Monster Damn
In a Brazilian Amazon forest a logger sits on a sawed tree trunk, eating a sandwich while a skewered hare cooks over a small fire. Noticing a malodorous stench, he stops chewing. The man grimaces then looks at his double-decker. Upon smelling it, he determines that the sandwich is fine. He looks around sniffing the air and detects movement in the leaves a few meters away. Mystified, the logger walks towards the foliage. His expression of curiosity gradually changes to one of terror as he looks up, screaming at the top of his lungs. His cries get replaced by the sounds of bones cracking, flesh being torn and lastly, silence.
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Sam is waiting in the Impala, impatiently glancing at the entrance of "Richardson Convenience Store". Exasperated, he sighs, gets out of the car and walks towards the building. As he passes through the door, he sees Dean leaning against the counter, smiling and engrossed in a conversation with a beautiful blond cashier.
"Dean?" Sam asks with a touch of impatience. "Could we please?"
"Ah. Sam this is Peggy Sue. Her sister Ashley is coming to pick her up in five minutes. I was just telling Peggy Sue how we were new to the area and maybe they could accompany us on a tour of Dallas or maybe the Mesquite Championship Rodeo."
"Uh… Dean, I'm afraid we have to make it to San Antonio before ten tomorrow morning and that's another five hour drive."
"Well, we could leave early tomorrow morning." Dean replies never taking his eyes off of Peggy Sue.
"Or… we could just fly there tomorrow morning." offers Sam with an evil grin.
"Yeah… uh… no." Visibly torn, Dean pulls reluctantly away from Peggy Sue and walks backwards towards the exit, still admiring her beauty. He pivots towards the door and comes face to face with Ashley who is as gorgeous as her sister. She looks up at him with a teasing, wide grin. Dean whimpers weakly. Head drooping down, he walks out and relinquishes the keys to Sam as he is in no mood to drive.
"Look Dean, it would mean a lot to Bobby if we're there for him. He was close to his cousin while growing up. He's expecting us. We didn't drive this far to be late for the funeral."
Seeing that Dean is still inconsolable, Sam tries again, "I know this little place in San Antonio where they serve the sweetest pie."
"Pie?" The question escapes barely audible. Dean can't help but let the corners of his mouth tweak up. "Wake me up when we get to the pie." He turns on his right shoulder and falls asleep, a satisfied smile on his face.
Sam, too, wears a knowing grin as he leans back and lets the Impala hug the US-75 S.
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Late at night, the Impala pulls up into a Motel parking lot. Dean hasn't moved since. He wakes up when the motor goes silent. Surprised, he looks out the window. "You drove five hours straight?"
Sam stretches his legs and back. "Well you seemed to be enjoying your sleep and from the sounds of it, I'm not sure you were dreaming about pie."
Bobby's knock on the Chevy's window interrupts their chat and they walk out stiffly, trying to stretch out their rigid muscles.
"I appreciate you boys coming down. It wasn't necessary you know."
Dean glares at Sam. "Yes it was." insists Sam, "We're family. Your family is our family."
"Well grab your stuff. Room eighteen. If you guys are hungry, I picked up some pie."
Alike a rollercoaster car, Dean's mood glides right back up towards the summit. He grabs his duffle bag and bolts for the entrance.
"Must've been a long drive." Bobby remarks.
"Well worth it," Sam replies as he wraps his arm around Bobby's shoulders, "We cut through Ouachita. It was a beautiful drive."
They enter the motel room, where stands a gloomy Dean, whose rollercoaster car just went on free fall velocity and hit rock bottom as he struggles not to go off rail. An oversized and over ugly bulldog is licking a now empty pie plate left on the living room table. Sam and Bobby can't help but chuckle.
"This would be my Cousin Jimmy's dog, Chuck. I agreed to take care of it until Jimmy's sister arrives from Amarillo tomorrow morning."
Dean glowers at the dog, plops onto a bed and grabs the remote. As he stretches to point and turn on the TV, the dog hops onto the bed and nestles into Dean's side, licking its chaps satisfyingly. Dean looks at it in disbelief.
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It's morning. The boys are dressing up for the funeral. Chuck follows Dean's every step. Dean pretends to be annoyed but is actually flattered. On the drive, Bobby explains that the company that Jimmy usually worked for does land clearing in the rainforest in Pará, Brazil for potential cattle pastureland.
"Isn't cattle ranching the leading cause of deforestation in the Brazilian Amazon?" Sam inquires.
"Yes, misguided government policies, disastrous World Bank projects, commercial exploitation of forest resources and tax rates that favor pasture over forest makes it profitable to convert natural forest for these purposes." explains Bobby.
Sam: "Sad."
Bobby: "Yes."
After a pause, Bobby continues, "Anyways, this time he was working with the Belo Monte Dam project. The 11,000-megawatt dam should be the third biggest in the world."
"I heard about that. Big controversy there", Sam added, "Just below the predicted dam, the river flows into the Xingu National Park. Environmentalists say that it'll harm the world's largest tropical rainforest and displace tens of thousands of people. The dam will flood, inundate, and destroy nearly 160 thousand acres of Amazon Forest. It's expected to lower water levels in the Xingu River affecting local fish stocks and possibly harm indigenous families who make a living from fishing. It's feared that the project will lead to more dams in the Amazon, prompting development that will speed deforestation."
Dean stared at Sam with an astonished face, "You are a nerd!"
Sam rolls his eyes. "What's clear is that Belo Monte will be one of the largest, most devastating infrastructure projects ever to be built in the Amazon which also happens to be one of nature's best defenses against global warming."
'So… Jimmy?" Dean cuts the lesson short.
"Jimmy was found dead, his body mutilated with only the tongue that had been removed." Bobby responded.
Dean: "A wild animal?"
Sam: "Only the tongue?"
Dean: "The natives?"
Bobby: "Possibly. But no tribe has been known to act this way. The Juruna and Arara are generally peaceful groups."
Dean parks the Impala alongside a stone wall that encloses a vast cemetery. White headstones made even whiter by the bright sunlight, file away against well-kept green grass.
"The funeral will take place outdoors." Bobby explains.
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Bobby and the boys are having a drink and mingling with the family. Chuck, who was lying by Dean's feet suddenly squirms up and dashes off towards a young girl. The ten year old kneels down in delight receiving the pooch in a warm embrace! "Chuck! I missed you so much!"
Right behind, her mother follows. "Hi Bobby, glad you could make it!"
"Hi Crystal, wouldn't have missed it. How are you dealing?"
"I'm fine thank you. Audrey is the one I'm worried about. Her godfather was everything to her. She really took it hard. She's still angry right now and I can't really make sense of it with her as we're not sure what exactly happened to Jimmy."
Bobby nodded empathetically, not sure what to say.
The need for comforting words fades when a few feet away, a man starts to raise his voice, seemingly losing patience with another man he is conversing with. The latter just walks away, shaking his head in disagreement. The man, who had raised his voice, still upset, calls out, "It wasn't an animal! It wasn't the natives. I was there, I heard Jimmy scream. I never heard anything like it. He was terrified. Whatever did that to Jimmy wasn't human, I tell you!"
