elasticised curtain at her window to peer outside. Electric lanterns darted across the muddy clearing like a swarm of giant fireflies, all drawn towards the southern end of the camp.
She pulled on her boots and was about to head out the door when she remembered the insect repellent. Night-time was the worst for bugs; she wouldn’t make it ten feet without getting bitten, sucked or injected by some multi-eyed thing that saw her as a moving bag of food. She sprayed herself all over and also some on her hands, wiped her face with the fluid, then spat a couple of times to rid her mouth of the bitter taste on her lips.
Yelling men careened past her in the dark, their panic filling her with a sense of urgency. As she jogged past Francisco’s cabin, she saw it was empty, so continued on to the camp’s version of a command centre. Aimee heard Alfraedo before she saw him. He was bellowing in Spanish, and then she saw his large head above the men as he yelled and pointed at them as though accusing them of some crime. Francisco was standing next to him. When he caught sight of Aimee, he held up his hand for her to stop, and stepped around the crowd to join her at the rear.
‘Some more men have disappeared, but unfortunately it seems they didn’t leave quietly in the dark like the others.’ Francisco looked over his shoulder as some of the men started shouting back at Alfraedo. ‘This time there has been damage to the camp,’ he continued. ‘They destroyed our generator — that’s why we have no lights.’
‘But why would they? Why…’ Aimee stopped as she realised the full extent of the damage. No power meant no lights, but it also meant no refrigeration and no water purifiers. ‘You’ll have to tell your government ministers that we can’t stay here now; they’ll need to supply another generator or move us to a new quarantine site closer to the city.’
Aimee knew that once the Paraguayans agreed to move the campsite, she wasn’t going to let them quarantine her again; she was going to keep going, all the way back home.
Francisco took her hand. ‘I’m afraid we cannot inform them of anything, Dr Weir; we cannot inform
‘What? They’ve blinded us…why? Why would they do that?’
‘Most of the men are very angry about being stuck here; and, though they will be paid for the time spent in quarantine, they will miss out on their performance bonuses. Also, there is great fear of the melting sickness. But still, that is no reason to make it difficult for us to communicate with—’
Francisco stopped as a man rushed up to Alfraedo and gestured to the jungle behind the mob. Alfraedo listened for a moment with gritted teeth, then roared to the men, pointing at individuals in the crowd. They cheered and rushed off, looking overjoyed at having some concrete task that they could channel their anger or fear into.
Francisco turned to Aimee. ‘They have found a trail leading into the jungle that is strewn with broken machinery parts. Alfraedo is organising a party to bring the men back. I am sure he will deal with them harshly.’
Alfraedo waded through the remaining workers like an icebreaker pushing through bergs in the Arctic. He nodded at Aimee and Francisco. ‘These men cannot have more than thirty minutes start on us. If we hurry we can bring them back to face justice for destroying the company’s equipment. I think we may need some extra guns, Doctor, and you would be most welcome as well, Dr Weir.’
‘No.’ Francisco stepped in front of Aimee waving his hand back and forth. ‘No, we do not need Dr Weir. She needs to continue her work on the disease. I am happy to accompany you and your men, Alfraedo, and bring my weapon, but I will not condone anything other than
Alfraedo thought for a moment, then said, ‘Okay. But I think it best we have all of the weapons with us, Doctor. These men have proved that they can be violent, and it is very dark in the jungle at night. I would prefer to have the guns and not use them, than need them and not have them.’
Francisco exhaled slowly through his nose and nodded. He turned to Aimee with an anguished look on his face, and raised his silver eyebrows as if pleading for her consent. ‘I am sure Dr Weir would be happy to give us her weapon.’
Aimee was frozen with indecision. So far she had given little thought to the gun, but now realised that she felt secure with it hanging at her hip. She didn’t want to give it up. She looked into Francisco’s eyes and could tell he really didn’t want her to trek into the jungle at night. For that matter, neither did she — the thought of it made her shudder.
‘No problem,’ she said, undoing her belt buckle and sliding the holster off the leather strap.
She handed it to Alfraedo, who nodded his thanks, unbuckled his own belt and threaded the holster onto his hip. He then spun on his heel and started to yell in Spanish to the assembling men.
Aimee watched the line of lights bob out into the jungle — Alfraedo and Francisco, both with powerful flashlights, and four men carrying battery lanterns.
She thought of the hurried conversation she’d had with the dapper little doctor just before their departure. She had thanked him for intervening on her behalf and asked how he had known she didn’t want to go. His reply still made her feel uneasy.
Aimee shivered despite the thick heat and hugged her arms around her body. As she turned back to her cabin, she saw one of the workers sitting at the jungle’s edge weeping. Even from a distance she could see the tears that splashed onto his knees were an oily black. A small cloud of mosquitoes whined around his head and shoulders.
Francisco could hear his own breathing — a rasping combination of exhaustion and nerves. Louder than usual, it was true, but he still shouldn’t have been able to hear it above the sounds of the jungle.
Alfraedo called a halt just over two hours into the search. The trail they followed was faint, but the scatterings of machinery parts and sections of broken foliage were a useful guide. Francisco could not shake the unpleasant suspicion that it was almost too easy to track the men. Alfraedo reached out his hand to a broad leaf at head height — it came away sticky with blood. He pulled free one of his revolvers and held it up beside his face as he whispered over his shoulder, ‘
Francisco noticed the men had bunched up — no one wanted to be too far away from the main group. Even he found himself walking so close behind the large and reassuring frame of Alfraedo that he accidentally kicked the man’s heels several times. The foliage they pushed through was wet; even in the dark, Francisco could see glistening blood and gore. It was everywhere: on their clothes, their skin; it dripped down on them and squelched beneath their feet. It was clear to Francisco that someone was very badly hurt, or dead.
Francisco knew he was breathing harder and faster, and Alfraedo half turned to him to slowly bring the muzzle of his gun to his lips, before waving them on. Francisco’s mouth immediately dried, but he gulped anyway.
The moon broke from the clouds and lit a clearing just behind a thin veil of tangled vines and ferns. A figure sat naked and alone in the centre of the silvery open space. The powerful frame seemed misshapen, and was hunched over what looked like a large, skinned monkey. The creature held the object to its face, jaws working, burrowing.
Alfraedo made a guttural sound and parted the curtain of green. He took a single step forward, straightened his back and trained his light on the figure. It seemed oblivious to the shaking beam and continued to gorge itself on the carcass in its hands.
A floating sensation filled Francisco’s head, as if it was disconnected from the rest of him. He realised his knees were shaking and his heart pounding. He too moved forward, just one small step, barely aware of the movement.
The other men entered the clearing, forming a line either side of Alfraedo, their lanterns illuminating the space with a yellow glow.
‘Hey,
