Scanning Proofreading: CSH
Chapter VI
“You’re not dead, you’re not dead, you’re not dead.”
I woke up and realized it was all true.
“What happened?” I asked, shrinking my body into his arms, it felt so good to have Masen wrapped tightly around me.
“We’re safe, we’ve made it to the outside of the cave, it was the mask that brought us out.”
I slowly raised my hand and nothing was left on my face.
“I took it off,” Tom said.
“I’m so cold,” I said.
“You’re not wearing any clothes.”
It was amazing, my mind working slowly. “You raped me,” I seethed. “While I was freezing because of that, you took the opportunity to rape me.” I scrambled out of his arms and began to hit him weakly.
He clenched my fist. “No, no, no. It doesn’t fucking hurt me at all that this happened only because it could lead us out of that place.”
I glared at him, it was dark but not pitch black and the breeze was harsh and cold. “How did we get out.”
“I don’t know, I don’t understand.” His eyes move away from me, and he’s not lying. He’s gazing at my naked breasts, and he releases my waist as I shiver and cling to myself.
He parted my arms and gazed at my breasts. “You don’t value men at all,” he said.
I swallowed back an angry curse, my body on fire from head to toe. I reached out and lifted the man by his belt as I grabbed him, ripping his shirt off and lowering him onto a rock pile. Easily yanking his hands away from me and riding him, then I harrumph as my body hungrily swallows his genitals into the searing fortress. Sucking, clenching, squeezing until he squirted, then I sat on his taut belly and rubbed myself lightly.
I let go of him then walk away, the not-so-bright stars fading in the steel-green sky, the distance illuminated by a glow, the planets orbiting, the fireballs hanging low behind the mountains, the darkness dying, the dawn approaching.
I stood with my arms unfolded, observing all the heavenly bodies as the sky brightened and the tops of the mountains took on a greenish-blue color, with the vast, green, endless sea of perpetual forest below.
“You bitch,” Matson yelled. He stepped between me and Rising Sun, and I grabbed him by the hair and forced him to his knees, then stood with my legs crossed on either side of his face hole to keep him from moving. The unevenness of his features, his skin both smooth and rough, was very pleasant to my swollen pussy.
Snow-covered peaks stretched endlessly to our left and right, and as the sky broke, above behind me, the summit of Cloudy Mountain had shifted from a grayish white to a rose color.
The sun-wheel slowly climbed to the tops of the jagged peaks, the white snow glistened and gradually turned to an intense red light that filled my body with red. The vast, turbulent, undulating sea of trees changed from a blur to a clear outline, and spirals of white smoke began to emanate upward, forming clouds of smoke in the woods that dispersed upward into the sky that shone with a thousand golden rays.
I felt so cold I wanted my own clothes and I couldn’t help but yelp as I looked down. A few moments later, I crouched my body face to face with him.
He looked horrible, his unshaven lids were lined, his face was gray from exhaustion and fear of me, and those golden eyes looked cloudy and dull.
“Mason,” I called out softly.
“You bitch,” he cursed again, his voice hoarse and shaky.
“It’s this mask that you put on me, and I don’t even want to wear it.”
“It led us out of there.”
His silhouette became blurred, “I saw the Incas,” my voice was sharp and strange.
“God,” he whimpered, leaning his face into my shoulder.
My clothes were strewn across the mountainside, and we picked them up wearily, and then I put them on.
“Look toward the east, Sidney,” Matson said as his eyes crossed my shoulder absently, and we both met each other’s eyes with great effort.
“That’s where the sun rises.”
I said with understanding, “We are now on the other side of the mountain.”
“The first step into the door of success, my dear.”
After raping this man I resumed my alter ego that had worshiped the sun. The mountain stretched dangerously downward into the lush, slow, winding, rugged basin below. Everything was in a tussle, and the squeals, cackles, and growls of all sorts of animals, as well as the chirps and chirps and their inexpressible cries, rose and fell in the rain. On the distant horizon, the snow-covered summits of the Andes stretched endlessly north and south.
Matson came to me, not too close, and I was completely detached from the self that had lost its nature. “To feel all this spooky entertainment.”
“Fifteen million years,” he said.
“I often feel that ancientness before my first cup of coffee in the morning.”
“Have you no sense of awe, Sidney?”
The pretentious pig. “I don’t believe in anything.” I shushed. “Nothing, besides I’m not going to change my mind.”
He turned to walk away and I gazed angrily at the clump of mountains. He walked back with a telephoto lens from his backpack, scrutinized the forest and clump of mountains for a moment, then handed me the lens.
Our fingers touched, to avoid physical contact, and in the midst of our anxiety, we almost made this precious shot fall to the ground. I took a deep breath and stared at the ground. I didn’t want to do anything stupid again, wearing this mask, blaming it on this mask, with extreme reluctance.
He tried extremely hard to hold my shoulders in one hand. He really didn’t want to touch me. “Tell you what,” he said.
“Let’s pretend this never happened. Let us forget it. As you said, it’s all because of the mask, it’s not your responsibility to touch it again, you don’t like it, and besides, I hate it.”
I squinted at him. “It’s not for me. At first, I didn’t feel it that strongly.”
A queer expression appeared on his face. He drew me close to his side and gazed intently into my face, “Just run away,” he said.
I felt his unrelenting grip, “I’m going to hit you with the camera,” I yelled, men are so stupid.
“Yeah, no problem, yes.” He hurriedly released me and I took the long lens and looked at it.
The forest was full of vibrant colors, in which flowers grew upward. Looking from this height, the red, fire-like epiphytes were like tiny jewels dotted about, and birds of every color flew about, pecking at the fruits of the flamboyant bushes, and I saw a group of monkeys.
I saw Vicar Bamba.
I moved the camera away from my heel and back to my eyes, but again I saw nothing.
Once again, I moved the camera away and looked into the distance with my naked eyes.
There it was, hidden in a thicket of trailing field things, surrounded by near-equatorial flowers, and obstructed by the jungle, the stone wonder receded deeper into the green.
It was an imagination, but it was clear to me that the real thing was there.
“What’s wrong?” Masen asked. It took a lot of effort to pull my gaze away. I watched him and thought I knew a lot.