While the crowd of people disapprovingly walk away from the troubled man, Bobby reaches over, puts his hand on the man's shoulder and offers him a seat. He seems to be well into his 60's, but maybe the life of hard physical labour makes him look older than he really is.
"You worked with Jimmy?" Bobby asks.
"Sí." the man replies sullenly.
"And you believe that what killed Jimmy wasn't… natural?"
"Sí."
"Can you tell us exactly where Jimmy was working?" asks Bobby.
"You believe me?" the man inquires, surprised. "I can give you the exact location," he bows his head as he continues, "but I am not going back there. The forest is punishing us for our sins against it. I'm through with logging. Not in Brazil, not here neither."
"You boys into a trip down South?" Bobby asks, turning towards the guys.
"That's quite the drive!" Dean debates.
"We're not driving!" clarifies Sam.
Scene ends with Dean's worried facial expression.
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In an airplane, Dean is being doted on by pretty stewardesses. Although he is still quite stressed about flying, he is enjoying the coddling and is milking it to the max.
Bobby is staring out the window as Sam catches up on sleep.
"I did it for Audrey and Chuck." explains Dean, grinning widely at one of the stewardesses.
"To Audrey and Chuck!" salutes the cute brunette as she lightly taps the wine bottle's gullet to Dean's wineglass.
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After a long drive along the Transamazon highway followed by a bout on a dirt road, Bobby pulls the Chevrolet Montana alongside a grey canopy set as a temporary day shelter for the workers. The camp seems quite empty as the labourers are still out clearing. A man in his early seventies puts down a large ladle and walks towards them. "Can I help you?" he offers.
"Hi. I'm Jimmy's cousin, Bobby Singer. I've come down here to try and figure out what exactly happened to Jimmy. We brought our gear and are hoping to stay a few days to solve this enigma. Is there someone we need to ok this with?"
"The foreman is out a few miles south from here. You can wait at camp if you'd like but they won't be back before several hours." the man replies checking his watch.
"Are they working at the site where Jimmy was attacked?" asks Bobby.
"Yes, there's still a lot of clearing to do there." The old man wipes his forehead with the back of his hand. Despite the month of July being the winter season in Pará, it's still a hot day and the sun is quite present. Fortunately it's the dry season. It would be much more difficult to work in December during which today's 89 degrees Fahrenheit would have felt a lot less bearable. "Just continue up on the dirt road. You should see the van and hear the chain saws."
"Thanks." Sam said as they walked back towards the truck.
As Dean drives, Sam stares inside the dense Amazonian Forest; so much unseen life in there that will be destroyed in the coming months. 'Is it all worth it?' He asks himself.
The sounds of destruction can now be heard. Dean pulls up behind the van. They set out on a path, in direction of the work site. Chain saws are louder now, sounding like overgrown insects but causing a lot more damage than Malaria or Yellow Fever. The first group of men are busily sawing at a 200 foot tall Kapok Tree whose trunk is at least 10 or 11 feet in diameter. Even Dean feels a moment of sad awareness.
Bobby walks over and asks, "Hi, we're looking for the site where Jimmy was killed."
One worker points towards the other end of a cleared area. "He was by the edge of the cliff, past the claws over there." By the claws, he means the Heliconia. Their leaves resemble a lobster claw. The brightly colored flowers of the Heliconias are usually hidden among the leaf structure but there the yellow, green, orange, red, purple and pink remnants of the freshly cut flowers lie scattered on the battered soil.
By the cliff, the view is splendid. They can see the Xingu River. The scenery resembles a patchwork. Although there are still leftover blotches of Amazonian forest, many uneven sections of land are bare.
They search the nearby ground and little foliage left but nothing seems out of the ordinary. Other than the scattered ashes from the campfire, there are no signs of sulphur, no tracks left behind, nothing. Actually, there aren't any signs of blood either. This is when they realize that the workers probably finished up the clearing and everything was displaced.
"For all we know there was probably forest here when Jimmy was attacked. We're not going to find much here." Dean points out.
"So we need to speak with the workers." Sam adds.
"And search the area, forest included." Bobby finishes.
Another crew is working further down, along the cliff side. Bobby continues on that way. Sam scouts the area where the first group of men were and Dean carries on down the path to another site where he was told more men were at.
It's a long but enjoyable hike for Dean. Despite the potential dangers, the tangible change of scenery is refreshing. He's surprised when he finally arrives at the working site as there are no sounds of chain saws, but he does hear voices and laughter a few meters away. When he finally makes it to the deforested area, he sees half a dozen men sitting on tree trunks, having lunch. One man isn't eating. He's got a branch that's been carved into a wooden spear and he is poking and harassing a young wild boar that's tied up to a stake in the center of the clearing. It has no place for cover, is running frantically in every direction and is obviously traumatized.
Dean has a flashback from that time six years ago when he tangled with the backwoods family. Monsters he gets, humans, not so much.
"Does pig squealing turn you on?" he blatantly asks with no intro. "You going to pull a Deliverance?"
The bully looks up, first surprised. Then his facial expression changes to a look of insult as he grasps Dean's words. "Who are you?" he asks.
"Kermit" Dean replies as he cuts Miss Piggy loose.
"You one of those environmental activists?" The grubby man asks marching directly towards Dean.
"Only for Protect the Pigs Patrol." Dean replies wishing he had left this group to Sam whom he knows would have dealt with the situation in a more politically correct way. "I'm a friend of Jimmy's. Came to figure out what killed him."
The angry man slows down his tramp. "Probably one of those damn natives trying to disguise it as a wild animal attack." By the time he gets to Dean, he's not sure if he should hit him or wait.
"Forget it Carson." A worker calls out.
"That was our supper you just cut loose." Carson insists.
"Didn't your Pa tell you to not play with your food?" mocks Dean.
The man's hesitation has now vanished and he takes a swing at Dean.
Dean swiftly dodges the blow and realizing he's off on a bad start, he tries to make amends, "Look I don't want any trouble. I'm just searching for any info that can help figure this attack out. You guys might still be in danger."
"We don't need help from an instigator." The man grunts as he attempts another strike.
Dean easily side-steps that one as well, "Fine, so I think I'll just go back where I came from."
"You do that."
Unsuccessful, Dean hikes back to the initial site where he meets up with Sam and Bobby. They too haven't retrieved much info. Other than Jimmy's attack, the workers haven't noticed anything odd, nor has anyone seen any signs leading to the presence of an unusual animal. Sam and Bobby have searched the forested area near the clearings but nothing there. The three men decide to call it a day as they are getting hungry. They plan to scout further tomorrow, starting with the area that Dean visited since the forest goes much deeper there, as far as the eye can see.
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After devouring their packed lunch, setting up camp and preparing for tomorrow's hike, the guys decide to mingle with the workers. It's evening now, campfires are lit and men are having loud conversations and drinks. Some men are under the shelter playing cards. Dean recognizes members of the crew from earlier in the day so he opts to go towards the campfires. Bobby goes off to make arrangements with the foreman.
