rainforestprojectnewedition-2
rainforestprojectnewedition-2.docx
A majestic oak tree dominated the background, its sprawling branches casting long shadows that made it difficult to glimpse the children running frantically about the schoolyard. The tree’s limbs stretched gloriously, as if they might reach out and pull you in. Golden leaves drifted through the crisp autumn breeze, swirling gently before settling on the ground in their final descent.
Yet, amid this scene of seasonal change, life was vibrantly present. A young girl sat atop the tree’s gnarled roots, flipping through a book with a quiet smile, her expression one of patient delight despite the background hum of administrators corralling mischievous students. The schoolyard traffic had slowed, allowing her voice to be heard as she suddenly called out, gathering her belongings with quick efficiency. Rising eagerly from the tree’s embrace, she looked splendid in her neatly pressed plaid uniform. Just then, the door of a sleek black luxury car swung open.
“Dad!” the girl exclaimed, marching toward the vehicle.
“How’s my little girl?” the driver asked softly.
“I’m doing fine, Daddy!” she chirped as she climbed in.
“How was school?”
“It was okay! We played on the playground and had a Halloween party. I even ate some cupcakes.”
“Well, boo, what did you learn today?”
“What did I learn, Daddy?” She tilted her head in thought before shaking it. “I didn’t learn anything today.”
“You didn’t learn anything? That’s not why I’m paying for this private education, is it?” he teased, giving her a mock-serious look. “I think I need to have a talk with someone!”
The car jolted slightly as he hit the brakes, honking impatiently at a careless driver. “Shit! Watch where you’re going! These people need their driving audited—it’s ridiculous!”
“Daddy, what did you say?”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Ah-hun, Daddy. You said—”
“Hey! I don’t wanna hear it,” he cut her off. “Daddy said a bad word, and you better not let me catch you saying one.”
A mischievous smile spread across her face, curiosity lighting up her eyes. The rest of the ride home was quiet, both father and daughter lost in the passing scenery. Just a few blocks from home, she spotted a boy dressed in a Count Dracula costume, his face beaming with excitement.
“Daddy, are we going trick-or-treating tonight?”
“We sure are,” he replied with a grin, “and we’re going to collect a lot of goodies.”
“Yeah!” she cheered.
The car thumped slightly as it ascended their raised driveway, pulling to a stop in front of their grand home. The four-car garage was already full, and a massive boat occupied the remaining space in the driveway. As soon as the car doors opened, the girl sprinted toward the ornate oak doors, eager to greet her mother. Her father, in contrast, followed at a more leisurely pace, his thoughts adrift.
“Mommy, Mommy!”
“Hello, my little sugar pie. How was school?”
“It was fine! Daddy said we’re going trick-or-treating.”
“Yes, and we’re going to get a lot of candy.”
“Oh yeah!”
“Okay, Pookey, go change out of your school clothes and put on something comfortable.”
“We’re going outside!” she cried excitedly.
“No, you’re going to clean your room first, or no trick-or-treating.”
The little girl groaned but hurried off. Her mother turned to her husband, her tone shifting to a playful warmth. “Well, hello, handsome,” she teased. “How was your day?”
“It was okay, I might say. And yours?”
“I ran a few errands, got a Halloween costume for our angel—and some champagne for tonight, after she’s tucked away.”
“Hmmm,” he murmured, a sly smile playing on his lips. They kissed, their embrace lingering. They were young, wealthy, and had a beautiful daughter. He treated her with love and respect, and she returned it in kind.
“Mom! Dad! What will I wear?”
Parting abruptly from their embrace, her mother answered, “I got you a Sleeping Beauty costume.”
“Ooohh! Mom, can I put it on? Please, please!”
“Not yet, dear. It’s not quite time for trick-or-treating. Besides, we need to have dinner first.”
“Can I at least look at it?”
“Okay. It’s in the bag on the bedroom floor next to my desk.”
The little girl darted upstairs, while her parents resumed their flirtatious exchange. Laughter and affectionate kisses filled the room before her mother finally broke away. “I’d better get dinner ready,” she declared, though her husband made a playful attempt to pull her back. “You wanna eat, don’t ya?” she teased. With a chuckle, he relented and retreated to his den to tend to his work.
The evening passed with warmth and routine, their home filled with the aroma of a home-cooked meal and the promise of Halloween fun. The setting sun cast an orange glow through the windows as they sat down for dinner.
“Mom, what took you so long?” the little girl asked, her plate nearly empty.
“I had to go find Daddy, dear.”
“Where were you, Daddy?”
“I was making you a surprise.”
“For real?” Her eyes widened.
“Yes, Boo, but it’s a surprise. I can’t tell you just yet.”
Mrs. Dickenson gave him a curious glance but said nothing. Instead, she turned her attention back to their meal. “Make sure you eat all those green peas, not just your meat,” she reminded her daughter.
The little girl groaned but obeyed, quickly finishing her plate. Soon, she was bouncing with excitement. “Mommy, are we finally going trick-or-treating?”
“Yes! Now go wash up and get dressed.”
She bolted upstairs, returning minutes later in her Sleeping Beauty costume, practically vibrating with anticipation. Her mother snapped a few pictures, capturing the brightest smiles imaginable.
“Hold still for just one more, sweetie,” she urged, adjusting the camera.
“Mom, hurry! I need candy!”
Her father chuckled. “Alright, alright. Let’s get moving before she bursts.”
Hand in hand, they stepped into the crisp night air, ready for an evening of joy and sugar-fueled adventure.
They strolled leisurely along a newly paved street, passing immaculate brick houses lined with carefully trimmed hedges and trees. Then, they approached a massive Emory brick house, grander than any before it. The driveway lights glowed warmly, but the most striking feature was the tall steel gate—black as raw oil, with spear-like tips pointing skyward. The intricate metalwork curled like ribbons, giving it a regal, almost foreboding presence. A uniformed guard stood at attention inside a small booth, his silhouette still against the dimly lit entrance.
The little girl stopped, staring up at the house in awe. "Mommy, Daddy… do you think they have the really good candy?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Her parents exchanged glances. The house did stand out—luxurious, imposing, and mysterious all at once.
Her father grinned. "Only one way to find out."
With that, the little girl gripped her candy bag and took a step forward, eyes shining with curiosity and the undying spirit of Halloween adventure.
"Hey, wait your turn!" a boy dressed as a pirate protested as she nudged past him.
She shot him a quick glance. "Sorry!" she chirped, though her feet didn’t slow. She reached the front, flashing her widest, most innocent grin as an elderly woman handed out treats.
"My, aren't you an eager one!" the woman laughed, dropping a handful of sweets into her bag. "But be kind, dear. There’s plenty for everyone."
The girl nodded, but as soon as she turned, she rummaged greedily through her haul, stuffing a caramel chew into her mouth.
Her parents watched from a few feet away, exchanging amused glances.
"Should we intervene?" her mother asked, a smile tugging at her lips.
Her father shook his head. "Let her have her fun. It’s Halloween."
After hours of trick-or-treating, the little girl’s energy waned. Her feet ached from trekking through the neighborhood, and her sticky fingers clutched her overflowing bag. She licked her lips, still tasting the remnants of caramel and chocolate. The night air was breezy but not cold, carrying the crisp essence of fall. Most porch lights had dimmed, signaling the end of the night. They finally arrive home.
“Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Dickenson.”
“Hello, Hayword,” Rich intoned in voice that seemed lackadaisical. They
proceeded through the drive way to the front door, their arms gripped tightly around each
other. Mr. Reynolds proceeded to secure the graceful gates and immediately returned to
his idle duties. He gazed at the stars as he always did, just to pass the time. This lack of
anything to do was something he had to get used to, but the job paid his bills. There
should not be many complaints, he told himself, because he made more than the average
American. In fact, you could officially call him a member of the middle class with what
the Dickensons paid him. However, he did not picture this quite being the career of his
dreams. There had always been a desire to secure a job at one of Mr. Dickenson’s firms,
or maybe as a security travel agent that prevented attacks by terrorists. He had to think
big, but for now he was content to work for the Dickensons, but his was an inbuilt
determination to make the best of his possibilities.
Inside the comforting home, you could hear Mrs. Dickenson declare firmly, “Give
me that bag.” With a look of innocence, little Dainisa slowly proceeded towards her mom
and handed the bag of goodies over. “You ate enough of this. Now run upstairs and your
daddy will be up to read you a bedtime story.” The little girl scampered up to her room
with joy because she had stashed several small pieces of candy in her Sleeping Beauty
pouch. She accelerated as she neared the top of the stairs to assure that she had time to
hide the goods under the pillow and to get out of the outfit before she was discovered,
frantically undressing as if she could have cared less if the costume was purchased in the
first place. Throwing it into the closet forcefully, she carelessly stuffed a piece of candy
in her mouth while approaching the pillow to stash the rest.
