Chapter 35: The Amazon
This chapter is rated M for violence, horror and sexuality.
Sincere thanks to everyone who responded to my A/N in the last chapter. The response has been overwhelming and I'm very touched by all your kindness. Please keep the reviews and messages coming. Man, I am excited. Are you excited? Let me know.
The lovely mimozka is making banners for me, that I am waiting on pins and needles to see. Thank you, Mimi:)
The wonderful EternallyCullen has set up a thread for me on Twilighted. Thank you, Gemma. Please join us there. Anything goes as long as it is not unkind. Go from the Forums page to 'Fanfiction', find 'Breaking Dawn', and then scroll down almost to the end to find 'I Hunger For Your Touch'. This was a much appreciated effort, especially since Gemma was in a car accident this week. The car was totalled, the people were fairly unscathed. But she injured her neck and shoulder so please say a little prayer for her.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is merely coincidental.
Kaure, Gustavo, Pire, Huilen, Joqam and Nahuel belong to Stephenie Meyer. All the other Brazilians are mine. And Edward's. Hands off! Grr.
Please notice that I had to revamp a couple of lines from the last chapter regarding the Ticuna population of Brazil. In short, the village is threatened, not the entire race. Reason? I took population facts from a bad source, and I have found a far better one. I can only justify taking artistic license so far. I mean, literary genocide is no laughing matter. Translation: there are more Ticuna in Brazil than my other source claimed. At last count, 18, 500 of them.
This tribe of 'traditional' Ticuna is my invention. It is highly doubtful that any Ticuna living in this century match my group. In short, this book is fiction. I've chosen to talk about Ticuna as they lived before other cultures influenced them. Oh, and their village design is mine, too. Not authentic, although most other settings in this chapter are, as is the history of the people.
So, please suspend your disbelief. Imagine, with me, that there are places in the Amazon that the Western World has overlooked, where a little band of people goes about life in ways that we might call primitive, and they might call wonderful.
Go to my new channel, youtubedotcom/jmollytwilight2, and pick the playlist called 'I Hunger 3' to hear great music that I guarantee will enhance your reading. I spend hours picking it. Please use the new channel to subscribe or contact me. And please do subscribe and contact me. I love hearing from you. This chappie's vids start at #88:
'Not Human', by Shaun V
'Amazon Rainforest' (no music), by Tommy Lynskey
Check out 'Assembléia Ticuna parte 2' on my youtube/jmollytwilight2 under 'Favourites.' It shows the coming of age ceremony for girls, and life in a modern Ticuna village.
Other sources for this chapter include:
sildotorg/americas/peru/pubs/acd-convrsticunadotpdf
encyclopediadotcom/doc/1G2-3458001268dothtml
indian-culturesdotcom/Cultures/ticunadothtml
Manacapuru, Brazil travel blogs - travel stories and photos about Manacapuru, Brazil - TravelPod
It took me two hours just to put the diacritical marked letters into the Ticuna for this chapter. Darling Julia asked why I do it, when I could just put in an a/n that 'this is in Ticuna'. Well, where would the fun be in that? I love languages, and I like to share my interest. Since Ticuna is a dying language, with less than 45,000 Ticuna in the world, I find it fascinating. And I thought maybe you all would like to have a taste of something rare, even if I am certainly not fluent in the language. Besides, I like to be different. I grew up chanting IDIC, thanks to Mr Spock (and I still love him).
'Not Human', by Shaun V
'Amazon Rainforest' (no music), by Tommy Lynskey
The story of the dead fish is real, except there were no people, living or dead, involved.
In 2005, there really was a drought, thought to be related to Hurricane Katrina.
You breathed a sigh
You cried a tear
You smiled that smile
I hold you near
I feel your lips upon my skin
The warmth of hope that lies within
[Chorus]
I tell myself that
I'm not human
I'm not human, I've fallen down.
I've come to know that
I'm not human
I'm not human
Without you
Without you
You've shown me that time
Time can be stopped
This moment with you
is all I've got
You've shown me that pain
Pain can be lost
When I'm with you
[Chorus]
I want us to run far away
Find our own place and hide away
I wanna be lost inside these feelings
You've given me.
[Chorus]
That I'm not human
I'm not human
Without you
Saturday, August 26th, 2005, 8pm
Somewhere south-east of Manacapuru
Edward's pov:
It was not as I had envisioned it. The forest in Forks was ... like a cathedral. Beautiful, old, with trees that reached up to Heaven reverently. Almost silent. The wind in the leaves. Thunder. Sweetness of birdsong. Hooves.
The Amazon was totally different. The trees did not pray. They ... danced. The snarling of predators. Marching of ants. Clacking of insects. Chattering of primates. Slithering of snakes. It was downright noisy. But ... it had a rhythm. Like the whole place was a body, and we were inside it.
I liked it. I found myself breathing in sync with it. Bella and John were doing it too, but I didn't know whether it was conscious on their part.
I found myself thinking of our guide as 'John', not Cuāā. Perhaps because he would be somewhat of a prophet to his people, bringing -hopefully- good news.
I was apprehensive about going to the village. I had learned quite a bit from John, just by listening to his thoughts.
In the world, there were about 40, 000 Ticuna. Half lived in Brazil. They didn't call themselves Ticuna, their neighbours had named them. The Blackskins. Because sometimes they dyed their skins with juice. They called themselves the Due'e: the People. Well, the people we were going to meet were almost an unknown quantity.
Most of the world's Ticuna are Catholic. It was the warring Portuguese and Spanish Missionaries that first had contact with them, in the years when Brazil was settled, and the Evangelists had been making inroads since the 1960's. But before that, there were traditional Ticunas. And that's who Alice said we were going to meet: an almost extinct culture.