As the brothers sit by some workers, the men's conversations mellow down and glances are thrown towards the newcomers. One man breaks the uncomfortable silence, "So how long you boys stayin'?"
"The time it takes." Dean answers while fiddling with a twig on the ground.
"Find anything interesting?" another man continues.
"Not really, we'll check out the area further down South tomorrow." Sam answers.
"Jimmy was a good man. Hope you find what or who got to him." the first man adds.
"Hope so too." Sam replies smiling in appreciation of the support.
Gradually, the conversations resume and the loud exchanges and laughter fill the night air. Sam and Bobby are enjoying the interactions, but Dean quickly tires of it and choses to go off to bed, to hit the sack.
As he crawls into the tent and closes the zipper, he checks the inside for potential threats such as arachnids, insects or snakes. The sleeping bag also gets a thorough inspection before he slides in and lies back against his duffle; his makeshift pillow. Although he wishes he was back in the US, in a comfortable motel with Peggy Sue and/or Ashely, being in a tent isn't all that bad. He hasn't camped in a while and the unfamiliar wildlife sounds are actually relaxing. It doesn't take long for him to start dozing off and he's almost asleep when he hears the zipper of the tent sliding up. Dean opens his eyes halfway and sees Bobby's cap come through the slit, followed by Sam's mop. He lets his lids close back.
"G'nite sleeping beauty" kids Sam.
"G' nite Bitch." Retorts Dean, eyes still shut.
"Good night idjots" closes Bobby.
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All are up early morning and after a hefty breakfast, the trio sets out Southward. The night before, the foreman gave Bobby the coordinates to some of the indigenous homes of people who have chosen to live away from the city. Bobby would like to speak with these people to see if they've noticed anything unusual in that area. The dirt roads used to access these remote homes have suffered damage during the last rain season and are still not trustworthy so they will be hiking along paths, making a compass indispensable.
The long trek goes without complications and the trio makes it to a first group of houses by noon. Dean is surprised to see that the natives are dressed quite like common folk. He was expecting to see half naked people wearing vines around their wastes but the men are wearing Bermuda shorts and t-shirts. The women are wearing light summer dresses or skirts and camisoles. In other words everyone is wearing the same thing as the city folk. People are friendly, happy to be of any assistance. Actually, the more South they trek, the friendlier people are and many speak a little English. Alas, as friendly and helpful as the natives are, no one has noticed any changes in the environs and all has been usual routine.
"We better start back up," Bobby points out, "if we want to get to camp before dark."
"Yeah, or we could ask for lodgings at one of those homes." Offers Dean.
"Hmmm, not the one where the fisherman had four daughters?" Sam mocks.
"Uhuh." Dean confirms with a wide grin.
"Ah damn it!" Their bantering is interrupted by Bobby's grunts of pain. Sitting on the ground, grabbing at his ankle, Bobby is reciting a dictionary of swear words. One moment of inattention and he has turned his ankle on the uneven ground. Disgusted with himself he refuses the boys' attempts to check out his foot. "Bah... it's a damn sprain. Just help me up. I'll walk it off." But as much as Bobby's pride keeps him trying, there is no way he can put any amount of weight on his ankle which is severely sprained if not broken.
"Hey, no sweat," Dean reassures, "We'll just get you to the first home. Sam 'll go fetch a stretcher at camp and a first aid kit to brace it up.
"Coincidentally the home where the four daughters were..." Bobby says grinning.
"Oh yeah…" Dean fakes recollection.
"How about you hike it back?" Sam teases.
"Nah, you're the one who's been training, running. This is your bag." retorts Dean.
Fortunately, the walk is only an hour away. The people are outdoors and upon seeing Bobby's state, they offer to bring him into the house. The boys set Bobby on the sofa and the fisherman takes his boot off. He palpates the ankle and looks up with a concerned face. "This will need medical attention and a stretcher. You are welcome to stay here the night while one of your boys gets help for tomorrow morning."
Dean smiles widely.
"Stop by the first home on your way back and ask my father to come down. He has some experience in healing. He can help." The fisherman instructs Dean.
"Oh no, he's going." Dean clarifies pointing to Sam.
"No, you are going." Confirms the man decisively, glancing disapprovingly towards his daughters who have been eyeing Dean with reciprocal fixation.
A blue Dean resigns, wondering if there is not a conspiracy developing to confine him to abstinence. Sam sits at a table with the fisherman and Bobby hands over the keys to the truck, the compass and the coordinates to Dean. The women now draw their attention to Bobby, raising his foot up onto a pouf and offering him a beverage and fruit. Bobby flashes a smile at Dean whom glares right back as he walks out the door. Sam and the older man can't help but chuckle.
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Several hours have passed. Dean is almost back at the South work site. The trek has not been as pleasurable as the morning's. The novelty of the environment has worn off and the mosquitoes in the last hours have been horrendous. Although the worse has past, there are still a few lingerers that come for a nibble once in a while. Dean can't help but feel like he's getting a dose of Malaria or Yellow Fever each time he feels a sting.
Finally, he sees a flicker of light far off. Encouraged but surprised, he realises that it's a campfire at the Southern worksite. It's dark and the men should be back at base camp. Dean continues on. As he walks through the clearing towards the small group of men drinking around the fire, he slowly recognizes four of the men whom he met the first day and amongst them is the pig persecutor. Dean also notices small cocaine bags, pipes and other drug paraphernalia scattered on the ground.
"Evening" Dean utters as he keeps walking by, realizing this is not a good time to stick around. He's still got more than an hour walk 'till he gets to the truck and then base camp where he can pick up what he needs for Bobby.
"Well if it ain't pretty boy pig protector." a begrudged Carson sneers as he gets up.
Dean keeps walking, setting his desire to fight aside. He's tired, there are four of them and he just hiked over eight hours. But, he just can't help a wisecrack, "It's Kermit to you."
"That's it!" The worker bolts for Dean and the three other men follow. Dean can't find it in himself to run. Call it pride, or lack of energy. He braces himself and blocks off Carson's first punch. He manages to land one on the brute's jaw, but is immediately grabbed by two thugs who are twice his size. He fights them off as much as he can, but another giant grabs him from behind, wrapping his arm around Dean's chest and stripping him of his knife and gun which fall in the high grass. Dean can hardly feel the ground beneath his feet and his arms are held tight by the two other goons. Carson is beaming with sadistic delight. "Well, well, well… where to start…" He leaves no time for his captive to retort as he lands a solid blow to the ribs. Dean can barely keel over as he is held on to so tight. He struggles to regain his breath. Carson has no empathy, striking again, this time at Dean's face. After flying back, Dean's head drops down. He still hasn't regained all his air and now he can hardly focus. Blood is dripping down from his severed top right lip.
"Less cocky, aren't you boy?" the brute sneers.
Again no chance for witticism as another blow gashes Dean's left eyebrow.
The blows keep coming in solid, either strengthened by the paco or Dean's resistance weakened by the day's trek, whichever, he is finding it hard to keep conscious.
Carson grabs Dean by the top of the head and raises his face to his own. "Don't be passing out on me now, we've just only started."
Dean can barely utter, "You're real tough with your goons eh."
