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chap10

chap10.rtf

Calibri;Calibri; \*Riched20 10.0.22621 It was near dawn, and the jungle had settled into an eerie stillness. Even the restless spirits adhered to one sacred rulethere was no foul play in the presence of the King. The Amazonian sun, a sovereign force, was due to rise, transforming the mist into a shimmering morning dew. A gentle breeze wove through the trees, carrying with it the harmonies of paradise. Birds exchanged melodic whistles, frogs croaked rhythmic refrains, and for a moment, the rainforest exuded a deceptive peace. A new sound disrupted the natural symphonythe steady, rhythmic chopping of helicopter blades slicing through the humid air. The craft descended as gracefully as it could manage in the uneven terrain. Without hesitation, Richard and Captain Briscoe jumped out. This is where they should be, Briscoe noted, scanning the surroundings. Richard barely glanced around before responding. Yeah, I know. This is where I instructed them to set up the work station. Lets check over there. He motioned toward the camp with a curt nod before striding ahead. It sure gets hot early here, Briscoe muttered, already feeling the thick humidity settle onto his skin. The sun wastes no time in this part of the world. Arriving at the camp, Richard slowed his pace while Briscoe took the lead, stepping inside the makeshift structure. Hello? he called out, his voice echoing through the empty space. He peeked inside cautiously before stepping fully into the room. His boots clattered against the thin floorboards as he surveyed every inch. Theres no one here, he said, frowning. Are these the same men I transported? Richard ignored the question entirely, continuing his slow, deliberate sweep of the area. Briscoe was growing impatient. Hey! Excuse me. He stopped in his tracks, folding his arms across his chest. What the hell are you looking for? Richard didnt answer. He was moving methodically, eyes flicking up, down, left, rightsearching. But he didnt appear frantic, nor did he call out for his crew. It was as if he were studying the land, feeling his way around. Briscoe exhaled sharply. This is ridiculous, he muttered under his breath. Richard moved forward, his steps careful and calculated. He wasnt trained for jungle expeditions, yet he walked as if he belonged here. Perhaps it was the presence of daylight that gave him confidence. Or maybe he simply knew something that Briscoe did not. A rustling noise in the trees made him stop abruptly. Hey! Hey! What the hell are you doing up there? Richard squinted up into the branches. A figure was slumped against the trunk. At first, it seemed lifeless, but then he caught the faintest movement. Briscoe joined him. Is that one of your men? Richard didnt reply. Instead, he took a few steps closer. The figure in the treeNickwas barely conscious, his head lolling forward. Theres no other way, Richard muttered. He eyed the trunk and grabbed a sturdy branch. Alright I should be able to damn it He grumbled as he hoisted himself up, muttering under his breath. He reached Nick and carefully scooted onto the same branch. Resting a firm hand on his shoulder, he shook him gently. Hey. Wake up. Nick didnt stir. Richard shook him harder. Nick, wake up! A sharp inhale, then Oh, shit! Nick jolted awake, flailing instinctively. The sudden movement threw off their balance. Richard grasped at Nick, and Nick grabbed Richard, but it was too late. The branch cracked. The two men plummeted toward the ground. With a heavy thud, Richard landed half on top of Nick. A sharp, searing pain shot through Nicks leg as he let out an agonized yell. Shit! What the Nick groaned in pain, his leg throbbing like it had been set on fire. "Fuck is going on? Hold up... its about time. Damn, where are the others? We need to find them. Oh... Oh... shit!" The agony clouded his thoughts, mixing with the trauma of the night before. Richard knelt beside him, gripping his shoulder firmly. "Hey, calm down. Nick, thats your name, right? I need to get you back to the helicopteryoure injured." Nicks frustration boiled over. "Have you found my friends? Oh shit... Milo! Hes fucking dead, oh no!" Richard watched him descend into sorrow but refrained from probing for details. "We havent found your friend yet because you are the first one we have run into. I will send a search crew." "Good! Ill lead them." "No, Im getting you out of here. Youre in no condition to be searching for anyone." "No, fuck that! Look, I lost my boss, man. I wont listen to the shit youre talking. Matter of fact, you better have your checkbook ready, because you owe four gentlemen major bread. If I dont leave here with something, after all this bullshit I done been through, shit, Ill have the National Guard out here. This is the perfect story for a book, with the sinister characters name slandered all in the mud, so dont fucking play with me." "Calm down, Nick! Listen, I just have to get you safely back home. I assure you that all of your finances will be taken care of." Nick continued his rant, but he was slightly calmer after Richards assurance. They followed the path Richard had mapped out and arrived at the helicopter fairly quickly. Briscoe had remained in the same spot, squatting to watch the ants crawl and other small creatures scuttle about. He instantly stood upright upon seeing Richard helping Nick limp toward him. "Help me get him in the helicopter." Briscoe swung open the door and extended a hand for leverage. They hauled Nick in roughly before securing themselves inside. The blades whirred louder as Briscoe commanded the helicopter to lift off. Richard exhaled sharply, then turned to Nick. "What happened?" Nick looked at him with blank eyes and remained silent. Briscoe