Alessandro said to keep away from the Catholics who ran the schools and hospitals for all the native peoples. I wondered how they were received by John's people. Did they like them? Were they appreciated? Or were they resented? What would they think of me, wearing a St Christopher medal and a cross?
I just prayed they wouldn't be hostile. They did not, after all, know we were coming. And, although I did not detect any malice in our rather large reception committee, far too many humans knew about us for my comfort. All it would take would be some rogue player to open their mouth to a sympathetic ear, and we would all be toast. Literally.
I wasn't even going to let my guard down with Cuāā. I thought he was gentle and childlike, and I was a pretty good judge of character, but I feared any accidental misstep on my part could turn him from John to Judas. And I prayed he wouldn't, because I really liked him.
But until I was certain I had earned his loyalty, until I knew what kind of temper he possessed, I was going to play my cards close to my chest. I had already talked to Bella at vampire pitch while we ran, about not revealing my mind reading ability or our physical vulnerabilities. Or how to kill us or injure us.
And while we ran, I told her what I knew of the original culture.
I really missed not having internet access. I had not bought Net access for the cell phones, because I didn't want us to spend the honeymoon plugged in. That would teach me, wouldn't it! So, I had my antiquated books, picked up at the flea market in Rio, the most recent of which was published in 1969. At that time, the Catholic Church was doing its best to educate and alleviate the suffering of impoverished Ticuna, at the mercy of rubber plant bosses.
Yeah, in the late 1800's, some people got the bright idea to start tapping the rubber trees, using the Ticuna as cheap labourers. They forced them to relocate in order to do the job. The modern day owners of the land were descended from those original barons. The Ticuna understood that somebody owned the land, and it wasn't them. And even though rubber is no longer a lucrative industry, the rich folks are still the Ticuna's 'bosses'.
The people were displaced again in 1932, during a war between Colombia and Peru. They fled from the left to the right bank of the Amazon. Then, in the 1940's, outsiders began to colonize the Amazon Trapeze. They wanted the land. They started ranches, farms, and city housing. And in the 50's, the world wanted exotic animal pets, and hides. So most of the Ticuna were assimilated, at least to some degree.
And somehow, as I had discussed with Alessandro and Estevam while Bella was sleeping, this village was a hold-out. Traditional beliefs, family groups, and industry. They still had contact with modern civilization, because they needed to have people with whom to trade. But they adhered to the old ways, with clans and moires.
The Catholic Missions had recently found them. In some ways they were helping, in other ways, they were not. And it was creating division. Dissention. So I had no idea what kind of a political climate we were walking into.
I was convinced the best thing to do would be to heed Alessandro's warning: stay away from the missionaries. Even better, stay away from as many people as possible. But how in the name of all that was holy, was I to do that, and gain the necessary information in this ridiculously short amount of time?
No, we would have to expose ourselves, in as limited a fashion as possible. And that idea was ... unnerving. Enough to put my hackles up, without any provocation.
Naturally, Bella had noticed. And she had told me to say my prayers. So I had. It had helped.
We had run non-stop for three hours. I was so proud of Bella. Astounded by her strength. I had kept asking her if she needed a break, worried about her health and Ren's, until she told me she was going to put me in the chipper shredder for fussing her if I didn't shut up. And she said she'd tell me, thank you very much, if she were in need of a rest.
I had opted to obey my wife.
The trees were so dense at one point, that we had taken to the trees, to John's delight. The old boy was like a little kid: joyful and enthusiastic about experiencing new things. Somehow, he had me thinking about Bilbo Baggins. Bilbo had never wanted to leave home, and then he found that travel excited him. And John loved being in the treetops, positively squealing with glee as we leaped from branch to branch.
Eventually, we had come across some open, but swampy ground, adjacent to the river.
Bella was keeping pace with me, without tiring. But John was growing weary. His limbs were growing slack in my arms.
We were jumping over pools of muddy brown water. My nose detected the scent, and then I caught the lightning-fast movement out of the corner of my eye.
"Bella! Left!" I bellowed, throwing myself and my passenger after her. I caught her in my arms and threw her to the left, and prayed our momentum would carry us clear.
We landed ten feet away from where we started, crouched and panting. Bella's eyes were huge and black, as were John's. His fingers scrabbled ineffectually at my skin as he tried to maintain his hold.
The caiman was furious to have missed his meal. He barreled down on top of us like a six-foot long freight train. Crap! He could run.
I thrust John bodily into Bella's arms and told her to run. I dropped the pack and stood my ground, feet spread apart and knees bent. Then the bugger was on me. I grabbed him under his kid-leather soft throat, snarling in fury as his wicked, razor sharp yellow teeth snapped mere inches from my ear. He growled as I lifted him over my head, and hurled him ten yards away into the river. Then, I stood looking after him, panting.
I thought I was pretty well-mannered not to kill him, threatening my wife and child, and my little human like that. But, he was only doing what he was designed to do, after all. I couldn't fault him for being hungry.
There was a hissing and thrashing. More caiman were coming to the edge of the water hole. The grandfather of them all was almost ten feet long. My eyes darted about, marking their places. Seeing a clear way to escape, I snatched up the pack and hurtled after Bella.
She barrelled into the trees at the far side of the swamp and I followed, listening to jaws snap and tails whip the air as I passed. There were only a couple of other times in my life when I had run so fast. Those had not been out of concern for myself, but desperation to reach my mate. Well, it was okay for me to worry about self-preservation now, I reasoned. My mate and our daughter needed me.
I chased Bella's scent a couple of miles into the forest, thanking God that I could follow her scent trail. Suddenly, it grew faint and I doubled back, sniffing for traces.
She called to me. Thank God.
"Up here!"