"Aw, not fair is it? You want to fight fair?" Carson signs the thugs to let Dean go. The latter can barely stay standing.
"Come on! Hit me with your best shot!"
Dean tenaciously attempts to regain his strength and with all that he has left, he swings his fist towards Carson whose turn it is to easily side-step the blow. Dean stumbles forward losing his balance, Carson catches hold of him and knees him in the gut. Dean crumbles to his knees and a final kick to the ribs causes him to collapse to his side in pain.
"Pick him up." Carson orders to the thugs.
He pulls out a knife and pushes the blade to Dean's throat. I should cut you now and no more shit disturber," he pauses, "but you need to die a more natural looking death." He looks away. "Those rapids out there should do the job. They'll find your drowned body in the Xingu."
Unable to fight back, Dean gets dragged to the river bank and the thugs throw him into the rapids.
His whole body suddenly being immersed in the cool water helps him regain his bearings as he fights to stay afloat. Although the river is at a warm 86 degrees Fahrenheit, the water feels refreshing in contrast to a day spent hiking in the ever-present sunshine. He feels himself bump and crash against the rocks as the current pushes him forward uncontrollably. Each time he tries to stroke, his ribs protest. When he thinks he can't stay afloat anymore, he feels his boot snag at something. It's a rock. Then again, he feels another thud against his boot. He's feeling the bottom of the river. Desperately blocking his feet against the underwater surface, he pushes himself towards the shore. Gradually the water becomes shallower and Dean is able to crawl to the shore, towards a pool of water where there is less current. Unable to stand up on the slippery mud, he pulls at the vegetation to hoist himself onto the bank. Half of his body is out of the water when out of strength he lays his head down in the mud. 'Just for a second,' he says to himself. 'Just rest here for a bit.' He passes out in peaceful oblivion.
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The next moments are a series of flashes in Dean's intermittent returns to consciousness. He's now shivering as the water has lowered his body temperature and the night air is at 70 degrees Fahrenheit. He senses a presence but is unable to wake completely. He smells a strong stench and feels himself being dragged out, sliding along the muddy bank. Still that unpleasant smell… His ribs are hurting but he feels light, like he's travelling through air. Leaves are brushing against him and then orchids give off a strong scent as they brush against him as well. "Sammy?" he mumbles, eyes still shut. He's still shaking, "Sammy?" he asks once more, but no answer comes and he passes out once again.
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Peaceful wildlife sounds are heard through the starlit sky. Amongst the 700 species of trees and twice that number of plants, the Amazonian forests' inhabitants come to life while the humans settle for slumber.
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"Sammy?" a shivering and battered Dean mumbles in his sleep.
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Sam's eyes open as he wakes in the hammock generously loaned by the fisherman. The sun peers through the window announcing the morning. He turns his head to see if Bobby is awake. Bobby is still asleep. Figuring he needs his rest, Sam quietly slips out of the hammock and steps out of the cabin. His host is sitting on the edge of the porch, sipping warm tea. "There is more in the kitchen. Help yourself to as much as you wish. The girls will be back from the hen house and will prepare us a nice breakfast. By the way, my name is Xavante."
"Thank you for your kind hospitality Xavante." Sam says smiling graciously.
"It's completely normal." The man replies. "You would have done the same."
"Yes. I guess I would've." acknowledges Sam. "But it's not always the case." he adds.
"With the Juruna it is." Xavante says smiling. "There is no rush here. We have no stress. We have time to greet and meet people where ever they come from. Life is good."
Sam sighs a heavy sigh. "Yeah. This is nice." He leans back against the house. "So you have no problems with predators or anything else?"
"Other than city men building Monster dams that will destroy our land?" He asks with light sarcasm.
"Yeah, other than that." Sam confirms sadly.
"No, there are no predators. The big cats tend to stay lower down South, further from the city. Here it is usually safe."
"So never a problem. No other threats."
"Now no. In the past, during my forefathers' years, when there was much more rain forest, there were more big cats and also… well… something else."
"Something else?" Sam leans over to pay better attention.
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Sounds of birds chirping are interrupted by a human's voice.
"Sam?" Dean opens his eyes but his vision is blurred. His head hurts. He closes his eyes and attempts to get up but a sharp pain in his rib cage sends him back down to a bed of leaves. He feels nauseous and that strong odour he smells again isn't helping things. At least he's not cold anymore. The fur blanket he feels against his side is warm and soft. Again he tries to open his eyes to get his bearings. His vision is still blurry but the sunbeam shining through the entrance on his left lets in enough light for Dean to make out that he is in a cave. The cave is rather small and other than a few fruits not unlike pineapples and a bow and arrow, there isn't much there. He closes his eyes once more, hoping the headache will diffuse. Suddenly he feels movement near him, by his side. His eyes pop open and he tries not to move. He wonders if there is something near the blanket. As he slowly turns his head to the right, all he sees is more fur. It takes all his self-control to not move when he gradually realizes that the blanket is in fact what was moving and that it is not a blanket. He mouths a "Son of a bitch!"
At least 12 feet long of fur is by Dean's side. Dean wonders if bears are present in the Amazon forest. Maybe he should've paid more attention to Sam's ramblings. Whatever it is, its breathing is regular so it's probably still asleep. Dean turns his head slowly to get a better look. To his surprise and horror, it's not a bear. He's not sure if he would've preferred it to be a bear. It actually looks like an overgrown man. Bigfoot and Yeti come to mind. If Dean weren't so used to supernatural beings, he would've lost it right about now. Well, at least he now knows where that awful smell came from. Disregarding the pain, Dean slowly turns to his left side, then to his stomach and elbows. He slowly edges his way towards the entrance, trying to be as discrete as possible. Just when he feels like he's finally far enough to try and rise up to his feet, a long, heavy, hairy arm reaches over and pulls him back to safety.
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"A Curinquean?" asks Sam.
"Yes, the Curinquean is a type of Maricoxi. Since the arrival of the Portuguese and Spanish in South America there were several reports mostly down South near Cuiabá, of seeing enormous hairy savages that looked very primitive and were carrying bows and arrows. Apparently these wild men could not speak, but just grunt. They have a very strong odour and can measure up to 12 feet high."
"Sounds like our Big Foot" Sam stated, "How far from here was the nearest sighting?"
"It's a 20 days walk from Dead Horse Camp to here." Xavante explains.
"Dead Horse Camp?" inquired Sam.
"Dead Horse Camp is one of Colonel P. H. Fawcett's camps. In his diaries, he described an encounter in 1914 with a group of Curinqueans and barely avoiding capture or death by firing guns into the ground scaring away the ape like men. The Colonel and his eldest son disappeared leaving no trace." The man put his tea down and looked pensive. "There are other types of Maricoxi as well, like the Matuyus and Curupiras. They are regarded as a demonic figure, male supernatural being but are not gratuitously cruel as are men. They are only defending the wildlife. They help the wild animals and are defenders of nature and ecology. Tupi mythology believes that they guard the forest."
"Could these Maricoxi type beings be the ones that attacked the worker at the dam?" Sam asks.
"These are just legends." The man reassures.