glanced at Richard before smirking. "If I wouldve known this was loudmouth here, I might not have answered that radio." Nicks head snapped up. "Fuck you! Who the hell is this guy?" Richard sat back, studying Briscoes smug expression. "First of all, you motherfuckers are crazy. I know you wouldnt have left me out here, and you better not leave my friends. Milos already dead, and if anyone else is..." Nick paused, swallowing hard to compose himself. "You all wont hear the last of old Nick." A tense silence hung between them. Briscoe furrowed his brows. "Wait a minute. Theres more people back there? And someones dead?" "I assumed the others were already gone," Briscoe continued. "I only spoke to one person on the radio, but... I think he did mention someone or needing to find somebody." Nick took a deep breath. "Yeah, you must have spoken to Ron or Gary. Matter of fact, it was Gary. Had to be, because me and Ron had to make a break for it." Briscoe frowned. "A break for it?" "Yeah, a lion or something attacked us." "No, it wasnt a lion. Had to be a jaguar or something." "Well, whatever the fuck it was, it was trying to eat us. I dont know if it got Ron... oh no." Richard reached over and gripped Nicks shoulder. "Calm down, Nick. Well find your friends." Briscoe, still skeptical, pressed on. "So what happened to your friend Milo?" Nick exhaled, rubbing his hands over his face. "I dont know, man. Its strange." Briscoe narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean you dont know?" "Look! All I know is Ron and Milo were establishing dimensions of the site, and Milo mysteriously fell into a stream." Briscoes expression darkened. "So he drowned?" No, not quite. He got eaten by piranhas. Dont ask me how it happened, because its beyond me. Nick stood there, looking as though he were trying to reason with logic itself. Stupefied by his own gestures, he listened in the same manner. You dont think your friend Ron might have pushed him in? Nick snapped out of his daze, his defensive attitude kicking in. What thethats idiotic. That couldnt happen. Ron couldnt push anyone, period. I dont care if he sneaks up from behind; he still wouldnt succeed. Nick found brief humor in Briscoes accusations but remained on guard. So, Rich. Are you going to call the police? Richard snapped, What police? Forget the police. Were all the way in South America. Then Ill call the National Guard. Look, I have a friend high up in the FBI, and Ill pay him to send a scout troop, Richard said. Yeah, and you better pay me, or Ill have the National Guard out here. Im sure the media would love a story like thisa greedy businessman stranding his workers to perish in the jungle. Matter of fact, if you dont find my friends, Ill have a lawsuit so far up your ass youll start shitting me money. Turds of thousand-dollar bills, muthafucka. Richs face flushed red, but he remained calm as he noticed Briscoes gestures leaning toward Nicks arguments. All right now, we have a long plane flight ahead of us. No need for the bickering. Exhausted, they remained mostly silent for the rest of the flight. Briscoe stayed behind in South America at the tower where he was stationed. Nick and Rich were a third of the way home, and thats where they wanted to beshort of being all the way home. It was late afternoon, approaching evening, and their wives were waiting. However, the hospital would intercept Nick to treat his dehydration and busted leg. Meanwhile, Mrs. Dickenson had dinner prepared and even tended to the little one before retreating to her room to indulge in computer games. Mrs. Geshy trembled under the weight of her mothers constant accusations. Goddamn it, I knew that muthafucka would waltz off and leave. Oh dear Is there anything I can do? Just ask. A simple cry escaped Mrs. Geshys lips before she said, No matter. Hey, Im fine Ill call you back. Claira seemed stunned, locked in a meditative glare, her thoughts racing with extraordinary intensity. Her swollen, throbbing temple betrayed the fire raging inside her. She had always felt in control of the relationship, convinced that if anyone were to leave, it would have been her. The idea that Joe had up and left was unthinkable. With that notion, she picked up the phone. Precinct seventeen. Detective Andrews speaking. Yes, Id like to report a missing person. The detective heard the soft cries pouring from Clairas lips. Maam, whats your name? Im sorry! My name is Claira Geshy. Let me transfer you to missing persons. One moment, please. Claira continued crying as she waited. Hello, Mrs. Geshy. This is Lieutenant Harrington. Id like to ask you a few questions. First, who are you reporting missing? Joe Geshy, my husband. When was the last time you saw him? Oh dear, he was supposed to go on a trip to South America several days ago, and I havent heard from him since. Have you and your husband been having any problems? Claira replied defensively, No! What business did he have in South America? He was supposed to go with a friend. In fact, I talked to the wife of his friend, Mrs. Dickenson. She said they havent heard from them either. I take it you were all friends. Yes, but lookmy husband was happy with our relationship at home. Im not disputing that, Mrs. Geshy. Its just that Lieutenant, all Im asking is for you to look into it. Ill do what I can, Mrs. Geshy. The call ended abruptly, and Claira sat there crying, her life now in shambles with no explanation. Tears overflowed, triggering a waterfall effect. She asked herself over and over: Why? She questioned her confidence, wondering if her mother was right. The questions agitated her: Did something terrible happen, or did he really leave? No, he didnt leave! Something terrible has happened. Her tears intensified like a developing storm, and sadness soaked in.