Chapter 7: Death Rides the River
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Just before noon we come to the burning village.
I could tell by the Captains face that this was a disaster, although he tried to keep it from us.
My first though is of forest fire, but those are rare here. The constant moisture and avid scavengers eliminate dry brush in the canopy, and the ground itself is surprisingly empty. It is hard for the residents to find firewood for their own uses, much less to supply a natural conflagration. Housewives, even more then timber men, are the threats to the local ecology.
The leaf cover is so solid that it shuts out the sky. It is all but impossible to see smoke. It was the smell that reached us first.
I first I thought it was just the cooking fires, ubiquitous in this part of the world. No village would be complete without a vat of boiling huitlacoche. But as we drew closer I realized that the smell was ....wrong. And then - oh lord - we were close enough to see.
"Pull off." Captain Allnut called to the wheel house. "Get us out of here."
I touched his arm, attracting his attention without involving his men. If they see me challenge him, he will turn stubborn. "No Captain." I keep my voice low. "I don't see any movement. The threat is passed."
He assesses my judgment as well as my word. He must trust what he sees, for he gestures me to continue.
"How good are your men?" I ask.
"Toughest damn crew on the river, but that don't mean......."
"Can they shoot?" Not my only question, but the one I can ask and he will answer.
"For damn sure, but..."
I know what he will say. Rifles are expensive. If his crew could afford to go armed, they would be doing so. I answer the unspoken. "We have extra rifles. Issue them to your men. Jones and I and...can you spare two of your men? We'll check it out."
That gets his cooperation. I continue.
"Dinah will stay on board, and Dick with her." Let them think Dick was here to guard the girl. Dinah could guard herself. I needed Dick watching the Captain to make sure our personal floating hotel didn't float away without me. I think Dr. Jones would have preferred to stay on board; partly for Dinah and partly to dodge trouble. But given direct instructions he couldn't see a way to refuse. Not without looking a coward in Dinah's eyes - and in the Captains.
"I'll leave Greg for the ship and go in with you. My wife can take the helm." A few words in the local dialect and his crew was in motion. "We'll take Jose." He pointed out one of the crew, a middle aged man in a faded t-shirt. "He's Spanish. Locals get too near this, there could be problems."
I understood what he didn't want to say. The local tribes were not know for their peaceable natures. Or even their love of rational debate. If a 'hostile' tribesman was seen at a slaughter - even afterwards - the curses and blood vengeance could continue for years.
I accept him with, "As long as he can shoot."
"Good with a gun. Even better with a knife." Jose smiled broadly at the complement, showing off his several gold teeth. Local status symbol. He must be good at something to afford those. And he understands English. That could come in handy. The Doctor and I speak Spanish, but still.
Greg and Dick go to uncrate the rifles. Pump actions purchased in Santa Amoza. Not the best, but the best this crew can reliably know how to handle.
I return to the cabin to slip on my kevlar under my jeans. Not that I'm certain I'll need it. The village does seem quiet, and from the scent of the smoke the main fire is at least an hour past. But I prefer to be prepared. Clark isn't the only boy scout.
Dick comes in as I finish. He's had the same idea.
"Captain legit?", he asks.
Not a real doubt, just pre-fight nerves. I answer anyway. "Probably. He's got a good reputation. But still keep an eye on 'Mrs.' and her brother."
Dick nods. Not that he needs my instruction. He knows his work.
By the time I return to deck Captain Allnut is ready. Two crewmen have already winched the rowboat down to the water, and dropped a rope ladder for us. Allnut is just finishing up his instructions to his wife, with Dinah keeping close if unobserved watch. I glance at her. She gives the signal. OK, everything clear.
I gesture for the Captain to go first. He hands me his rifle as he descends the ladder. I return it once he is seated, then hand him mine as I repeat his procedure. Dr. Jones follows. A bit clumsier, but he keeps his gun on his shoulder. Paranoid. I like that.
Jose drops down last. He's refused a rifle, preferring instead a pair of long knives. Given the jungle, it could be a good choice.
The greatest risk is at the dock. We are all in one place, and a perfect target for a sniper from cover. But - nothing happens. Not a single movement as Jose and the Captain rope the boat to its mooring.
From here the smoke is joined by a smell of - burned pork. Call it that.
The captain signals Jose to take point. Smart man. He's been in iffy situations before. Jones moves out unasked, so I fall back to cover him. Someone has to do this right.