"Of course." Sam acknowledges taking a sip from his tea.
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Dean hasn't moved in over an hour. The heavy forearm around his chest hasn't moved either. His vision is back to normal and he's regained full consciousness. He is well aware that Bigfoot has chosen him as a teddy bear. Finally, the beast stirs and his heavy breathing changes to a snort and then a grunt. The creature sits up, stretching and scratching. Dean isn't sure if he should fake being asleep or not. He opts for the latter and figures if Big Boy wanted him dead, he would've left him to die on the river bank. And if he's the creature that mauled Jimmy, he wouldn't have bothered carrying him back to the cave when all he would have needed was a tongue. Unless he wants it fresh… Dean decides he'll keep his mouth shut.
Still sitting, the Curinquean stares at Dean for a while. Then he starts poking and touching Dean's head, stopping to feel the hair and then grabbing his face to turn it sideways as if he were inspecting the cuts. He grabs hold of Dean's hands, checking the fingers. The examination continues on to the ribs. The big hand lies gently on Dean's abdomen. He lifts the t-shirt to reveal the large bruises ranging in colours from red to purple, blue and black. Afraid of what the next stop might be, Dean is relieved when the investigator's attention suddenly goes straight to his boots. As the beast grabs Dean's leg, he takes a firm hold of his foot and turns it as if to pivot it. Dean tries to stay still, but as the beast turns harder, the pain becomes unbearable and he can't help but let out a, "Easy there Big Guy!"
The startled Curinquean jumps to his feet in a squat position, bends over to Dean's face and growls. Dean remembers to keep his mouth shut.
Slowly, the creature moves to the other side of the cave, picks up a pineapple, some bromeliad berries and hands them to Dean. Dean gingerly sits up and reaches over to accept the offer. The berries are quickly eaten, but Dean isn't sure how he is going to get to the pineapple flesh. The Curinquean stares at him in disbelief and with an impatient grunt, grabs the pineapple, crushes it with its hands and tosses it on the bed of leaves. Not sure if he should be insulted or appreciative, Dean picks up the gift and starts to consume it. In a show of gratitude, Dean offers half of the pineapple to the beast. The offer is rejected with body language that seems like, "Finish your plate!" Dean remembers to keep his mouth shut.
Breakfast is finished, the Curinquean moves towards his guest. With a firm grip to the upper arm, the beast pulls him up to his feet. Dean can't help but let out a groan from the painful sensation as his cracked and bruised ribs stretch apart. He tries to keep steady on his feet, but his legs feel week and the blurred vision comes back. He's dizzy from being up so quickly after lying horizontal for so long. When the man-ape releases his grip, Dean slumps to the ground. He moans as he tries to get back up. Upon seeing this, the Curinquean picks him up by a forearm and a lower leg and plops him back onto the paillasse. He then walks off towards the opening of the cave and sits there, actually looking contemplative. Dean tentatively sits up and leans back onto the cave wall. Breathing is painful but at least his head clears up. He figures the brute will have to leave some time. Then he can try to get away. Sam and Bobby won't be expecting him until the afternoon. No one knows he's here. He can't just stay and wait for help.
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A wooden table is adorned with dishes filled with a variety of appealing foods. Sam doesn't recognize many of the colourful fruits and vegetables, but he finds everything delicious. Bobby enjoys the fish and finds the company exquisite… which reminds him, "Dean should be here any time soon."
"Yeah, I'm surprised he didn't travel by night to get here sooner." says Sam with a grin looking up at the high noon sun.
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'Don't you have anywhere to go?' Dean mutters under his breath. Five hours have passed and the Curinquean hasn't left the cave opening for more than a few seconds. Still confined to the bed of leaves, Dean is getting restless. It's getting warmer now, he's thirsty and he's going to need much more than fruits to appease his growing hunger.
"Hey!" he dares to call out. "How about some food?" The Curinquean turns to face him.
"How about you go for a grocery run?" he continues, mimicking the action of eating. The beast walks over, grabs him by the arm and starts out the cave.
"Uh… ".
Dean prefers to keep his mouth shut.
Although he is having a hard time keeping up with the 12 foot ape-man, Dean is happy to be back on his feet again. He's not a hundred percent himself but he's feeling much better than he did during the morning. They stop once in a while as the tour guide picks up a variety of plants. After only a few moments of sauntering, they make it to the junction of a small stream, tributary to a lake. The Curinquean lets go of Dean's arm and submerges the plants in the water. He then crushes them in his palms. Dean looks on, wondering if he should take advantage of the occasion to dodge away. Before he can make his move, the beast turns towards him, holds Dean's face in one hand and with the other, smears the green sludge on his cuts. Dean grimaces in disgust but the hold is too firm to pull away. It then tugs at Dean's t-shirt to slop his ribs, but a recalcitrant Dean pulls back, "I'm good! I'm good!
The Curinquean turns back to the water, this time he moves closer to the lake, tugging the algae at the bottom and throwing it onto the rocks. Dean crouches by the stream, with his hands scoops up water and quenches his thirst. Eyeing the lake, he figures he might have an advantage over the ape-man in water. 'Maybe it doesn't swim?' In the worst case, he could plunge underwater to try and slip away. The Curinquean is still quite focussed on its gathering, so Dean goes for it.
The water feels amazing. Without looking back, he glides underwater for as long as he can. When he takes his head out, he can see the Curinquean thirty feet away, grunting loudly and seeming quite concerned. Dean flashes a smug grin as he continues on further. The Curinquean gets even more agitated and he starts into the water in Dean's direction. The fugitive laughs it off and pivots to start a crawl.
Suddenly his smile changes to a look of apprehension when he realizes that 35 feet away something in the water is gliding towards him from the opposite direction. It doesn't take long before he recognizes the form. It's a crocodile.
"You've got to be kidding me!" he mutters. Dean swims urgently back towards the shore. The crawl wasn't a great idea after all with sore ribs. Although it slows him down to look back, he can't help himself and realizes he is in big trouble as the aquatic reptile approaches at a much faster rate. Desperately and almost frantically, he strokes forward, kicking his waterlogged boots against the surface, probably exciting the cold-blooded predator even more. The water is getting shallower and he knows that he will soon be able to touch the bottom. Suddenly his momentum is abruptly brought to a halt. He feels pressure on his boot. "Not now!" he thinks to himself, "Not a snag now!" Thinking he caught his foot in a root, he pivots to try and pull it out. Only then does he realize that his foot is actually in the croc's snout. The latter pulls him under for a moment. Dean repeatedly kicks the monster with his other foot. He gets the opportunity to take a breath when the beast thrusts him in the air but still not releasing its hold. Dean's body is jerked around like a ragdoll, splashing in and out of the water. He keeps fighting but is getting weaker and is finding it difficult to catch his breath. When all seems hopeless, he finally feels the grip on his boot release. Once again, he fills his lungs with much needed air trying to keep afloat, hopping on one foot. He hardly has time to wipe the water and mud from his eyes when once again he is pulled under, this time the 15 foot long, 2,600 pound amphibian has latched on to Dean's two legs and is bringing him under for the finale. Left with only his fists to pound the predator, Dean doesn't surrender, but the water is starting to enter his lungs and he is slowly suffocating. As he inhales the water, he is unable to call for help, silence is taking over. Autonomic reactions and movements follow as Dean's body changes to an instinctive and misleadingly calm behaviour.
