Scanning Proofreading: CSH
Chapter II
I used a clever maneuver to pick the lock on Mason’s door.
I sprinted downstairs and picked up a round stone from the flower garden. Using it as a substitute hammer for the screwdriver in my hand, it was one of the things I always did to pry a small piece off a wooden door so that it would close again.
No one came out into the hallway for a few vital minutes. Satisfied with my work, I blew the paint dust and wood shavings from my fingers as I did so. Walking into Matson’s room, I set down my rock and screwdriver and began to search while humming in a low voice.
Men are not clever at all. They rely too much on cleverness and physical strength, while I rely on cunning.
I rummaged around the room. It seemed that he was quite neat and tidy, and all his belongings were in good order. It didn’t take long to find the mask hidden in his clean boy shorts, and then I disguised the room to make it look as if it had been blown through by a whirlwind.
I studied the object, which was made of a very hard, blackened, dense wood. The surface was listed with a concave pattern that had a slight resemblance to a tribal mark. It was a long mask that couldn’t technically be described as expressionless, it just couldn’t be described with proper words. The cheekbones appeared high due to the exaggerated carving. Slender almond eyes dangled upward at the corners of the eyes, and the Roman nose would have dwarfed even a horse.
It looks extremely exotic with very clean lines.
I wasn’t terribly fond of it, but it was a bit of a stretch to put it down. I sprinted past the mess I had just made and stood in front of the mirror.
I put on the mask. It had no obvious hang-ups, neither thin cords nor holes for cords, though it mimicked the look of a human face. I simply snapped the mask onto my face, realizing that the curves of my face actually matched the curvature of the thing quite well, and then it seemed to hook onto me so gently that I was surprisingly able to hold it on without using my hands.
The eyes glistened through the eyeholes, giving it life. The hot breath exhaled from the nostrils caused the light black, glossy upper lip to become slightly mottled. The moist mouth flickered with a hint of light.
The sculpted cheekbones glistened slightly.
I saw the river blackened by the leakage of anandic acid and toxins secreted from the endless roots of the trees. Drifting leaves floated on the surface of the water, hovering sluggishly. The trees on both banks bent and haunched down toward us, their branch ends closely intertwined and entwined. Half-submerged stumps lay across the front, blocking our way. Behind us the river gurgled, easing our rugged path.
Men stood in the water with their chests bared, dragging fallen stumps to one side and chopping at the nuisance spreading tropical fields with their big knives in hand, in order to cross the silent, narrow, waterway deep in the tropical jungle.
“Snake-bird,” cried some one. The bird flew up from the surface of the water with a terrified clamor, the slender neck, the extended head, the tail that kept fluttering and frothing. The whole body was an oily, shimmering dark green, splattered with spots of white mud.
We entered the lagoon. The men climb back into the cabin in a hurry. There are pilchards here.
We fished and rested for a while, then were unable to find the correct exit from the lagoon. It wasn’t long though, the current was weak and flowing slowly.
“Damn it!” Masson roared.
I turned to him, the mask smiling. His face is white at first, the skin on his cheekbones so bloodless that it shines with emaciation. I remove the mask.
The cream-colored silk pajama pants on my body had been trashed and nasty while stalking Mason during the night, and that was only last night. I have such a strange sense of time, and right now I feel like I’m in heat.
I felt the material of the garment smooth and cool against my skin. Noticed Matson’s gradual return to color. A chiseled face with vaguely glistening skin and a strong jawline. The ears were square, and the brown hair was slicked back without fuss.
He held his hat in only one hand. I noticed the long, strong fingers. The shirt was open at the collar, and I could see a few darkened scars at the base of the neck.
I moistened my lips.
“This is my room,” he said in a hoarse voice. A strange look flickered in his eyes, then settled firmly on my face.
“Mason,” I called softly, full of wonder.
He took a step backward and raised one hand as if to block me.
I giggled and unbuttoned my jacket. The breasts stood up, not very large but firm and vibrant, the two nipples pouting forward and slightly apart as if they were trying to embrace something.
Matson grumbled softly and scooted toward me. There was a buzzing in my head. I kicked off my pajama pants, which had fallen to the floor, and Matson approached arms wrapped tightly around me.
His mouth and lips met mine. I leaned my body in obediently. A small gurgle came from his throat. Then he lowered his head to gaze into my eyes, and when his hands took the opportunity to slip inside his open jacket, they warmed against my smooth, satiny skin.
I squeezed his groin, sensing that the root of arousal had swelled. He shuddered slightly and kissed my throat. I flashed my waist, my nails lightly scratching across the front of his pants. He gasped as I unbuckled the belt around his waist.
We rolled onto the messy, thrown together floor. He licked and sucked on the small of my back, then braced himself so he could smoothly penetrate the source of pleasure between his legs. His erect prick was so big and thick that it was a real pleasure. As soon as the thick shaft penetrated me, every part of my body was instantly drowning in a sea of excitement and pleasure. He fizzed like open champagne, and I responded to every stroke, making it go deeper.
He had just the right amount of weight, Shimshi but not oppressive, a mesmerizing power.
Then there was a strong, sharp jerk, and my soft vaginal opening went “blah, blah, blah.”
Sputtering and foaming, our pussies completely bathed in a blanket of warm, molten cum, we both lay on the floor, our bodies burning.
Matson recovered first. Half of his man-root had slipped out of me and lay wet and flat, sticky against the roots of my thighs.
“What the hell are you up to, Sidney?” He mumbled a question, full of confusion.
My head tingled like a pin had cut it, damn it. The stormy frenzy had subsided, leaving me, also naked, desperately wanting to know how I ended up on the floor with him. Was it a sweet handout, or was it madness?
His ugly, slightly wrinkled face tilted upward at me, trying to get me to open my mouth and say my first words. To probe my tone. “I don’t know why I did it,” I said frankly, which was the truth.
“You’re the only woman I know who turns into a frog when she kisses.” He sucked in his breath.
“Kissing? Is that what you call what you just did?” I almost gave a huff.
“Then call it dry.” He sat up. “You slut.” He pulled his clothes together and didn’t even look at me.