“It’s nothing,” I said. “Some dizziness, I feel like I’m going to fall.”
“Lying.”
“Hey, man,” I smiled, frontal assaults being too easy. “Time to go find the others.”
Matson once again looked out over the Andes from a distance, the sun was now high in the sky, there was no hint of shadow in the forest and it was golden, “Not many people have ever seen a sunrise over the Andes.” He said.
I was tired of the novelty of the sights, but I didn’t say so; I didn’t want to sound timid myself.
After crossing the mountain we stopped for a roadside shower, naturally stripping off my clothes, I was desperate for a wash, and while my pants were drying on the rocks I was also going to sit naked in the sun, and in the time we’d been in contact with each other I think we both preferred to nest sensuously, like a pit viper rather than snuggling up to each other.
We met Jack first. He was in a depressed mood collecting firewood. When he saw us, a smile of pure joy immediately appeared on that ugly face, and my own spirits were instantly lifted, accompanied by the simple, natural feeling that the fellow was very glad that we were not dead or missing at the bottom of the grave.
We politely explained how we had gotten lost and then wandered around aimlessly all night. Finally at dawn we made it to the far side of the mountain range. We stumbled into the campground, and I was so tired that I didn’t want to answer any questions. When someone happily handed me coffee, I would just fumble for my hammock. Masson was talking to Margaret, who was clinging affectionately to his arm.
Before I lost consciousness from exhaustion, I had changed into clean clothes. While I was asleep, Margaret washed my clothes near the waterfall and spread them out to dry. That girl had a heart of gold and deserved better than Masson, though I would not have said that to her. Afterward I remembered his cozy embrace in that bewitching room, when all we could think of was that we would die.
What would he do if I still refused to wear the mask the second time?
I woke up in the middle of the night and ate something and fell back into sleep. I was equally exhausted mentally and physically, and I stopped thinking about the mask.
We left the mountain early the next morning. After breakfast in the odd encounter that followed I detected a certain amount of commotion, Martha was concerned about me and acted very worried, but it was clear to me that she was thinking of something else.
I had no way of telling anyone what had happened inside this loathsome mountain I was about to leave. I tried hard to forget it, and at the same time I felt a duty to Carla, though I had less respect for her than for her stepmother, Martha.
I was careful to mention the topic, even though I’m not a smooth talker.
“Hey, about that mask,” I said.
“I appreciate your input, Sidney.”
“What?”
“It’s that thing about you staying in the cave with the frescoes and making sure Carla isn’t humiliated, not that I don’t trust Rory, dear, but girls should always look out for each other!”
“I worry about Carla, she doesn’t understand the mask, but it seems very attractive. Is she indeed going to wear it, Martha? There are so many things that would be beyond our knowledge, and our rational Western way of thinking might prevent us from seeing the real trouble here. You need to stop making Carla wear the mask to find the lost city, okay? This is all the mask’s doing, and we are hindering Kara’s mind and body.”
Martha eyed me oddly; she might as well have been wearing it, she didn’t realize that I was already wearing this horrible thing.
Within the few seconds of the pause before she answered, a thought came into my mind as clear as crystal.
I had already worn that strong and effective mask last night and thus fucked Lori in front of Carla in that cave with the frescoes, what was she wearing when she ordered Lori to fuck me?
Carla is playing hide and seek with all of us, she’s not a little girl who lacks the shyness to be rich at all, she’s a naughty pussycat, going to all this trouble just to get her man and her kinky sexual thrills?
I felt strange in the cave of paintings, but I was so horrified at the time, and the true power of that mask was now something I had actually experienced. Besides, I did have a passion for Lori, but Carla’s whole thing could have been a performance and a secret snicker as we leapt like puppets at her command.
I began to feel so cold, but Martha was speaking to me. “I appreciate your concern,” she said, looking at me strangely for a moment, as if amazed that such concern could come from someone of my character! “But there is something else you don’t know.” Suddenly all her long-suppressed excitement burst forth. “I don’t know why you haven’t been told; you ought to know that she has seen it, Sidney. She has seen Vicar Bamba, and she knows the way.”
I opened my mouth in panic, dumbfounded.
“The mask is a map,” Martha said. “It tells the man who wears it. I don’t know how to go this way, and Carla will take us there now; it lies to the west of this place, between us and the Andes, and we shall travel a little way by boat, but then we must walk, and as far as we have come, Sidney, we shall find it, understand?”
“I understand,” I said feebly, struggling for a moment as I forced myself to be happy. “Great, that’s excellent news, maybe she doesn’t have to wear the mask anymore.”
Martha said gravely, “I have tried it on, but I can’t get it on, and I think it may be the shape of my face. Neither you nor Margaret have ever worn it, and you are right, my dear, we have no way of understanding these mysterious things. I have told Carla all about it, and I shall talk to her again, and she certainly won’t indulge, even though she is an adult, and I know she desperately needs help. She wants to do it all, Sidney.”
“She wants Rory,” I said calmly. “The mask is worth as much as she can get him.”
Martha was keenly aware of this, and her expression grew grave as she took her time to think about the answer. Finally she said, “Not too many women would turn down a man like him, and maybe he’s not the right man to marry. But you’re very mature Sidney, you must know how wonderful a man like him can make a woman feel, as long as she can control it, she won’t fall into it, he’s got a lovely body, we both know that, I wouldn’t be jealous of Carla getting a short break from him, I’m sure he wasn’t born to be a scumbag, but a wonderful man, I’m sorry that you’re feeling so lonely here.”
An intense anger invaded me. “I am in no way telling this because I am jealous.” I burst into a rage.
“Very well,” Martha replied calmly, and left.
We broke camp and headed down the mountain, I deduced that the others hadn’t run into any accidents, and when I overheard me talking to Colin about the wind and boom I’d noticed, he looked bewildered.
We rejoined the cool, damp embrace of the mountains. It was like a landscape out of a Spielberg movie, hidden, pristine and immersed in an overwhelming silence. The green flogging under my hands was wet, and the knobbly bushes reproduced the ancient situation. The dampness seemed like a net gently obscuring my path, and the ground cracked beneath my feet as if it was yearning to swallow my cozy flesh into a wet, cold and sticky fortress.