I looked into a tree and saw two pairs of panicky black eyes. I blew out my breath, clenching two fistfuls of hair. Dropping my hands to slap against my thighs, I paced a couple of times beneath the tree to calm myself.
"Holy shit!" my wife spat, pretty much summing up my opinion perfectly.
"You okay?" I called up, brow furrowed.
"Yeah." Bella checked her grip on John and stepped gracefully into air. She landed in a perfect crouch, right beside me. I pressed my forehead to hers, as we panted together. Inhaling Bella's comforting scent, I patted John on the head affectionately.
"Okay, Minx?" I whispered again, pressing myself against her trembling form. I hugged her to me, inadvertently trapping John in the middle. I patted his shoulder reassuringly. "Did I hurt you when I picked you up? Any damage? Ren okay? Your belly?"
"No, I'm okay. We're okay. Really. That was just really ... shit. A second more and it would have had me." Bella shuddered and clung to both of us for dear life. I'm not sure which of the three of us was shaking worst.
"¿Choxũ Ecüx Cuāā (Are you alright, John)?"
Our little guide nodded once, then several more times, rapidly. The predator saved me. He stared at me, his eyes round as saucers, and held his hands apart as though to emphasize the monster's size.
"Yes, really big," I affirmed. "Hell, that was scary." I wheezed and doubled over, consumed with a fit of coughing.
"¿Quidaxawex (Are you sick)?" John asked worriedly.
"Ngũ chedaxawe. Na tama. (Yes I'm sick. I have a cold)," I answered, spluttering. After a few minutes, my lungs eased, and I breathed in slow, even breaths through my nose.
"¿Ŏěxna (Oh. Is that so)?" our guide remarked curiously.
"Mocha-chino? Animals can't kill you. Why were you so scared?" Bella wondered.
I took slow, calming breaths. "Bella, it could have killed you and Ren, and that's the same difference. Or it could have killed Cuāā. And no, it might not be able to kill me, but it could have damaged me and ruined this mission. A large dog can bite down with 500 pounds of pressure. A Rottweiler could leave a pretty decent hole in me. In fact, it's happened before. Imagine what a bloody big crocodilian like that could do.
"Say a couple of them got hold of me and tore me apart. Eventually, gross as it is, the bits of me would work their way out to get back together and I would have the ultimate revenge on my predator. But that could take months. Time we don't have. And I really wouldn't relish the experience, seeing as it would be painful and all, and it would leave you unprotected, and traumatized. It wouldn't be a walk in the park for me, either. So let's ... stay away from the water, okay?"
"Bad caiman," John gulped.
"Bad, bad caiman," I agreed, nodding. "Scary."
"Scary. Ngīxa tarüngügü (Let's rest), John suggested.
I winced, and shook my head regretfully. "Tama (No)." I wanted to keep moving. Time was too short to waste in sleep, if Bella were not tired. "Are you tired, Bella?"
"After that?" Bella shook her head furiously. " I'm gonna be awake for hours. Might as well keep moving."
"Good. Cuāā? Up." I held out my arms, and John jumped into them. "¿Ngexta ne pexĩ (Where do you come from)?" I demanded. He turned and pointed east. "Okay," I sighed.
Bella and I began to run, more and more fleetly. I wasn't going to admit it to her, but it was not easy for me to match her pace, while carrying our human and the backpack. Bella did not seem to be fazed by carrying John's backpack at all. Well that was a blessing.
For another hour and a half we ran, and the terrain got flatter and drier. I saw in John's mind that the whole place ought to be flooded. It was not. There was a drought, and it was severe. In his mind, I saw that the Ticuna and Amazonas and scientists and missionaries were all worried. The Amazon was called 'the lungs of the world'. It was meant to oxygenate the planet, as it had from time immemorial.
The vegetation was dying.
Disturbed, I ran on, saying nothing to Bella or John about the environment. But I couldn't get the picture out of my mind, of lush green life and plentiful hunting, during John's childhood, before deforestation and global warming threatened the status of this place.
We ran on, until another scent stopped me.
I had never smelled anything like it. Yeah, I worked on the docks, but the scent paled compared to this. Beside me, Bella froze, nostrils quivering. Her eyes morphed to black as we stared at each other, filled with dread.
"The dead waters," Cuāā said, biting his lips. I saw them in his mind, although the words were difficult to decipher. My mind absorbed images of thousands upon thousands of dead fish, floating on the surface of the water. But the hackles went up on the back of my neck, because what I smelled was not just rotting fish.
What I smelled was decomposing human flesh.
"Someone here is dead," I said flatly, avoiding breathing as much as possible. "Maybe more than one. Bella? Be prepared."
She nodded curtly, and I took her hand. I looked solemnly at John, and he nodded bravely. We walked out of the trees, and were met with a sight such as I had never seen. The water was literally covered, from one end to the other, with dead fish.
"That way, Manaquiri," John said, pointing across the gruesome stretch of water. My jaw dropped, thunderstruck.
The town of Manaquiri was ahead? The Amazon Basin? We were at the fucking Amazon Basin, and it was a rotting graveyard. These were the actual lungs of the world, producing a fifth of the world's oxygen, and they were, for all intents and purposes, dead.
As far as I could tell, there was no life in the water. It was a cesspool.
God help us all.
We stepped closer to the edge, just looking. I put John down gingerly. He scanned the water.
"Yuxǖ (The dead one)," he said, pointing at two objects floating in the disgusting mess. The thoughts coming from him were affectionate, reverent, and sad.
There were two canoes sitting in the middle of the Basin, and it was from them that the scent of human decay was emanating.
They were trapped in the sludge.
I saw John's sorrowful thoughts. From the dawn of time, the Ticuna had prepared and swaddled their dearly departed, adorned with funeral masks based on lineage and personality, tucked them into dugout canoes, and floated them down the Amazon, never to be seen again. Now, the polluted state of the river was denying them even that. These bodies would be trapped so long as the water did not move.