“I woke up,” I said in a flash of inspiration, first seizing the upper hand, “and heard a dull, low sound coming from your room. Of course, perhaps it was the sound of masturbation, or it could have been a religious ritual in your part of the world, so I didn’t think twice about rushing out to take a closer look. Then I opened the door to my room and saw that your door was open. This guy was trashing the house. When he caught a glimpse of me he leapt across the balcony. Threw down this tiny thing in the process.”
“You saw him? What did he look like?”
“A skin and bones.” I said, “Very young, crooked nose, shirt full of parrots. I didn’t make light of it.”
There was an awkward chill. I mean, the guy was speechless, and it was clear to him that I was lying, because that’s exactly the kind of lie he had told me, and was now giving it all back.
He forced restraint. “The same guy did it,” he muttered to himself.
“You told me he wasn’t coming back,” I said, eyes wide and acting foolish.
“I don’t think he’s coming,” he said indignantly. Another thing I wanted to know was, if this was a case of sexual violence, what were his motives or psychological state. Either way, I felt I was in a better position.
“You’d better report all this to the management,” I said solemnly. The room was indeed turned upside down.
“No,” he said firmly. “I had to check to see if anything was missing. But, as I once told you, I don’t want to draw attention to it.”
“When he fled the balcony in a single bound, he didn’t seem to have taken anything. Unless it was something small like paper or money. He dropped the mask.”
“Masks,” Matson said with a peculiar expression.
I yawned. “I don’t think you’re a gullible person,” I said.
“Has your opinion changed?”
“This is the stuff the bazaar sells. To attract tourists. Buying this kind of stuff is quite appropriate for your age and profession as a photographer. This stuff is probably made in Hong Kong.”
“Get outta here, frog. It only brings me bad luck.”
“Not a bad idea,” I said with a pleasant attitude and went with it.
That afternoon we all converged on Martha’s palatial hotel near the airport for a farewell drink. It was the last time we would enjoy the comfort and solace of the cold air conditioning. The next day dawned and it was time to leave.
Martha yanked me aside as Lori watched us both. I blinked. Sidney, I told myself, you’re a little giddy. And you are.
“I heard you had a head injury,” she said, with her beautiful dark eyes. The smooth curves of her skin looked very regal from a distance and not too bad up close. I figured Rory didn’t have to close his eyes or take any other measures.
“A thief broke into my room. But I’m much better now.”
“You can still offer to quit.”
“You may not allow me to accompany you,” I said courteously, “but if I am up to it, I will change my position.”
She looked a little strung out. “What if something happens?” She associated. “We could be in for a hard time for a while, questing, only getting a little bit of food, you know what I mean?”
She is about fifteen years younger than me. Note that it looks as if she is as tough as a turtle.
I shrugged my shoulders. “Maybe I wouldn’t like the conditions, but would never whine about it. Because it’s my own, and arguably the editor-in-chief’s, fault for coming here, and I have nothing to say about it.”
“There are biting ants, hornets, and bumblebees there.”
I laughed happily. “Those are just right for me. According to Amazons, he’s long thought I should be a frog.”
“Snakes are pretty good for you, too? Can’t have hysterical women traveling with us.”
“There is no snake in the world that can sting me with its words.” I countered. “I will show love everywhere. Even open the door to a room for them and give up my seat in the car.” Why am I saying this? They’re trying to scare me.
Martha forced a toothy grin. “That happens to run counter to my good advice.” She said. “It seems like a terrible decision for me to have a writer along. Carl is very good though. We’ve had some collaborations.”
She tilted her head to the side, her eyes glaring at me, waiting for a reaction.
I looked at it with the same eye. “I can write he will,” I said frankly. “So many men accompanying him must be able to supply the full need.” I hesitated for a moment in saying the last sentence.
She mulled over my words. I’ve borne the reality of the order of precedence in this organization, and she’s the boss, intent on making that clear to everyone.
I made it through the rest of what appeared to be a joyous scene with poise, despite realizing that I had been gazing at the daughter of my late husband.
Her name is Carla. I found out that she was actually Turner’s daughter by his ex-wife. To be precise, Carla should be Turner’s stepdaughter. When her mother, Turner’s ex-wife, became ill and died, he remained the young girl’s guardian. He later married Martha, who grew to love the girl. When Turner became ill and died, Martha continued to be her guardian, though it seemed to be a willing inheritance, for Carla, despite being young and old enough to dispose of her property independently. But they still chose to live together.
She was very different from her stepmother in every way. In appearance, she had dark hair, whereas Martha was a dazzling blonde, with soft, curd-white muscles and large, dark, dreamy eyes. She was quiet, soft-spoken and even a little shy. Her smile was very elegant yet rare to see. Martha’s entourage and male assistants are all muscular, Jack is her personal bodyguard.
But I saw that look in her eyes, and they often showed a lot of attention to Lori. When I wanted a man, I would show it exactly, my eyes would rise and lustful thoughts would flash through my mind. Carla wasn’t like that, her eyes became wide and confused. But we share the same essential feeling, even if it manifests itself in very different ways, men make our bodies burn. It’s a body odor that doesn’t make us intimate afterward; pure carnal intercourse is what we’re all about, and it’s only by stringing together those trivial details that we become very comfortable.
The group parted ways and went to bed early. Before dawn, we will bring our belongings, meet at the dock and then board the boats. There are two small boats capable of navigating any narrow channel.
Behind this ostensibly simple adventure, I have yet to develop a premonition that something weird will happen.
God only knows how complicated bureaucracy can be. Martha made sure to make some arrangements for our departure, from Ibam to the environmental geography of the United States; from Fenna to the old Indian sites; and from the expansion area of the Amazon to the recently formed aid group that legitimized the Amazon.
All just to see the parrot. Ugh!
I was still in sweet dreams when Masson knocked on my room door. “Wake up Lo,” he shouted. “Any later and we won’t make it to the river in time.”
I let out a low grunt and rolled over, feeling like I hadn’t gotten enough sleep when Matson walked in and flicked on the bedroom light.
“Asshole,” I snarled.
He grinned. “I’m like that,” he said, giddy and glowing.