The stillness is shattered when brusquely Dean's body gets hauled out of its tomb. Dangling upside down from the croc's jaws, he sways in the air, water spurting out of him like a bath toy. The Curinquean suspends the reptile holding him by the base of the tail. He whips the scaly body towards the shore with its prize still in hold. The landing is a bumpy one as man and beast crash into the bushes and mud. The heroic giant then grabs hold of the reptile's jaws and pries them loose. Coughing and gasping, Dean manages to roll out of its clutch and then lies on the mud, totally drained. The ape-man clenches the crocodile and thrusts it several feet away, into the water. Rather disgusted by the experience, the croc choses to swim away.
Dean is still spitting out water when the Curinquean kneels towards him. It probes his shins where the jeans are torn. Fortunately, most of the pressure was on Dean's lacerated boots. He's got a few cuts on his shins, but nothing needing immediate care. The ape-man picks Dean up and half carries half drags him to the stream in which he drops him. Mud slowly washes off with the current. The Curinquean picks him up once again and heads back in the direction of the cave. Exhausted, Dean can't find it in himself to resist. The foreseen bed of leaves suddenly feels like an appealing break to Dean as the last 48 hours have been quite the ordeal. Alas, to his surprise, the leaves he will be coming into contact with are not the ones in the cave as he suddenly feels his body transported upwards.
The Curinquean grasps the branches with his free hand, swinging them both higher and higher up the Kapok tree. The discomfort from the pressure to his ribs due to the giant's clutch is nothing relative to the dread that Dean is feeling as the ground below them slowly disappears. When Dean thinks they can go no higher, they break through a dense mass of leaves and at a spot where several branch collars meet, the Curinquean sits and leans back. The progression has finally come to a stop. He wedges Dean onto a four foot wide branch collar, and leans him towards the trunk. Dean presses his boots against lower branches and grabs hold of thinner branches adjacent to him. When he is confident that he is well secured, he gradually relaxes and tries to take in the scenery. The tree they are in surpasses the others in height and they are well above the rain forest canopy. The view is breath taking. Dean can see the Xingu and its offshoots making their way through forest and pastures. He realizes how vast this territory is and how easy it would be to get lost without a compass. He can see boundless miles of forest on the South side and homes off onto the right. Sam and Bobby are in one of those houses he thinks to himself. Wonder which one…
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Sam looks at his watch once again. Something's wrong. Dean should've been here hours ago.
"I should head back and meet up with him." Sam says to Bobby.
Bobby agrees. He too is starting to worry. It isn't Dean's habit to lag. "Wish I could join you."
"I'm sure you'll be fine here." Sam replies with a sarcastic grin.
The women equip Sam with provisions for the hike.
"I will join you." A voice from behind announces.
Sam turns to see the fisherman with a light pack on his back. "Are you sure? You've done so much already, we don't want to impose."
"If your friend has encountered some difficulties we won't be too many to help him." Xavante insists.
"Thank you." Sam says with much gratitude, "Your generosity is limitless."
The two men set off into the forest.
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It's evening. Dean is asleep once again on his bed of leaves. Slowly he turns his head over and opens his eyes. He scans the cave and realizes that this is in fact not a dream. He props himself up on his elbows. As his gaze stops at his boots, he notices that his jeans have been torn off from below the knees and green muck is all over his shins. Actually, as he pats his torso, he realizes that there's green muck all over his ribs. He reaches for his face; more green muck. Most of it is partially dried. Annoyed and repulsed, he takes it off and chucks it across the cave.
By his side he finds a variety of foods set on a wide leaf. He can recognize some fruits, seeds, vegetables, leaves, root, bark and nuts. The sight of the crushed insects makes his stomach turn. A small, wooden recipient holds a liquid. He reaches over, picks it up and brings it to his face. It smells alright. Dean takes a small sip. The juice is bitter but sweet. He continues to drink. As he puts the recipient back down, the Curinquean steps in with more provisions, sits on the opposite side of the cave from Dean and starts eating.
Dean sits himself up and picks out chunks of what seems to be bark. Surprisingly it tastes good. He has decided that since he hasn't been eaten by now, it's not in the big guy's plans. He risks an attempt at communication. "So, how long have you booked our resort for?"
The Curinquean just stares back, chewing on a root.
"If you would be courteous enough to accompany me back to camp, I would be forever in your debt." says Dean with a hint of feigned snobbism.
The Curinquean continues to chew.
Dean leans over to the side of the paillasse and starts to draw in the ground. He starts with the Xingu River, then draws houses and adds little stick men nearby. "I'd like to go to one of these." he says pointing to himself and then to the houses.
The Curinquean looks away and continues to chew.
Dean sighs and picks up another piece.
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Sam adjusts his frontal light. It's not yet dark enough to use it, but he wants it to be accessible when the need comes. Xavante leads the way. He doesn't need a compass as he's lived his whole life in the area. Relaxed yet aware, he scans the trees looking for any sign of Dean's passage or tracks that would lead away from the path. As they come to a large boulder Xavante slows down and turns to the left, looking attentively in the trees further out. There is movement in the foliage several feet away. He signs Sam to be still as he crouches down. Sam does the same. Slowly, Xavante advances towards the movement. A puzzled Sam follows, unsure as to whether the man knows what's out there. Xavante pushes a cluster of large leaves aside and Sam can see a small dear lying on the ground, caught in a snare.
"It is the fawn of a pampas deer. The mother is just there." Xavante whispers, pointing thirty feet deeper into the forest. He bends down slowly and cuts the fawn loose. Paralysed with fear, it doesn't budge. But once the men slowly walk away, it swiftly darts towards its mother and both deer disappear in the green cover. Sam smiles. The man smiles at Sam's smile.
Other than a variety of monkeys and a few bats pollenating the Kapok trees, this is the first wild animal that Sam has seen since they've arrived. As they walk back towards the path, Xavante stops again, this time looking at the top of the fourty foot boulder by the path. From this angle, they can see the sloped summit of the boulder and on it; they see the form of a body. Xavante points to the boulder and they cautiously hike around it. From one side, they can latch on to ridges in the rock and while using trees that have grown beside it, they succeed in making it to the top of the boulder. Xavante has grown up in these parts and he has climbed this rock many times as a child. He crouches down to examine the small body.
"It looks like a boy." Sam utters sadly looking at the decomposing body.
"It is not a boy." Xavante rectifies as he points to the feet.
Sam is bemused as he stares at the small body's feet. They are pointing backwards.
"It is a Curupira." Xavante explains. The man is also unsettled by their finding. "It is a mystical creature or nature spirit. He is dedicated to nature and the protection of wildlife. His feet are backwards so an enemy who is tracking him will go the wrong way and an enemy who is fleeing will run right to him."
Sam notices the pointed ears, green teeth and flame-coloured hair.