Sidney, I’m perversely suing myself that you’re too allergic.
We slowly descended into the warm, near-equatorial forest. The heat and humidity were wearing me down, the mosquitoes were enjoying our skin again, and with every step I took my temper grew more and more irritable, so I wanted to stay home and do my interesting job as a reviewer, write stories, and do what I love to do.
Later that night when we were camping, Lori came up to us, “I want to talk to you,” he said.
“I’m tired, we’ll talk later, okay?”
“I’m going to say it, I’m going to say it in front of everyone, maybe Carla doesn’t want to do it anymore, you know she’s the only one who knows the way.”
“Martha told me, okay, what is it? Is it that you’ve noticed it’s having sex with one woman at a time, big lover?”
He took my arm and led me to a spot not far from the campsite, the familiar nighttime forest with screeching and crunching noises coming from the trees. We checked the ground around us for snakes and seeds and sat down, I really hated this forest.
Suddenly Rory fell to his knees in front of me, startlingly ripping off my shirt and pressing his face into my breasts, I felt his warm hair on my sensitive skin and my arms wrapped around his shoulders out of instinct. He wrapped his arms around my waist.
“Sidney,” he said.
“Hey, hey, what’s up? Are you going to say something horrible? Don’t offend your patron, dear.” I tried to keep my voice light, I was tired of getting overly excited.
He tilted his face up and grinned at me, “I am about to confess something extremely bad,” he said. “Something so terrible that I find it hard to talk about.”
“Then don’t say it, forget it, it’s a good way to solve a difficult problem.”
“I’m not as strong as I think I am, Sidney.”
His voice had a slight tremor from excitement, and I felt the panic escalating. “I don’t want to know about this.
“I’m sorry,” I said pointedly.
He grabbed me firmly. “You must know, Sidney. Lovely Sidney, snappy, outspoken, resilient Sidney, darling, for me this time it’s really, I mean all of that. I don’t want this, it’s extremely annoying, but it’s true.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” My own voice began to shake, damn it!
“No, you know, you’re so smart you wouldn’t not understand. Let me tell you, you fucking bitch, I’m telling you I love you, I love you, I want to marry you, and when this expedition is over, I’m going to do my best to get you to agree to marry me. I’ve never proposed before, I want you, I want to marry you.”
The silence continued and I finally said, “It’s a very unfunny joke.”
“It’s no joke, I’ve taken a knee.”
He pulled my head down hard as I stiffened my neck. His lips gently and carefully touched my closed lips for a moment and then pressed up gently and hard as he began to kiss his way into my mouth. His hands came up and dug into the roots of my hair and gripped the back of my head so that I couldn’t move my face as he kissed me passionately and sincerely.
It feels sincere, but what am I to make of it?
I began to react, though my whole reason was against it; it was wrong, and I did not want it; men are a sin, as if they were drinking wine, and the trick is to let you let off the vice without letting it belong to you.
He stopped kissing, then buried his face between my breasts, arching his nose over the cleavage, his hot breath flooding me. I sat motionless, my arms rising limply to rest on him, unable to resist.
He re-buttons my shirt and then stands up, he pulls me up and holds me tightly in his arms, his lips close to my ear, my hair vibrating when he speaks.
“Now we’re about to find Vika Bamba, and Kara knows the way,” he said. “I’m going to do everything she wants me to do, even though I don’t think there’s much point about the mask anymore. I think the poor girl has a strong sexual desire for me, while realizing that she can’t have me any other way.”
My senses are so sharp, little one, I think.
“When it is all over, I will take you back to civilization and find the right words to woo you. Perhaps this will distress you, but I will confirm that I can wait in the most peculiarly romantic mood. I would give anything for you, but currently Vicar Bamba attracts me. You must understand that, as an archaeologist, this will be the high point of my archaeological career, and from now on I shall be closely associated with it. But I tell you, Sidney, I am going to live with you in a way I never thought possible before, stability, love for each other, a bunch of children.”
I interrupted him. “I can’t consume it,” I said.
He laughed in ecstatic indulgence and released me, “Of course, my dear, or would I not be wrong about you. Now let that thought gradually increase in potency for you, and think well of the fact that I am at your feet, at your mercy, and that you may step on me.”
“Simply mind-blowing.”
“I’m going to hit you over the head with a stick, drag you inside me, and rape you. By whatever means, I’m going to possess you, and you can resist or cooperate gracefully, but the result will always be the same, and in the end it won’t make any difference?”
“I don’t know,” I said weakly. “Why are you telling all this now.”
“Because if I don’t speak out, it’s going to explode. Because I’m making a wager that I know there will be a bumper crop and that no one else will get it, and Matson is taking offense at you behind my back, and I know you’re listening to him.”
“I don’t like this man.”
“Sex isn’t conditional on liking, this man is cunning, he wants your flesh, besides he doesn’t like me.”
“It’s me he doesn’t like.”
“Listen,” Rory said softly. “That’s exactly what I’m worried about, that you’re too gullible, that he might say it’s because he senses you think he’s a pile of shit, when in fact the man’s mad about you. I can’t blame him, because I’m the same way, Sidney. He can only offer a bit of clumsy fucking, whereas I can make love to you for as many years as you’d like, and maybe the difference doesn’t matter too much to you, but I’m here to plead with you, don’t give in to his demands so easily, he’s a vampire, a worthless coin.”
Lori dropped to her knees and nibbled at the front crotch of my pants to the point where a sexual shudder quickly rippled throughout my body.
“I don’t want him to touch it.” He said, “If you let him, I won’t be responsible for my actions, he’s a crocodile, Sidney, a carnivore, please don’t let his manhood enter you.”
We walked back without realizing it. I’m going to sleep alone in the hammock and drop the mosquito net. After that lecture that appealed to my emotions, I am overloaded and, naturally, I am afraid and intimidated by Vicar Bamba.