I took a quick shower and changed my clothes. Deep down inside it was clear that this was actually a pretty bad idea and that I was tricking myself into going on the road. By the time Matson reappeared in the room with coffee and doughnuts, like an ugly man, my personal belongings were all loaded and organized.
“I’m having crescent rolls for breakfast, not children’s food.” I said rudely.
He took a bite of a frittata. “You could dip them in some sweet sauce,” he offered. I growled at him with my teeth bared. “And she’ll laugh,” he said cheerfully.
My pussy lay still, with what appeared to be a hot slug in my belly. The thought of having had intercourse with this man made me a little queasy. What the hell was wrong with that? It made me want to hurt him, and I didn’t want him to steal the idea of liking him.
We took a taxi together to the pier. We were the only two people staying at the hotel. The rest of us stayed with Martha in her five-star hotel, except for the cook and driver who was a local.
The boats were surprisingly small, only about thirty feet long from what I could tell. The front one carried Martha, her stepdaughter Carla, personal bodyguard Jack, Lori and Colin, the men who study the field and the animals. On our boat, there was Pepper, the cook and dipper, a Venezuelan, me and the photographer, Matson. Then there was Martha’s secretary, Margaret.
Our boat pulled away from the dock just before dawn. The sky suddenly took on a golden purple color. A few wispy clouds floated in the air. The river was wide and calm except for the ripples caused by the boat in front of us.
“Tonina,” said Pepper abruptly.
“Mudskippers,” Margaret said.
I watched everything closely. The mudskippers in the river were somersaulting after us. From the boat in front of us there was a lot of noise and laughter, and after a while the loaches fell behind.
The weather was getting hot. The banks were filled with towering trees overhanging with trailing fields of vines. Water splashed down the embankment in blinding white light. The jungle itself, however, looked dark and unappealing. A few small birds with white feathered wings fluttered their wings lightly over the water. There were also a couple of very large guys with long, thin legs that I guessed might belong to herons and egrets or something like that. Suddenly two green and white birds flew over the river.
“Parrot,” I shouted.
“It’s a macaw,” Pepper said with a blink at me. He had a beak of uneven, blackened teeth.
I realized I had to work hard and not just be influenced by others.
Matson took pictures, Margaret checked the storage on our boat, and I fell asleep on my back. Pepper steered the boat, and after a while Matson replaced him.
We ate the canned food we had prepared at the hotel and continued on. The river kept going and stretching.
The birds were getting more and more numerous and the woods were getting thicker and thicker. We sped up the boat and sped along.
What a fun way to spend a vacation, I thought in a daze, you could have thought we were sailing somewhere.
The river took on an extremely rare color, part dark brown, part dark black. Pepper Fresh explained. “This is the junction of the Negro and the Amazon, where the rivers meet. But it doesn’t mix like a man mixes with his wife. Huh?” He grinned, obviously joking. I returned the smile with a dewy-toothed grin. Realizing that there was another erudite on board after all, right here in our two boats.
At last we sailed away from this immense channel into a smaller river, the long green wall of trees on both sides of which was so close to us, and the branches of which drooped down into the water, made navigation more and more difficult, for there were many scattered aquatic fields covering the reefs of the river. Some were like wigs for the rocks, and the rest I thought would probably hide all the tribes of Indians with blowguns on their backs. Maybe I just have an overactive imagination.
We temporarily stopped moving forward and set up a camp. It looked like the women were going to sleep on deck, and as it was, the men would have to sleep on the granite and cobblestones along the shore. Martha ostentatiously left with Lori in a rubber boat, saying she was going for a closer probe. The two of them kept their hands on the boat so as not to frighten the wild animals away before they saw them.
Webbed swimming. What a great term, by the way. I have to admire Martha. I hope for Lori’s sake she should keep a mosquito net on the rubber boat. I’d hate for Rory to get mosquito bites and bumps all over his butt while performing his duties.
We all brought hammocks. You’d rather sleep in a hammock than follow them to the shore and wrap up in a bed blanket because it doesn’t feel too bad.
It’s too hot during the day. The nights, however, were cool, especially before dawn. I slept poorly, often drifting into lifelike but unpleasant dreams and waking suddenly.
The river lapped against the bank with a lapping sound, and the men made a bonfire on the bank, which Pepe said was to frighten the jaguar.
The sizzling sky rose in a rosy haze as dawn descended and the scorching air scorched the face.
Nothing happened for two days. I saw more freshwater loaches, a turtle, several crocodiles, phalaenopsis orchids showing bright red, macaws, parrots, herons, fish dogs, bats, and once, waterfowl that looked extremely much like bad, bad toys. The rice and meat cooked for Pepper’s dinner was not good at all, and the leftover piping hot flapjacks for breakfast could be eaten cold by noon. Yum. Matson snapped some more photos. Margaret took inventory of the storage in the cabin and made notes. Marsha became visibly excited as she took Rory away as usual each day to do his duty. None of this was commented on.
Flying insects always darken us from behind from time to time, stabbing an excess of venom into our helpless bodies.
By the fourth day, the boat was sailing into a small river I don’t know the name of, under the cover of a green channel.
Martha said, “It’s time to tell Sidney where we’re going.”
We set up camp early. Pye was afraid to fish off to the side and surprisingly easily pulled some big guys about a foot or so long out of the water. Their big, long bodies resembled large plates used for Western food, and they had red-rimmed eyes on their little heads. They made a creepy hissing screech at us and kept slapping their tails until they were hit hard with a large knife. The fact that the fish could scream rather added a new experience of sorts. After they died, Pepper broke open the fish’s mouths for Matson so he could take photos of their specimens.
“What are these?” I asked offhandedly. Those teeth were breathtakingly large and flat, with extremely sharp tapered tips. Pepper closed the fish’s mouth and turned the lips back, and I saw that the upper and lower rows of teeth matched so closely that they were seamless.
“Dentists,” I said appreciatively. “You’ll never know exactly what it’s like for a child to have braces.”
“It’s a pilchard,” Pepper said while grinning.