She had just reached for the edge of her pillow to slip the goodies to safety when
she heard, “Hey. How is my little precious one?” in a deep and gruff voice. Startled, but
her composure maintained as she tried to hide open rapper in her palm that hadn’t been
discarded yet. She also tried not to make obvious the sucking of a hard clump of sugar
and artificial flavorings. She jumped on her bed as nonchalantly as possible.
“What book do you want me to read?” her father asked.
“Auglr gytr!”
“What!?”
“Three Little Monkeys,” she said, the words spoken with a slight gargle.
“Didn’t your mom take that candy from you?”
“This was my last piece, Daddy”
“OK. Let me start.” He read the story as his little girl snuggled down inside her
blanket. When he was finished, he said, “Good night,” following a light kiss on the
forehead. He looked into her closed eyes, instantly getting a feeling of warmth and
appreciation. Rising slowly, he continued to remain locked on the sight of her sleeping
face. Click! The sound of her light switch echoed preceding a Ka-Klumb! as he slowly
closed the door. Immediately, she began to slip her hand under her pillow to reach for her
stash. As her father walked down the hallway, he could hear the sound of rain pounding
on a surface, but it was not so. It was his sweetheart showering, and his mind jumped to
the possibility that she was freshening up for him, so that he might have his trick-or-treat.
With a slight blush at his own carnal thoughts, he hurried to the room to shed all of his
garments except for the silk boxer shorts that she brought for him. Feeling fine, he laid
back, his head resting upon a plush pillow in silk pillowcases. His eyes slowly drooped to
near sleepiness, until he was awakened by soft and tingling kisses from a wet tongue, not
to mention the mildly cool body that pressed against his. Nothing much was said, but
sounds of passion, love, and lust filled the room.
CHAPTER ONE
A strong glare pierced through the partially closed blinds, invading the slumbering eyes of Richard Dickenson. The shrieks of his alarm clock pulsed relentlessly, yet he remained flat on his back, seemingly unaffected. It wasn’t until his eyes finally opened, engaging in a sleepy stare, that he acknowledged the shrill noise. The glare became unbearable, forcing him to turn away. Reaching out, he realized his wife had already gotten up.
The aroma of sizzling bacon and something sweet baking in the oven drifted through the air. Compelled by the scent, he reached over to silence the alarm clock, then dragged himself out of bed. As he trudged toward the master bathroom, he grimaced at his morning breath and the unmistakable scent of garlic and sweat lingering from the night before. A shower was necessary—especially today.
The upcoming investors’ meeting had consumed his thoughts for weeks, even intruding upon moments of intimacy with his wife the night before. Anxiety gnawed at him. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, a chance to secure unprecedented capital. Though he had resources of his own, he preferred not to dip into them. His plan to corner the Western Hemisphere’s export-import industry depended on the success of this meeting.
Stepping into the steaming shower, Richard let the hot water jolt him awake. He washed quickly but thoroughly, applying an overzealous amount of shampoo to his hair and scrubbing every inch of himself, including his meticulously groomed beard. His mind raced as he rehearsed his pitch.
“Mr. Neuheisil, my plan is to revolutionize the industry by constructing a state-of-the-art shipyard in a strategic location.” He gestured in the air as if presenting to an audience. “The Amazon River’s navigability provides a natural advantage. By constructing a few manmade canals to connect key branches, we can facilitate direct trade routes reaching sixty percent of the continent. The southeastern tip of Brazil will become a hub for distribution.”
A voice snapped him out of his trance. “Hey, you and your friend in there, breakfast is ready!”
Richard smirked, shaking off his nerves. He turned off the water, realizing the heat had long faded. Toweling off quickly, he dressed in a sharp suit and one of the crispest white shirts he owned. With his blazer in one hand and his briefcase in the other, he descended the stairs.
At the breakfast table, his daughter beamed. “Oohh, Mommy! I love your eggs—they’re so fluffy!”
Her mother smiled. “Thank you, sweetheart.”
“Daddy, eat your eggs, they’re delicious!” she insisted.
Richard chuckled, taking a few bites. “Alright, alright.”
He finished quickly, stealing a kiss from his wife before jetting out the door. His business demanded his full attention. In no time, he was in his sleek automobile, reversing nearly before the electronic gate fully opened. The tires screeched as he sped off, eager to face the day’s challenge.
Arriving at the towering white-marble headquarters of Dickenson Consulting Inc., Richard parked in his reserved space and entered briskly. Employees greeted him with polite nods as he bypassed them, making a beeline for his office. “Someone needs to fix that elevator,” he muttered, stepping inside. “It’s only five floors—jeez.”
Moments later, he settled into his plush leather chair, a perfectly brewed cup of coffee in hand. “John, let me see you a minute,” he called.
His right-hand man appeared instantly. “Yes, Mr. Dickenson?”
“Are the reports and maps ready for my presentation?”
“Yes, sir. Right here.”
“Excellent.” Richard skimmed through the documents, satisfied. “John, notify me the moment the investors arrive.”
“Absolutely.”
John left, exhaling heavily. The tension in the office was palpable. Everyone understood the magnitude of today’s meeting.
When the investors arrived, Richard greeted them with a firm handshake and unwavering confidence. “Gentlemen, welcome to my base of operations. Please, follow my assistants to the conference room.”
The investors—powerful men dressed in expensive suits and even more expensive shoes—exchanged approving nods. Once seated, Richard began his presentation. The large screen displayed a detailed map of South America, highlighting key logistical points.
“Gentlemen, this is the mouth of the Amazon. Here, the river splits into two major branches.” He pointed decisively. “We will build a massive shipyard here, a central hub for exports and imports. With additional trucking depots and shipping facilities, we will dominate the trade routes of South America.”
One investor, Mr. Caviling, leaned forward, rubbing his chin. “And how does this ensure the dominance you claim?”
“Simple,” Richard replied. “The Amazon’s vast network of waterways allows for efficient transportation. By implementing manmade canals and strategically placed depots, we eliminate logistical barriers. This isn’t just about shipping—it’s about controlling the flow of goods across the continent.”
The investors murmured among themselves, intrigued. Richard pressed forward, detailing projected profits, labor costs, and infrastructure developments. The atmosphere in the room shifted—hesitation turned to interest, then to excitement.
By the time the meeting concluded, Richard knew he had them. To solidify their commitment, he reached into his briefcase and pulled out a set of envelopes. “Gentlemen, I invite you to experience our vision firsthand. Enclosed are airline tickets and accommodations for a site tour in Macapá. Consider it a taste of the future.”
The investors exchanged glances before nodding in agreement. Richard smiled. The deal was as good as sealed.
That evening, he returned home to his wife and daughter, his excitement barely contained. “Pack your things, dear. We’re going to South America.”
His wife raised an eyebrow. “What? On such short notice?”
“I told you this morning.”
“I didn’t know you meant now.”
“I’ve invited the investors for a vacation. Once they see the site, there’ll be no turning back.”
She sighed but smiled. “Alright, what about Boo? And when do we leave?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
She playfully smacked his arm. “You sure know how to keep me on my toes.”
He pulled her close. “It’s part of my charm.”
CHAPTER TWO
Meanwhile, at a prestigious university, Professor Julian Akbar lectured on ancient civilizations.
He was just about to call a recess in one of his advanced history classes, when
suddenly a student blurted, “What do you suppose the reason was? I mean, do you know
why they were left behind?”
“Well Amy! Civilizations usually sprout where the environment is beneficial, and
I suspect that some of these people were isolated from these areas of civilization growth.”
“How, then, did they survive?”
“Remember, some of these ancient people knew nature better than we do today.”
“Dr. Akbar, how could that be true? When they believed their gods were the
elements and vice versa.”
“Well let me ask you! Who is your god?” There was silence from the student and
Julian continued. “Some of those stories were passed down for centuries and were
believed to be true.”
“You don’t believe so, do you?”
“What I believe is irrelevant.” He began to read the homework assignment,
effectively cutting the conversation short. “OK class, I’ll see you next week, and don’t
forget your essays on the Mayans. Class adjourned
His passion for history was undeniable, though it had cost him his personal relationships. His wife had left him, and his affair with a student had ended just as quickly as it began. Now, all he had were his books and his knowledge of people long gone.
After dismissing his class, he returned home to a cluttered apartment, cracking open a beer as he flipped through TV channels. Just as he settled in, his phone rang.
“Julian! How have you been, my friend?”
“Rich? Is that you?”
