in loading the motorboats with the equipment they needed. All supplies were loaded, and it was now time to survey the land, and map the shores.
Briscoe and Brutus cranked their motor as soon as they were fully loaded. They were floating away from the sun because it was a little after noon and they sailed west. Jerry and Klinton headed south. The science vessel pointed directly towards the land that looked like a pointer itself, because that is where it split the river in two. It was the main reason one crew went west and the other went south.
Brutus had his boat moving smoothly while Jerry and Klinton barely qualified as being setup. Brutus looked back at what he could see of the science vessel. "They are just leaving. Why are they so damned slow? Looks like they let the emergency boat free. I don't know why? They don't need the damn thing."
He seemed annoyed, and it carried over to Briscoe. "What Brutus? They weren't supposed to?"
"I don't know what for—they don't need it."
Briscoe shook his head in disbelief and continued on with his westward survey.
Jerry and Klinton finally got going after scuffling over petty matters. The two always bickered; however, their friendship allowed it to be humorous sarcasm in content.
"Goddamn it! Klinton, let me drive the boat."
"You're not the only one who can drive a simple motorboat. Just because you're a self-proclaimed captain don't mean a damn thing to me."
"Ahh... put a sock in it," replied Jerry. He continued his defense in their war of words. "You just survey the fucking land while I boat on."
Several hours had come to pass, Brutus and Briscoe's trip went fine in the meantime. They worked well together and got much accomplished. In fact, they were just about to turn around and head back for the science vessel.
Things weren't so speedy for Jerry and Klinton. During their several hours of conflict, they managed only half the work their counterparts produced. It was at least another hour before they could turn around and head back to the big ship. At that rendezvous point, things were undisturbed, except for the reserve boat that slowly drifted away. It floated slowly downstream southward, and if Brutus saw this it would outrage him just because he knew the two could hardly get anything done together.
The boat continued down the river southbound, and nothing was stopping its departure. It did not float fast, but briskly enough. No motor nor sails powered it, but the strong river currents moved everything else and it was no exception.
Even though it had been hours, Jerry and Klinton still tangled with each other about every little thing. They had argued about Jerry going too fast and Jerry going too slow. The bickering also resulted in Klinton inadvertently hitting Jerry in the head with the equipment he was using. A hard clump with a scope was enough for Jerry.
"Will you watch where the hell you're going with that?"
"I could if you keep the damn boat still!"
"I don't see you driving it, do I?"
"I tried to remember, but you wanted to make yourself useful for a change."
"That's the problem with you people. You learn how to do something and you get careless and think you know everything."
Klinton was not fond of those comments, and stared with a sharp and short-tempered glare, responding in a hyperventilated manner. "What the fuck... did you say... you people!"
Then Klinton carelessly mishandled the scope, blundering into Jerry's head again.
"Goddamn it," Jerry shouted in tremendous discomfort. He jumped up at Klinton. In defense, Klinton lunged to grab Jerry in an effort to slow him to a halt. However, that did not work the way he wanted. They locked up in a bear hug, both trying to do something that was unclear. The uncertainty of their tussling loomed large since they had little room on their four-party boat. Usually, when two men tussle, it is meant for one to overturn the other. That is what happened, but who overturned who was not clear, because both went overboard.
The two remained entangled causing a large splash in the water. A deep plunge into the deep trenches of the Amazon was the last thing on their minds. Winning the entanglement was the first thought, but when they finally reached the surface of the water their feelings had changed. They both gasped for air as they came up, and Jerry shouted, "Shit, oh shit..."
His shouts weren't because they had fallen into the water. He was used to that, but it was what Klinton stared at so hard. He even seemed stunned from the view, and for that, Jerry continued his raving. "Help, what we gonna do?"
Klinton said nothing for the moment, but used that energy instead to tread water. He still couldn't stop looking at what was before him.
"Klinton, man save me, shit. I didn't mean it."
"It's your fucking fault," Klinton shouted, but he said no more for he knew his energy would be needed.
On the other hand, Brutus and Briscoe were on the way back to the science vessel to record their information. "I hope those gentlemen are about on their way back," Brutus exclaimed.
Briscoe listened and offered comforting suggestions. "Well, I'm sure they are right on schedule."
"Hmmm...," Brutus muttered in a not-so-convinced manner. "Knowing them two... Hmmm... you don't know them two."
"Relax, Brutus! We are here to make a little money, and at least we are in the tropics. Just look at it as a vacation."