I’m a little distracted. “It’s not right,” I said in a hoarse voice. “They’re only a tiny bit bigger. I’ve seen that movie. It was about little fish, not these sharks.”
Matson giggled triumphantly and I stared at him. “Looks like you agree with me, Cowboy, you don’t need to get anyone else’s help,” I said very enthusiastically.
“Don’t you be afraid,” he said, “they will swim away from you of their own accord. Only blood invites them, ma’am, not to mention the venom in your veins.”
“Pepper,” I called.
“Um, Sidney.”
“Are you going to cook these things?”
“If it’s still alive, I’ll cook it.”
“Like torturing foreigners?”
He couldn’t help but giggle. “It must not taste good to you, Sidney, that I’m chipping these foreigners to pieces.”
“True enough,” I agreed.
The pilchards were cooked so well that I enjoyed a primal satisfaction and finally realized why those cannibals wanted to eat their enemies. It is no longer unbelievable that they want to eat the souls of all their enemies, as we have admired all the lies in the history of mankind. This is authentic vengeance, and the more you terrorize your opponent, the greater the satisfaction.
We are here to experience the position of the ultimate victor and the loser; the winner gets to eat as much as he wants, but the loser gets to be eaten. You can’t lose completely again, or the enemies of the past will burnt and eat you up.
Those pilchards taste good on the lips, and more importantly don’t give these damn guys who are going to eat me half a chance. At the moment, I need to restrain them first.
I looked up and met Masen’s eyes. I saw that he understood perfectly and was amused by my peculiar thoughts. But then Martha formally announced that it was time to let Sidney in on this secret.
“So, where are we sailing to?” I asked in a lazy voice. Eyes swept lightly around the room, observing the expressions of the others. There wasn’t the slightest hint of shock. They all knew the truth, including Pebble. It seemed the only one here who was still in the dark was a dumbfounded Sidney.
“You know Carl knows all about it,” Martha said. She was dressed in a stylish, elegant, expedition jacket cut to fit the expedition, and her pants were tucked tightly into thick socks that she wore with extra-light boots. You have to watch out for the mosquitoes out here. Her hair was tied back in a silk scarf, a colorful barrage of colors. Her stubborn, sun-browned face and snow-white teeth gave her an impressive, beautiful appearance.
And I was weak and sticky and took all the mosquito bites I could get, despite using tons of insect repellent.
We all gathered to eat under a hastily erected tarp on the shore in case snakes crawled out of the bushes and attacked us. It is these trivial details that make camping here so interesting. Lori and Colin had slept in their respective hammocks, smoking small cigars and rocking gently. Pepper was filling his pipe with tobacco. Masson was sitting beside Margaret, and he seemed to like her, the poor woman. Carla was just sitting by the fire resting, watching Lorry all the while.
I stayed silent.
“It’s not just a vacation,” Martha said. Rory handed her a cigar smoke and she took it. He bent his body from the hammock and lit the cigarette for her. I saw his head barely move as he kept his eyes on Carla’s melancholy face.
So he knew everything, huh. Still, that’s understandable. It must have been his instinctive reaction to encountering a woman.
Destroying a man’s soul by befriending a female glutton is my opinion.
Don’t give it away. It’s a secret.
“Lori and Colin are here,” Martha succeeded, “and the main purpose is not the exposition.”
She was silent for a moment. “Did they come here to sell encyclopedias or something?”
I questioned.
“We’re archaeologists.” Rory said.
“Examining the New World before it was conquered by the Normans,” says Colin.
I remembered the mask. “You want Indian workings, that can be bought in the market,” I said evenly.
“That’s not what we’re after,” Martha said. “We’re looking for a place.”
Suddenly there was a plopping sound from the other side of the river, and a kind of low, discontinuous outburst responded softly again, three times in all.
“Jaguar,” Pepper said. He threw more sticks into the campfire, then rested against the hilt of the large knife in his hand.
The air was stifling and humid, and smelled of a mixture of fertilizers from rotting field stuff.
“Is it a place of special significance?” I inquired.
“Vicarbamba,” snapped Kara, followed by a moment of awe-filled silence, as if she had said something terrible.
They’re crazy, I thought, with a chill down my spine. I hate that I’m in the middle of a tropical jungle with a bunch of guys who have gone off the deep end.
“The last Inca city,” Rory said, his face shining by the campfire around Pepper. The eyes were like two black sockets, the mouth like a hollow. It reminded me again of the mask, a dead man’s relic. Maybe that was it.
“Archaeologists won’t be able to find it,” Martha said, her voice cold and level. Since the Incas had been conquered by Spain, they had quickly organized themselves into armies in the eastern Andes and then moved into the jungle, where they still possessed vast quantities of gold and jewels under the leadership of their last monarch, Tupac Amano. Under their last monarch, Tupac Amano, they still possessed large quantities of gold and jewelry. Of course, the Spaniards had melted down most of their gold.
“You think you’ll find it,” I said, trying not to move. Didn’t want them to hear the pitch that I thought they were crazy.
“Carl got this map.”
My patience finally reached its limit. “Enough,” I yelled. “Ancient castles in tropical jungle zones. Hidden gold and jewels, maps. Who in reverse is trying to get their hands on all this money? Who’s playing deceitful tricks.”
Martha laughed out loud. “That’s an extremely correct way of looking at it, Sidney. I’m here to answer your question in all seriousness; no one is pulling any punches. The Turner Group of Companies will stand by its reputation and guarantee that all discoveries have legal rights for the true owner, regardless of the country of the eventual discoverer. We look forward to setting up a traveling exposition, one way or another, whenever the time is right. I am interested in museums, history, and art, my dear. I have all the money ever wanted or needed.
”
Simply wonderful. “What about these two?” I said extremely unpleasantly. “Your favored archaeologists, what can they do?”
“This is their profession. The exhumation of Judea’s tomb in Dutangkamen will be news all over the world.”
“News,” I said.
“That’s right, Sidney. Exactly the news, that was supposed to be Carl’s job, he was the opinionated witness and the one who mainly blocked the news for us. Now you’ve become our non-obliging witness. Once the dream comes true, you’ll have an exclusive on the whole story.”