"He is a type of Maricoxi. His name comes from "tupi": curu, boy, and pira, body." Xavante continues. "According to legend, Curupira is unpredictable and can at times seem wicked. His knowledge of mankind's wickedness and weaknesses can often make him seem ruthless. Sometimes the Curupira appears riding a wild animal, usually a wild pig. It is said that he can have a family and lives with them in the trees and undergrowth."
"Do you think he could have attacked Jimmy?" Sam asks.
"I'm not sure." Xavante pauses, "I don't think so. If I remember well, the Curupira is cunning. He uses trickery to mislead the wrongdoers like hunters and loggers, making them get lost in the woods. He casts illusions and enchantments, has super speed, transmutation and great strength. He also uses whistles and imitates sounds of both nature and human voice to confuse his targets. But his most severe punishment would be to transform the predator into prey, for example, make an evil hunter become a helpless woodland critter."
"Not the mauling type." Sam added.
"No." Xavante concurred, "The Curupira is a fair and brave entity. He does not tolerate those who threaten to harm the environment, but he helps those who are lost or in need. He is a supernatural force that defends plants and animals from harmful hunting, fishing and resource extraction made by men, but this is supposed to be all myths to enhance environmental awareness on children. I didn't think it was actually true."
"I wonder what he died of." Sam said, getting ready to go back down.
"I assumed they never died." Xavante added.
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Having fallen victim to the Graviola tree's sedative products, Dean is deeply asleep and his body takes advantage of the situation to heal. The Curinquean sits by the entrance looking up at the moon. His thoughts, if he has any, seem to be elsewhere. He looks morose, sad.
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It's late. The sun has been down since at least 3 hours. Sam and Xavante make it back to base camp. The foreman greets both men and offers them to join him to the main tent so that they can rest, drink and eat.
"Is Dean still here?" Sam asks.
"Dean?" the foreman repeats surprised, "We haven't seen your brother since you both left."
Sam throws a worried look at Xavante.
"This means Dean never made it to base camp." Sam deducts "What about the other sites? Can we ask the men if they saw him?"
"Of course" the foreman answers. He leaves to speak to his men.
The foreman comes back after a while with disappointing news. No one seems to have seen Dean. He offers to organise a search party in the morning. Sam thanks him and goes off with Xavante. Torn between finding his brother and not abusing of the man's generous help, Sam finally tells Xavante that he will go back to the forest but that Xavante should stay at base camp and use Sam's tent for the night.
"It's night Sam. You will find nothing out there that you didn't find during our trek."
"I can't just stay here and do nothing." Sam replies.
"You can't see while in the forest at night, there is hardly any moonlight that makes it through the canopy." Xavante insists. "Believe me. We have more chances of finding your brother in daylight. Even with the frontal lights, we could miss important clues and lose the chance of finding him if we leave now."
Sam realizes that the man's words are wise. Although he is ridden with guilt, he acquiesces and they head for the tent.
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It was a long sleepless night for Sam. Morning has finally come. Xavante and Sam take in a hefty breakfast in preparation for the search. At a table across from them, Sam recognizes the man Dean spoke of when recounting the situation about the pig. Carson is discussing with workmates. Sam notices a bruise on his jaw. He doesn't remember Dean mentioning a fight though. Dean had clearly said that he walked away. Feeling eyes on him, Carson turns his look and his eyes meet Sam's eyes. Sam can only see animosity in those eyes, a look of hatred. Suspicion grows in Sam's mind.
When the search parties are formed Sam choses to join Carson's group. He wants to be close to this man. Maybe he will learn more than the foreman did the night before. All men of all parties fan out and walk in a line in the direction of the work sites. When they make it to the third site, a worker calls out. Dean's cell, compass, gun and knife have been found in the grass by the edge of a clearing near the river.
"So he made it this far." the foreman deducts. "Carson, Miller, weren't a few of you boys out here by a campfire two nights ago?"
"Yeah boss".
"Any sign of him?"
"No boss."
Somehow Sam feels Carson is lying and the men standing by him don't look all that innocent either.
"We'll continue the search downriver, on both banks of the rapids. Two parties go upstream 'till you get to the rope bridge. When you cross over, start your search downstream." the foreman says, pointing upwards. "The other two parties with me, we'll start downstream on this bank right away."
Sam's group walks uphill towards the bridge. As they cross, Sam looks at the body of water upstream from the bridge. Unlike the rapids that follow, the surface of the water is flat. It resembles a miniature lake. A small basin has formed on to the right where the water seems still. Humungous Water Lilies hide most of the surface in the small basin. Sam figures the flowers are a good six feet in diameter. If Dean were here, Sam would purposely give him a botany lecture and tell him that Water Lilies are the biggest flowers in the world. Knowing Dean, he would probably jump right onto one just to goof around. 'Dean, where are you?' he thinks to himself.
Sam's daydreaming is cut short when he feels the rope bridge swing. He grabs onto the supports and proceeds to follow the group as they fan out and start their search downstream. It's not long before the group of men stop. A thousand meters down current of the third work site, the grass is flattened and caked with dry mud. Small trees nearby are broken and their leaves show traces of mud as well. The tracks are easy to follow at first, but abruptly, they disappear.
"The tracks lead south." Sam points out, maybe we should fan out in that direction?"
The parties on the other bank are called so that they can join to follow the new lead and at their arrival the men march southward.
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Dean wakes. This time there is no green poultice on his face or elsewhere but a feeling of heaviness envelopes his body. "What was in those plants?" he mumbles half to himself, half to the Curinquean who is lying where it sat the night before. Dean rubs his hand in his hair, slowly gets up and stretches lightly. He gazes at his flatmate. "Guess you're not all that bad in the end. I still have my tongue and you've pulled me out of a few bad situations. And for that, I am forever in your debt. But… could we just be pen pals? I promise I'll write."
The Curinquean just stares. He seems to be staring right through Dean, his mind is elsewhere. Maybe even his heart…
Dean starts to draw in the earth again. He draws a house and people. He looks up at the Curinquean and points to the drawing with his root. The beast gazes back then gets up, grunts and walks towards the cave's exit. Not sure what to make of it, but hopeful, Dean bends over to grab a handful of provisions and follows the ape-man out the cave.
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"Any sign of him, you shoot." whispers Carson, "We'll just say we thought it was a jaguar or a puma." The three men nod.
Xavante tucks his canteen back in place. "Those men..." he starts. "Yeah…" Sam concurs. The foreman signals and the men resume the combing.
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Dean is munching on berries as he and the Curinquean tread through foliage. Dean gazes at a small stream that they've been following for a while. Although offering an impressive decor, the regular path would have been much easier. He's not tired though. He's feeling better than he's felt in quite a while. His body feels healed and he's realized that the Curinquean means him no harm. He's also had time for breathers as the beast stops often to destroy traps left by hunters. Dean couldn't help but feel endearment when the rugged giant gently freed a hoary fox. Taking into account the sun's position in the sky, Dean is almost certain that they are travelling north, towards base camp. He's not sure what caused the beast to finally acquiesce, but he's just happy to be on his way home. Sam must be worried sick. And just wait 'till he gets his hands on Carson. His reverie is interrupted as he feels himself hoisted up into the trees. "Ooooh… not again!"