Brutus looked at Briscoe with an unappealing smirk that had disgust written all over it. "I hardly call this a vacation," replied the engineer while slapping the life out of a life-sucking insect.
"Well, I'm sure you can't disagree that the money's good."
"You're right, I won't deny that."
A momentary pause set in, just about a second. "Oh shit!!!" Briscoe shouted while barely holding onto the side of the boat. Brutus had a tight grip, with both hands clutched to the boat's rails opposite of each other. The boat took a large jolt.
Brutus calmed the situation, declaring, "We got hit by a serious wave, or maybe the current, or something." The boat did however stay afloat and continued along its original path.
As they moved along the murky waters, their senses felt like they were in overdrive. Briscoe's eyes were keen, because he noticed a boat ahead. It seemed similar in size to the one he was on, but maybe his perception was disrupted from the overuse of his senses.
"Look Brutus! That looks like Jerry and Klinton but they are supposed to be on their way back to the science vessel... I...I don't think anyone's on that boat. The motor is running and it's headed right for us."
The men shouted and kicked into overdrive in an attempt to get out of the way of the runaway. It was an exhilarating experience, not to mention there was no one seemingly here to save them because they were a bit short on the lifeguards. Because their deadline was short, they gave no effort to catch the runaway. Instead they continued on their course for the science vessel.
Intrigue and suspense dominated the two men. "I wonder how in the hell could they manage that. Probably fooling around with that other boat, and messed around a lost... the fucking boat."
Briscoe softly replied, "I hope they are not overboard. These waters are filled with things North America has yet to see."
Brutus seemed worried, and pushed the boat as fast as it would go. In no time they had reached the science vessel. "Think we should check the boat."
"I don't think they are on the boat. Something tells me they're out there somewhere. I knew something was strange when they released that emergency boat. What in the hell are they up to? Now they lost the most valuable one. I told you, you don't know these dimwits."
They began to speed off towards the south.
There was no more bickering and fussing between Jerry and Klinton, because they concentrated on saving their lives. Klinton yelled as softly as he can, "Just be quiet and still."
"I's tired of treading. What are we going to do?" whined Jerry.
"I don't know, damn it. Just swim."
Klinton did just that, and very fast. He thought he could reach the science vessel by swimming, but he was wrong, because to swim two miles or so would be extremely tiresome. If, in fact, he made it that far before being eaten. There were definitely things lurking that would love to eat him. They weren't bleeding was a plus, but the havoc they made trying to swim was not. It proved to be an extreme negative, when their initial plunge disturbed a nearby crocodile that was absolutely territorial.
"I'm tired of swimming, Klinton!"
"Stop crying and swim. I can't carry your ass. Shit, I'm tired too, but what? Are you gone give up and just sink."
"No! I'm swimming toward shore. It must be some ways ahead. It's shorter to land."
Klinton stopped for a moment and tread water in place. He glanced toward shore, noticing it probably was closer but still a stint. The fact that the rugged shoreline resembled swampland was also noticed, and Klinton realized the difficulty of maneuvering trying to get ashore. Without notification, Klinton continued to swim northward.
Jerry started for shore just as quickly as Klinton, but their paths were perpendicular. They both were extremely tired, nearly causing them to surrender to the river's demands. However, they both had fight left in them and continued on.
The disturbed reptile got more and more agitated. Jerry splashed heavily, and strikingly close to his territory. The prehistoric lizard could swim fast, and Jerry was an intruder and something had to be done. The lizard beast lunged his intimidating jaws out at Jerry and chomps down forcefully.
Klinton was continuing to swim and leaving Jerry far behind. He appeared now to be swimming at some distorted angle, heading directly towards what appeared to be a boat. He swam fast and aggressively because, if he didn't, the tiredness would set in. Finally reaching the boat, he climbed in clumsily. He was ever so tired, and he didn't even think about Jerry just yet. He had to recover from the exhaustion of swimming and treading.
A loud shriek echoed, and Klinton jumped out of his recuperating status and began to row towards Jerry's distress call. A near miss with the alligator sent Jerry underwater briefly, but he managed to pull himself above water. He quickly tried to swim away from the dinner menu. Chance was in his favor for the beast had already eaten a hearty meal. The prime reason for striking out at Jerry was for the protection of his territory.
Nevertheless, Jerry swam ahead, to the north where his partner had gone. It was a panic swim, but he did reach his comrade halfway.
"Jerry, Jerry, hold on," yelled Klinton ecstatically. He reached over to pull Jerry aboard.