For a moment I sympathized with Carl. If he really believed this nonsense, then my replacement would surely give him a stroke.
“This map,” I said. “How can there be a map? Martha, you are not stupid. The man who has this map would have explored the treasure himself. If you had bought such a thing, you must have been deceived.”
“This map has never been used. I paid a few pounds for it. As an artifact, the price was worth it, even though we couldn’t figure out the meaning.”
“This is that map,” Matson said, pulling out the mask.
My gaze swept from Masson to Martha and back again. “How do they identify this object?
” I inquired, obviously referring to Colin and Rory.
Colin said, “It looks complete. Of course we can’t date it properly. It wasn’t bought as an antique, although that’s a bit appalling. It was bought as a map, and from that we may get a clue.”
I picked up the mask and felt its warm, hard wood again. Firelight wavered behind it, shining through the holes in the nose, eyes and mouth. What an absolute contrast to the face of Rory I had seen. It was only a symbol of wealth, I sought. A special fortune, something that seemed to change expressions.
“I saw something like this in your room the day the intruder was found.” I said to Mason.
“I’ve been holding it for Martha. It was Carl who found it and told me about it, and I didn’t know Martha very well. Only once in the past have I done something for her, and it was I who introduced Carl to Martha, and it was that meeting that conceived this expedition.”
My first thought it was obviously a lie. Carl’s real goal was only to get all of it. Then he could write an exclusive story that would be proud of him. If he had found the mask and was playing games with Martha, then there was no legend at all. Trying to make friends with someone based on a fake won’t end well.
“The trespasser,” Martha said. “It’s a worry. We keep all our secrets here to ourselves, and if we tell those local authorities what they’re really engaged in, we won’t get a license, and we’ll find out at the same time that we’re involved in the competition.”
“A decision-making board competition,” I murmured.
“What the hell is going on?” Martha said.
Matson interjected. “This trespasser just had the luck of coincidence and wonder, Martha. That I can be sure of.”
Of course Law, Mason knew full well that I was lying, for there was no trespasser at all, and I was merely applying his own false description once again. It’s interesting that even though he knew I had snuck into the room and rummaged around, he still hadn’t thought about whether or not it was worth it when he confronted me. It seems that the only way to prove that he knows I’m lying may be to force him to admit that I saw him buy the mask from the dwarf.
Did Martha know where the mask came from? I decided to ask: “Where did you get this mask?” I asked slyly.
“It was Carl who found it.” Masson replied.
“Have you had it for a long time?” I asked Martha.
“Not for long.”
“If you think this is a map, how can you set out without knowing what it means?”
Martha leaned forward. I could smell the tangy, pungent odor of cigar smoke on her, and her eyes flashed brilliantly. “If this were easy, who would do it?” She said pointedly. “We agreed that we had to find the right place to discover the mask first. It was a mountain, a special mountain, and from here lies the eastern side of the Andes, in the middle of the jungle country. Hardly anyone can see it except the Indians who live there. We will go there with this mask before we can possibly understand what it means about.”
Look what it tells us. Sweet Jesus, what a cheeky reason for all this insanity.
Let it go, it’s time to go to bed. Even if I could sleep peacefully, there was something to do before saying goodnight.
“Matson,” I whispered as the rest of the group was heading toward their respective hammocks.
“What, partner?”
“Take a walk in the jungle. Hurry up.”
We strolled away from the firelight, blindly choosing a shortcut into a forest of mixed trees, saplings, vines, and overhanging fruit. Under the shade of these trees the place received but little sunlight, which, however, penetrated with surprising ease.
We noticed a snake wrapped around the trunk and immediately extinguished our flashlights. “Dry up straight, honey,” I said.
“I guess you’re hitting on the inside of my pants again.”
I’m not going to beat around the bush. “Have you acted as a piece of confectionery on this trip like everyone else?” I asked. “With the exception of Pepper, of course,” I corrected what I had just said, “Who’s manipulating all this? Mainly out of reason? Or for money?”
“I don’t consider myself a snack, no.”
“Then it’s you and Carl who are cheating on this old woman.” My voice seemed extremely gruff. But then again, I had to lower my voice because we weren’t very far from the others.
“She’s not old, you can ask Lori.”
I punched him lightly in the chest. “I couldn’t get a damn word in edgewise with Carl before I came here. His jaw was held in place by metal wires and his body was covered in bandages, like a mummy.
I’m totally in two minds about getting involved in this. So where the hell did this mask come from?” A long silence ensued. “I don’t believe it’s a treasure map at all,” I said.
“How do you explain the two men, Lori and Colin?”
“It was Martha who paid to hire them both. They carefully considered an inaccessible territory; perhaps that was the entrance to the fabled Golden Country. Suppose that wasn’t the entrance, would they be in trouble? It doesn’t look like they’re going to be too bad. ‘You’re too suspicious,’ he said. His breath ruffled my hair, and some distant voices began to sound, oh, oh, oh, ah, from far away and far away, over and over again.
“I’m a news reporter.”
“So is Carl.”
“No. He’s a writer, an adventurer, a writer who likes to fictionalize politics, and I’m just an employee.”
“One of the employees,” he said, really not giving an inch.
I stood close to him, almost leaning over his body, and the jungle was just terrifying, making me a little wary. “Did you buy this mask?” I asked. “Or was it Carl?”
“It was Carl who inquired about its whereabouts. I think it must have a very long history. Really, as good as a frog princess. I do believe it is a genuine Inca piece, made around the time of the pre-Inca Empire. I think it’s possible that the legend about it holds a clue to the location of their treasure, a clue that only they could figure out, a clue that would benefit their people and their descendants. I don’t think we can solve this mystery, but it is by no means a hoax as you are pointing out this is.”
“It looks like something’s coming,” my raised voice bordered on a fear-filled scream.
He wrapped his arms around me, apparently hearing the noise as well. I twisted my face around to see what the hell was going on, and Matson’s arms went protectively across my chest.
The tree we were standing against was arch-shaped, with large and unusual auxiliary roots supporting the main trunk. The soil here is suited to growing shallow-rooted things, and as a result trees often grow these special aerial roots. We dodged back to a tree behind us and hid in the shadows without making a sound.
