Insects: A Novel (16 page)

55

Suarez made a
wide berth around the cleared land to avoid thick underbrush, piles of debris and discarded equipment. He wondered why anyone would abandon saws and axes. He stopped to examine several pieces, and they looked in decent condition. He thought momentarily about collecting the equipment and coming back in the future to retrieve it for resale. But he knew Duncan was in a hurry and simply made note of where the equipment had been tossed and moved on, all the while wondering why anyone would do that. By the time he had covered half the distance around the clearing, he noticed several chainsaws that workers had left behind. Why would they do that? Shortly, the puzzlement gave way to elation as he found the continuation of the trail. Originally, it must have cut through the clearing but had been covered over by the debris. It headed in a westerly direction where they calculated the high ground would be.

Because of the debris that littered the clearing, some piled ten to fifteen feet high, he did not have a clear view of the other side. He could not see Duncan nor could Duncan see him. He thought about running across the clearing but backed away and retraced his steps along the path he’d blazed, moving as fast as he could. Rain was pouring into the clearing, and it was only a matter of moments before small pools of water that he’d passed on the way in had turned into larger pools on his way out.

56

Boyd was the
first to notice Azevedo trudging into the clearing, limping and using his cane to maintain balance. It was obvious that the professor was having trouble staying upright as the debris turned the ground into an unstable mass of leaves and branches that completely covered the clearing like a huge, lumpy carpet. Boyd instinctively ran toward Azevedo, taking large steps, practically leaping across the debris.

As he neared Azevedo, he felt his foot break through the debris, and he could feel something strike the top of his hiking boot. Although his foot had disappeared quickly, he had difficulty pulling it out of the debris, and when he did, he was shocked to see a red snake clinging to his shoe top. When he shook his foot vigorously, the snake let go and quickly slithered into the debris. It was visible for such a short time that he couldn’t identify the species though he guessed it was a coral snake. Fortunately, its fangs did not penetrate the thick leather of his boot. Unlike several of his companions, who gasped when they saw the snake, he was focused on reaching Azevedo.

“Dr. Azevedo,” Boyd said, catching his breath. “What are you doing?”

Azevedo felt Boyd’s hand on his shoulder and turned to face the young man. He had a disappointed look on his face.

“I’m trying to make it easier on everyone else,” he said quietly. “I have no business being here. I’m just holding everyone back.”

“Nonsense,” Boyd cajoled. “You’re not holding anyone back. What’s holding us back is not knowing how to get where we want to go. You know, we didn’t stop here so we could rest.”

“Things will get worse,” Azevedo said as he let Boyd help him return to the group. “I am sorry that you came after me.”

“Well, you didn’t think we’d just let you walk away, did you?”

Azevedo shook his head.

“We’re not like that,” Boyd said emphatically. “Like Howard said, we’re all going to get out of this together.”

Just as they emerged from the debris, soaking from the rain, Suarez returned, smiling.

“Mr. Howard, Mr. Howard,” he said, happily. “There’s a trail on the other side.”

Duncan looked elated, patted Suarez’s shoulder and shook hands as if the young guide had just discovered gold. He had planned to talk to Azevedo about separating himself from the group but was suddenly in too good a mood to care. He was aware that standing water was rising around them and that it would not be long before the lower lying areas became inundated. Between themselves, Boyd and Johnson decided that one of them would always stay with Azevedo.

“I think he’s kinda suicidal,” Boyd whispered as Johnson prepared Azevedo’s sling.

With Suarez leading the way, they made good time reaching the opposite edge of the clearing. By the time they stood at the trail leading into the forest, everyone had made note of the many tools that seemed to be discarded haphazardly around them. At the same time, everyone could also tell that the water was rising as the rain increased, with more of it penetrating the forest canopy.

A shallow sheet of water started to flow across the debris in the clearing. Suarez knew this would only get worse as rivers far away overflowed, sending water in their direction. Even so, he was probably not as concerned as the others, as he could always climb a tree and wait it out. How many of the others could climb he could not tell, but the old man would never be able to get off the ground. He thought Boyd, Johnson, and Duncan could save themselves if it came to that, but he doubted whether they would do that.