“Of course! Who else calls you?”
Julian smirked. “Fair point.”
“I wanted to tell you about my new project.”
“Oh?”
“I’m building a shipyard on the banks of the Amazon.”
Julian paused. “That’s ironic. I just saw a news report about deforestation.”
Richard brushed it off. “A little clearing won’t hurt. Besides, the province was persuaded with a little currency and political influence.”
Julian sighed. “Same old Richard. Well, good luck. Let me know if you need anything.”
“Will do.”
Hanging up, Richard leaned back, satisfied. The pieces were falling into place.
he felt a sudden sleepy urge.
Realizing he wanted to call Joe Geshy, his friend for many years, however, he propped
himself up. Their wives were friends due to their relationship, and it seemed somewhat
forced, but they willingly accepted their husbands’ comradeship. The phone rang several
times more than he usually allowed, but the sleepiness caused laziness and he neglected
to hang-up. The phone did answer after about twelve rings.
“Hello!” responded Joe with a deep and exhausted voice.
“Joe!” Richard shouted as he was awakened out of his near sleep with that deep
and raucous voice.
“Yes, this is Joe! Who is this? Is this Rich?”
“What, people don’t know my voice now a days?”
“Shit, I was sleep, and it’s not as if you call here frequently anyway. My best
friend calls every blue moon.”
“You know that I am very busy, besides I have a new project that I’m working on.
That is why I called you. To spend a little time with my buddy.”
“Oh yeah! What, you need my help?”
“Ah…no.” The words dragged out slowly. “I just called to invite you to this
vacation in Macapa”
“Macapa,” replied Joe with the most confused voice. “What the hell, or should I
say, where the hell is that?”
“It’s in South America, where I’m starting this big new project. What is Mrs.
Geshy doing the next couple of days?”
“She’ll be out of town for a few. She’s visiting my in-laws.”
“Good! It shouldn’t be a problem then if you give me a little company, especially
while entertaining those dull-ass investors.”
“Who?” Joe exclaimed.
“The investors!”
“Oh, sounds like this trip is very important. I guess I’ll go, but in fact, I’m
surprised you’d invite me to such a thing. I suspect you already have my ticket.”
“I sure do. Therefore, you have to go. We are flying in one of my private jets.”
Joe asked for the details of his invitation. Richard advised him of all details and that he
would pick him up from the airport just before show-and-tell.
Just before the two terminated the call Joe shouted, “Hey Richard! I just
remembered I can’t leave at ten like you planned. I would have to leave in the afternoon.”
“Oh well, no problem! I’ll just have a separate flight available for you. Hey, your
fate is to come with me. You may soon work for me and make a lot more than what you
borrow.”
“Great!” They both exclaimed in turn. Sitting back like a large couch potato
having one too many beers, Richard drifted quickly asleep. His thoughts of all he planned
to attain ran through is sleeping mind, and he had a glorious rest, even though he had a
crook in his neck. He twisted his neck slowly and aggressively, hoping to hear it crack,
but to no avail! “Dear!” he shouted as his fingers scooped the cold build up from his
eyelids. Truly an intolerable sight, but his wife had to deal with it for years, and had
learned to love him.
All things were settled, and they arrived at the boarding gate to meet the
gentlemen being entertained. “Hello, Mr. Neuheisil,” Rich said with a tone of joy in his
voice. “This is my wife.”
Each man said, “I am pleased to meet you, Mrs. Dickenson,” in turn.
Richard greeted them all individually and honorably. “I hope you enjoy the flight,
gentlemen, and of course my presentation and entertainment.” He began to direct his wife
and the gentlemen towards the entrance gates. They were all engaged in their own
individual conversation and paid no attention to the intercom, but automatically preceded
towards the gates to board the plane when the flight was announced. The entrance ramp
was a nippy 62 degrees, but everyone was prepared with their healthy blazers. Rich’s
wife sported a thick pearl white cotton turtleneck by Ralph Lauren and a blinding
diamond necklace that illuminated her garments and appeared to have a connection with
the matching bracelet and watch. Richard’s wife decided to sit in the seat closest to the
aisle because she had a thing about planes, especially looking out of the window while
ascending miles above, which made her more deathly afraid than simply nervous.
Reaching over from the window seat and kissing her valiantly, Rich assured her silently
that all would be fine. She smiled, but before she could even savor the moment, the
captain was explaining the flight destination and giving a firm statement to fasten their
seatbelts until they were informed otherwise.
She could feel the massive plane swing around to approach its necessary runway.
It then darted the lengthy runway at twice the speed of a well tuned car, streaking the
length of many football fields before taking a forty-five degree jolt upward. With its
extremely large wingspan, the air allowed Bernoulli’s law to take effect. Richard watched
the airport get tiny and the cars resembled matchboxes. Suddenly they even became too
small to distinguish, and all you could see were the faded roads and dots protruding along
them. Richard continued to gaze through the window, noticing that all manmade things
had vanished below and all that was left to see were the tops of trees. These trees were
thick and appeared as though that was all the earth was made of, and it seemed nothing
could penetrate them. The plane was continuing its ascension; therefore, the trees too fell
victim to invisibility. Somehow, the clouds did not appear to gather Richards’s attention
as much, leading him to blurt, “Hey, is there any service!?”
His wife responded softly, “If you would look on your own plane, you would see
the button for service right here.”
With a pale look, he pressed the button only to smile gingerly afterwards. “Oh I
didn’t see that.
“Hello, what can I get you?”
“Well, what do you have? I don’t see any menus lying around.”
“All we have is beverages and snack items.”
“What kind of drinks and snacks do you have?” These words were spoken
harshly, and it was obvious that the flight attendant struggled not to become obviously
disgruntled.
Mrs. Dickenson said, “Please excuse him. He’s just…”
But Richard interrupted. “Oh No! Don’t you excuse me. Just get me a Coke and
what, ahh… roasted peanuts, and what else, maybe some crackers and cheese. Just get me
a variety of your little snacks.”
The way the flight attendant walked off indicated what she was thinking: what a
rude, obnoxious, and egotistical pig. She returned with a basketful of an assortment of
nuts, crackers, and cheeses. It even included smoked beef that resembled jerky, along
with a crisp glass of ice and cold canned Coca Cola. Mrs. Dickenson was fine, but Mr.
proceeded to devour the insufficient nutrients. The remaining plane ride was smooth,
including the landing. Afterwards, they were all escorted to their hotel rooms.
CHAPTER THREE
There was not much to do in this isolated area of South America, except for what was available in the rooms and banquet hall. The banquet room served mixed drinks and had a live band playing an unexpected Brazilian tune. The vivid music created an authentic tropical atmosphere. The rooms, spacious and resembling suites, lacked phones or televisions. Instead, they were equipped with saunas, and their balconies overlooked vast plains. These accommodations, far removed from modern technology, gave new meaning to the term "third world" for their occupants.
Despite the lack of modern conveniences, the men found comfort in their rooms and took the opportunity for much-needed rest. They would need it for the upcoming presentation, especially after the long flight.
“Damn, no phones!” Richard muttered, pulling out his cellular phone while glancing briefly at his wife. He dialed a number and let it ring several times before hanging up. “I guess he’s on his way,” he said. “Dear, I must go and check if the transport boat is ready.”
Mrs. Dickenson gave a look of acceptance and advised her husband to be careful. He nodded and walked out the door. There was little to worry about; the helicopters had already been delivered, and a medical boat was stationed at the dock. The preparations were thorough. Yet, his stomach knotted and unknotted spasmodically. He was anxious about what lay ahead.
Transporting the investors by boat seemed the best option. The vessel was spacious enough for everyone, whereas both helicopters would be needed to accommodate all seven people, and he was the only available pilot. Determined to ensure everything was in place before bringing the investors along, he set off for the docks of the mighty Amazon in the southwestern Macapá region of Brazil.
The tropical scenery dominated the landscape as he made his way by horse and wagon taxi. When he arrived, two beautiful helicopters sat on the shore, with a powerful boat floating in the background—a testament to the careful preparations. Brazilian locals moved about, their curiosity piqued by the Americans’ arrival.
Richard walked down the docks toward his boat, attracting lingering gazes. Their expressions reflected curiosity and admiration. Unbothered by the attention, he boarded the vessel and immediately inspected the instruments. Boating and navigation had long been hobbies of his, making the process smooth. Gazing through the window at the scenic surroundings, he squinted against the bright sun.
His emotions ran high. Everything was progressing superbly, and the familiar scenery ignited nostalgia:
“Honey, I’m going fishing!”
“Okay, dear.”