I saw the wavering, flickering light of the flashlight, which eased my mind, and was about to let out a loud breath when Matson held me down tightly. “Shhh, softly,” he whispered in my ear. So I had to remain silent.
In a few moments two figures appeared. At first the light made it difficult to recognize them; one of them was carrying a kerosene-burning lamp. After extinguishing the flashlight, they used it for illumination, and then one of them spread something on the ground.
They put the lights down and sat cross-legged on the freshly laid tarp. I tried to move with a little resistance, but I was wrapped tightly around Matson, forcing me to keep quiet.
I had to be still. There came the rustle of clothes rubbing together, the murmur of a whisper. I saw the slender, pale lower limbs move slowly closer to the oil lamp with its blazing fire. It was too late to intervene; Masson impeded all my movements.
I saw lips slowly graze the belly and thighs. Legs spread out to the sides in a welcoming pose, the man’s head resting between them. I saw an upwardly lifted waist and plump, bulging buttocks caressed, kissed, licked and sucked with a soul-crushing attachment. A breast so like a ripe fruit was rubbed and squeezed between two bodies, a gasp so high it sounded so clear in the night.
The oil lamp cast strange shadows. The jagged leaves had all been torn apart by the storm, and the dark shadows cast by the light fell in swimming clouds over the two entwined, intertwined, writhing bodies. Passionate murmurs gurgled, like the chirping of European nightingales. Panting was accompanied by a short, soft throaty sound, followed by a soft, low, soft sob as if it were a crime, and then the sound of pleasurable, soothing satisfaction after intercourse.
Matson held me all the way against his taut body. I could feel that close to my erect sex. Hot sweat flowed between my breasts. His nostrils puffed onto my skin. I felt both of our hearts pounding, pounding.
The two fully nude people in front of us were kneeling facing each other, and their bodies were actually in a curve as the man arched his back to kiss his lover’s upturned face. He kissed carefully, his lips brushing over her cheeks, her jaw, skipping over her lips.
They murmured and whispered for a moment, then put on their clothes. The man picked up the tarp, shook it carefully, folded it, and led the girl by the hand back toward the camp.
I couldn’t help but shiver all over as Matson pivoted my stiff body over and held me close in his arms, one hand under the collar at the back of my neck. My hair was always a mess, mostly tucked inside my hat.
His fingers caressed the sensitive nape of my neck and his lips pressed against my cheek.
“What do you think, Sidney?” Each word spat out causing a dry rustling sound to come from his lips against my skin.
“You’re a voyeuristic bastard.” My voice trembled as well. “You sexual deviant. You, you’re Peeping Tom Matson.”
His body shook with silent dry laughter, making no move to release me at all. The other hand quickly shallowly touches my hip. “Doesn’t that make you tell the truth? Sidney, be honest. Aren’t you just a bit of a slut?”
I tried desperately to break free but there was nothing I could do. We both bumped our noses together. “You’re a photographer. You really shouldn’t be carrying a Nikon camera along, that’s too bad, are you involved in blackmail?”
He started a new tactic with me, pinching his hands into my upper arms. Now he was really angry. “Look,” he shushed.
I let my eyes look out into the heavy darkness, plunging extremely horribly into a dizzying pitch blackness. The darkness that was rapidly piling up seemed to swallow me up and suck me into its deepest depths.
I held my emotions in check as long as I could.
“Now look again.” He screwed on the flashlight. Only thousands of ruby-colored dots were staring. Then it faded again.
Matson turns off his flashlight. “Everything’s being watched, everything,” he spoke with his breath spraying into my hair. “That’s the name of the game. Rory fucked you too Von?”
I struggled against the ground again. A wave of paralysis immobilized me, and it looked like I wasn’t going to be released from this damned man. The tropical jungle scared the shit out of me, and falling into such a primitive place was really going to scare the shit out of me.
“That man is playing a trick on our patroness. It’s clear now that he fucked her daughter like he was adding a side dish. That’s real, employee, time to wake up.”
“Carla is not Martha’s biological daughter,” I countered. “They’re not even related by blood.”
“In case you think that’s the key, you’re dumber than I thought.”
I gradually regained my sanity. Throwing off that willful numbness of a mind out of balance. Shaking off Matson’s grip violently, I dived into the darkness to look him squarely in the eye. When I spoke, my voice was calm and subdued. “You’re wrong, photographer. Rory is with Martha because she asked for it, otherwise he would not be able to travel with her. She may be an excellent sexual companion. If he was with Carla for fun, that should be his own responsibility, an irrelevant matter. As for myself, a man who is a sexual partner does not have to be celibate until he meets me. I like a man with a big dangling manhood and a strong body and intelligence to utilize his own set and not care about the rest. Do you see what I know about you? I use men only out of lust. When I want a friend, I go to someone. Friends and sex partners don’t always have to coincide, just as the word man doesn’t have to always mean ‘man’, you must understand that it’s not just ‘man’.” I spit out the last word.
Under the onslaught of these words, Masson was surprisingly forgiving. “Insignificant fellow. Very well, you’re not as ignorant as I thought you were. So when Rory hooks his finger, you’ll fill yourself in as his filler.”
“You wouldn’t be able to do it, would you? You damned boaster. Intercourse is like an appetite to me, and I prefer tasty food. Lori is so lovely and skillful in both appearance and movement. The rest is nothing. Nothing ever happens.”
He laughed softly and loudly. “Hurry up, Frogwoman,” he said, “let’s go back to camp.”
I turned around, trying to step in front of him, advocate for independence young lady, keep the damn distance I guess, but I didn’t realize that my head slammed forward first into a jutting tree root. A hissing shush of pain couldn’t help but lash out of my mouth as I lay motionless, breathing heavily, embarrassed to have been hurt in such a proud situation, and cursing creepily under my breath in a vague and indistinct manner.
Matson, of course, delighted, couldn’t help but let out a low, deprecating, soft laugh. “You really deserve a hearty congratulations for liking your sex speech, don’t you?” He sneered maliciously, able to hold out a hand.