I glide over to one smoldering heap. From the poles, once a long house. They build them in the air for safety. Didn't help. There are at least two bodies I can see from here. Badly burned, which makes judgment difficult but - from the angle of fall - likely dead before the fire. From another angle I can see a third body. Smaller. Definitely a child. Skull on this one shows a clear bullet wound. He never knew what hit him. That's some comfort. General conclusion. Someone. Some *ones* - slaughtered this village and burned it afterwards. Either to conceal the crime or to remove some other evidence.
A flutter catches my eye. A piece of paper, ragged and folded, as if it had been in a pocket. Where did that come from? Even I almost overlooked it. In the city such things are ubiquitous, but here? It's unlikely anyone in this village had ever *seen* writing, much less learned to read it, and none of the few shirts I had seen were the type to have pockets. This was from the attackers.
I unfold it carefully. No access to my lab facilities, but the scorching hasn't gone beyond the edges. Strange. Not a text at all, but a series of pictures. Sketches, perhaps. They look like what I have seen carved on ancient monuments. I tuck it away. Oracle will identify it's source.
I'm still looking over the scene when Dr. Jones calls out from the edge of the clearing. "Live one here"
That get's a general rush. I follow more slowly, signaling Jose to fall back and cover me. No sense to clump up and make a target.
Jones has found a young girl. Four foot ten, perhaps one hundred pounds, perhaps less. Possible teen, possible younger. The jungle tribes aren't a very large people. Definite local, judging by the tattoos and scarification. A good indicator as those things aren't acquired overnight. Looks healthy enough, if you discount the bullet would in her shoulder. Clean pass through. Enough care and she'll make it. We can't leave her here, and I wouldn't want to. Not my only witness.
"Take her back to the ship."
When she recovers, we can learn what happened.
With the Captain's help they carry her back to the boat. Not an easy trip, but still for the best. She started to come around when they moved her. I don't know the language, but she was upset. Jones seemed to understand part of it, and he made reassuring noises that may or may not have been speech.
I make a last survey in the time I have. I check every building. Easy enough, there were only nine of them. A small tribe. Perhaps fifty people. Little more then a family. There are no more survivors here. Perhaps some in the jungle, although I can find no signs of flight. Perhaps someone out hunting who will return to this, unknowing of what had happened. I can't even leave a note. No one here could read. And none of the crewmen would be willing to stay behind.
A movement in the canopy. A flash of purple. I catch it from the edge of my eye.A bird? No. To large, and the movement is wrong. Whatever caused it is gone by the time I focus my binoculars, but the leaves are still moving. Something was there. My instinct is to follow, but.... No, this is not Batman's time. The living must come first.
^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^)
We get the girl back to the boat and settled in my cabin. It was nearest to Dinah, and Mrs. Captain seemed concerned about the proprieties. Besides, it gave me an excuse to move into Dick's.
Captain Allnut mentions going back, but ...why? For the girl? She will receive better care with us. To report the crime? There are few police in this part of the world. We can tell the authorities when we return to Santo Tomas, and they will file a report, but that is the limits of their power.
I'm no doctor, but Dr. Jones apparently is - or at least a damn good paramedic. With his help and that of Mrs. Captain we get her settled comfortably. The codeine no doubt takes the edge off her physical pain, and the Mrs. seemed to speak enough of her dialect to reassure her of our immediate intentions.
Unfortunately, she doesn't seem able to get a clear story. Only that the 'river men' came to the village. First they gave gifts. They left a while, then some came back. This time they argued with the chief, and afterwards someone started shooting. She was too far away to hear what they were saying, but to close to avoid being shot. She fell down and was apparently overlooked in the first rush. When she came to they were lighting the huts. She crawled into the foliage, and was apparently left for dead.
The girl may be primitive, but she's well acquainted with the effects of firearms. That seems to be the one modern idea these people have all caught on to. Other than that it's all nonsense. Skulls and gold and the Forest Serpent and the Jaguar God.
I would dismiss it, but it seems to bother Dr. Jones.
The superstitions I dismiss. The witness is...dubious. But we now know two things. One, that someone is going before us on this river. Two, they aren't playing nice.
END CHAPTER SEVEN
With thanks to Mike. Hope you are enjoying Bruce's vacation more then he is. LOL
^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^)
Just before noon we come to the burning village.