"Oh shit, oh my goodness," Jerry said through his panting. He was exhausted but happy to be alive. Fortunate for them both, they were safely aboard the runaway reserve boat. There time wasn't now, but it had been a particularly close call for Jerry. They rowed away soaking wet.
"Thanks Klint, man! I thought you might leave me."
"Oh no, then I could pester you. Even though you say some foul shit, you still my friend. We have a job to do besides that, and I can't do it without you."
"Hey! Thanks man, you're right. We have money to make."
Klinton looked at Jerry as if to say that all the previous comments were simply forgotten.
Just ahead, again Briscoe's keen eyes were put to test. Briscoe informed Brutus of his detection of a moving object before them. Brutus rose cautiously trying not to shake the boat.
"I think that's a boat," said the captain.
Brutus added his verbal contribution slickly, "It appears I am correct in my assumption." The captain was not clear what these comments meant. Brutus sensed that and continued, saying, "I believe we've found our distressees, and why they gave up the motorboat for that row boat is unapparent. I told you, these two together..."
"So how in the hell did you manage that?" asked Brutus, as soon as they were within hearing. He turned to Briscoe, but still commented on the quicksilver his two employees produced. "Now, tell me! How in the hell do you manage that? You see... didn't I warn you, Briscoe... These guys are nincompoops. So, let's hear it. How in the hell did this happen, you're all wet... Oh, I'm eager to hear this!"
Brutus had spoken erratically while Briscoe watched on. The two alleged dimwits spoke out simultaneously. "I, We..."
"Can I hear one at a time, or better yet! I do not want to hear a thing. Just make sure you row that boat all the way back. Follow us and you better not fall behind. We are not a search team, so try not to get lost. We may not be able to come search for you."
Brutus cranked his motor and headed west. He was on his way to the campsite to meet Richard.
Klinton and Jerry watched them pull away briskly, and hustled to begin rowing behind them. "Come on! We need to keep up."
"I'm rowing as fast as I can. I know your weak ass ain't talking. Don't act like you on the all kayaking team, rowing your ass down wild white water rapids. You forgot, all you good for is headaches and sailboats. But when it comes time to depend on your physique, we're in trouble."
The two rowed on even though Brutus and Briscoe were no longer in their sights. As it became impossible for them to see their co-workers, Jerry's face became longer, even speaking of his demeanor to Klinton.
"You know Klinton, something's real funny, you know. I've been feeling strange." A small stutter followed before Jerry finished stamping his complaints. "I mean we're supposed to make all this money, and I think Brutus said something about a small partnership in whatever he's building out here... and why did he pick all the way out here anyway? Isn't that funny! Goddamn it, everything's funny around here."
Klinton had heard Jerry gracefully and wanted to respond eagerly. He did so, and with a motivational tone comically delivered. "Shit! You just almost got your ass ate by an alligator. I'd feel funny too, but I told you! I don't wanna be here. First off, it's damn near winter, but I'll be damned if they heard of that around here. It was hot as fish grease when you all woke me up, and what time was that? No telling what time zone we're in. Shit, you're the sailor. Can't you look up at the stars or something and tell me where we are."
Klinton looked up at the piercing sun receiving the best view, because on the water the trees were wedged away. It nearly blinded him. "I guess not. Well, can you look at the sun and tell me what time it is... I would say it's about some time around after noonish, since the sun is just above us."
Jerry listened casually, because he was amazed by the conglomerations of the trees on both sides of him.
Klinton again asked, "What do you say about that?"
Jerry snapped out of his visual entrapment and gave Klinton a submissive response. "Yeah sure."
Jerry, not fully free of his observational engagement, watched on while ignoring Klinton's efforts to get him to help row. Nevertheless, they carried on slowly down the river.
The Kemps and their passengers were safely landed. They placed the choppers down on soft land, and not the concrete laid by the late Mr. Russy. Richard forgot to tell them that is where to land, but since Susie led and he rode with Andrew, it slipped his mind. However, for the time being it remained a sufficient spot. They did indeed drift off course by several meters, which made for a good trek to camp.
They traveled in a crooked line with Richard leading the way. He blabbered about how he was appreciative that they had come, promising a relaxing trip filled with new experiences. Kyser Finley was second behind Richard along the light-evading path. For some reason, Richard's gut feeling for direction was extraordinary, as if his soul has been here and knew the proper direction well. Whatever the case might be, he quickly directed them to camp.