I fell asleep thus depressed, once again comfortably hoisted up, and realized why these hammocks existed in this corner, where, lying on my back, I could observe the leaf-eating ants ceaselessly gnawing tiny pieces of leaves into all sorts of peculiar geometric patterns. You could see vicious man-eaters coming out to feed, as well as all sorts of other large colonies of ants, and I quickly became an ant expert, a title that would be useless when I packed my bags and went back. You can also see termites, , lizards, tree frogs (apparently the piranhas in the Amazon and its tributaries make it necessary for them to inhabit the trees), and of course snakes in the more obscure places. A hammock will keep you away from it all.
This relaxing sound sleep restores my spirit. I no longer feared the mountain, the mountain of clouds and mist, eternal only a piece of my past. I leave behind the real and unbelievable man, Sidney understands when to retreat, letting these things slowly escape from my body, and I begin to crave Vicar Bamba.
I know where it is, and it seems Carla knows exactly where it is, but no one knows that I know.
Vicabamba, the last Inca stronghold. It has long been believed that the treasure they saved from the depredations of the Spaniards is buried here. For two hundred years there have been various expeditions actively searching for it, including all the local specialists, but none have found the treasure, if it exists at all.
We will find it. For my part, I don’t think about getting rich, I just have to have a job and have fun, but finding wealth and telling the world that we’re right is an accomplishment.
I’m going on a quest, not just for Martha’s sake, but for Rory’s, even though he’s trying to tie his future to mine. No, it is entirely for myself, and when will I go on my quest for the treasure? This is an unparalleled event in my life, and I’m going to make it end on a perfect note.
The next day we returned to the moorings where Pepe was patiently waiting for us. We all congratulated each other on our excitement, and early on the third day we set off, now that we needed to be efficient.
We know exactly where we’re going.
We spent three days in the boat, rolling along in the gradually raging river, gradually approaching the thicket of mountains that feed this huge river and all its tributaries. Now we were approaching the Peruvian border, and a long road led southward to the west of Manaus.
Before us lie the Andes, which are geologically infantile, only 15 million years old. The Amazon River Basin originally flowed into the Pacific Ocean, and the hard outer shell of the Andes fell below South America to the Pacific coast. As a result of the collision, volcanoes became mountains and rivers were formed. Over time it slowly evolved into a huge inland sea that flowed into the Atlantic Ocean, and the manatees and all those horrible fish in the original sea finally became freshwater species, and that, in a nutshell, is the history of this place.
Now that we are completely finished with the sailing trip for the second time, I feel very sorry for the flies, bees, crocodiles and pilchards, it is still not a bad line of excursion. There was such a variety of birds along the way, from the odd hummingbird to the ridiculous parrot. I even saw some monkeys, a spider ape with long skinny limbs, red howler monkeys, squirrel monkeys and other species, I almost became an expert.
Margaret remained quiet at all times, appealing to Masson with her self-respect.
Carla stood like the piebald statue adorning the bow of the boat in front of it, and when the moment came for the river voyage to end, I was ready.
After all, I know it well. I knew as much as Kara did about where Vika Bamba was. This knowing could only be exchanged for pain, hidden and festering within me.
It will take less than two days to walk into the tropical jungle. We will be out of this river for two weeks and more, and we must carry every thing ourselves without Pepe’s help, for his chief task is to watch the boat.
The time of departure finally came and I was both afraid and looking forward to it, the tropical jungle scared me, my companions also scared me, such as their greed, their sexual fervor and most of all I was afraid of myself, on the other hand it could have been because of that nasty mask.
And then there was Lori, who courted Carla. Sometimes he met my eyes and gave me an intimate, witty, and possessive slight smile. It wasn’t too bad having such a jaguar of a man trying to lock me up, but I wasn’t sure if I could dominate him.
Did I want to try? Rory was not one to return home peacefully at sundown, he could confer excitement, frenzy but also trouble, strife, and that was exactly my conflict, and I think the man Ken was secretly laughing inside, peering into my thoughts.
His arrogance, his inner confidence, licked at my soul like a man licking and sucking at the pussy door of a woman he had longed for. It made my body burn and happy, and it was these warm thoughts that made me delirious.
It was natural enough to keep these thoughts hidden in my mind. In fact, I wanted marriage as much as I wanted back pain, and the proposal left me with nothing but shock and emotional indifference to the kind of desire that was closing in on me after the proposal.
I’m going to develop this lust, I’m going to turn on the faucet completely. I’m going to sleep on soiled sheets for two weeks straight, and I’m going to use all my sexual skills to fuck until I’m exhausted. I’m not just going to let him inside me, I’m going to go deep inside his pelvis and take massive amounts of physical pleasure from his magnificent body. I’m going to wail and sweat and let him coil over me like a starfish on the bed, feeding off me and causing me to develop a new insatiable appetite without restraint, and I’m going to wake up feeling his thick man-root thrusting into my ass, and then fall asleep with him thrusting into it until it’s beyond thought beyond reason, thrusting hard and fast for no reason at all.
Then I’m going to rinse off and regain myself and leave him and his lustful desires. There is no bedroom in my life for couples and I will not and cannot share what I get with others. I have had many boyfriends and I never indulge in one, I only want lovers.
I just want Lori to be my lover, an inspired, exciting and inspiring lover. It would be nice, very nice, to accomplish that before leaving South America.
At the same time, I had to recognize that insight in my own mind. We would leave the boat behind and enter the pathless, dim, lush, humid tropical jungle, stepping where no man had gone before.
We will invade the hidden Vicar Bamba, and I am fully convinced that the intricacies of this secret are more or less quite risky.
Of course, I was thinking again of men impaling themselves on women’s caves. I thought of Lori, my self-appointed lover, who had penetrated Carla and was willing to take her strange orders, and I thought of Matson, who was stabbing Margaret with his prick, and maybe it was me he wanted at the moment. And in the meantime, Lori had certain rights, and I thought of Martha acting as a kinky matchmaker for her stepdaughter with this man she herself wanted to get the secret of the Vicar Bamba.
When you think about it all, you’d think we were an unusual bunch of assholes having a seizure over treasure.
But there is not a poor man among us, and the glittering gold lures us forward and beckons us through that green gloom.