I could tell by the Captains face that this was a disaster, although he tried to keep it from us.
My first though is of forest fire, but those are rare here. The constant moisture and avid scavengers eliminate dry brush in the canopy, and the ground itself is surprisingly empty. It is hard for the residents to find firewood for their own uses, much less to supply a natural conflagration. Housewives, even more then timber men, are the threats to the local ecology.
The leaf cover is so solid that it shuts out the sky. It is all but impossible to see smoke. It was the smell that reached us first.
I first I thought it was just the cooking fires, ubiquitous in this part of the world. No village would be complete without a vat of boiling huitlacoche. But as we drew closer I realized that the smell was ....wrong. And then - oh lord - we were close enough to see.
"Pull off." Captain Allnut called to the wheel house. "Get us out of here."
I touched his arm, attracting his attention without involving his men. If they see me challenge him, he will turn stubborn. "No Captain." I keep my voice low. "I don't see any movement. The threat is passed."
He assesses my judgment as well as my word. He must trust what he sees, for he gestures me to continue.
"How good are your men?" I ask.
"Toughest damn crew on the river, but that don't mean......."
"Can they shoot?" Not my only question, but the one I can ask and he will answer.
"For damn sure, but..."
I know what he will say. Rifles are expensive. If his crew could afford to go armed, they would be doing so. I answer the unspoken. "We have extra rifles. Issue them to your men. Jones and I and...can you spare two of your men? We'll check it out."
That gets his cooperation. I continue.
"Dinah will stay on board, and Dick with her." Let them think Dick was here to guard the girl. Dinah could guard herself. I needed Dick watching the Captain to make sure our personal floating hotel didn't float away without me. I think Dr. Jones would have preferred to stay on board; partly for Dinah and partly to dodge trouble. But given direct instructions he couldn't see a way to refuse. Not without looking a coward in Dinah's eyes - and in the Captains.
"I'll leave Greg for the ship and go in with you. My wife can take the helm." A few words in the local dialect and his crew was in motion. "We'll take Jose." He pointed out one of the crew, a middle aged man in a faded t-shirt. "He's Spanish. Locals get too near this, there could be problems."
I understood what he didn't want to say. The local tribes were not know for their peaceable natures. Or even their love of rational debate. If a 'hostile' tribesman was seen at a slaughter - even afterwards - the curses and blood vengeance could continue for years.
I accept him with, "As long as he can shoot."
"Good with a gun. Even better with a knife." Jose smiled broadly at the complement, showing off his several gold teeth. Local status symbol. He must be good at something to afford those. And he understands English. That could come in handy. The Doctor and I speak Spanish, but still.
Greg and Dick go to uncrate the rifles. Pump actions purchased in Santa Amoza. Not the best, but the best this crew can reliably know how to handle.
I return to the cabin to slip on my kevlar under my jeans. Not that I'm certain I'll need it. The village does seem quiet, and from the scent of the smoke the main fire is at least an hour past. But I prefer to be prepared. Clark isn't the only boy scout.
Dick comes in as I finish. He's had the same idea.
"Captain legit?", he asks.
Not a real doubt, just pre-fight nerves. I answer anyway. "Probably. He's got a good reputation. But still keep an eye on 'Mrs.' and her brother."
Dick nods. Not that he needs my instruction. He knows his work.
By the time I return to deck Captain Allnut is ready. Two crewmen have already winched the rowboat down to the water, and dropped a rope ladder for us. Allnut is just finishing up his instructions to his wife, with Dinah keeping close if unobserved watch. I glance at her. She gives the signal. OK, everything clear.
I gesture for the Captain to go first. He hands me his rifle as he descends the ladder. I return it once he is seated, then hand him mine as I repeat his procedure. Dr. Jones follows. A bit clumsier, but he keeps his gun on his shoulder. Paranoid. I like that.
Jose drops down last. He's refused a rifle, preferring instead a pair of long knives. Given the jungle, it could be a good choice.
The greatest risk is at the dock. We are all in one place, and a perfect target for a sniper from cover. But - nothing happens. Not a single movement as Jose and the Captain rope the boat to its mooring.
From here the smoke is joined by a smell of - burned pork. Call it that.
The captain signals Jose to take point. Smart man. He's been in iffy situations before. Jones moves out unasked, so I fall back to cover him. Someone has to do this right.