In the meantime, the group engaged in small talk amongst themselves. They had broken off into groupings that switched periodically depending on the conversation at hand. Except for Kyser, he remained behind Richard and mostly engaged in conversation with him. If he wasn't talking to Rich you could hear him slapping his arms for the constant bites.
In the back of the line, agent Adam Newfield was occasionally watched by the professor. However, agent Newfield was unaware and continued picking and poking at wild plant life.
"Ahhh... shit!" Adam yelled as he pricked his finger on an unidentifiable plant that drew some small portion of blood.
Just as he experienced the slight pain, the professor blurted, "Hey! What did you say your name was?"
"Adam."
"Well you know Adam, you may not want to go around fondling unfamiliar plant life. Catch yourself a serious case of poison ivy."
It was ironic the professor would say such a thing, because Adam had an object in his hand at that moment that appeared to be some type of small dried up berry he picked from that most recent plant. He replied in a cocky manner, "I appreciate your concern, but I believe I'll be OK. I've been trained in identifying certain types of plants. I know what poison ivy and poison oak look like."
He placed a period at the end of his statement by flipping the unknown berry out of his hand. It hurled ahead of the pack, skipping over Wesley and Pam and popping Roy Beavers in the back of the neck. Agent Beavers looked up quickly to see what had fallen on him. He realized maybe nothing fell when, like radar dishes, his ears began to pick up soft chuckles that were supposed to be concealed.
"Alright back there, who's being the wise guy," replied Roy, but it did nothing but fuel the giggles.
Pam had exclaimed a bright and vociferous screech. "Ahhh..." femininely echoed throughout the forest. This was caused by her looking down at a snake slithering below her. Roy was a witness as well, and he jumped in the opposite direction, as did Pam.
The crew paused momentarily while they watched Wesley pull out his favorite blade and jump to chop the snake's head off. He said with ridicule, "What's the matter? Are you scared of a little snake?" He laughed uncontrollably as the snake's nerves shook like a puppet.
Kyser alerted the crew that they needed to continue along, because Richard carried a fast pace. He stretched his arms fairly aggressive and chanted, "Let's move along, gentlemen."
The pace was resumed and so was the small talk. "I'm not too fond of snakes. I'm glad you did away with that one," said Julian.
Wesley responded grimly. "I hate them too."
The professor continued the conversation with good intentions, "It seems you do have something against snakes. Did you have some childhood encounter with snakes that caused your disdain?"
Wesley replied, "No! I used to catch them to cut their heads off."
The brilliant one was puzzled, but like all scholars, he lived by a simple dictum: if you don't know, ask! "Well why did you do that?"
"I used to get a kick out of watching the snake shiver the last life out itself."
The professor instantly concluded that Wesley's heart was cold. He made his way to Pam to offer a gentle word. "Never mind him. I'm sure he didn't mean it!"
Pam was not cooperating with Julian's pep talk. She exclaimed, "Sure, I bet. You know he's a pig and can care less about my feelings about snakes."
"Oh! How do you feel about snakes?"
Pamela looked as if surprised he actually wanted to know. Nevertheless, she told him. "Since I was a child, I had a few encounters with snakes that terrified me. My brother used to keep them as pets, and they used to get out sometimes, and..." She broke down her speech a bit just before crying surely ended her statements prematurely.
The professor placed his arms around her for comfort. In fact, he had needed it more than Pam. This was a splendid opportunity, one that hardly ever came Julian's way, to be close to a woman. "It will be OK," the professor uttered softly.
Pamela turned away from the professor's unwanted fondling. "Excuse me... I think I'm OK now." She picked up her pace and left him behind with Adam.
Julian looked at him with disgust. As if he lost his big chance to score, and this was his just reward. At that moment, Agent Newfield belched out a horrendous sneeze. "Oh excuse me. My allergies are having a hard time in this humidity."
The professor tried to get some distance from Adam because he seemed gross after snot blew from his nostrils.
They finally arrived at camp after their short hike through the woods. Fortunately for them it was a manageable trail. Needless to say, that was for the time being and only before nature had a say so.
"Is this what you call camp," complained Akbar.
A voice pierced from around the corner boldly saying, "Well it will have to do!" Whose voice was irrelevant because the statements were true.
"Well who made this place any way," exclaimed Agent Newfield.
No one seemed to want to answer. Even the most qualified one remained silent momentarily. After feeling a jolt in his conscience, Richard said, "That's not important. What is important is that this trip was prearranged, and it should go smoothly. We can set up the tents over there, and there's even... I know it's not luxury."
