| Subject: Chapter 3b |
Author:
Juli
|
[
Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
]
Date Posted: Tuesday, June 29, 03:56:54pm
In reply to:
Juli
's message, "Angelita" on Friday, May 21, 10:47:26pm
The next few days were a blur as the expedition trekked deep into the Amazon rainforest. Michael was glad to have Birkoff’s technology, even if the computer whiz complained at every turn. Michael knew that traditional trail breaking would have taken much longer, and Birkoff’s GPS nav computers had probably saved them a whole day.
On the fourth day, they reached the banks of the Tiuchi River, one of the Amazon’s tributaries, and the Bolivians began to set up a more permanent base camp. Michael told Birkoff to stay behind as he scouted the area. Birkoff was more than happy to sit down and dump his pack from his back.
The computer genius was still muttering when Michael returned a half hour later.
“We’ll leave a first light tomorrow, Birkoff,” Michael said, accepting a plate of food from one of the men. “We’ll take the canoes down the river a few miles, and then cut inland to the village where I found Johannson.”
“How long will that take?” Birkoff asked, stretching his tired, inexperienced muscles.
“About two hours from the point where we leave the river,” Michael said, savoring the simple, yet hearty meal.
“That’s all?” Birkoff said, a ray of hope breaking through his gloomy despair. “Then we’re almost there!”
Michael nodded, trying not to smile at the younger man’s excitement. He didn’t want to tell him that the next day’s hike would probably be some of the most arduous terrain they had seen.
After finishing his dinner, Michael stood and put a hand on Birkoff’s shoulder. “Get some sleep tonight,” he ordered gently.
Birkoff nodded and watched Michael walking among the men, conversing with them in Spanish. After a few minutes, he watched Michael head for his tent.
“Doesn’t say much does he?” Birkoff muttered to himself.
The next morning, a heavy rain was falling when they started out. Michael left half of the natives to watch the base camp, and took the rest, including Birkoff in the two dugout canoes. They paddled downstream for about two hours, each huddling under whatever article of clothing could protect him from the downpour.
Beaching the canoes, Michael consulted the GPS system under the protection of his rain poncho, and then motioned the direction of travel. The rain was deafening as it fell on the broad leafy plants and trees, making conversation impossible.
Michael kept checking on Birkoff as they cut their way through the dense undergrowth. He hoped that he wouldn’t have to send him back with one of the men, but Wirth’s unwilling accomplice trudged ahead, his face cast down, every so often wiping the water from his glasses.
After an hour of hiking, Michael called a halt, and everyone drank from their canteens. The rain was letting up, and the hot equatorial sun on the other side of the clouds had begun to steam cook the jungle interior. Everyone began stripping off rain gear; the natives down to their bare chests.
“It’s only another hour or so,” Michael assured Birkoff, who now had steamy glasses rather than water speckled ones.
Birkoff just nodded.
True to his word, an hour and ten minutes later, the group ascended a small rise and then looked down into the village located in a fertile valley. The sun was blazing now, and even Michael had removed his shirt, tying it around his waist.
The smaller expedition started down the slope into the village, drawing curious stares from children and villagers. Older children ran into the village to announce the presence of strangers, and old women stared at them from the openings of huts.
When they reached the center of the village, Michael held up a hand to stop the group. The waited a few short minutes before a strong, middle aged man approached, with many of the villagers behind him.
“He is the headman,” Michael told Birkoff, inclining his head in respect to the other man’s position.
He spoke in Spanish to the man and Birkoff wondered what was being said.
“I am Miguel,” Michael said, “I have come looking for a white skinned woman with light hair.”
The village leader did not hesitate. “You do not seek anyone from our village,” he told Michael, his eyes never wavering.
Michael nodded, but he had caught the whisperings and gasps of the onlookers. This chief was not giving Michael the entire story. He turned to Birkoff.
“He says she is not here,” Michael told him.
“What?!!” Birkoff nearly shouted. “We came all this way for nothing?”
Michael put a calming hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “I told Wirth that this was a wild goose chase. Did you really believe we would find her here?”
Birkoff looked crestfallen and sighed. Michael turned back to the headman, again addressing him in Spanish.
“Have you heard of anyone in this vicinity who would fit the description of an ‘angel’ – have other tribes ever spoken of one?” he asked.
The older man shook his head. “We know nothing.” He folded his large arms across his chest.
Michael nodded thoughtfully. “Muchas gracias,” he said, turning to leave.
“That’s it?” Birkoff said, as Michael grabbed his arm and turned him around as well.
“Yes, she is not here. We shall return to the camp,” Michael said loudly.
“But…” Birkoff persisted, thinking they should do something else.
“Let’s go,” Michael commanded, pulling him along.
The small group made its way back up the rise out of the village, and returned to the thick vegetation through the small trail they had cut on the way in. After they had walked for fifteen minutes, Michael stopped the group for a drink. As the natives chatted, Michael pulled Birkoff aside.
“I want you to return to the canoes with the men,” Michael whispered, inclining his head toward the men.
“Why?” Birkoff whispered back, confused.
“I think the headman was lying. I think the woman is there,” Michael replied, his voice still quiet.
“Really?” Birkoff asked, surprised.
Michael nodded. “The chief never flinched, but the crowd reaction was telling. I’m going to go back there and watch the village. I’m sure there are scouts from the village following our trail to ensure that we return to the river. Alone, I can slip past them and hide in the jungle near the village,” Michael explained.
Birkoff nodded, looking slightly fearful.
“Don’t worry. Leontti speaks English well enough,” Michael said, “He’ll make sure you get back alright.”
Michael clapped Birkoff on the back and then went over to Leontti and the others, whispering to them in Spanish. Then Birkoff watched in stunned disbelief as Michael melted into the jungle and disappeared.
“Come,” Leontti said, motioning to Birkoff. “We go.”
Birkoff swallowed, and then followed behind the dark skinned Bolivian.
[
Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
]
| |
Feedback: 