Richard grabbed his favorite fishing pole in one hand and an expensive tackle box in the other before heading to his SUV. The tires screeched as he sped off, only to stop moments later at Owen’s Bait and Tackle Shop. Bells jingled as he entered, welcomed by a blast of chilled air—a stark contrast to the muggy morning. The coolness was a relief, though unacknowledged, as his focus was on selecting the perfect bait.
A suitably rustic man behind the counter noticed his hesitation. “What type of fishing will you be doing?”
“I don’t know,” Richard admitted.
“Freshwater or saltwater?”
“Oh, I see. Well, I guess freshwater.”
“Well, what type of fish are you after?”
“Any that will bite.”
The old man chuckled. “I see. You ever been deep-sea fishing?”
“No, I can’t say I have.”
“You look like a well-off man. You deserve to catch the biggest, best fish you could ever dream of reeling in.”
Intrigued, Richard allowed himself to be lured into the conversation. They exchanged information, and before long, Richard had committed to a future deep-sea fishing trip.
Back in the present, the scorching Brazilian sun snapped him from his reverie. “Oh shit! I forgot! I need to pick up Joe from the airport.”
The airport was a small, private facility with minimal infrastructure. Upon arriving, Richard saw no immediate signs of Joe. He walked toward the control tower, ascending the steep staircase with determined huffs and sighs. Reaching the top, he spotted a man slumped in a chair.
“Hey, wake up!” Richard shook the man aggressively.
The man jolted awake, responding in a foreign language.
“Speak English,” Richard said firmly.
“What did you do that for?” the man asked in a thick accent.
“There was supposed to be a flight due.”
“A flight?” The man looked confused. “No sir, I don’t know of any flight.”
Richard’s patience thinned. “Look, there is a flight due. Check again and call me.” He jotted down his number and handed it over. “Is that going to be a problem?”
“No, no,” the man assured him, though his expression remained unreadable.
Richard shook his head and hurried down the stairs, eager to return to the investors. As he navigated back to the suites, impatience gnawed at him. Finally, he arrived and swiftly gathered the investors. Everyone boarded the boat while Richard double-checked the necessary instruments. Though Joe was still absent, Richard pressed on. His determination overshadowed any concerns.
Their destination was a riverbank 100 miles southeast of Macapá. Richard pushed the mid-sized yacht to maximum speed, the wind whistling around them as snippets of conversation drifted through the air.
“Dick, what do you think?” one of the investors asked, gripping the boat’s railing.
“Think about what, Peter?”
“I mean, being out here in the wilderness! Do you think this is a little extreme for a business presentation?”
Mr. Neuheisil interjected. “Actually, I think it’s a great idea. It allows us to see the realities of this project firsthand.”
Richard smirked, focused on steering the boat. “Boating has been a hobby of mine for years. A friend introduced me to deep-sea fishing, and I’ve been hooked ever since.”
Jim chuckled. “Well, you sure look like you know what you’re doing.”
As they approached a wide gap in the river, where the water split in two, Richard’s excitement surged. “Okay, gentlemen, prepare to dock.”
He guided the vessel toward the shore but quickly realized there was no proper docking area. Holding up a map, he addressed the investors. “This is the exact site we discussed. Imagine the possibilities.”
Just as he was about to continue, his eyes caught something—a blurred figure dashing through the dense forest. He squinted, his heart pounding. Had he really just seen a naked man weaving through the trees? He was almost certain.
Jim noticed his distraction. “Something wrong?”
Richard hesitated before forcing a smile. “No, I thought I saw a deer.”
Ring! His phone interrupted the moment. “Excuse me, gentlemen,” he said, answering swiftly.
“Mr. Dickenson, the flight you inquired about should arrive in two hours.”
“Good.”
Glancing at his watch, Richard realized it was already mid-afternoon. He turned the boat around, heading back toward Macapá. The investors, caught up in their drinks and the promise of immense profit, remained oblivious to the strange encounter Richard couldn’t shake from his mind.
CHAPTER FOUR
Arriving at the mini-airport, Richard spotted Joe sitting in the waiting area. He disembarked from the wagon and approached the building. “Hey, Joe! Joe!” Richard called out.
Joe looked up, grinning. “Rich! Hey, old buddy, how you doing?”
“I’m fine, Joe. What about yourself?”
“Just marvelous. I see you got us way out here in the tropics and shit.” Joe chuckled, shaking his head as they walked outside. “Oh shit, we got the horse and wagon! Damn! What the hell is going on? I mean, you did say something about a project, but gee! I had no idea.”
The two men boarded the carriage and rode toward the suites.
“So what exactly are we doing here anyway?” Joe asked, still eyeing their surroundings with amusement.
“Well, Joe, I originally called you to help navigate, but your late arrival scrapped that plan.”
“Well, excuse me! What navigating?”
“I just took the investors on a cruise to the central construction site.”
Joe furrowed his brow. “Wait a minute, hold up! Investors? Cruise? Navigating? You’re confusing me.”
“Joe! Remember when I called to invite you to the presentation? I need their capital.”
“Oh, I see. You’re putting your swindle techniques to good use.” Joe chuckled, shaking his head. “I still don’t get the cruise part.”
“Damn, Joe, be imaginative. The project is about 100 miles southwest from here, by boat, on the Amazon.”
Joe sighed. “Boy, you sure can be an adventurer. You started me on that shit a long time ago—deep-sea fishing and whatnot. I guess you needed my help on the boat?”
“No! You don’t say.”
“Hey,” Joe said sharply, pausing to ensure Richard’s attention. “Fuck you, okay? You probably wanted me to do all the work while you ran your mouth to people richer than you.”
Richard grinned as they arrived at the suites. “The sun’s still up. Let’s take the helicopter to the site.”
“What site, man?”
“Damn, Joe! Where the shipyard is to be built.”
“Shipyard?! Now I knew you were crazy, but whoa! I didn’t imagine this.”
“They say a genius is crazy.”
Joe rolled his eyes. “Man, I need a drink.”
“Come on, Joe, I didn’t get a chance to tour the land.”
Joe sighed, relenting. “Fine. But I’m getting a drink when we get back.”
Minutes later, they boarded the helicopter and took off, slicing through the sky. As they approached the forest, Joe squinted. “Do you even know where you’re gonna drop this baby?”
“Yes,” Richard replied, irritated. “I spotted this location earlier.”
The helicopter descended smoothly, and they hopped out. The ground was softer than expected, sinking slightly beneath their feet.
“This ground is kind of mushy,” Joe muttered, stepping cautiously.
“Yeah, let’s go further up the bank.”
They ventured deeper into the forest, surrounded by eerie bird calls and rustling unseen creatures. Unbeknownst to them, multiple eyes watched from the trees, hidden figures clad in ceremonial garb. The two men remained unaware of their observers.
Joe paused. “Hey, Rich, it’s getting dark.”
Richard ignored him, moving ahead.
“I don’t know what you’re trying to do out here, man,” Joe continued, glancing around. “What if a wild cat jumps out? Hell, I don’t even know what lives in this jungle.”
Richard finally turned. “Don’t be a fool, Joe.”
“I’m serious!”
Joe suddenly veered off to relieve himself. “Hold up, man. I gotta take a leak.”
Richard kept walking, leaving Joe behind. Joe found a large tree to conceal himself. Just as he sighed in relief, the ground beneath him shifted.
“Oh shit!” Joe yelped as he tumbled downward. “Richard! Richard! I’m stuck in something!”
Richard stopped, annoyance turning to concern. “Joe, what now?”
“Something’s squeezing me! Augh! Augh!”
Richard rushed back, but Joe’s cries grew weaker. He sprinted through the jungle, his heart hammering. When he arrived, his stomach lurched.
Joe was buried waist-deep in a constricting root system, his legs trapped in thick vines. The plants pulsed unnaturally, tightening their grip.
“Hang on, Joe!” Richard yelled, searching for something to cut him free.
Joe’s breathing was ragged. “It’s crushing me, man…”
Before Richard could react, a massive branch snapped overhead. With a sickening crack, it slammed down on Joe’s head, splitting his skull open. A thick, dark ooze spilled down his face as his body convulsed, then went limp.
Richard staggered backward, bile rising in his throat. His hands trembled as he stared at his best friend’s lifeless body, crushed and mangled in the jungle’s cruel embrace. He turned and ran, blindly sprinting through the jungle, the grotesque image seared into his mind.
Gasping for breath, he reached the helicopter. Scrambling inside, he ignited the engine, hands shaking uncontrollably. The rotors kicked up dirt and leaves as the aircraft lifted off unevenly. His mind raced, consumed by horror and confusion.
Back at the suites, he burst into his room, paranoia gripping him. His wife looked up, startled.