"How did they die?" I wondered, not really expecting an answer. But John had one, a mental one, for at least one of the people.
It was the first of the missing girls. Her deteriorated remains had been discovered just before he left his village, in hopes of obtaining help from Alessandro's community group. Happily, as he arrived to beg for it, word reached him that I was coming.
John sobbed. I did not understand the words, but I understood the meaning. Perhaps the beloved individuals would not go to Heaven, he thought, because they could not get out to sea.
The people are mostly Catholic or Evangelical. But tradition says mortals have two souls. At the moment of death, one goes to The World Above. The other hangs around wherever the person lived. So where he got the idea that the body might be tied to its burial was beyond me. Maybe the Catholics.
I had no clue what to do.
I needed to comfort him.
I needed his support.
I was scared shitless of germs.
John bent over, rubbing his eyes and sobbing. I hesitated, conflicted. His grief was insupportable. But it was stupid to waste time on the dead. I should concentrate on helping the living. But I was a sappy date. I was also making excuses not to do anything, because I was afraid.
John was no coward. He was risking his life and sacrificing his comforts for the sake of his people. To be truthful, I was getting quite fond of him. And watching the tears course down his brown cheeks was completely unbearable.
It was the only thing to be done. "Bella?" I asked tonelessly.
"Yes, Edward?"
"Get me out the washing bowl and soap, and put everything in the tote into the pack. Then put the bowl and soap in the tote," I ordered, stripping off my clothes.
"What do you think you're doing?" my mate gawped.
"I must free the dead."
"You are fucking kidding me, right?" Bella said, stunned. I regarded her solemnly. I was dead serious. I passed her my clothes and secured my watch to her wrist. John watched me, not comprehending.
"What are you going to do?" Bella asked me contritely, not arguing for once. I looked at her gratefully.
"He believes they won't go to Heaven because their bodies can't disappear in the river. I'm going to drag the canoes out, and carry them back to the main part of the river, and release them.
"It's important for our relationship with him that I do this. Keep him here until I pull the first one out, so he can see what I'm planning. Plus, I want him to identify one of the bodies. One is quite decayed. It belongs to the first girl who went missing. I want to know who the other one is. I pray it's not his daughter, but he has the right to know.
"When I'm gone, you take John back into the forest where it doesn't smell so bad, and pick a nice big tree to nap in. I'm sorry, but you'll have to carry the pack. You might have to go at human speed, unless you can carry both John and the bags.
"When I've released both canoes, I'll wash. Probably have to throw out the tote. The scent will be atrocious. But anyhow, I'll come and find you as soon as I'm done."
"You're so brave, love. I know you don't like dirt and germs."
"It's time to grow up, my sweet. Sometimes, life is dirty. There's no escaping it." I looked grimly at the festering pool. My worst OCD nightmare. No sense delaying. Except for one thing.
"Can I have a kiss first?" I whined, mustering up half a smile from somewhere in my deranged mind.
Bella took my face in her hands, and kissed me thoroughly. John was more than a little perplexed. He thought perhaps the strange vampires were going to give him a show, and that it was an odd place for it, not that watching other people being intimate was anything new. Cultural moires were a tad different here.
"Wish me luck," I said, attempting to sound cheerful. Bella did not bother to laugh. She looked at me solemnly. I strode grimly into the water, turning to look at my companions before stopping my breath and slipping under the horrifying surface.
I kept my eyes closed, stroking out under the depths for what I hoped was the centre of the Basin. Three seconds later, I arched up and broke the surface. Thank God I did not need to breathe. I did not plan to be breathing for at least the next hour.
A few yards away, I saw the first canoe. I stroked toward it, pushing away the small, dead fish with my arms. More seeped up from underwater to replace them. Yuck. Tolkein's Dead Marshes had nothing on this place. I swam up to the canoe. It was the girl that John already had identified, mentally, for me. She was clad in wrappings, and had a beautiful jaguar mask over her face. I left her, and swam the fifteen feet to the other canoe.
It was a far fresher corpse, also that of a young girl. There was dried blood on the abdominal area of her wrappings. She had not been long dead when they wrapped her, then. People had likely been nearby when she died. But she was definitely another victim of the incubus.
I swam to the far side of her canoe, and latched onto it's end with slimy fingers. Kicking, I pushed the boat to shore. Bella bent to help me pull it out. I yelped at her not to touch it.
"I can manage, love. I don't want you or John to touch her." Great. Now I had to suck in another breath. Putrid. Wonderful.
"Okay, Mocha-chino." Bella backed up, covering her mouth and nose with her hand. John ran back and forth nervously as I carried the girl and her wet coffin to shore.
Looking at John carefully, I reached down to remove the mask. It, too, was beautiful: a grey, yellow and white owl.
"Tama (No!)" John yelped, "Tama! Tama! Tama!" Do not defile the dead.
"Tama," I said gently, releasing more of my precious air. "Choxũ charũngüxëxë (You help me)." I pointed at him: "Choxũ (You)," I pointed at my eyes "Nayaxu (Receive it)," I pointed at the corpse "Paxũ yuxũ (Young girl dead one)."
"Okay."
" Choxũ mecü Cuāā (You good person John)," I said gently.
I reached for the mask, and lifted it gently. Bella backed up ten feet, retching into the underbrush.
The girl's face was the picture of terror. If she were beautiful in life, no-one would know it now. Too many insects. I felt a thrill of horror, trying not to picture my Bella in her place.
John released the breath he had been holding. Not my daughter. "Carmucha (Carmen)." he wiped his brow with a shaking hand. He pointed toward the other canoe. "That Kaure."
"Thank you," I murmured, replacing the mask gently. "I'm sorry."
