‘Well?’ asked Alex.
‘It’s nothing. They are moving to find a better campsite, that is all. These people are still quite nomadic, Captain Hunter.’
‘That’s not what he said,’ Sam whispered. ‘It was something about a golden flower…and missing children.’
Alex gave a small nod.
‘Everyone take a break,’ he ordered. ‘Captain, a word, please. Lieutenant Reid, can you join us?’
Alex walked a few paces away from the group and called to Chaco. He nodded to the jungle and repeated one or two of the words he’d heard the boy use. Chaco replied quickly, pointing towards where the people were coming from, then making his eyes wide and holding his fingers in front of his mouth, mimicking long teeth.
Alex nodded, pretending to understand, then turned to Garmadia as he approached. ‘Sounds like a little more than poor geography causing the exodus, Captain. It’s important that we have all the facts heading into any type of hotzone. As a soldier you should know that.’
Garmadia went slightly red at the rebuke, but also frowned at Alex’s apparent ability to understand the local language. ‘Pah! It is nothing but a myth,’ he blustered. ‘They say there is a bad feeling in the jungle and so they have decided to leave. You must remember these people are still very superstitious and easily mix a Christian saviour with a bird-headed god that brings them rain. A bad storm with lightning can necessitate the sacrifice of a goat…or tell them it is time to leave and find another camp. You do not understand what you are hearing, Captain Hunter.’
‘Really? Educate me then — tell me about the golden flower and missing children.’ Alex’s eyes bored into the Paraguayan soldier’s.
‘
Frustrated, Alex held his hand up and nodded at Sam to talk to the boy.
Sam dropped to one knee and smiled at Chaco. ‘
The boy nodded and the two of them talked quickly for several minutes. Sam gave Chaco a stick of gum, ruffled his hair and stood up.
‘The Indians believe something called the Tau, “the evil one”, is in the jungle. They are leaving before it eats them all. Seems a few young men disappeared during the night first off, then children were taken from their beds. The woman Chaco spoke to told him about a legend about a golden flower — when it blooms again, a great evil will be reawakened in their land. She thinks it is either an evil spirit, or perhaps Luison himself, the Great Devil.’
‘Eaten by the Devil? Hmm,’ Alex said and looked at Garmadia. ‘We must operate as a single team in the field, Captain. Is that understood?’
The captain returned Alex’s gaze from under a furrowed brow, his expression a mixture of hostility and embarrassment. His compressed lips bent into a tight smile and he walked away to light a cigar.
Alex watched his back for a moment, then returned his attention to the small boy. ‘Sam, tell Chaco there’s nothing to worry about. But his brother must go faster — we have to hurry.’
The light was just about gone. Alex thought of the unearthly roar he had heard on the recording from the Green Berets.
‘We’re moving out, ladies and gentlemen. Now!’
Francisco and Aimee watched the wooden hut burn. Its six inhabitants had died, their skin, muscles and bones liquefying until they were nothing more than putrid black puddles on and around their cots. With no bio- hazard clothing or materials to hand, neither the Paraguayan doctor nor Aimee could bring themselves to clean out the cabin in preparation for any future inhabitants. They had decided their only course of action was to burn the site and use another hut for isolation. It already had its first occupant — strapped down and weeping black tears onto his pillow.
Aimee found the flames on her face surprisingly soothing; she closed her eyes and tilted her hat back so she could feel the heat dry the perspiration at her hairline. The corks around the hat’s brim banged softly against her forehead and she remembered when Francisco had given it to her — just a few days ago, but the insane events unfolding around them made it seem so much longer. She opened her eyes and saw that her friend stood almost in a trance as he watched the flames. Tiny flecks of orange were reflected in the centres of his dark, watering eyes.
The men had gathered in clumps at the fringes of the blaze. About eighty of them remained, trapped in the jungle by both geography and a government order. More disappeared each night — always an entire tent of them, as though some unanimous decision had been made and acted upon. Aimee couldn’t understand why they never took their belongings, meagre as they were; surely they would have wanted their machetes, food, photographs of their families? And why did some of the tents have slits cut into the back?
The cabin blazed furiously and was quickly reduced to a mound of ash, glowing nails and twisted metal fastening strips. The mud surrounding it was blackened and dried to a pottery hardness by the heat of the fire. Aimee looked up at the darkening sky and closed her eyes again. That morning, Alfred Beadman had told her that Alex Hunter’s HAWCs and the CDC specialists had arrived in the country and were on their way, but he had been vague about when they might arrive. She hoped it would be soon — they were all feeling the strain of being under quarantine. With the rig shut down, men running away, a hideous disease burning through their camp, and something out there in the jungle that had butchered a squad of Green Berets, she felt like running off into the dark herself.
Aimee opened her eyes and watched the shadows lengthen — she knew within an hour, night would collapse on them like a warm wave. The day’s sapping heat would be swapped for night’s humidity — a shitty trade, and the oily feeling of fatigue never went away. She rubbed her cheek; with her red-rimmed eyes in darkening sockets, an itchy rash, and lank hair that seemed to be constantly damp, she knew she looked how she felt.
Aimee’s reverie was broken as she became aware of raised voices, followed by Alfraedo’s deeper tones, first conciliatory, but quickly lifting in volume as he obviously felt the need to assert his authority. The big man had managed mine sites all his life and knew how to stay in control of his most volatile resource — manpower.
Some moments later, he came to join Aimee and Francisco. ‘The men are angry and bored; they are demanding a date when they can go home. I hope your friends can give us some answers, Dr Weir,’ he said. ‘I also wish we had more security. For now, the men listen to me, but soon…’ He shrugged his meaty shoulders.
‘Yes,’ was all Aimee could manage. Her vision blurred with exhaustion, but she was loath to use her hand or sleeve to wipe her face in case her clothing was contaminated. Instead, she squeezed her eyes hard shut and blinked twice. When she opened them, there was a man, dressed all in black, standing at the edge of the jungle.
She nudged Francisco. ‘Who’s that?’
Francisco followed her gaze to the stranger. ‘I do not know, Dr Weir; I have never seen him before. He is certainly not part of the drilling team. He is too tall for a local man. I would have assumed him to be one of Captain Hunter’s team, but he looks to be wearing the cassock of a priest.’
Aimee squinted; there were now just a few bars of weak sunlight streaked across the clearing, and in the twilight gloom it was hard to make out the man’s facial features. Francisco was right: he looked like a priest, but his cassock was old-fashioned — rough and heavy. He came towards them smoothly, almost gliding across the mud. He stopped to talk to some of the men, who stood quietly and nodded at his words. He touched the top of one man’s head, as though blessing him, then turned to where Alfraedo, Francisco and Aimee stood.
Aimee shuddered; the man’s gaze was so intense it seemed to penetrate her skin and see her soul shrinking within her. He came towards them again with that strange gliding motion. The men surged behind him in a rough horseshoe shape. About ten feet away, he came to the last weak strip of sunlight and halted, appearing to collect his thoughts. Aimee could see him a little more clearly now: a tall, robust-looking man in his fifties or sixties, with a thick square beard covering a strong chin. A line of iron grey at his jawline and temples gave him a look that was a