"You can say that again."
"Well that is why you are paid so well, so it will have to do. I'm sure you won't have a hard time adjusting to make do."
"Ahhhchooo..." disbursed from Adam's mouth and nose, and the professor replied treacherously. "Your sinuses are bad." He looked at Adam while assuring he kept some distance.
Adam said nothing, but showed signs of a minor cold brewing. The professor went away to blabber his life's history to Pam while Wesley assumed the conversation with Adam.
"You alright!?"
"Yes I'm fine."
Roy Beavers, Kyser Finley, and Richard Dickenson sat in a circle casually conversing. "So, Rich!" shouted Kyser, but not really loudly. After scratching his arms he patted Richard on the back and said, "So, what is the real reason you brought us out here and are paying us so much money? It doesn't seem like a place for the FBI I mean something must have really scared you." His speech was a little slurred. It became apparent why when he sipped out of a container stashed in his vest pocket.
"Hey man, what are you doing? I need you gentlemen alert, not half drunk."
"Ah, don't worry. I've drunk liquor and solved cases like milk goes with babies. I'm a grown man and am voluntarily on your payroll, which really isn't a payroll anyway, so don't give me no shit. Goddamn it."
Kyser began to shout in a drunken escapade. He shouted in discomfort again, scratching his arms roughly. "Ever since those flies bit me, I've been itching like crazy."
Pam had overheard. "Oh great! The flies here bite? Snakes and man-eating flies are enough. When are you going to be finish with your stupid survey?"
"Wait a minute," exclaimed Kyser, butting in with impaired verbiage. "You still haven't told me what scared you. Why are we here?"
Richard seemed cornered, but smoothly escaped by declaring, "Look! I paid you to guard the area... so do I have to go through the third degree! I'm here to complete a job and report to my investors."
Richard was saved from the scrutiny as from a distance he noticed Briscoe and Brutus coming ashore. He immediately walked towards the gentlemen because he was eager to hear Brutus's initial report.
Wesley snatched Kyser's stash and began sipping. After gulping a significant swallow, he declared, "I think that asshole's hiding something."
"Sit down," commanded Kyser, snatching his drink back.
Wesley looks at Richard walking away and shouted, "Hey! What the hell are we to do now? Just sit around and wait here? What the hell are we guarding?"
"Sit down and shut up!" Pam declared softly but firmly.
Wesley didn't take orders from a woman, but he calmed because everyone else looked at him.
Richard consulted with his employees, eventually introducing them all to the group. They of course already met, but there had been no real time to make that formal. This ritual now designated who the authority was in this situation. Richard was indeed in charge, and Kyser stepping in only if there would be trouble. However, Brutus Salapore did the directing, and that he made sure he did well.
He instructed groups to cover certain distances strategically placed on his map. He advised them to search for any streams, brooks, or small bodies of water that would render a detour route. These spots would have to be thoroughly examined. He wanted to know the high and low ground, or rather, whether it was soft or hard ground. To cover all this area, they needed to split up, and that was what they did.
Pam and Kyser grouped together, and Wes and Adam did the same. Roy and Briscoe ended up together by chance. The professor went on his own—he had other things to do. The newlyweds insisted on being together, trotting off on their own assignment. He put them all to work, even Mr. Dickenson.
All you could hear was tires squealing from an abrupt stop. Next, there was a clatter that indicated a car's door had been slammed. The driver's feet then clattered from his acceleration, eager to get to the front door. Detective Edward Pullins knocked anxiously at a door that was gently opened by a beautiful woman with dark hair and eyes.
"May I help you?" the woman said softly.
"Yes, excuse me. I'm detective Pullins. Would Mr. Fusil be available?"
The woman kept the crack she peeked through small while advising the detective, "One moment please." She politely closed the door, but that attitude was not portrayed in her following declarations. "Nick, Nick!" she shouted. She searched for him briskly and wondered about the money. She thought, "Oh dear, I hope Nick hasn't gotten all this money..." Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden run-in with her fiancée.
"Nick! What is going on?"
"Baby, what? What are you talking about?" Nick gently shoved her.
"There's a detective out here. Is there something you want to tell me? Where did you get all that money from?"
Nick waved his hand, signaling he was paying no attention to her tirade as he opened the door to greet Detective Pullins.
"What brings you by," asked Nick after shutting the door behind them. "Oh, this is my soon-to-be wife... since she is going to make it impossible for her not to be seen."