"Εcüx (Alright)," John said. "Thank you."
"You're welcome. Bella? Back soon. Don't go too far. Leave me some scent markers to follow, okay? I might not be able to smell you very well after this." Air gone again. I sucked in more. Nauseating.
"I love you," Bella reminded me.
I nodded, picked up the slender canoe and tucked it against my hip. I jogged into the jungle, back the way we had come.
It took me an hour to reach the main branch of the river, heading south. "God bless this poor soul. May she rest in peace. Let me find her killer," I said, and cast the young girl out into the current.
I watched her drift, wobble in the eddies, and catch in swifter water. I watched her go, until she disappeared around a bend.
I could not resist dipping my bowl in the clear water, and dousing my head.
Slightly refreshed, I put my bowl away, and ran full-tilt back to the Basin, gagging again on its suppurating scent. John and Bella's trace had faded a little. It was growing dark. Reluctantly, I trudged back into the water to get the other girl. I carried her out, and ran back to the river, and liberated her, repeating my prayer.
Again, I watched a canoe disappear down the mighty Amazon, into the blackness of night.
She was gone. I could tell John the girls were free. I looked at the black water. So inviting. So risky.
A lot of people needed me. I could not risk bathing with piranha and caiman, just for the sake of refreshment. Sighing, I took out my bowl and scooped up water, washing off the putrescence. I wet my soap, and lathered every inch of my skin, taking care around my eyes and ears and scrubbing my beard and hair. I probably looked ridiculous, all foamy whiteness in the middle of a dark jungle. But it felt wonderful.
I rinsed myself, and grimaced. I could still smell death on my skin. I soaped up a second time, and rinsed. Then, a third time. Better.
I wished I had my toothbrush.
And a towel.
Idiot.
Well, you're not going to freeze to death, Edward. Nor are you going to get Dengue Fever or Malaria. Now buck up.
My nose caught the horrid scent of the black tote. I should leave it, but, damn if it hadn't been useful, and part of a lot of adventures.
I decided to wash it, scrubbing it as best I could with the soap. When I finished, it was tolerably clean and I was tolerably dry. I put the bowl and soap in it.
I looked up at the stars, stunningly bright in the indigo sky, and felt very small. I wondered if I would be adequate to this task. I wondered if God were testing me. I wondered if I would pass.
It was time to go and find my personal comet.
I ran into the jungle, hoping to smell Bella's markers before getting too close to the pong of rotting flesh again. I coughed and spit. Then I worried that I would not be able to find her, with this stupid headcold.
Mercifully, I caught Bella's scent before the smell of rot became overwhelming. I slowed, and followed her scent carefully. It was growing stronger.
"Bella?" I called. It was late. Moonlight filtered down through the canopy. I wondered how late it was.
No answer. I went on a little farther. Her scent was very strong here.
"Bella?" I called loudly. There was a grunt. A peccary ran out of the bush in front of me. It had been out of the wind. Hidden from me.
Never look a gift horse in the mouth. I grabbed it, and snapped its neck.
Carrying my 50 pound snack, I walked on a little farther. "Bella?" I essayed again.
"Here, Mocha-chino," she called back. She started singing 'Annie's Song' for me, in the cracks, loud enough to bring vampires running from miles away. I hurried toward her voice.
Bella called again and I reversed direction to examine a large rubber tree. My spider monkey peered down at me from a height of 40 feet . John was cradled in her arms like a little kid. He was sound asleep. Bella woke him, and shifted him to her front so she could glide down to the forest floor.
"I was starting to worry," my Minx claimed, embracing me. A faint odour of dead fish clung to her. I didn't care. I was so relieved to see her.
John looked at the peccary with glee.
"Me first," I growled, laughing. "Bella? I really need some cold medicine."
"Of course." Bella rummaged in the backpack and brought out the package of sinus medication. She handed me a caplet. I unscrewed it and poured the bitter powder onto my tongue. I sat. Picking up the peccary, I bit through it's tough hide as though it were butter, and gulped down the hot, satisfying liquid. John gasped. He does not deceive me. He is thirsty for animals.
When the carcass was much lighter, I offered it to Bella. Again, John gasped. She eats like him. Why not our girls? Perhaps they not know how. Like a mother he feeds her. He loves her.
While Bella fed, I dressed myself and ruffled my damp hair with my fingers.
"I'm finished," Bella declared, licking her lip. Grr-wow.
I took the peccary from her and presented it to John. Food! He exalted, then wilted. No fire. It will take a long time to start one.
I took some dry grasses and a few scraps of dry wood, dug a small hole in the earth and started piling the scraps of wood up to make a little teepee. When John realized what I was doing, he jumped up eagerly and started assisting me in finding bits of dry wood and bark. Soon there was enough to make a very small fire.
John watched me hopefully. I hope he has matches.
Who needs matches? I have a mate. "Bella, love? Do you suppose we can light a little fire?"
"Okay." Bella came and squatted beside me.
"Tama nuǖacü Cuāā (No with fear John)," I said. He nodded, and watched carefully as Bella placed her cupped hands over mine. I thought about our previous afternoon's activities, eyeing her amorously. She looked back at me longingly. The spark kindled between our hands, and John grunted with surprise.
Bella and I let the ball grow slightly, and I nodded my head for John to get a twig and set it alight. He did so, and my mate and I let the fireball expire. John lit the little fire expertly. I took the peccary and twisted off its leg, enjoying the fact that for the first time, its body would not go to waste. John mimed for me to do it again, so I decided to take off all the legs so he could cook them in the fire.
While John fashioned props for a little spit, I skinned the legs and slit them into thin chunks of meat with my nails. Threading the meat through a stick, I gave it to John for his spit. He hung the meat carefully over the fire.