I’m quite worried about the Indians, Indian tribes have lived here since the great migration of peoples across the Bering Strait and then down through Alaska, Canada, North America, and South America, and they will never take kindly to trespassers here, the Incas tried this land once and failed, the Spanish suffered setbacks as well. Modern governments have also tried and failed. The Indians stayed here in seclusion, perhaps even they died out, but they were defeated by logging, chopping, burning, mining, and poisonous mercury.
Though we saw no Indians, and even if they had seen us they would not have stirred, and in the oppressive, humid heat we went on through the endless woods, the two men in front of us cutting and chopping down the obstacles in the way, and Carla following like an emperor with her head held high and guiding our way.
She has the right to command, I don’t need a compass, Vicar Bamba is calling me and I face it as if it were the Holy Land of Mecca.
I don’t like this calling, it’s absurd and illogical, and I don’t believe in the supernatural or in irrational explanations.
But that pesky city in the jungle called to me, and I actually answered, and day by day, slowly got closer and closer.
I didn’t say anything to anyone.
One night Martha said to Carla, “How far away are we? Honey.”
Carla twisted her face toward her, full of triumph. “We’re getting closer, Martha, day by day. Can’t you feel it. It’s like a clear, pleasant bell echoing in my heart.”
I roared in a low voice, the preening cow that she is.
“How long before we get there?” Martha asked.
Kara closed her eyes and wiggled in a mysterious manner. I yawned, and Kara lifted her hands, spreading her ten fingers apart and rubbing them across her face. “I can’t put my finger on it, there are too many shields.”
I can’t say the same, but there aren’t many shields at all.
Rory gazed up at her, looking more like a pioneer than a lover. Matson was also observing the dynamics in front of him, but I knew that he was only half-convinced that she knew about the path, and Jack was scrutinizing everything with concern, and I think that he was genuinely attracted to the girl, and wasn’t too happy about the fact that she was using the mask and Rory. Colin, as usual, couldn’t guess what he was thinking.
Margaret was paying attention to Masson, who looked yellow and very tired.
The next day, in this condition, in which every one was not quite comfortable, Rory cut through a very large, conical hanging down wasp’s nest with the great knife in his hand.
We’ve encountered it while navigating the river. Hoopoe bees, once harassed, swarm and brutally attack others. Rory didn’t see this hive, and with a single poke of his machete into the nest, immediately the sky was covered with a black mass of angry, wild, buzzing, stinging, frantic riot.
None of us lost our voices and screamed, none of us would have been stupid enough to open our mouths, everyone spread out at incredible speed and I sprinted through towards the bushes alone. Over a treacherous slope, and before I could slow down, I had fallen into the swamp and I was sinking.
I struggled out of my heavy backpack and clumsily tossed it a few yards away where there were bushes in an attempt to contrive a branch.
But it didn’t work and a few had sunk to the waist.
“Hey, lady,” I said aloud to myself. “You shouldn’t end up like this. Maybe it would have been an alligator, an automobile accident, or even a plane crash, the only thing that didn’t occur to me was landing alone in the swamps of the Amazon. You were born in the city and you’re going to die in the city, and that’s not how you’re going to die.”
I had sunk up to my elbows and I screamed at the top of my lungs for help for five to ten minutes at the most. It was a disgusting way to die and I would have preferred to be eaten by a crocodile or bitten by a snake. At least that was animal to animal, is this how the damp, rotting leafy soil is going to bury me.
I screamed as shrilly as I could. They couldn’t have been too far away, the scumbags, they should have heard my cries.
I howled as the fluffy red mire swallowed up my screams, and the silky, suffocating green warmth housed the cries I made. The green canopy is short here, and a rather large butterfly with brilliant iridescent blue coloring flutters across the swamp, and I catch it, as if its lack of power and beauty could transport me to a place of safety.
The muck was up to my armpits and I whimpered, my throat about to suffer.
“Where are you,” came a voice.
“Help,” I begged, sobbing the words out slowly.
“I’ll come over as soon as I can.”
I opened my eyes to feel my cheeks already wet with tears, my upper lip running with snot from fear, and Matson was sitting there grumpily, tying a trailing vine around himself before he threw the other end at me.
I caught it easily as he dragged slowly, and I began to moan hopelessly as I struggled straight through the sludge, not getting any closer to a safe area.
“It’s a pain in the ass and needs to be handled with care.”
“Go to hell,” I yelled as the incompetent would watch me sink.
Then he reached his body into the ground where the ruined leaves had fallen and grabbed my hands.
We came across each other, and he was lying face down prone next to the swamp, holding on to my hands with all his might and leaning on the vines of the tropical jungle tied to the solid ground.
He lifted his face and stared at me intently. “I can’t pull you up in this position, can you tug me up yourself?” He grunted laboriously as he spoke.
I grabbed him by the sleeve of his shirt in an upward motion, and I approached him slowly and with extreme caution until both of our swamp-sludge-soiled faces leaned into each other.
We rested for a while as if we were an odd couple. I gripped the sleeve of his shirt tightly, my face resting on his shoulder, one of my arms around him, his hands around my armpits, his face next to mine, flat on the ground.
“You have to climb up me,” he said.
“Then I’ll crush your face into the sinking sand.”
“I’ll do my best to tilt my face up.”
I took a deep breath and grabbed the belt on his pants so hard that his whole body sank down at once, but I went up a bit until I unthinkably changed direction and moved toward safety.
Next to me he thrashed and rolled over flat on his back in a desperate effort, shaking off my tight grip at the same time, before arching his body and tilting his head back to sit in the swamp.
He grabbed the ropes tightly attached to his body, “You bitch,” he said in a raspy voice, “You’re going to get us both killed.”
I clung to his knees, then reached out a hand from behind them, and he grabbed my hand and pulled me hard. I tugged on his knees and a trailing vine tied us to the deserted shoreline.
The two of us, no exaggeration at all, had drowned up to our necks, and the trailing vines that were still tied around his waist fell into the mud as he let go of me and began to feel for them.
My jaw had hit the swampy muck and my head was thrown back as I groped and clawed at him with open teeth, punching him hard in the face. He separated my hands with force, “First let me find the rope.” He shouted angrily.
“I know where Vicar Bamba is,” I said, “that mask told me.”
My hat was clean and neatly parked a yard away, my cheekbones had been stained with silt, and I lifted my head to look up at the vaguely visible sky looking so soft and blue.