The gentlemen sat down, which relieved Tameka. She figured out that the detective was here on business of his own, so she quickly fetched them beverages.
"So, did you find my friends?"
"That is why I'm here. I've been taken off the case, and just when I was on to something."
"Oh! What are you onto?"
"Well, I believe your friends weren't the only ones he abandoned. I want to arrest him for obstruction of justice and hold him for questioning. A jury might even find him negligent."
"So, what do you need me for?"
"Well I need you to show me exactly where to go"
"Oh no! I'm not going back there no way are you going to get me back in that godforsaken jungle."
"Look! I need you! Don't you want me to get that scum bag and bring him to justice?"
"Yeah, but if it takes my presence, he'll be a free ass. Because I am not going back, absolutely not."
Nick made it clear that he meant what he said. Edward gave up, and the two sipped on their drinks.
"You sure, Nick? I really need..."
Nick gave him a stare that had no deeply imbedded in it. However, it was getting unbearably difficult for Nick to decline, but it was no longer impossible, and at some point it was no longer even improbable. Nick's rejections were continuous, however, but empathy got the best of Nick, and he replied.
"Look! I told you I was not going, but I guess I could help."
Edward looked at Nick as if he had no choice but to be grateful, and to take whatever it is Nick was offering.
"I'll tell you what. I'll arrange for you to get there, but you're on your own then. I'll arrange for you to be flown directly there, if you don't see any helicopters, then... they are probably where you want to go. I got a feeling he's still trying to do whatever it is he's doing. I just hope he doesn't abandon anyone else."
Nick scratched his head before snapping his fingers in excitement. "You know! If there are no helicopters at this landing site, then they will probably eventually have to come back. If I were you, I would wait."
The two men rambled on, and Nick's sweetheart took full advantage of the information session. She had been totally in the dark and now made it her business to be included in the conversation. She had been curious ever since the night she picked him up and he had all that money.
The gentlemen concluded their initial plans, and Edward stepped through the door quickly, just catching Nick's last remarks. "Hey, you just be here early. And I'll get you there. I know exactly where to go."
Edward climbed into his car and sped off, causing his tires to scream louder than they did when he arrived.
There was the same anxiousness within Klinton's eyes. He was tired of rowing, and the so-called camp was where he wanted to be. Not that it was his first choice, but it sure beat rowing on an unfamiliar river. It was hot and humid and that alone made it hard to breathe.
Klinton declared suddenly, "I'm tired of rowing. It's your turn."
Jerry just lay there not responding at all.
"I'm not playing with you." Klinton dropped the paddles and their boat floated on current alone. Jerry's idle motion appeared unchangeable.
Klinton grabs Jerry forcefully declaring, "Man, you better get your ass up!"
Groans escaped from Jerry's mouth. Klinton allowed the boat to drift because Jerry continued to stall on helping. Klinton finally got fed up. He grabbed Jerry aggressively and ordered him to get up. "Wake up, damn it!" He shook Jerry furiously until he slowly arose with sluggish body movements and the attitude of a lazy person.
It wasn't that he didn't like work, but exhaustion had set in from swimming for his life. There wasn't going to be much effort in him because he was really tired. He whined to Klinton about just that, but Klinton responded in a rude manner.
"Well shit Jerry, I'm tired too. What do you want? Me to save your ass and row you to safety too? Oh no, I don't think so." Klinton paused only momentarily just to scream, "Get your ass up!"
Klinton scooped as much water as he could with the cup of his hands and splashed Jerry's face.
"Hey, hey! What did you do that for?" Jerry exclaimed, awakening with a look on his face that cut like sharp knives.
It didn't phase Klinton, because he responded bluntly, "I don't give a damn about you looking the way you looking. I'm not fixin' to be on this water til night time. Matter of fact! How much further do we have to go?"
Klinton tossed the other set of paddles forcefully, while demanding participation. Finally the two caused the boat to go faster, not that Jerry contributed much. The heat beat down upon them and the water they floated on didn't cooperate.
"Hey! I'm tired too. Remember, I saved your ass. So at least you can help."
"Shut up, I'm helping now! Don't give me none of your shit."
Jerry was now more alert than ever. They began to row faster, and luckily so, because they were in another gator's territory. However, they quickly made their way to the camp. When they reached shore, they spotted Brutus already speaking with Richard and the others. The two rowed on, finally arriving at the shore, exhausted but relieved.