Too bad we can not save the rest. Our companion looked up at me. "Thank you," he said earnestly.
"You're welcome." I looked at my sticky hands. Ew. "Bella? Can you get me the hand sanitizer, please?"
"Yes, love." She rummaged in the pack. "Here." She squirted some in my hands, and I rubbed them so fast they were in danger of smoking. Flammable stuff, like I needed more of that. Ah, much better. Hmm. Better watch the fire.
Bella curled up against my side, yawning. Her head bobbed.
"Time to camp," I declared. I got up and untied the tent from the backpack. With a flick of the wrist, it popped into shape. One, two-person sized chocolate chip: No assembly required. Bella and John both huffed a laugh. Then, they clapped.
John slapped mosquitoes. Great. They were attracted to the light.
Well Cullen, you horny son of a vampire, no nookie for you tonight, you're going to have to cohabitate. Damn it.
I untied the bedroll and spread it out in the tent, untied the blanket and chucked it in. Bella kissed me goodnight and started to crawl inside on all fours. Oh, that minxy ass. She turned her head back over her shoulder. "Coming?" she wondered, winking.
John noticed. He laughed at me a little.
"Toxǚ nangechaxũ (We love each other)," I shrugged.
"¿Oxo. Ŏěxna (Oho. Is that so)?" my companion teased. He jerked his thumb toward the tent.
Not up to my usual standard for privacy, but any port in a storm. Waving 'bye-bye' at John, who copied me, I scooted into the tent after Bella.
She zipped us in, and there was some manoeuvring worthy of one of Jazz's tactical war games, to divest myself and my mate of clothes. Without ripping them. Or the tent. But there was a whole lot of tent-moving as we thrashed around to get a comfortable position (to John's evident enjoyment). Which ended up being one of my favourites: Bella seated on my crossed legs.
"Well, hel-lo Mrs Cullen," I drawled, holding her close. The little fire outside cast a golden glow on the surface of the tent.
"Mr Cullen? I am so impressed with you. That was a wonderful thing you did today. Cuāā jabbered on about it the whole time you were gone, in at least three different languages."
"Is that so?" I smirked.
"Yeah, and I think he was more worried than I was, that you wouldn't come back." Bella said, tossing her braids. I tugged one.
"He doesn't know me well. You know I'll never abandon you, Minx."
"Mmm," she said, stroking my hair. "You better hadn't. I'm strong and fast enough to catch up with you now."
"Thank God," I enthused, leering at her. My mate snickered. I ran my hands over her cool, smooth curves.
"Your such a brat," she laughed, voice cracking.
"But you love me," I sang.
"Yes I do," she breathed into my mouth. "And I want you to make love to me, now."
"Your wish is my command."
"I'm ready now," she claimed, shifting her weight. I tipped her a little so I could gain access, and pushed in. Only there was nothing to push through. She was dripping for me, and completely open.
"Oh, Mrs Cullen, I have missed you so, today," I gasped, rocking us. I pressed my face into Bella's neck, and she cupped my face in her hand and held me there.
"Likewise. I thought honeymoons were invented so couples could go off by themselves," she teased.
"Yeah, I thought so too," I smiled. "We just have to colour outside the lines."
"As long as the picture includes this, I'm fine with it," Bella claimed, grinding herself against me with a gasp. So good. So comforting.
"I think we're going to need a vacation from our honeymoon," I growled in all seriousness.
"Might have to hole ourselves up somewhere once we get back to Forks," my mate suggested, arching her back. Her pale chest gleamed warmly in the apricot glow of the firelight.
"I know just the place," I said, grinning wickedly as I stroked into her.
"Where?" Bella blinked, excitement kindling.
"Can't tell you. Secret," I snickered.
"Come on," she moaned. "Another secret? You holding out on me?"
"Yep. A surprise. A nice one." I growled into her neck and sucked on it, then admired my mark. I started to purr.
"You bratty Cheshire lion! Give."
"No." I ran appreciative hands down her sides, looking at her from under my lashes.
"Yes," Bella insisted, wrapping her hands in my hair.
"No," I laughed, trapping my bottom lip between my teeth as my grin widened. Bella is so much fun to tease.
"Why?" she pouted adorably.
"Because they'll all be disappointed if I tell you," I said wickedly.
Bella's eyes rolled. "I guess I wouldn't want to disappoint them. Am I going to love it?"
"You are going to adore it," I crooned.
"I will figure it out," she growled. "Or perhaps I will seduce it out of you."
"Grr-wow. Do your worst, minxy kitty," I coaxed, nuzzling into her neck.
We forgot about playful banter then, as she ran questing fingers over my skin, and I lost myself in our heat. I buried myself in my mate, admiring her simple, unadorned beauty, taking nothing for granted. In her, I found the perfect antidote to a horrifying day.
She came with a small squeak, hunching against me, and I answered her, basking in the intimacy. How ever had I survived so long alone? Truly, Bella could make anything bearable.
I trailed my fingers down the back of her neck, still inside her, and held her close. Moments later, she was sound asleep. Mercifully, my dick decided it had had enough, and flopped out. I gently laid my girl down, and pulled her t-shirt and underwear on. I put on my underwear, and silently unzipped the tent.
John was licking grease off his fingers with abandon. For a guy who probably weighed less than 85 pounds, boy, he sure could pack away the food.
"Hi," I said softly.
"Thank you good food," he grinned. "Nataāxē ( Happy)?"
"Ngũ (Yes)." I smiled a little sheepishly, deciding the lack of privacy was good preparation for handling Emmett. At least John wouldn't tease me.
"Marü chataāxē (I'm happy now)."
I smiled. "Picochu (Come in)." I said, beckoning him into the tent. Well, I couldn't have him being bitten by mosquitoes, could I?