Masen’s arm finally floated over to wrap around my shoulders, lifting my body upward with such force that my neck was once again unobstructed.
I stayed passive as he stood upright, grabbing the vines with one hand and dragging hard, while holding me tightly with the other. I could see the tendons bulging underneath his tight shirt as he was pulling me upward with all his might, my chest finally free, and then we both landed on solid ground, half of my body lying right on top of his.
It must have been a long time, I thought, as Matson finally spoke up, “Not bad.”
In the midst of this unnatural, somewhat nerve-wracking situation, I stopped almost all thought activity and didn’t respond for a few moments. His words touched me, and a terrible shudder began, my fingers traced his chest, the shirt buttons had been loosened, and I tickled his bare skin breathlessly.
One of his muddy hands rested on my much-muddied hair. “I never thought I’d get to see you truly terrified in person.” He said. “Not even to see it in that horrible hole-pit which surely terrifies you. Oy! Too bad, I thought you’d become a swamp monster.”
I even hit him in the chest, weak and feeble, crying through my tears.
“The river isn’t too far from here, so why don’t we go wash up?”
“I can’t stand up,” I choked out.
“You can stand up, greedy, cruel lady, and just remembering how much you hate me will make you stand up.”
I remembered and began to crawl on my hands and knees in excruciating pain. I felt as if I had just raced a herd of cattle as Matson stood up and dragged me along, the muscles in both shoulders tearing with pain.
We shuffled our heavy steps towards a rock not far away, clear and sweet spring water running down and gathering at the bottom to form a small pool, Masson stripped himself of his filthy clothes and I stood leaning against a tree, no longer having the strength to worry about what was going on around us.
He stripped down to nothing, then dove his swamp-stinking mud-coated body into the water. He carefully washed every inch of it, his hair, his ears, around his penis, the slit grooves of his ass, all the way down to his legs and the cracks of his toes. When he finished his bath he washed his clothes again with the same meticulous care.
I stood and watched intently, leaning back in exhaustion, bracing all my nerves and flesh against the tree beside me.
With the sun slanting high in the sky, radiating golden light, the vast expanse of green leaves quivering, and the bright running water sounding quite pleasant, Masson turned his face toward me.
“Can’t you handle it?” He asked.
It was as if I were miles away; I could see but did not want to talk, and I could not pretend. In front of me, this naked man, who looked very harmonic in this deep silence of a million trees, grabbed my weak hand and pulled me forward, peeling off my hard silt-covered clothes with some effort.
Then he put me in the cool water and bathed me.
His hands were wide and warm, and I felt them reach into my hair, brush across my face, carefully cleansing the hollows of my eyes, then probing them again. He washed my neck, my shoulders, those sluggish thumbs cupping at my throat.
He turned me around, himself all wet again, and washed down my back to my narrowed and sunken waist. He washed each arm, carefully peeling away my fingers, then returned to my body, lifting my firm breasts in his hands, the water rushing up to them, the dark muddy water running down to the nipples and finally dripping down again. He sloshed the trails of mud until my pale, smooth skin shone pearly in the onion green and the golden light of the dying afternoon.
Without a word, he delicately washed my ribs, then knelt in the water as I stood, his large, warm hands caressing my buttocks, peeling back then gently searching my anus, clean hands between my legs, and I sensed his gentle fingers, searching for my pussy, my clitoris, reaching into my cunt and washing off the muck and dirt as he bent over to wash my legs and feet. I saw his damp, tan hair clinging to my wet, clean and curly pubic hair.
Salty tears slowly rolled down his cheeks, washing away the tiny particles of sludge from the corners of his eyes.
He pulled me out of the water and began to wash me as he would his own clothes, then he watched me.
“We must find the others,” he said, “it’s almost dark.”
“Forever and ever,” I whispered softly, my first words in an hour.
He squirmed close to me, his dry, warm naked body pressed against my taunt body. I wasn’t cold, I didn’t feel anything, I was numb.
He grabbed my flabby arm and we stood chest to chest stagnant. “Snap out of it,” he said gruffly, “it’s okay now, forget about it, you’re just freaking out.”
“At the time, you were leaving me.” My voice was calm and cold.
He gripped tighter, shaking me harder, “No,” he said, “not at all.”
I smiled bashfully.
He suddenly slammed his palm across my face and my head jerked with electricity, but I felt nothing, “You were poisoned,” he snarled, “I couldn’t even get you up then.”
I snickered wistfully and secretly. “To be a great lover?”
He walked away from me as if I would set him on fire, and the next thing I knew I saw his cock standing up, sticking out from within his fluffy cloud of toffee-colored body hair. I turned around, leaned forward and leaned into the tree, standing with my legs spread like an enthusiastic monkey exposing his sex.
“No,” he growled lowly, but I could hear he wanted it badly.
“Go on,” I motivated. “At any rate, I have you to thank for it. Come in and let it stir; that’s not exactly your hobby, is it?”
He came up behind me, his body squeezing tightly against mine, and I could feel the elasticity of his thick cock against me. His hands touched his dangling breasts and after a moment he grabbed them and kneaded them, the nipples soft and smooth between his fingers.
He pressed his cheek against my back. “I’m going to kill you for this.” He said “You want to penetrate me.”
“Right on.” “No one stops you, once, twice.”
He turned me around tiresomely, causing me a bit of pain. Now I was leaning against a tree and his friendly cock was between my legs, squeezing and rubbing upwards. “Can’t you, don’t be so if you can’t?” He said, like it was getting in the way of the conversation.
I rubbed my breasts close to him, my nipples darkened and erect, “When you whore yourself out,” I said softly, “don’t expect love, it’s just a scene from a movie, don’t you realize?
”
His lids buried into my shoulder, “I don’t want this.” He mumbled.
I felt his manhood move and I clenched my legs slightly. “Do whatever you like.” I said coldly.
He opened his mouth and put his cheek to my face, I didn’t move a muscle, he tentatively attempted to kiss me, I didn’t respond, he tilted his head back and after a few moments he gazed at me with those dark brown eyes.
“You’re dead,” he whispered quietly.
“Quite right,” I agreed, “over there, when you let go of me, I died.”
