| Subject: Chapter 5 |
Author:
Juli
|
[
Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
]
Date Posted: Monday, July 26, 01:52:38pm
In reply to:
Juli
's message, "Angelita" on Friday, May 21, 10:47:26pm
Chapter 5
The next day, after tearful goodbyes to the people of the village, Michael and Nikita set off for the base camp. As they traveled the arduous route, Nikita continued to talk, telling Michael about her life in Bolivia. He was surprised at how fast her English was improving. She had asked him to correct her when she made a mistake, but by the time they reached the river, he rarely had to make any corrections to her speech or grammar.
Because the natives and Birkoff had taken the canoes days earlier, Michael and Nikita had a much more difficult trek back to the camp than if they could have simply rowed up the river. Michael was surprised at Nikita’s strength and stamina. Where others would have complained, she was happy and cheerful, asking questions about her father and what her life would be like.
He watched her as she proceeded him up an outcropping of rocks. He body was firm and toned from living off the land in the jungle. When she turned and smiled at him, he found himself smiling back.
It took them the entire day and most of the next to make it back to the base camp. They spent the night in a clearing, both huddling on Michael’s one sleeping mat. When they arrived at the camp, they were greeted by a frantic Birkoff.
“Michael! Thank God! I was about to contact Wirth. You never came back and I was going out of my mind thinking how was I going to get out of this hell hole, and…” Birkoff rambled in a near shout.
Nikita stepped from behind Michael, cutting off Birkoff’s panicked complaints.
“Birkoff, this is Nikita Wirth. Rita’s daughter,” Michael said, by way of introduction.
Birkoff’s mouth hung open in astonishment. Nikita smiled down at the bespectacled genius.
“Hello,” she said.
“Uh… hi,” Birkoff stammered, still in shock.
“Contact Wirth, Birkoff. He needs to know,” Michael said, breaking into the young man’s trance.
Birkoff dragged his eyes from Nikita to nod at Michael, then turned and headed for the main tent.
“How will you tell my … father?” Nikita asked, glancing with unabashed curiosity around the camp.
“Nikita, the technology available has greatly improved since your mother was lost in the jungle. She would not have been able to tell you stories about computers, satellite phones, and pda’s.” Michael explained. “Birkoff, that young man, has a phone that needs no cords. It communicates with a satellite orbiting in space above the earth. The satellite then relays the conversation back to New York to your father.”
Nikita nodded thoughtfully, and Michael wondered how much of his explanation she had understood.
“Do you want to speak to him?” Michael asked, taking her arm when he saw Birkoff waving them over.
Nikita’s eyes flew to his, and Michael could see the fear in them.
“You don’t have to,” he assured her. “I will speak to him, and you can have a proper introduction when we return to New York.”
Nikita’s smile returned with a sigh. Michael could see that although she was adventurous and bold, she still had fears about the life she was diving headfirst into.
Michael took the phone from Birkoff and looked at the laptop as it connected to Wirth’s office. Wirth’s webcam was on, and Michael could see the man sitting behind his huge desk in the Manhattan high rise. He motioned for Nikita to look too. She could only hear Michael’s end of the conversation.
“Yes sir, I’m here,” Michael said into the phone.
Nikita watched the man on the monitor speak. It was odd to think that the stranger she saw was her father.
“We’ve had success, sir,” Michael was saying.
He shook his head, “ No, not Rita, sir. I’m afraid she died of a snake bite some years ago.” He paused as Wirth asked another question. “Yes, she was there. She did survive the attack.”
Michael paused again. “But there is more sir. You were apparently not aware, but your wife was pregnant with your child when the attack occurred.”
Michael nodded into the phone, and Nikita watched the monitor as understanding dawned on the man’s face.
“A daughter sir. Your wife named her Nikita. She is with me, and has agreed to come back to New York.”
The man stood up and Nikita watched as he swiped a hand across his eyes. She smiled.
“No, not directly. I’ll send Birkoff back from La Paz, but I’ll take Nikita to Lima for a little while…”
Pause.
“Because it’s a modern city with a slow way of life. I think its best for her to ease into her new surroundings instead of dropping her into the middle of Manhattan.”
Nikita watched the man on the monitor nod his agreement. She let out the breath she was holding. She hoped that Michael didn’t notice. She didn’t want to admit to him that she was nervous about meeting her father. She felt comfortable around Michael.
“Very well. On the first then,” Michael was saying.
“Alright, and I suggest that you keep this out of the press for as long as you can.”
“I will. Goodbye sir.” Michael clicked shut the phone and handed it back to Birkoff.
Nikita looked expectantly at him.
“He was rather shocked to find out that he had a daughter, but cannot wait to meet you,” Michael said. “As I told your father, I think it will be best for you to get acquainted with modern life in a South American city like Lima before going to the U.S.”
“Why?” Nikita asked, following Michael from the tent.
“Well for one, it will keep your name and face out of the U.S. papers for a while longer until you get your bearings. There are a lot of things you will have to learn about modern living. I don’t want you walking in front of cars, or electrocuting yourself,” he said with a smile.
Nikita smiled back, and Michael hated to admit it, but the second reason to go to Peru was so that he could spend so more time with this enchanting enigma.
One of the native bearers brought them both bowls of stew, and they sat and began to eat. After the meal, Michael began Nikita’s education by showing her around the camp. She was fascinated by the vehicles, the computers, and all of Birkoff’s gadgets. Michael showed her simple things like toothbrushes, pots and pans, and the clothes he had with him.
“My papa, I mean… Tunapa, and his men returned to the boat after my mother was back in the village and got many things from the crash. We had quite fine pots and pans, and some cloth, and some other things. My mother taught me to brush my hair and teeth,” Nikita told him during the “lesson.”
Michael nodded thoughtfully, his respect for Tunapa raising another notch.
The next morning, the camp was disassembled and the vehicles made their way back to La Paz. Michael shook Birkoff’s hand as the man boarded the Wirth jet returning to New York, then he took Nikita’s arm and made his way to the commercial airline counter where he booked tickets to Peru.
[
Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
]
| |
Feedback: 