“Boo! What’s wrong?”
Richard turned, sweat dripping from his face. “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”
Susan frowned. “You slammed the door like something was chasing you.”
Richard forced a chuckle. “I didn’t notice.”
Susan’s concern deepened. “Well, the investors are waiting. And where’s Joe?”
Richard hesitated. “His flight got delayed. He never showed.”
His wife touched his arm gently. “You’re letting this project get to you.”
Richard recoiled. “Maybe I don’t need shit! This project is important. I don’t need anyone on my back.”
Susan sighed, stepping away. “Fine. Do what you need to do.”
Richard stormed out, the flashes of Joe’s gruesome death returning with every step. As he entered the banquet room, the investors were mid-celebration.
“Mr. Dickenson! Where have you been?” Dick slurred, raising a glass.
“Just call me Rich,” he muttered, forcing a smile.
Jim clapped him on the back. “Hell of a presentation! Everything looks solid.”
Richard nodded absently, eyes distant. He downed a drink in one gulp, but the burn in his throat was nothing compared to the growing unease in his stomach.
Jim leaned closer, lowering his voice. “You alright, man? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Richard forced a grin. “Just tired, that’s all.”
As the laughter and clinking glasses filled the room, Richard knew one thing—he couldn’t let anyone find out what had happened to Joe.
“Hey Richard,"
spoken firmly as if trying to suppress his intoxication. “Is there something wrong? This
isn’t the same extremely excited Richard. The presentation did go well, and we’re telling
you that, so why the sad face. Is there something you need to tell us?”
Richard immediately realized the inflection in the other man’s voice could mean
danger, or maybe it was just his own paranoia, and he responded quickly. “Oh no, there’s
nothing wrong. And there’s nothing to worry about. Not at all. I just want to make things
back right.”
A confused look crossed Jim’s face. “What back!”
“What I mean is, I wanted to make sure things were in order and I can get back
the glory.
Jim replied, “Glory huh!?”
“Yes sir, this will allow us to conquer South America’s shipping industry.”
“Well I’m glad you think big, Richard. That is why we have our faith in you and
this task you brought to the table. Just don’t worry about it — don’t let it get to you. You
have our financial backing. You just execute.” He patted Richard on the back while rising
to return to his drunken swagger. His destination was more drinks.
Richard calmly remained seated, hands on knees, and regaining his composure, he
began to realize there was no stopping now. He noticed the soft touches of his wife’s
hand pulling his to join her. He arose and kissed his wife as if there were nothing wrong.
“I’m sorry dear, for being a Jack Ass. I just let all that presentation stuff get to me.”
Susan politely put her finger on his lips and replied, “Let’s go dance.” With a
satisfied smile gleaming across her face, the two finished the night drinking and dancing.
CHAPTER FIVE
The flight home was restless for Rich. He contemplated what happened
repeatedly, and he knew that he needed to succeed to make some good come out of this
terrible loss. During his deep thought, he watched the trees disappear with the plane's
ascension. When there was nothing but clouds to observe, he thought again, on how this
project would be successful and his friend would not be lost for nothing. Finally nodding
off, his daydreams carried over to his eventual sleep. Not even realizing he had nodded
off, the sight of a man in the midst of the forest made up his mental imagery. His back
was turned away from Richard, so all that he could see was the figure of a man standing
mysteriously just about beyond his vision. He decided to walk toward the man because
his curiosity grew overwhelmingly and could not be denied. As he got closer, he noticed
the man began to walk away as if he knew someone was following him. The man never
did look back, which is probably why Richard’s inquisitiveness began to commandeer his
very thoughts and actions.
He tried to catch up, but to no avail, and before a full effort could be
administered, he realized the man had vanished. Richard stopped in his tracks after losing
sight of the man, and he looked around, assuming he must have hidden behind a tree.
Looking back and forth and all around robotically, assuring full coverage of all areas he
could at least see would not be overlooked. No matter the effort, there was no sight of the
man and the place where he stood now seemed the same. Nevertheless, he was compelled
to search, and he looked behind that vining tree to his right. “Oh, shit,” Richard blurted,
after being startled by a hand gripping his shoulders, which caused him to turn around
rapidly. This man had obviously sneaked up on him, and Richard realized that maybe he
was mystical in some way. Looking more attentively, Rich noticed the man was Joe. This
frightened him dearly, causing sheer panic to curl beneath his lamina of courage. The
mysterious man then placed his other hand around Richard’s neck and began to shake
furiously. Richard shouted at the top of his sleeping lungs and opened his eyes to notice
his beautiful wife was now that man. She was only shaking him softly to advise him that
they were the only ones left on the plane.
“Come on, Richard. We’re the only ones left. Get Up!”
Malicious grog spilled from Rich’s mouth and his face showed his wide awake
vigilance. “I’m up! I’m up! I must have dozed off,” said Richard convolutedly, realizing
that he must have been dreaming.
“Well you don’t say,” uttered Susan with splendid mordacity. “Come on, let’s
go!” She pulled him up and they exited the plane.
After picking their little one up, they arrived at the gate before their home, and not
a moment too soon for Richard. “Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Dickenson,” they heard the guard
exclaim joyfully after activating the beautiful gates.
“Hello, Hayword,” Susan said softly. Richard and Dainisa just looked on.
“Everything is fine and secure here, sir! Nothing old Hayword Jeffries can’t
secure, or even protect for that matter.” He talked to Richard with encouraging gestures
in an attempt to please him. He rambled on, but his words seem to evade Richard’s ear,
because he continued walking until he was entirely through the door. Richard actually
headed straight for his bed to pass out into a deep sleep.
“Mommy! What’s wrong with Daddy?” “Oh, Boo! Daddy is just tired. We had a
long trip. Are you hungry dear?”
“No ma’am. I ate pizza. Can I play the game?”
“Sure, I’ll be in your room to hook it up in a minute.” The little girl dashed to her
room with joy to gather her components. Susan found her favorite book, made a cup of
tea, and set the items where she had normally sat by herself to read. Proceeding to her
daughter’s room, she peeked at her husband to see him just about hibernating. She shook
her head and continued with her previous task.
“Mommy, Mommy, I want to play this game first!”
Susan concentrated on assembling the components and connecting the necessary
wiring to each respective outlet. “OK dear! Cut the power on.” The little girl pushed the
button. “OK , let me hold that. I need to set it up” She placed the game on easy and
adjusted the other settings to assure a lengthy game. Her plan was to get the little one out
of the way so she could concentrate on relaxing while reading her book and sipping her
tea. After sitting down, she sighed from the deepened relaxation she felt from the soft
seating. Her face indicating relief after tasting the hot scorching tea, Susan made soothing
grunts and moans. Taking another sip, she reached for her book while gulping down
another sip, and then she placed the cup down with a frown from the hot tea. A quick
thought of her husband drifted into her mind. Shrugging it off, she slowly opened the
book at the ribbon she had placed between pages before and began reading.
The little one had played the game until she was sound as sleep, but the game
continued to play even though there was no one operating it. Three hours had passed and
it was extremely late. Susan continued reading, not realizing she was now halfway
through. She had no intentions of stopping. Besides, she had reached a part in which
events unfurled unexpectedly, and it ate at her to know what would happen next.
Intrigued, she continued to read diligently as curiosity flamed her every thought-spoken.
The reading intensified paragraph after paragraph, until… “Ring, ring! Ring, ring!” The
ringing continued, but she tried to ignore it. However, it became unbearably harsh. “Ring,
ring!” Annoyed, she placed the book down with its face open and rushed to answer the
phone. “Ring, ring!” She accelerated her efforts unaware that her hustle was futile,
because the caller on the other end had no intention of hanging up.
“Hello,” she said exasperatedly.
“Hi, is this Susan?”
“Well, yes it is!”
“I’m sorry to call so late, but is Richard available?”
“Oh! No! He is asleep. Who might I say is calling?”
“I’m sorry! This is Claira Geshy. I was calling to see if Richard had heard from
my husband Joe.”
“Oh, hi Mrs. Geshy. I didn’t recognize your voice. No! I think he said Joe had
called and said his plane would be late, but he never showed.”
“That’s strange! Susan, do you happen to know which flight he was supposed to
be on.”
“One of Richard’s private jets.”
“Oh dear! Well, thank you. You have been a big help,” Claira said sadly.
The two terminated the call, and Susan now lost all interest in her book, deciding
to cut the lights off in preparation for bed. The first task was to tuck her Boo away in bed
and to cut off her lights and gaming console. When she reached her own room, she
immediately cut the room’s illumination to nil and jumped into the bed to eye her
husband like a private one. She wondered why he was acting so strange, and the call from
Claira seemed stranger still, but she nudged those thoughts aside and went to sleep.