“No, Sidney, it’s not that.”
“Has a woman ever loved you?”
“Yes.”
“Where’s Margaret?”
“I’m not sure.”
“You are like a shadow, a wax figure, looking like a lovely man, who, once she hopes to live with you, goes away, Masson, and never has any attachment in you?”
He left me alone, then silently grabbed his clothes. I dressed as well, seeking out my respective backpacks.
What a surprise that they didn’t come looking for us. Night was falling fast. We had no lights, only a weak flashlight, a few candles and matches. We had no guns either, just our own daggers and Masson’s machete.
He didn’t suggest we camp, and if we couldn’t find anyone else, it was fine, we had food in our packs, and since I knew the destination, I think he didn’t want to be alone with me all night.
I’m not afraid of him. How can a man, a human being, frighten me? Only the jungle scares me. This jungle will engulf us both equally. I fear this jungle, but I do not fear Masson.
Soon we found the others. We first smelled the campfire, then saw the red flames dancing through the forest, flickering so that the trees turned into strange moving forms, full of life, completely different from the usual, and we said nothing to each other. What else was there to say? Stumbling out of the nightmare to rejoin the group.
Martha whacked me pleasantly, and twisted Masson’s hand. Margaret was slumped against him, her eyes red and swollen in the firelight, Jack looked very happy indeed, and Colin nodded amiably and kept an eye on some piping hot food that had been prepared for us.
Kara said, “What happened when you guys fell off the wagon for a long time?”
“I fell into a swamp, a quagmire, and was sinking and started screaming at the top of my lungs when Matson came and saved me. I almost went into shock, and when the cleaning was done, and then finding you guys took some more time, no one could tell?”
Martha said, “It took us a while to get together after being tickled by the wasps, and then you guys got lost again, and Lori wasn’t with you?”
“No,” I said uncomfortably. “You mean he hasn’t come back by now?”
Kara said, “He is the one who provides the service for the mask, and I cannot move forward without him.”
Masen watched her as if she were a new breed of insect.
“Nonsense,” I said brusquely, and suddenly I was full of rage, and all the joys and sorrows I had not felt in the last two or two hours were curdling into a hard knot in my heart. “This guy has lost his way, blast some shots into the sky and let the chip fire burn a little brighter. Light the damn mask and increase the firepower of the campfire, you said you knew where Vicar Bamba was, so we won’t need it anymore.”
Masen stared at me.
Kara said, “I don’t want the mask.” Her voice was high and angry.
“I warned you that this stuff was bad for her,” I yelled at Martha, the little lamb who was losing her mind.
“She was worried about Lori,” Martha said. “Didn’t mean anything else.”
Margaret’s arms were wrapped around Masson. I think those were my arms, he had rejected her so doggedly, we were all at fault, there was a misfortune brewing in these few.
“Martha,” I said warmly, “give it all up. We’ll return to the moorings as soon as we find Lorry, and then go back to Manaus. Carla was going crazy, Margaret was very disappointed in Masson, and besides, he was using her. Rory is doing something with his legs crossed at the moment and probably telling everyone how much he misses us, you’ve never seen Vicar Bamba in all its glory so there’s no point in getting caught up in it. Colin and Jack are the only ones still in sound sanity here, so let’s get out of here before we kill each other and before the tropical jungle swallows us up.”
Dazzlingly silent, we looked like a living painting in the firelight, casting shadows that danced eerily and frantically through the twisted trees and choking clumps of sprawling field objects, Margaret had let go of Matson and stared at me, Carla was fuming, Jack was staring at his feet, and Martha’s mouth was open in surprise.
In the midst of the muteness came a buzzing roar, growing unbearably loud, much like the sound of a helicopter. The helicopter, which I didn’t expect to be associated with any of us, paused for a moment, and I thought of it as a noxious thing in the forest.
“Firelight,” said Martha, suddenly and foolishly.
“Hopefully it’s Rory,” Kara shrilled.
Jack picked up a rifle and pulled the safety.
I remembered the appalling incident at once.
The helicopter hovers above the trees and we see its flickering lights, though its shape is obscured by the top of the forest.
Almost simultaneously, Rory burst into our circle, hastily grabbing his rifle, aiming upward, and then firing.
Margaret screamed shrilly as Martha clung to Rory and slammed a bunch before he let off a second shot, the helicopter flew slightly higher and Rory followed up on one knee aiming upwards as he fired again. A spiky burst cut through the roar of the airplane.
The helicopter flew high for a moment, suddenly turning at a steep angle and scampering off into the night. Rory dropped his gun and wiped his face, sweaty and filthy, one cheek scraped.
It took a long time for our emotions to calm down. As I ate and listened to the conversation, I realized that I was in big trouble, and that I had to take care of protecting these crazy people, I had to keep my strength up and maybe survive alone after the ordeal.
Rory told us he had been wandering around aimlessly, and being disoriented, when he initially heard the helicopters, was contemplating where he would stay for the night, and as the planes searched the treetops he kept tracking after them, and the planes kept using their searchlights, and at one point he was enveloped in the lightness, and they immediately shot him, and the bullet grazed his cheek.
He wolfed down his food, then lay flat on his back, letting Carla lean over him to nurse his cheek. She acted as if I didn’t even exist, but Martha was clear there were unfinished business.
Margaret walked up to me and spoke in a low voice: “I believe you, Sidney.” She said.
“There’s nothing more I can do,” I’m so tired. “Look around, there’s no one who’s sane.
We need to return to modern civilization, we don’t belong here, it’s sinking us.”
“We’re traveling through a tropical jungle. I don’t think you’re very concerned.” Margaret said.
“I don’t want this man,” I snarled. “Possess him. As much as he likes you, he’s a pile of poop. You like a pile of poop, that’s your own business, Margaret, you should go your own way and live your own life. But this jungle isn’t normal, and both Matson and Rory are playing games with all of us ladies, can’t you see that?”