Then I got up on my knees and spit crushed grass clippings from my mouth. Pushed the hand aside. He attempted to grab me by the neck to hold me up, or to be more precise, the collar of my chinos. I attempted to shake him off with a handful of judo, not expecting to be dramatically thwarted. Matson punched me in the head, knocking me out again, and my elbow smashed into his eye.
“Awww!”
“Yoo-hoo,” he howled furiously, and the screech startled the roosting forest birds, which flew out of the treetops with raucous clucking of their wings.
“You stupid ass!”
“And talk about me! What’s the matter with your elbow, man? Tomorrow I’ll be hallucinating and in a trance in one eye.”
His knee was jammed between my legs and his mouth was so close to mine. I was already burning and anxious after being forced into his tight embrace and forced to watch Rory and Carla make love. I tried to pull him away as hard as I could.
He laughed out loud, immobilizing me.
“You pig!”
He thought briefly. “Nah. I don’t exactly think I have the appearance of an animal, how about being a stallion?
”
I scorned. “Your imagination is truly unrivaled, and it has kept me in mind.”
Apparently he hadn’t come up with a proper retort to this comment, so he still held my head in a vise-like grip and kissed me savagely and furiously. It was a sensual rape, and I didn’t even think of biting his tongue or kneeing him in the groin, which would have been a quick retort in normal times.
What’s going on? Why didn’t I go back? I couldn’t find out. His kisses were like a Martian’s energizing sensation, and I was completely dumbfounded. Worse, I felt my crotch tugging upward against him, tugging at his pants, and my own. He slowly squirmed as we both fumbled around in the darkness, and finally he drove that long, thick shaft all the way into the depths of my cunt, never removing his hands from either side of my head, the passionate kisses going on and on and on, that rod pushing so deep and stirring, preying on my attempts to mentally get the upper hand. I hated him, loathed him for this subjugation of me, but didn’t have the courage to stop it.
No man had ever kissed me like that before.
We both moaned loudly and gasped sharply, our orgasms raging before long. I pressed my hands behind his head and raked his dark hair, embracing him to myself as passionately as he reacted. After a while, we lay motionless, and with some ensuing embarrassment and awkwardness, we separated the tangle of our bodies from each other and dressed, an urgently uncomfortable silence ensuing as we didn’t look at each other.
On the way back to the campground, neither of us mentioned what had just happened, and nothing was said except that Matson asked a question. “Can you tell me about your sexual tastes, Frogwoman, and whether they are handled over a high flame? Or stirred and fried?”
I snapped out of his vengeful, snarky taunts, regained my senses, and gave an apt reply. “Hee-hee. Oh no, it won’t be very descriptive, that would be clumsy, let’s put it this way; you’re like the pre-dinner wine, and Rory is the main course.”
The next day, Jack realized that the wireless phone was not working properly. After struggling to dry it out in the humidity and heat, he realized that some of the parts in the unit were damaged beyond repair. He became adamant, emphasizing that such damage could not have happened for no reason.
“Never mind,” said Martha, reasonably. “I don’t blame you, Jack. Any one of us could have touched it by accident.”
“It was in a rice bag,” he reiterated doggedly.
“Are you going to blame it on Pepper? That’s not good.”
“Pepper didn’t move our ship’s spares, ma’am. Those rice bags have been moved, and I think it was intentional.”
Martha looked around at everyone gathered for breakfast and we were all listening intently.
“Does anyone have anything else to say?” She asked calmly. The demoralizing silence continued as she turned to Jack again, “Why did you want to get up and check it today?”
“I check it every three days to make sure it’s dry and okay.” The man huffed a little.
“Was it still good the last time you checked it?”
“In one piece.”
Martha finally made a decision. “Never mind. Maybe we don’t need it. I’m not quite sure exactly what’s going on, but it’s really hard to believe there’s some kind of conspiracy. Someone must have accidentally touched it by accident. Too bad, that’s all.”
Carla chimed in. “Jack does seem cautious, Martha. He should have known he was also the last suspect.”
Hearing this tangible statement, Jack drummed up interest again. I wondered if he knew that Lori had been in the woods last night, and I surmised that Martha certainly did not.
Our advance was impeded that day by rapids.
Martha was a little overwhelmed. “There shouldn’t be rapids here,” she said, glaring at the waves surging before us with her hands on her hips. We dragged the boat aground to a shore covered with small round rocks, disturbing the brown clouds and red butterflies. Occasionally, in the daylight, we could see magnificent, seven-colored rainbows that emitted colorful, jewel-like rays.
Without radio communication equipment, I looked numb and searching. Flooding the river, we lost everything. The temperature was unbearably high. My clothes stick to my skin. Tiny sweat bees kept trying to suck water from my eyes and mouth.
I took a few steps into the jungle. The river faded from sight, and the sound of the rapids sounded even more dull across the short distance.
The river washed against the banks with a nasty milting sound. When the frogs and insects chirp in unison and decide to compete with the birds, it’s like I’ve stepped into the dawn chorus on the daily radio. As the sunlight intensified, this tonal flourish dwindled and coalesced into an unchanging shrill screech. Though these sounds still float on the river, where the screeching and chirping of birds and insects have ceased. So far none of us had seen a monkey or heard an ape.
Again the sound of the water rushing to the shore, I thought with trepidation, preferring the silence. There was none of the sleepy quiet of summer afternoons that you usually find in regular society in the summer; it was a suffocating, unnatural silence that hid an invisible watchfulness. It is a breathless, unnatural silence that harbors an invisible surveillance that is silently watching me, waiting for an opportunity to move.
I was careful to get back among the others, walking down to the river and the piles of mosquitoes that were biting people.
Margaret sat mutely on a rock, so serene and titanic. “What happened?” I asked.
“The men probably had to cut some round logs so the boat could roll along the shore.”
As I looked out over the riverbank, part of the bank revealed rocks of various shapes and sizes. Most of the reef was covered with green, light-thirsty grasses and trees with bright red open flowers, strewn with colorful butterflies of all colors. A sudden tightening of my insides pumped through me; this place had created an extremely emotional impression on me. It was too hot and humid, full of ants, snakes, , piranhas and reptiles. All the same it was breathtakingly, primitively beautiful.