The next morning she awakened on her side with her eyes still closed, and she
proceeded to roll over until flat on her back. She rolled again, but this time flat on her
face with her legs stretched as if she were making an angel in snow with silky white
sheets. “Honey,” she said, her voice muffled from her facedown posture. “Honey…,” she
said rolling over quickly again and raising up on her buttocks, supported in a sitting
position by her hands spread behind her like twin kickstands for a bike. She now opened
her eyes only to confirm what she already knew — he was gone. Now she knew this
project was more important than she was.
Richard had stepped into his office at the same moment his partner was wiping
the early morning grog from her face. The first thing on Richard’s mind was to get on the
phone and contact the necessary party to assemble a survey crew. Intensity raged as he
approached the phone. He knew this team had to be special, because they needed to be
special. A good camp site was needed, as well as somewhere to dock the boats. He
thought he would take a shortcut, because all he needed was an engineer to approve the
site. This would allow construction ships and crews to be amassed at his visionary
location without having to use his own capitol. He needed two civil engineers to go with
the survey crew, but they were not available as soon as tomorrow. This prompted two
trips, because there could be no delay.
“I need three land surveying contractors trained in navigation, also some
helicopters pilots and field surveyors.” Demands continued to spill from Richard’s
mouth. “And no matter what credentials. I need skilled people.”
A panicked utterance followed from the other end of the line: “No problem, Mr.
Dickenson. We have the skilled party you need. I’ll fax you the contract specifications.”
The men terminated the call, and a pleased smile ripped across Richard’s face. He
pressed a memory button on his phone, and a few moments later he blurted, “John! Let
me see you in my office.” Richard cocked back his legs for relaxation and sipped some of
Columbia’s finest.
John entered the room, hesitantly uttering, “Yes sir!?”
“I need you to assure the survey crew gets on the plane and arrives in South
America safely. I also want you to maintain communication with them, and report
anything to me, immediately!”
“Yes sir! Yes sir!”
“I’m going home. I’ve been neglecting my wife, but be sure to call me if anything
happens.”
“Yes sir!”
“You may dismiss everyone else for the day, but you need to be here to assure
phase one is completed.” Richard turned away from John’s unappeased face and walked
gallantly out of the office. It was no time and his car sped off with seemingly no regard
for traffic regulations. He was still filled with uneasiness because the project still needed
the engineer’s approval, but it was just a matter of confirming structural integrity. That is
why he had delayed any other engineers’ arrival on site — he needed his special engineer
for the job. His plan was to send the survey crew just to get the dimensions of the land
and to label that a specific site. Then later he’d introduce this labeled site to the engineers
as a point on the map, not mentioning the exact measurements and hoping just an
inspection of the general area would suffice. All he could think about was shortcuts and
that nothing could delay this process.
CHAPTER SIX
Meanwhile, Milo Evans briefed his team—Ron, Nick, and Gary—on their next assignment.
“Mr. Rivera, Mr. Fusil, Mr. Russy, may I have your attention for a moment? Are you ready to work?”
The men exchanged puzzled glances. Their boss had never been this dramatic about a job before.
Nick Fusil scoffed. “What are you talking about? I’m always ready to work! Did some client complain? Gary, you ready? What about you, Ron?”
Ron sat motionless, his face blank. He didn’t answer. Meanwhile, Gary, standing in his oil-stained overalls, stroked his thick, unkempt beard before finally speaking. “Milo, what’s up?”
“No one complained,” Milo replied, his voice serious. “But I have a job where there can be no complaints. It’s a field job, and it pays damn good money.”
Nick leaned back, smirking. “We’ve done plenty of field jobs.”
Before he could continue, Milo cut him off. “No, this is no ordinary field job. The only reason I even took it is because I have my aviation license.”
Ron’s interest suddenly piqued. “Oh shit! We have to fly for this one?”
Gary, puffing on his enormous cigar, squinted through the smoke. “Where exactly are we going, Milo?”
Milo folded his arms. “Gentlemen, this is an international job.”
Gary nearly choked on his cigar. Ron’s eyes widened in surprise. “You mean we’re leaving the country?”
“Yes,” Milo said. “We’re going to South America.”
“South America?!” Ron exclaimed. “Why the hell do we have to go all the way down there?”
“Because that’s where the job is, you idiot,” Milo snapped. “We’ll take a private plane to a city in Brazil. From there, we have helicopters waiting to take us to the designated site for surveying.”
Gary exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Where exactly in Brazil?”
“Central Brazil.”
“That’s thick forest,” Gary muttered.
“Yeah,” Milo admitted. “But we’ll be measuring along the North and East coasts. Gary, I need you to build a small dock—just something sturdy enough to tie boats to. Also, we need a base camp, which could take a few days. Mr. Dickenson wants everything in place so he can bring additional inspectors later.”
Gary raised a bushy eyebrow. “Mr. Dickenson?”
“The client,” Milo explained. “He’s a very wealthy man.”
“Oh,” Gary grunted. “I see now. You called on us for our specific skills. Makes sense.”
Nick scoffed. “Yeah, Milo’s always been slick. But man, we don’t need to go all the way to Brazil just to work in the damn jungle. We’ve got plenty of business here. And South America? That place ain’t exactly paradise.”
Ron crossed his arms. “Yeah, Milo. How much is this Mr. Dickenson willing to pay?”
Milo sighed, looking at his team. “Damn, I thought I could count on you men. Maybe I should find someone else.”
“Nah, Milo, I’m with you,” Gary said, his thick hillbilly accent making Nick chuckle.
“You still didn’t tell us how much it pays,” Nick pointed out.
“Hold on, I’m getting to that.”
“I thought you didn’t know,” Ron said, eyeing him with suspicion.
Nick smirked. “Man, we just messing with you.”
“Yeah, lighten up,” Gary added.
Milo took a deep breath before answering. “The exact figures aren’t worked out yet, but—”
“What?” Ron and Gary said in unison.
“Calm down! The pay will be well over three times what each of you made last year—and that’s a modest estimate.”
Everything has not been worked out completely yet. I’m trying to get the most money for you guys.” There was a bitter silence as the men contemplated the possibility of working for triple a year’s normal salary. Milo Evans continued to give the particulars of the job while he had his crew’s undivided attention.
“He seemed very eager to have this done ASAP. I told him! Hey, I’ve got four men who will be away from their families for a while, and on such short notice. Check this! I said hey, a long-range trip like this will probably be in the mid to high six-figure range. That is for all of my men.”
“OK, OK, Milo!”
“Hey wait! I told him, I don’t even know how much land is to be surveyed and how harsh the terrain may be.”
“Oh, Milo! I get it! We have the flexibility to tack on additional fees. Yeah, I like that.”
Ron turned and looked at Gary and Nick while Milo observed them all. The men remained silent as their faces appeared to gleam with avidity.
“OK, we’ll meet here early, before dawn, and fly out tomorrow at dawn. Gary! Be sure to order all the equipment and materials you may need. They need shipping before we leave.”
“Aye sir!” The words were spoken as if through congestion, due to the massive smoke that curled around Gary’s face.
Hayword opened the beautiful gates to let Richard in. He seemed preoccupied but in a rather gingerly mood. Everything was moving according to plan, except he had forgotten to check with John to assure a cargo helicopter was delivered to the site. He refused to call him, declaring he’d had enough for one day. Besides, he figured it had better be there or John would have to answer to him.
“Hello, Mr. Dickenson,” Hayword said with a doit of anticipation.
Richard nodded his head but continued toward his doorway incessantly. Hayword had dreamed of being able to confront Mr. Dickenson, hoping to move up in stature. People even thought he was a little on the loose side because he had been seen talking to himself. More like a full-blown conversation was what they actually witnessed. What the watchers didn’t know was that he was just practicing for a conversation with Richard and was determined to make his worth known.
“Mr. Dickenson!” blurted the gentle servant, but his boss seemed unphased.
“You know, Mr. Dickenson, I know how to get the maximum potential out of me.”
The servant got the boss man’s attention as indicated by the capricious look that landed on Richard’s face. He responded sarcastically, “Son, if I’m not receiving maximum potential from you, then there’s no point in having you.”
“Well, no sir! What I mean is, I have a lot more potential to be filled. Basically, you’re using me ineffectively and inefficiently. That doesn’t quite correlate with the grand scheme of things, does it?”
“No, it doesn’t, Mr. Reynolds. So what is your point?” Mr. Dickenson said rudely as he gripped his door handle and pressed his thumb down to open it.