“I could see Rory, and I didn’t care; he didn’t mess with me. Carla can look after herself, and Martha and Jack will understand me, and she’s a rich little girl, and when she gets back to New York she’ll have a whole army of lawyers who’ll offer advice. It’s you, Sidney, it’s you who agitates these men, it’s you who competes, you’re jeopardizing everything, you don’t want them, you don’t give them satisfaction, but you don’t send them away. You’re too indiscreet to hang on to his taste, Sidney, you’re a wildcat.”
I closed my eyes. “Masen just saved my life, and even though he was a little hesitant, as if reluctant, I don’t care about that, I didn’t ask for his flesh.”
Now she leaned in close enough to spit almost into my ear. “You’ve possessed him, now you won’t feel anxious anymore, will you? Another love captive, now who are you going to seduce? Colin?
Jack? Or Pepper?”
“Have you slept with him?” I asked, feigning intimacy.
“Slept with and was simply wonderful. For a woman who knows how to be caring, considerate, and willing to give, he is not a wonderful lover. And you’re a slut, a whore.”
“Is that what worries you? He’s extremely nice and you’re responsive, just like Sunset and Rose, aren’t you? He thinks I’m a pile of dung, an idiot.”
“He appreciates your staying power.”
“You mean my resistance.” I saw that she was a little short of words. “Don’t you see, Margaret.” I said. “He’s just trying to make you jealous, there’s nothing going on between us, there’s no intercourse, if that’s your prey then cater to the man’s preferences, but don’t ever blame me for your failures. I fuck men like I eat burgers, just to fill a hungry spot, Masson knows all this and feels insulted, he punishes you like this because his pride is hurt. He doesn’t deserve a girl like you, but maybe he would have excelled if you had stopped dancing to his tune.”
Rory laid his head in Carla’s lap. “That’s them, Martha, they’re coming with us to Vicar Bamba.”
Masen’s voice was flat and uninteresting, “How did they know we recognized the road?”
“They’ve heard about the mask.” Rory said. “Carl has spilled many secrets before us.”
“Who are they?” I asked, “Why can’t I know who’s going to shoot me.”
Rory sucked in a breath and hesitated, Kara caressed his forehead in a way that was almost sickening, Rory gazed at Martha and she nodded.
“It was a Paraguayan businessman who was genuinely involved in the arms trade. He owns this vast property, and he has an army in Asunción, well, to be precise, in the quagmire that is Asunción, this man has supreme power.”
“What’s his name?” I asked, my news reporter’s professional faults coming back to haunt me.
“Mendes, they call him only Mendes, and no one seems to have seen him, though there are many legends about him, all fabricated, I think, to create inexplicable fear. No one knows where he came from, who his dependents were, how old he was, how rich he was.”
“Then why does he care about Vicar Bamba? It’s so insignificant compared to the arms.”
My voice was flat.
Colin and Lori looked at each other, then shifted their gaze back to Martha, “Honey,” she said, “you don’t even need to ask about this, okay?”
“I was threatened with dismissal before I replaced Carl,” I said. “I’d never read, studied the field, and my editor-in-chief told me I didn’t even need that,” my voice was dry.
“I don’t even want to be here, but I’m threatened with termination, I don’t want to be here at all, and I don’t even like to wander as far as my workplace, let alone travel the world. For what it is, I think I’m doing OK, and I don’t need to complain about mosquito bites, stings, centipede attacks, and near-drowning, but I don’t belong here, and I don’t need to pretend to add to my troubles. What bothers me is that I need an editor-in-chief with a new brain. I find intrigue here, I’m in the middle of a group of weirdos searching for lost cities and treasure like a second-rate Hollywood movie, and in addition, there’s a helicopter gunship in which a deranged Paraguayan madman is shooting at us. I thought the mask was creepy, I thought Carla was losing her mind, I didn’t like the potentially sexual component of this adventure, it looked like I’d been duped by everyone, and I should have walked back to Pepper’s. But I kind of like Martha, and if she wants me to travel with her as a free eyewitness, then I’ll take it, but I think we found some ruins. Yeah, so what? There wasn’t any gold or silver. Can’t you see that? It’s a dream. Wake up, boys, and straighten your heads before we’re all killed.”
I did not raise my voice, but my audience all listened to me very quietly, and as soon as I had finished, Lori began to speak.
“There were solid gold cast statues there, and gold sentry posts, camelids, dromedaries, and alpacas, all of which were physically present. The place that makes the most sense is Vicar Bamba. Even if only a part of it has been discovered, its value is incalculable, not only for the treasures themselves, but also for their significance in the history of the development of craftsmanship, and their archaeological discovery. Before Vicar Bamba, a reality lost and regained over four hundred years, we may look like a bunch of tacky people to you, Sidney. But Martha’s expedition, backed by the influential Turner Group, will succeed and we’ll go down in history forever. Besides, there’s a billion-dollar fortune here, enough to pay off all the international debts if it were in Brazil. Of course, it shouldn’t be bought and sold, it shouldn’t fall into private hands. I’m sorry you don’t trust us, I’m sorry you don’t want to see this glorious loot, but of course Carla is dizzy from it, she knows where it is. Now getting rid of Mendez’s trail and finding the Vicar Bamba is what we should be discussing.”
I have nothing to say and nothing to say that that may all be true, and in the meantime I have offended everyone.
I felt very lonely in my hammock, but that wasn’t so bad. I couldn’t trust people completely, I couldn’t do what I wanted to do, it was second nature to me to make people angry, and if all my companions liked me, I would feel uncomfortable, and I didn’t want to lose that edge.
I feel isolated because everything around me is out of whack, this tropical jungle, Mendez, guns, treasure, I don’t want this, don’t shoot me, I don’t belong here.
I lay there listening to their discussion. The helicopter should be gone by now, and if that mob, were to follow us on the ground, it would take at least an hour to find us.
Carla had been caressing his hair and forehead in a heartwarming way. Margaret leaned affectionately against Masson, who paid no attention to her, while he fiddled with his camera without a word.
We didn’t hear the helicopter roar again that night, but I felt its menacing look, like a huge demon was closing in on me, and the others didn’t seem to care about that.
There’s another little problem that overwhelms me; we’re in the middle of a barren wasteland of uncountable trees.
How did that pesky helicopter know where to find us? I haven’t heard anyone else discussing this suspicion, and apparently we have a betrayer.
Who might that person be?