It has an untouched luster, a fertility that makes shallow-rooted things flourish.
Matson came over to join our group and crouched next to that secretary.
“We’re going to bend the boat around,” he said.
“Let the ship bend over?”
“The first thing to do is to unload the ship’s cargo, Margaret, in order to lighten the ship’s weight, and again to avoid damage should it capsize. We will wind a rope around and wrap it to the stumps on both sides of the bank and tie the other end to the hull. Pepper will start the boat’s engine. The rest of us will tug on the ropes tied to the stumps on both sides of the river. This, you see, is the artificial crank.”
“Can it move forward?”
Her trust in him was so pretentious, I thought mischievously. Perhaps she had always liked Sandrine Krauss. Krauss (female movie star note).
He smiled and gazed downward at her. “Maybe.”
Martha came back and confirmed everything Matson had just said, and we set to work unloading the ship’s cargo.
This hard work consumed all the rest of the day. We lifted everything off the boat and piled it under a tarp on the riverbank. A sudden rainstorm in the upper reaches would raise the river level by several feet in less than an hour. One boat was moored with a rope tied to the bow of the other hublot. When the river was calm, Rory and Colin waded across the shoal to the other side of the bank, hacking away at the vines and branches that jutted out of the channel, and as soon as they passed, they saw small bats, gray and dark as clouds, pouring out of their roosts.
What the men roughly found to rival the midway bush was the rushing rapids. The rapids were only about a hundred yards or so in total length. There were two ropes leading to the banks on each side. The first rope was wrapped around the trunks of these trees halfway down. The second two ropes were wrapped around stumps farther out to allow the boat to stop farther out.
“It’s your turn to swim, girls,” Martha called. I gazed at Margaret, then patted my pockets, which were actually worthless until they were emptied. We both shrugged, grinned timidly at each other, and leapt into the water.
Beneath the calm water lurks a strong current that drags our feet. Lori and Colin watched and kept watch from the shore. I try not to think about the pilchards and crocodiles.
My chest was tight and I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t like it all, the water was so deep that anything could be lurking underneath, and all the snakes could swim.
Margaret struggled to swim forward, not saying a word, but her sharp, panting breaths could be heard through the clamor of the river against the current. A few large shaped bugs with sharp iron armor swept in front of me. My attention was distracted, my feet began to sink involuntarily, and I called for not being in the water.
I was dizzy in the dark green foamy water. Trying to keep my mouth shut as tightly as possible, my chest kept heaving from lack of oxygen. Suddenly my lower limbs tangled into some thick branches, still swimming slowly.
Python.
Once you yell out, they get tighter and tighter, I thought hysterically, choking sobs that couldn’t help but bubble out of my two locked lips.
Not one of them knew if I cried out that it was my time to die, and I had a right to be disappointed and show fear.
My head surfaced and I saw a rainbow in the water vapor-filled daylight. Rory’s head emerged from beside me like a sleek seal. He held me straight up and my struggling feet finally got a hold. We then went downstream for about twenty yards.
He held me close, his wet face next to mine. I gasped and breathed heavily. “I think… I think you’re…”
“I know. It’s all in the past.”
“There’s a python, I’m scared to death.”
“Honey, it’s okay now. I know all about it. We were all worried, poor girl.”
“Lori,” I said and leaned my head on his shoulder. After a while, it was time to forget the unpleasant experience I had just had.
He embraced me and swam to the center of the river, then took me by the hand again to the other side of the river.
Margaret had reached the shore safely without incident. We stood, steaming with heat, close to the ropes, waiting for the tug.
Pepper untied the cables and planned to get the boat to the left side of the center of the river, where he thought he would be able to see the junction by crossing the splashing reef. We lifted the ropes that had come loose, each rope being pulled by four people, two men and two women. We tugged on the boat as hard as we could to achieve the maximum tightness of our strength. Pepper shouted and released the throttle. The boat lurched forward and the protruding bow immediately went under water.
I felt like my arms were about to come out of their sockets. The worst time was when people were winding ropes while we pulled forward on a second boat rope against the current. The boat was rocking sharply in the tumbling, rippling river. The knot in the first rope had to be untied as soon as the loose part was all taut so the boat could move forward. This boat rope must also be kept as a spare, but it must not fall into the water, lest it might stir into the propeller.
Thus finally succeeded in steering the boat to a calm river, and had to do it again as usual.
We rested for a while, ate some food, and discussed whether it would be worthwhile for the second boat to be pulled by one less rope, and to tow the second boat on some of the power of the first ship. This meant that two men had to be in the cockpit, and everyone was in favor of Pepper steering the second boat through the rocks, as he had done quite well earlier.
After such an emergency, the ship’s hold was still dripping with water and was as intact as it had been at the beginning.
The advice was taken. It was Martha who steered the rudder of this boat against the current, so that the second boat was partly drawn by the first, partly pulled by ropes and partly dragged by the rapids.
Arms already fatigued to the point of breaking, we struggled to carry all of our storage and personal belongings as we slowly trekked across the river.
Before I could get close enough to see what was happening. Suddenly there was a startling quarrel from Rory and Matson. These two men, who had long been hostile to each other, had finally quarreled over a valuable rifle that had fallen into the water.
Masson condemned the Englishman, who in turn blamed Masson, and the two were almost on the verge of a fight.
Martha stepped in to mediate, and even though she was a head shorter than these two, the power of the dignitary drove her to do so. I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but the tone was calm and pungent with anger though.
Margaret’s face was white at first sight, Carla was close behind Rory, Masson looked very unhappy, and Jack stood beside his boss in an amiable manner. It was obvious that if any of the men had not obeyed her orders, he would have come out and interfered at once.
I was with Colin when it happened. We had spent the whole day on two boats and he wasn’t as talkative as his colleagues, yet seemed to be an easy man to get along with.
He looked a little shaky. “We’ll go on without this,” I said.
“Having a rifle allows us to go on. If something stops us, we will have to use the gun.
”
“What if we run into Indians?”