Hayword exclaimed, “I’m not just your ordinary security guard who is good for nothing but opening and closing gates all day. I have keen vision and much courage that—”
Richard was well in the door before Hayword was even halfway through his statement. However, Hayword still seemed relieved, even though the door was slammed in his face.
"Honey," Richard hollered in a pleasing voice, despite his recent frustration. A moment passed without an answer as he fumbled through the day’s mail. His attention was captured by an eccentric-colored envelope that, for some reason, reminded him of his wife—perhaps because the color resembled their wedding invitations. Nevertheless, he failed to open any of the mail and instead called out again, "Sweety!"
Unsure if her silence was intentional, he called out once more, this time sharply, with a touch of mendacity. Richard wandered through his expansive house, searching, his voice tinged with desperation. "Hey! I’m sorry, dear! I know I haven’t been showing you much attention, and I know I’ve been putting work before my precious dear."
Still, there was no response. The silence grew unbearable, suffocating him with dark possibilities. "Honey, where are you?" he squealed, his voice laced with desperation. He began searching the rooms frantically, sprinting upstairs like a training athlete. So overwhelmed with sorrow, he failed to check their bedroom until last.
There she sat in her elegant, comfortable reading chair, eyes glinting with enjoyment at his frantic search. But despite her amusement, her face remained earnest. Richard stared at her, absorbing every detail of her poised stance. Approaching her gently, he found her curling up in the chair, as if preparing for a last stand. She pressed herself against the plush leather, stiffening her expression.
"Boo… Look! I’m sorry," he said softly but grandly. "I’m sorry. I know I have been neglecting you, and you deserve so much more." He took her hands gently, and the hardness in her expression began to melt. "Oh baby, I love you so much. I know I haven’t been showing you, but tonight, I confess—I’ve known all along I couldn’t function without you. Let alone live without you."
His voice carried on in a soothing monotone, lulling her into a trance. Sliding his hands up her arms, he leaned in behind her, planting soft kisses along her neck. "I’m so sorry, baby. I realize I better straighten up my act before I lose you. And baby, I don’t want to do that."
He continued kissing her neck, whispering, "Will you forgive me, huh baby?"
Besides the small smacking of kisses, there was silence. Susan’s last stand faltered, her resolve weakening like a crumbling fortress. She fought against it, but she knew she had lost when her left hand instinctively reached behind her, caressing his cheek and neck.
"I love you so much, dear. If you just bear with me, my services will no longer be needed on this project, and I can spend more time with you."
"Honey, that makes me feel so good," she whispered, barely able to contain the warmth surging through her.
Her caressing became more passionate, her strokes increasing in both length and urgency. A sensual moan trickled from her lips as she bit down softly, trying to suppress her need. "Ohm… Baby… I forgive you," she breathed.
Richard heard her words faintly, but they ignited something deep within him. He kissed her with a renewed fervor, grasping one of her hands in both of his. He placed delicate kisses along her arm, trailing upwards until he reached her wrist. His tongue traced over her fingertips, gliding smoothly like a jet ski over still waters. One by one, he took her fingers into his mouth, his lips wrapping around them with tender devotion, savoring her as if indulging in the sweetest treat.
By this time, Richard had made his way around the chair, his body kneeling before her as his passion unfolded.
up the finger-licking appetizers. He then placed his head against her inner thighs, kissing both sides while massaging her lips. These actions made it irresistible for diving his nose in between, and he purposely rubbed the bone in his nose up against her bone until he heard a deep inner grinding sound. This made Susan experience heightened sensation especially when Richard softly bit both lips and licked all around. There were no objections from Susan. In fact, it appeared she was not speaking our language at the time, and maybe was not even in our reality. Whatever the case may be, they made love on the sofa chair. Richard stroked hard for fifteen solid minutes, where they both shared satisfaction simultaneously. “Oooh…Baby,” screeched Richard with depleting breath. There were moans from his loved one, but with a little more control over respiratory functions. “Come on …,” exclaimed Richard, grabbing both hands and pulling the Susan’s seemingly lifeless body. The path was for the bedroom and she followed like a princess in distress, holding tight to her prince. The first action taken upon entering was diving on the bed, where the two cuddled for about thirty minutes. Their kisses and smooches were periodic, but all of a sudden they became more frequent and mostly generated by Richard. “I love you. Look what you make me do!” Pressing hard against her, Susan realized quickly it was time for more action. Richard was definitely full surged and tingled within, but so did she. He wanted some more and Susan was surely sodden in between. They made love again. This time he had more leverage, and she reached more than one goal this time. After several different postures, she obtained three on the scorecard, but Richard wasn’t about to stop. However, stamina was drifting, so he needed more feeling to maintain strength. “Turn around,” commanded Richard. “Here, like this…” Susan obeyed his every command. Back in the original standard position, so to speak, he watched himself stroke slowly, very slowly, in and out until almost pulling completely out. “Oooh yeah baby, you’re so wet, I want to be inside you.” With just the tip barely touching the inner lips, then inserting slowly and as deeply as possible, he watched this process repeat itself with greatened pleasure. After about ten minutes, he placed both hand even with both of her shoulders. Placing her legs spread wide, he literally did push ups. This caused for a different entry point and gave Susan a totally different sensation. After about ten minutes, he panted because fifty pushups meant fifty strokes. A full work out was performed on, Susan and she enjoyed every minute. The love in Richard’s body poured because this process repeated throughout the night, with time intervals varying between an hour and a little more. At one point, he had even scarfed down a snack and harked up a cigar before delving into his wife’s lust once again.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The next morning, the glare from the sun was relentless, forcing Susan to toss and turn. “Honey,” she mumbled, her voice muffled against her pillow, her lips pressed into the fabric. Feeling around the bed, her hands brushed against nothing but silky sheets—Richard was gone. Frustration built inside her, not only from the emptiness beside her but from the invasive light that had stolen away her sleep.
Meanwhile, Richard had been up for over thirty minutes, already at the office, directing operations and ensuring everything for the project was in order. The survey crew was en route.
The flight was smooth, and the four men finally landed in the wild, untamed Amazonian land. The small airstrip remained unchanged since Richard’s last visit. The sun beamed fiercely, and the thick humidity clung to their skin like a second layer. As they stepped off the Bombardier jet, the sheer intensity of the heat hit them instantly.
“Goddamn! Shit! It’s hot as fish grease,” Nick Fusil groaned, wiping his brow. “I see why we’re getting paid, quote-unquote, big bucks.”
Ron smirked, stepping onto the tarmac. “Nick, man, you can stand a little heat for the bread.”
Nick shot him a pitiful look. “Yeah, I’ll bet! You Mexican, Spanish, Puerto Rican muthafuckas are used to this heat.”
Ron crossed his arms. “Nick, don’t start with me, because your black ass is pretty scorched yourself. Last I heard, it’s hot as hell in Africa.”
Nick laughed, shaking his head. “Man, I haven’t been to Africa in over four hundred years. We’re just the brown race now, living in America. At least we ain’t so damned emotional.”
Gary rolled his eyes and took a slow drag from his cigar. “Knock it off. We’re here to make money, and that’s all.”
A scrawny old man, wearing a faded uniform and a hat too big for his head, approached them from the control tower. His accent was thick and hard to place. “Hey, gentlemen,” he greeted them, his voice sharp yet indifferent. “I guess you’re Richard’s men. That big old cargo helicopter over there just arrived. The pilot should still be inside—he’ll help you load and fly you to your destination.”
Nick took a step forward, folding his arms. “Excuse me, but who the hell are you?” His tone was firm, almost challenging.
The old man shrugged, offering no answer. Instead, he turned and started walking toward the helicopter. Milo Evans gave a quick glance at the others before following. “Come on, guys. Let’s go.”
The rest of the team trailed behind, the heat oppressive as they trudged across the airstrip.
“Damn hot, and I thought Florida was bad!” Nick grumbled, fanning himself with his hand.
Gary remained unfazed, puffing away on his cigar, while Milo and Ron engaged in their own conversation, occasionally bursting into laughter.
Finally, they reached the helicopter. The old man gestured toward the cockpit. “Gentlemen! The pilot.” He hesitated, as if trying to recall something, then continued, “He can fly you all, help load or unload—whatever it is you need to do. I don’t know the plan, but the man seemed obsessed.”
The old man turned and shuffled back toward the control tower.
Inside the cockpit, the pilot sat in silence, his fingers adjusting switches and dials on the control panel. The men climbed aboard and strapped in, but Nick couldn’t help himself.
“Well, Mr. Rude, I guess you don’t speak—”
Milo cut him off. “Excuse me, sir. What’s your name and function? Or at least, what’s your role after you drop us off?”