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Xavante and Sam are in a clearing, at the top of a hill, when Xavante comes to a sudden stop. He points to the tree tops in the forest down below.
"What is it?" a heartened Sam asks.
"More movement than monkeys can generate." Xavante explains.
Carson and his men notice Sam and Xavante looking intensely. He and his men accelerate their pace and head across the clearing.
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Dean and the Curinquean are both standing on a branch, high up in a Kapok tree. The Curinquean points to the clearing and the small figures of men, ten kilometers away. Dean's heart is racing. He turns to face the Curinquean. Its facial expression reads detachment or feigned detachment. Dean looks back towards the men. He can see the stream which they've been following continue on and veer off to the right just before the clearing. The beast grabs Dean again and swings them down. At the bottom of the tree, the Curinquean just sits and stares.
"Guess this is good bye." he realizes that the Curinquean won't get any closer to the workers. He knows he just needs to follow the stream. Dean turns to walk away and then hesitates. He turns around, walks back to the ape-man and holds his hand out towards him. "Thank you." The beast takes Dean's hand and turns it over, wondering what it is Dean wants. "Where I come from, friends shake." Dean says grabbing hold of the big hand with his two hands and lightly shaking it. "You smell bad, you're a big grump and you eat way too healthy. But hey, I know someone just like you." Dean walks away, smiling.
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Sam reaches the edge of the forest. Men composing the combing line are still on his left, but he can't see the men who were on the right. He looks worryingly at Xavante. "Carson and his pals aren't anywhere in sight."
Sam and Xavante enter the dense forest and start to advance at a light jog. Their progress is difficult as their legs get caught in the thick underbrush.
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Dean is walking at a more leisurely pace than his brother, but still he is pushing a little, looking forward to being back to civilization. The big guy kind of grew on him, but one can take so much fruit and vegetation especially when it's plastered on you while you sleep. Those motels he often grew tired of will feel like presidential suites. And a hamburger… what he would give for a hamburger right now.
"…ean!"
He can hear a voice.
"…ean!"
Dean can't believe it, "Sam? Sammy is that you?" He starts a light jog, staying close to the stream.
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Sam and Xavante hear Dean's calls and are now sprinting in the undergrowth. Sam can't feel the branches slashing at his limbs. He knows that if he heard Dean, Carson and his men did as well and Dean is most likely not expecting them.
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Pushing away a branch, Dean suddenly notices movement across the stream. He peers through the flora but sees nothing. "Over here!" he calls out eagerly. "Over here!" He jumps onto rocks in the stream and then out of urgency choses to just run right through the knee high water. As he climbs up the opposite bank, he looks up and sees a pair of boots. His regard continues on upward, but as he lifts his eyes, his facial expression changes to dismay. Miller stands there with a self-satisfied grin.
"Aw shit!" Dean jumps right back into the stream and runs towards the other side. He slips and falls forward in the mud as he arrives on land, conveniently so, as a knife whips by his ear and plants itself in a tree one foot away. He darts through the vegetation, running as fast as he can. He has no weapons and he assumes that Carson and the other thugs mustn't be far behind.
"He's over here," whispers Miller to his mates, "across the stream."
The men pull out their blades and start across the stream. Suddenly more motion is heard from behind them. Sam comes breaking though the greenery.
"That's enough Carson!"
Dean recognizes Sam's voice. He stops dead in his tracks.
"Sammy?" he calls out as he turns to run back.
Carson pulls out a gun and shoots point blank. Sam doesn't have time to dodge the bullet and it bounces off his skull rendering him unconscious.
Dean hears the shot while running back towards the stream.
"Sam?" Dean calls out with dread in his voice. As he breaks through the vegetation he sees Sam lying motionless on the ground as well as Carson and the three heavies in the stream.
"Sammy!" he cries out, "You son of a bitch!" he shouts to Carson as he lunges for him. Carson falls back, his gun tumbles into the water. The two men grab hold of each other. Punches are flying, water is splashing.
Xavante takes advantage of the commotion to discretely pull Sam away to safety. He hides him under large leaves and tends to him.
Dean's rage empowers him as he gains advantage over Carson and is giving him the beating of his life when the thugs come out of their stupor and come to Carson's aid. They pull Dean off of Carson but even with the three of them, they are having difficulty holding Dean down. Carson difficultly rises out of the water. He grabs his knife from its sheath and staggers towards Dean.
"I'll bleed you boy. Here and now."
Still enraged, Dean twists his body about in a violent effort to release himself and get to Carson.
As Carson raises his knife, ready to strike, his motion is brusquely interrupted and his body goes flying back several feet away. Before anyone can realize what is happening, the Curinquean grabs hold of one of the thugs and breaks his neck instantly. The body drops into the stream and floats off. A second thug gets the same treatment and in no time, the third body follows in procession. Dean stands alone, baffled. Carson, slowly getting up out of the water is even more bewildered as he stares at the twelve foot beast marching towards him.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"
The scream is interrupted by a gargling sound as Carson chokes on his own blood. The Curinquean holding Carson's tongue in one hand releases the body to the current of the stream.
The beast turns to Dean and for a brief moment, stares without moving. For the first time, their eyes really meet. Despite the brutal deed, Dean doesn't see a monster anymore. He sees deep thinking and melancholy in those eyes. He wishes he could thank the Curinquean and help him as he helped Dean but the communication barrier and mankind's sightlessness make it impossible.
A brushing noise turns Dean's gaze towards the forest. The foreman pushes the shrubs aside and appears by the edge. Dean turns his look back to the stream, but the Curinquean is gone.
"Dean Winchester!" the foreman exclaims, "Your brother will be thrilled to know you are all right."
"Sam…" Dean stares at the ground where Sam is no longer lying. "He got…"
"He's fine." Xavante interjects, supporting a stunned but healthy Sam. "The bullet only nicked him."
"Hey Dean!" Sam utters trudging through the water.
Dean rushes towards him and wraps his arms around him in a big hug. "Good to see you bro!"
Sam steps back smiling. He plants his hands on his brother's shoulders. "Whoa Dean, you reek! What did you roll around in?"
Dean bursts out into laughter. "It's a long story. I'll tell you all about it on the way."
Sam smiles as they make their way out of the stream.
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Bobby and the boys are back in a motel room, in the city of Altamira. Dean, just out of the shower, walks out of the bathroom drying his hair with a towel. Bobby finishes up putting a new bandage on Sam's forehead.
"I could make you a great poultice for that sore." Dean boasts.
After sharing stories, the brothers have deducted that the Curinquean had probably befriended the Curupira and adopted its appreciation and protectiveness of wildlife.
"It's highly possible," Sam mentioned. "They're both Maricoxi."
"Mari-wha?" Dean uttered.
"Maricoxi." Sam reiterated as he showed the image on his laptop. "Actually, ", he continued with a mocking grin, "I can see why the Curinquean filled the void with you. There is a bit of a resemblance there."
Dean tosses his towel at Sam's face.
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The End
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