John took some of the dirt I had scuffed up and put out the fire, making sure there were no lit embers. He left the meat on the spit. Then, he crawled into the tent.
I rolled back into the corner, and pulled Bella onto my chest. John lay down in the fetal position next to us, sighing.
"Chipaxuchï (I'm very tired)," he said. "Choxũ (You)?"
"Tama." I looked down at Bella, worshipping her. Counting her freckles. John watched me, convinced that I really did love her and this was not all a trick. He sighed again, closed his eyes, and slept.
Later, rain pattered down upon the tent, and the thunder started. Silently, I rose and stripped naked, stealing out of the stuffy tent into the total blackness of the night. Living in cities, you don't realize how dark the dark truly is. It was velvety black. So dark a human would not be able to see a foot in front of his own face. The creatures of the Rainforest were mostly quiet, inhibited by the storm. I smiled to myself, thinking of the Rainforest Cafe in Niagara, and how the animatronic gorillas and elephants started bellowing when the fake thunderstorms struck. Ridiculous.
I shut my eyes and raised my face to the heavens, allowing the rain to course over my skin and saturate my hair. Stretching, I reached to the sky and enjoyed its gentle kiss, glad to feel its relative coolness. I ran my hand through my soaked hair, pushing it back, and heard the water I displaced snick onto the ground. I stood, my fingers linked behind my head, and felt my head clear of negative emotion.
My mate stood behind me. She reached around me from behind, pressing her soft skin against me, while her hands smoothed lovingly up my chest and onto my raised arms. I lowered them. Her little hands traveled down my abdomen and caressed my privates. They smoothed back, over my hips, and ass. Then, she knelt behind me, and washed my legs.
Could anyone ask for better comfort? I turned, and sank carefully to my knees, and she pressed her front against mine. Hands whispered, replacing words. I tasted her with my kiss. Breathed her, while the cleansing rain amplified her scent.
A huge lightening strike split the sky, illuminating my Bella's face, heavy with want, eyes hooded, and black. Brightness, holding the darkness at bay. Rain beaded on her face, and ran down her lips and chin onto her neck. Exquisite.
I lifted her lovingly, and took her against a large rubber tree, loving her. Loving this. We breathed in tandem, bodies intertwined, at one, patient and solid, whilst pools of water formed under our feet.
When John, anxious at our absence, peeped out of the tent to look for us, it did not deter me. He did not pry, but bowed back into the shelter and shut himself in, respectful, pleased for my wife, and remembering his own wife with love.
I loved my wife. John slept. And the Rainforest breathed for the world.
o~o~0~o~o
Sunday, August 27th, 2005:
The next morning, Bella declared that my family was going to think I had been body-snatched, sharing my tent with a man we barely knew.
John got up cheerfully, disappeared to take a pee, and returned to gobble up more meat off the spit. I exclaimed, horrified, that he shouldn't eat old pork. No fridge. The bacteria. But he looked at me like I was nuts and secreted the rest in his pack before I could throw it out.
When Bella came out of the tent, dressed, and searched for her hairbrush, John beamed. "Inixū taxĩ," he declared happily.
Bella looked at me questioningly. "He says 'we're going home'," I translated, pleased.
o~o~0~o~o
The houses were like nothing I'd ever seen.
I saw the evolution of them in John's mind.
Back in the day, the Ticuna had lived in one large oval house, like a Long House. It had a place to meet and to worship in the middle, and hammocks hung around the outside of it. Nuclear families from the same clan would share a house.
In the 1970s, the Ticuna started building villages with separate housing for each nuclear family. Maybe that was because of Catholicism. Sanctity of marriage and monogamy became predominant. The modern Ticuna's house is small, with a living space and a kitchen.
The living quarters are on a raised platform, supported by pillars, for protection from animals and flooding. Often, there are no walls, just pillars. The residents sleep there under mosquito netting. The cross-beams of the roof may have boards placed on them, so children may sleep there and special items may be stored. The kitchen can either be an extension of the house, or a separate shed.
The houses in John's village were neither style, and both.
They were long, barn-like structures built on four foot tall, reinforced pillars of wood that looked surprisingly sturdy. The floors and wall supports were of wood, too. The roofs were made of thatched grasses. The houses were open at each end, and the long walls were covered in weaving, like a basket. Hammocks and netting could be seen inside. Lots of them. So, indeed, the clan members lived together.
I counted fourteen longhouses in the small clearing, with a few nuclear family houses sprinkled in the trees. There was a low building on the ground near the back of the clearing, removed from the houses. The kitchen, I presumed.
I itched to explore, which would be loony. They didn't know we were coming. They didn't know we were friendly.
They knew we were here.
Bella and I had brainstormed about the best way to do this, and had concluded that if we arrived, and there was no group of missionaries reading 'God's paper', The Bible, to the locals, we should just stroll in and attempt to look non-threatening.
I was hoping they didn't use the poisoned darts anymore.
Unexpectedly, Bella had decided she was thirsty. Well, after all that running yesterday, it ought not to be a surprise. But it gave me an idea, that we were about to try.
Seeing as this village was doing its best to stay off the radar, they adhered to traditional jobs and habits. So, the men hunted and fished, and the women foraged. And there was a drought, so food was not plentiful. Therefore, we were going to attempt to make ourselves look friendly by offering a gift. And an education.
We made our way out of the trees, into the patch of sunlit land between the houses. I strode into the oval of grass, praying nobody was going to attack us. Bella held my hand. She was carrying our pack. And John carried his things, while holding onto her other hand.
My wife was wearing a piece of woven cloth, that John had provided, like a sarong skirt. The only other thing she was wearing was feathers. And they weren't covering up anything. They were little, colourful downy things, glued in patterns onto her skin by our companion, who took no interest whatever in her state of undress. It was normal here.