The pilot remained silent for a moment, then slowly turned his gaze toward Milo. His eyes flicked briefly toward Nick before he finally spoke.
“I was instructed to fly you to the project site.”
“And to help with any unloading.”
“Are you camping out with us?”
The pilot chuckled before saying, “Oh no…! I’m just a pilot who is dropping you off at your destination.”
Nick spoke out boldly, irritation evident in his tone. “You mean you’re leaving us out here? Oh, hell no! Just dropping us in the middle of nowhere?”
“Hey, look!” The pilot yelled, dejectedly. “I’m not paid to go camping in a thick rainforest.” He chuckled again before completing his statement. “Oh no! I’m sorry.”
“Hey, Nick, we’re getting paid for this, OK? Be easy,” replied Ron.
The pilot yelled, “Hey, will you tell Mr. Bungalow over there to put that cigar out? Damn! Not everybody finds it easy to inhale the smell of crude tobacco and used motor oil. My helicopter is not an auto shop.”
Gary said nothing but continued to puff away.
“Just fly the damned helicopter,” replied Nick.
Milo looked out the window, observing the drifting Amazon below. He asked, “What about an emergency? How can we contact you?”
“There’s radio equipment that you all will be setting up in your camp. Mr. Dickenson will arrive in a couple of days.”
The men exchanged looks of discomfort but had nothing else to complain about. The remaining flight was calm, though the pilot’s agitation with Gary’s cigar smoke remained evident.
“OK, gentlemen, we are finally here. Now you men can get the hell out of my sight.”
“Well, thank you too,” replied Nick.
The pilot adjusted the helicopter controls and began descending. The landing was smooth, and the four men were eager to escape the cramped helicopter.
Nick jumped out first, taking in the surroundings with an amazed expression. “Goddamn. Now where the hell are we?”
Milo replied, “I showed you on the map.”
“Yeah, I know, but I didn’t imagine we’d be in the middle of a jungle.”
Ron’s face drained of color. “Oh man, how the hell are we going to start this survey with all these thick trees, man?!”
Meanwhile, Gary unloaded supplies while Ron and Nick continued their complaints. Once finished, he walked over to the riverbank and scanned the scenery.
“Milo!” shouted Gary.
“Yes, Gary, what do you need?”
Gary trudged over, disappointment clear in his expression. “There’s no way in hell I can build a boat dock with this limited equipment.”
“Well, what are you missing?”
“First of all, look at the shoreline. I’m going to need some digging done, not to mention specialized equipment. The boat is too big.”
Milo frowned but quickly formulated a solution. “Just build a small one. We may have to anchor the boat and use smaller ones to reach the shore.”
“OK, that will work.”
“Oh, Gary, do you have enough bagged cement to build a landing pad for the choppers? This area seems a bit too soft and mushy for landing.”
“Yeah, I noticed that. That Briscoe guy must be used to this area.” The pilot had finally revealed his name during the flight.
“Hey Briscoe, this ground is pretty tough to land on, huh?”
“Well, this cargo chopper has a strong motor to take off with—quicksand probably won’t stop it from ascending.”
“Great! Great!” Milo declared, his commanding tone unwavering. “Has all the equipment been unloaded?”
“Yes,” Captain Briscoe confirmed.
The pilot advised them of his departure and told them to radio if they encountered any problems.
Nick glared, ready to lash out. “Hey, you fucker! You better not leave us here, shit. I don’t do jungles, and where I’m from, we kick the ass of any muthafucka who tries to strand another muthafucka!”
“Calm down, Nick! Gentlemen, listen up! We need to devise a plan to get this job done.”
“I don’t know, man, Milo! Something about this feels off,” Nick muttered.
“I don’t understand, Nick. Look at it this way—we will be able to contact him by radio.”
“Are you sure about that?” Nick asked, his eyes narrowing with suspicion, his anger simmering.
Boiling within, Nick’s skepticism remained. “Yes, I’m sure the radio is adequate. Isn’t that right, Mr., or Captain, Briscoe?”
Briscoe, showing little patience, responded with agitation. “The radio is already set to the necessary frequency. You just make sure you connect it to adequate power. A good generator, like the one I helped unload, should suffice.”
“Gary, that’s a check… OK, great! Gentlemen, first we need to get started on the camp, and Gary, do the best you can with the dock situation. Make sure the camp’s rainproof. I hear there’s a lot of rain in this part of the globe.”
“Yeah, all we need now is to get drenched and have to radio in,” Nick grumbled before hawking in his throat and spitting out a thick wad of cold mucus.
“OK, men, let’s get that camp up first. We’ll be sleeping the night here, so the camp is first, and the dock is second.”
“Hey, Milo! Do you think it would be better to take first recordings along the banks and mark those as endpoints?”
“Go ahead, Ron. I’m listening.”
“That way, all we have to do is follow the eastern coast of this godforsaken land to whatever distance is necessary.”
Captain Briscoe, overhearing the conversation just before departing, interrupted, “Hey, that’s a shortcut. I don’t know if my boss would appreciate this.”
“The math will do the rest,” Ron continued, ignoring Briscoe’s interference. “That’s all we want, right? The dimensions! I heard something about measuring dimensions, and that’s all.”
“Yeah! But he will need us again when he brings the engineers with him, so there may be more money involved,” Milo added, huddling the crew to keep Briscoe from overhearing their private discussion. The prospect of more money was agreeable to everyone—except Nick, who had doubts about returning.
Just as that thought took hold, he slapped his legs and blurted, “Yeah, I don’t need any more money. This will be enough! These damned mosquitoes—or whatever they are—they look like little dragons. What the fuck is this?” He swatted at his face and legs furiously. “You see what I mean? I must have sweet blood. I know y’all are getting bit, but you act like you’re not. See, I was tricked into this job, so yeah, I’m going to take my money, then I’m getting the fuck out of here, and I’m never coming back.”
Though his tone carried a comical edge, Nick’s seriousness was unmistakable.
Gary, meanwhile, began setting up camp. First, he mixed concrete with Amazonian waters, preparing a foundation about thirty to fifty meters from the shoreline. Nick set up the tents while Milo and Ron assembled the survey equipment.
“Ron! Here’s the plan. I’ll walk down the north bank, heading east, until I reach the shoreline. We’ll record in increments of 100 meters. After completing this side, we’ll then walk south along the eastern bank and repeat the process.”
“Well, how far down do we go?”
“We’re supposed to be very close to the midpoint of this project, so according to this map, not tremendously far.”
Gary hacked away with his hammer, a cigar hanging from the corner of his lips. “Hey Nick, hold that, will ya?”
“Yeah! Hold up, let me finish tying this down and I’ll be right over.”
Ron and Milo proceeded with their plan while Gary, with occasional help from Nick, built a waterproof lab equipped with a gas tank for fuel and a power generator. The next priority was constructing suitable living quarters for the rainforest conditions. Using only a small amount of concrete, Gary built a mini-wall around the tents Nick had set up.
“Nick, give me a hand with this digging.”
“Hey, you didn’t tell me about this. I’m not a digger.”
“There’s a shovel in the lab,” Gary retorted, his tone carrying the weight of a bully’s authority.
Nick begrudgingly joined him, and they proceeded to dig. An hour passed, the relentless heat pouring down on them.
“Shit, it’s hot as fuck,” Nick muttered, seemingly with his last breath, the clatter of shovels echoing through the dense jungle.
His shovel, as he tossed it to the ground, served as punctuation.
“OK, that’s enough. We can stop.”
“No!” Gary exclaimed. “Just a little more.”
“Oh no, I’m through.”
Gary's look of disappointment grew upon hearing his friend’s reply. “What’s wrong with you, man? We still got more shit to do. You’re trying to make this extremely laborious in this bug-infested land.”
“OK, OK, let us lay the concrete. At least can you get the finisher while I set up and prepare to pour?”
Nick fetched the water while Gary continued to work rigorously, like he always did. He was a hardworking man, and his appearance supported that claim. On the other hand, Nick was a hotshot know-it-all, but he didn’t know it all, at least not to the extent his attitude suggested. He was indeed keen and aggressively outspoken, quite the opposite of Gary—especially in the hard work department. If it weren’t for his brilliance, he wouldn’t be here. The fact that these two were antipodal was probably why they worked well together.
“So, Gary, what do you think?”
“What do you mean, Nick?”
“Well, about out here! Isn’t this kind of extreme?”
“Indeed. I guess the extreme part of it is what it takes for the big bucks.”
Gary spoke in spurts, puffing his cigar in three-second intervals, while Nick watched pathetically.
“Hey, it’s a job, and if this is what it takes for the real money, then I’m all for it.”
“Hmm…,” Nick smirked, and the gentlemen finished the task.