the packs. Nate knew it contained their satellite communication gear. But as he hoisted the pack, the man's attention was not on the fragile gear, but on the expedition's final member . . . or rather members.
Nate smiled. He had not seen Manny since they had left from Sao Gabriel. The Brazilian biologist had been on one of the other Hueys. The reason for the separate flight was clear. Manny waved to Nate, a whip in one hand, the other holding a leather leash.
'So how did Tor-tor handle the flight?' Nathan asked.
Manny patted the two-hundred-pound jaguar with the side of his whip. 'Like a kitten. Nothing like the wonders of modern chemistry.'
Nathan watched the cat wobble a little from the aftereffects of the tranquilizer. Stretching forward to sniff at Nate's pant leg, Tor-tor seem
to recognize his scent, and nuzzled him half drunkenly.
Nate bent to one knee and rubbed the cat's jowls, cuffing him lightly under the chin. This earned him a growled purr of appreciation. 'God, he is so much bigger than the last time I saw him:'
Olin Pasternak scowled at the beast, then mumbled under his breath and turned away, clearly unimpressed by the newest addition to the team.
Nathan straightened. Tor-tor's inclusion had been a hard sell, but Manny had persisted. Tor-tor was close to being sexually mature and needed to log more jungle time. This trek would be of benefit to the cat. Additionally, the jaguar had been well trained by Manny and could prove of use-both in protection and in tracking.
Nathan had added his own support. If the team wished to convince any Indians into cooperating, the presence of Tor-tor could go a long way toward winning them over. The jaguar was revered by all Indians. To have one accompany the expedition would give the team instant validity.
Anna Fong had agreed.
Slowly Frank and Captain Waxman had been worn down, and Tor-tor was allowed to join the expedition.
Kelly eyed the cat from a safe distance. 'We should gear up.'
Nathan nodded and picked up his own small pack. It contained only the essential supplies: hammock, mosquito netting, a bit of dry rations, a change of clothes, machete, water bottle, and filter pump. He could travel months in the jungle with little else. What with the wealth of the forest readily available-from various fruits and berries to roots and edible plants to abundant game and fish-there was little need to haul additional food.
Still, there was one other essential piece of equipment. Nathan hooked his own short-barreled shotgun over a shoulder. Though the team was backed by the Rangers' weaponry, Nate preferred to have a little firepower of his own.
'Let's get going,' Kelly said. 'We've already lost the morning putting out the fires:' The slender woman hefted her own pack to her shoulders, and Nate couldn't help but stare at her long legs. He forced his gaze upward. Her pack had a large red cross printed on its back, marking the team's medical supplies.
Frank ran down the line of civilian team members, making sure all was in readiness. He stopped in front of Nate, pulled out a faded baseball cap from a back pocket, and tugged it in place.
Nate recognized it as the same one from when he had first seen the man at Sao Gabriel's hospital. 'Fan?' he asked, pointing to the Boston Red Sox logo.
'And a good-luck charm,' Frank added, then turned to the group. 'Let's set out!'
In short order, the eighteen-man team tromped into the jungle, led for the moment by a small, wide-eyed Indian.
Kelly had never been in a jungle. In preparation for this trip, she had scanned books and articles, but the first sight of the rain forest was not what she had expected.
As she followed the four Rangers in the lead, she craned around in wonder. Contrary to old movies, the understory of the Amazon rain forest was not a clotted mass of clinging vines and overgrown vegetation. Instead, it was more like they were marching through a green cathedral. A dense canopy of woven tree branches arched overhead, absorbing most of the sunlight and casting everything in a greenish glow. Kelly had read that less than 10 percent of the sun's light pierced through the unbroken green tent to reach the jungle floor. Because of this, the lowest level of the forest, where they walked now, was surprisingly clear of vegetation, Here the jungle was a world of shadow and decomposition, the domain of insects, fungi, and roots.
Still, the lack of green vegetation didn't necessarily make trekking through the pathless forest an easy journey. Rotted logs and branches lay everywhere, frosted with yellow mold and white mushrooms. Under her boots, a slick mulch of decaying black leaves threatened her footing, while buttress roots that supported the gigantic trees in the thin soil snaked under the leaves and added to the risk of a twisted ankle.
And though the vegetation down at this level was scant, it was not nonexistent. The floor was festooned with fan-tailed ferns, thorny bromeliads, graceful orchids, and slender palms, and everywhere around were draped the ubiquitous ropelike vines called lianas.
The sound of a slap drew her attention around.
Her brother rubbed at his neck. 'Damn flies.'
He doused his exposed limbs and rubbed some on his neck.
Nathan stepped beside her. He had donned an Australian bush hat, and looked like some cross between Indiana Jones and Crocodile Dundee. His blue eyes sparkled with amusement in the jungle gloom. 'You're wasting your time with that repellent,' he said to Frank. 'Anything you put on will be sweated off your skin in minutes:'
Kelly couldn't argue with that. After just fifteen minutes of trekking, she felt damp everywhere. The humidity under the canopy had to be close to a hundred percent. 'Then what do you suggest for the bugs?'
Nathan shrugged, wearing a crooked grin. 'You surrender. You ignore them. It's a battle you can't win. Here it's an eat-or-be-eaten world, and sometimes you have to simply pay the price:'
'With my own blood?' Frank asked.
'Don't complain. That's getting off cheap. There are much worse insects out there, and I don't just mean the big ones, like bird-eating spiders or footlong black scorpions. It's the little ones that'll get you. Are you familiar with the assassin bug?'
'No, I don't think so,' Frank said.
Kelly shook her head, too.
'Well, it has the unpleasant habit of biting and defecating at the same time. Then when the victim scratches the wound, he drives the feces loaded with the protozoan Tripanozoma crush into the bloodstream. Then in anywhere from one to twenty years you die due to damage to the brain or heart.'
Frank paled and stopped scratching at the fly bite on his neck.
'Then there are the blackflies that transmit worms to the eyeball and cause a disease called river blindness. And sand flies that can trigger Leishmaniasis, a leprosy type of disease:'
Kelly frowned at the botanist's attempt to shake her brother. 'I'm well familiar with the transmittable diseases out here. Yellow fever, dengue fever, malaria, cholera, typhoid:' She hiked her medical pack higher on her ,shoulders. 'I'm prepared for the worst:'
'And are you prepared for the candiru?'
Her brow crinkled. 'What type of disease is that?'
It's not a disease. It's a common little fish in the waters here, something called the toothpick fish. It's a slender creature, about two inches long, and lives parasitically in the gills of larger fish. It has the nasty habit of swimming up the urethras of human males and lodging there:'
'Lodging there?' Frank asked, wincing.'
'It spreads its gill spines and embeds itself in place, blocking the bladder and killing you most excruciatingly in about twenty-four hours:'
'How do you get rid of it?'
By now, Kelly had recognized the little fish's description and nasty habits. She had indeed read about them. She turned to her brother and said matter-of-factly, 'The only cure is to cut the victim's penis off and extract the fish:'
Frank flinched, half covering him. 'Cut his penis off?'
Nate shrugged. 'Welcome to the jungle:'
Kelly scowled at him, knowing the man was only trying to spook them. But from his grin, she could tell it was mostly all in good fun.