I glide over to one smoldering heap. From the poles, once a long house. They build them in the air for safety. Didn't help. There are at least two bodies I can see from here. Badly burned, which makes judgment difficult but - from the angle of fall - likely dead before the fire. From another angle I can see a third body. Smaller. Definitely a child. Skull on this one shows a clear bullet wound. He never knew what hit him. That's some comfort. General conclusion. Someone. Some *ones* - slaughtered this village and burned it afterwards. Either to conceal the crime or to remove some other evidence.
A flutter catches my eye. A piece of paper, ragged and folded, as if it had been in a pocket. Where did that come from? Even I almost overlooked it. In the city such things are ubiquitous, but here? It's unlikely anyone in this village had ever *seen* writing, much less learned to read it, and none of the few shirts I had seen were the type to have pockets. This was from the attackers.
I unfold it carefully. No access to my lab facilities, but the scorching hasn't gone beyond the edges. Strange. Not a text at all, but a series of pictures. Sketches, perhaps. They look like what I have seen carved on ancient monuments. I tuck it away. Oracle will identify it's source.
I'm still looking over the scene when Dr. Jones calls out from the edge of the clearing. "Live one here"
That get's a general rush. I follow more slowly, signaling Jose to fall back and cover me. No sense to clump up and make a target.
Jones has found a young girl. Four foot ten, perhaps one hundred pounds, perhaps less. Possible teen, possible younger. The jungle tribes aren't a very large people. Definite local, judging by the tattoos and scarification. A good indicator as those things aren't acquired overnight. Looks healthy enough, if you discount the bullet would in her shoulder. Clean pass through. Enough care and she'll make it. We can't leave her here, and I wouldn't want to. Not my only witness.
"Take her back to the ship."
When she recovers, we can learn what happened.
With the Captain's help they carry her back to the boat. Not an easy trip, but still for the best. She started to come around when they moved her. I don't know the language, but she was upset. Jones seemed to understand part of it, and he made reassuring noises that may or may not have been speech.
I make a last survey in the time I have. I check every building. Easy enough, there were only nine of them. A small tribe. Perhaps fifty people. Little more then a family. There are no more survivors here. Perhaps some in the jungle, although I can find no signs of flight. Perhaps someone out hunting who will return to this, unknowing of what had happened. I can't even leave a note. No one here could read. And none of the crewmen would be willing to stay behind.
A movement in the canopy. A flash of purple. I catch it from the edge of my eye.A bird? No. To large, and the movement is wrong. Whatever caused it is gone by the time I focus my binoculars, but the leaves are still moving. Something was there. My instinct is to follow, but.... No, this is not Batman's time. The living must come first.
^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^) ^^V^^ (^V^)
We get the girl back to the boat and settled in my cabin. It was nearest to Dinah, and Mrs. Captain seemed concerned about the proprieties. Besides, it gave me an excuse to move into Dick's.
Captain Allnut mentions going back, but ...why? For the girl? She will receive better care with us. To report the crime? There are few police in this part of the world. We can tell the authorities when we return to Santo Tomas, and they will file a report, but that is the limits of their power.
I'm no doctor, but Dr. Jones apparently is - or at least a damn good paramedic. With his help and that of Mrs. Captain we get her settled comfortably. The codeine no doubt takes the edge off her physical pain, and the Mrs. seemed to speak enough of her dialect to reassure her of our immediate intentions.
Unfortunately, she doesn't seem able to get a clear story. Only that the 'river men' came to the village. First they gave gifts. They left a while, then some came back. This time they argued with the chief, and afterwards someone started shooting. She was too far away to hear what they were saying, but to close to avoid being shot. She fell down and was apparently overlooked in the first rush. When she came to they were lighting the huts. She crawled into the foliage, and was apparently left for dead.
The girl may be primitive, but she's well acquainted with the effects of firearms. That seems to be the one modern idea these people have all caught on to. Other than that it's all nonsense. Skulls and gold and the Forest Serpent and the Jaguar God.
I would dismiss it, but it seems to bother Dr. Jones.
The superstitions I dismiss. The witness is...dubious. But we now know two things. One, that someone is going before us on this river. Two, they aren't playing nice.
END CHAPTER SEVEN
With thanks to Mike. Hope you are enjoying Bruce's vacation more then he is. LOL