The feathers, dyed orange, red, and white, were normally used in a ceremony to initiate young girls into adulthood, after their first menstruation. Even modern Ticuna dressed their young daughters like this and showed them off to the tribe, only they tied the girls' hair back, which neither Bella nor I were keen on doing. Don't ask me where John came up with the feathers. Or how he stuck them on. I don't want to know.
I had loosed Bella's hair, and it covered most of her chest. She looked lovely, so before walking out of the forest I had taken pictures of her. And the locals, peeking at us from inside their shelters, seemed to think so, too, even though their predominant reaction to us was paralysed terror.
I bid Bella to sit in the very middle of the patch of ground, her skin shimmering like a million diamonds and her hair glinting with copper highlights under the sun. Then, I set down the huge buck I had been carrying on my shoulders, and held up its head for her to drink.
Bella's teeth sank into the lush flesh, and she sipped while I sat beside her and stroked her wavy tresses affectionately. She stopped several times and licked blood off her mouth theatrically. John sat on one of the log benches around the outside of the circle, singing a song about a fox who went in a house and stole food out of a cooking pot.
I tipped Bella's head back and kissed her.
The reaction inside the houses was extreme. They wanted to know why we were here. They recognized that I was feeding Bella, which had not happened with their girls and the incubus. They recognized that I was ingesting deer blood, not human. They were furious at John for bringing predators into the village. They wondered if their weapons would work on me. They wondered if I were the cause of all their misery.
The first attempt to approach us did not come from the houses.
It came from a girl, heavily pregnant, who came out of the trees, screaming with joy that her lover had come back for her. She covered the distance quickly, but stopped dead near the front of the village, recognizing that I was not the vampire she was seeking.
Her face crumpled, and I hated the unknown incubus with a passion.
She was malnourished. She was starving.
"Nunaxē Pa Chirica (Hello, Sylvia)," Cuāā said mildly.
" Nunaxē Pa Cuāā," the young girl said timidly. She could not have been more than sixteen. Her clothes were rags. She blinked at me shyly with red eyes. " Nunaxē Pa Corix (Hello Sir)," she greeted me tentatively. " Nunaxē Pa Chīūrax (Hello Madame)," she greeted Bella.
"Nunaxē Pa Chirica." I watched the girl. She was eyeing the deer with an increasingly dangerous hunger. She was prepared to fight Bella for it, if need be. Bella, of course, didn't really want it. She had already fed. "Quitaxawa. ¿Penaxwae? (You're thirsty. Do you want it?)"
"Ngü!" she cried pitifully, throwing herself at the deer. Growling, she tore a hunk out of its throat, gulping rapidly as she drained the animal dry.
"Tama! Tama! Tama! (Stop)" a man screamed, hurtling out of a house. "Nanadai! (They kill).
Great. Just what I was afraid of. All the men and half the women came crashing out of the houses. The man who spoke reached me well ahead of the rest. I flicked the machete out of his hand without even blinking, and captured his wrists gently in my hands. The rest of the humans stopped dead, confused beyond belief.
"Tama," I ordered gently. The man was hysterical, whimpering as he attempted to pull himself free. "Tama," I repeated. "Nunaxē Pa Corix."
The man stopped struggling. He hesitated, desperately afraid but furious, as the others milled about wondering what to do. Finally, he decided he had nothing to lose by talking to me. "Nunax," he spit. Wonderful. The way to say 'hello' to your enemy.
I looked up to address the crowd. "Nua naxū. Irüto (Come here. Sit down)."
There was a defiant outcry. "Pexŭ (Watch out)!" A whirl of terrible mental images assaulted my brain. In most of them, I recognized the two young girls whom I had sent down the river, bleeding, cut open, terrified. In a few minds, I saw a young child scream as another attacked and bit it. The people had killed the young victim, cutting out her heart before she could turn.
A vampire was also in the images, but his features were blurry. I suspected he was employing his ability to dazzle in order to conceal his identity. Assuming the Volturi ever got wind of what he was doing, he would not want these people to know what he looked like. He was powerful, this one, to dazzle so many individuals at once. Perhaps it was his talent. I wondered about him. Who was he?
"Bexma! (Be quiet)!" Cuāā shouted. "Daa mecü Eduardo. Daa Bonita. (This is Edward, a good person. This is Bonita).
"Nanadai!" the crowd yelled. "Ngexrãã (You shouldn't touch it)!" Oh, boy! This could get ugly.
"Choxũ charüngäxēxē (You help me)," Chirica said, smiling. "Marü chataãxē (Now I am happy)."
"Nayaxu (Receive it)," I begged the people. "Tama nüxü cha (I don't deceive him)."
Yeah, bad grammar. So sue me.
"¿Taxacü i tümaega ya cuxrü (What is your grandmother's name)?" a woman shouted.
I considered. Perhaps I ought to cut to the chase. "Pire."
There was an astonished communal gasp.
"¿Oxo. Ŏěxna. ¿Ngexta ne pexĩ (Oho. Is that so. Where are you coming from)?" another woman demanded.
"Tochixüwa ne taxĩ(We come from our places far distant)," I answered. " Tochixüwa nüxna nadau Due'e (We come to take care of him The People)."
" Ŏěxna. ¿Taxacü cunaxawae (Is that so. What do you want)?" a man asked.
"Joqam."
"Tama papa Joqam (Joqam is not the father)," an old man snarled.
"Taxacü i tümaega papa (What is father's name)?" I asked, pointing at Sylvia's stomach.
"Cāāï," she said sadly.
I must be hearing her wrong. "Caius?" I asked stupidly.
The face of her lover became clear in her mind, like a child wakes from sleep. "Cāāï Vochürï," she stated sorrowfully.
They likely heard my roar in Italy.