It wasn’t just that water was flowing behind them, it was also starting to flow across the trail. Just a thin sheet, but Suarez knew it would get much deeper, and it wouldn’t be long. If all of them were to survive, they needed to find high ground. He briefly discussed this with Duncan, who seemed uncertain what to do next. He’d seen Azevedo walk into the clearing and wondered if he’d have gone after him if Boyd hadn’t.

The trail was actually a poorly built road, with gravel poured into ruts made by truck tires.

“That’s how they haul the lumber out,” Suarez said. “I don’t see heavy equipment tracks, so it’s probably small-timers working on their own.”

“Actually,” Azevedo said, “it’s probably just as well they left. These illegal operations, you know, they aren’t done by Brazil’s finest citizens. People are killed all the time, those who try to protect the forests. It can be very dangerous to happen onto these operations. You know, they carry guns for a reason.”

Once again, everyone nervously crowded around Duncan. Questions came up about the threat posed by illegal operations in the forest. What would they do if they stumbled into a drug processing camp? What if the people clearing the forest were waiting to ambush them? His concerns were no different than theirs. He was worried too, but somehow he had to avoid showing it. He felt resentful and wanted to lash out but knew instinctively he had to remain calm, at least as calm as he could.

Then Hamel asked why they couldn’t use the debris on the forest floor to build a structure that would keep them out of the water. Groans followed. No one took his suggestion seriously, which only encouraged him to insist on a reason not to do it.

“The water would wash it away,” Boyd said.

“Besides, did you see the snake that attacked Cody?” Johnson said. “You think you could pile up a bunch of branches and stuff and not have snakes? They’re trying to get out of the water, too.”

“We have to keep going,” Duncan said. “We have a trail to follow. It has to lead somewhere.”

“That’s right,” Boyd agreed. “They don’t build trails, much less roads like this, for no reason.”

“What if it leads to a drug camp?” Hamel said quickly. “What then?”

“What if it leads to high ground?” Johnson snapped.

“Look, we can argue all day, and we won’t get anywhere,” Maggie Cross said. “We’re accomplishing nothing here. We need to find high ground; I think everyone can agree on that. It makes more sense to me to follow an actual trail than go off on our own. Cody’s right. It has to lead somewhere.”

Hamel grumbled, but it was clear that the others were willing to suspend their concerns about where the trail would lead them. Duncan sent Suarez ahead, telling him to stay within sight of the group and, as the young guide took the lead, Azevedo returned to his sling, and they slowly made their way down the thoroughly wet but well-defined trail.

57

Gonzalo Juarez looked
out his front window on the morning he had planned to pick up Professor Azevedo and the Americans and saw sheets of rain pouring into the flooded street. The weather did not look promising, and if it didn’t let up, he was certain he would not leave the harbor. Given that he would have to pull three aluminum boats behind his heavy thirty-footer, given that floodwaters were rising quickly, given that the rain showed no sign of letting up, he called his mate and told him to stay home.

Conditions were too dangerous. The Rio Negro was filling with debris from the upstream flooding, and he thought it wasn’t worth the risk to pick up his customers. He figured they’d be safe in the cabin where he’d left them. He knew they had a satellite phone and figured they would use it if they needed help. He didn’t know how a satellite phone worked, but he understood it could be used where cell phones couldn’t. Azevedo had his number. He’d wait for Azevedo to call or the weather to break, whichever came first.

58

Suarez did not
get far before he discovered why the workers had left their tools behind. They weren’t running from a flood. They were running from something they couldn’t escape. He ran back to Duncan and pulled him away from the group.

“There are bodies,” he said breathlessly, pointing toward where he’d been.

“Bodies?”

“Just like the others, bones.”

Duncan looked as if someone had just told him the president had been assassinated.

“What?”

“The bugs, the bugs,” Suarez said, trying not to speak too loudly.

Duncan motioned for the group to take a break, which puzzled everyone since they hadn’t even gotten out of sight of the clearing. He followed Suarez several hundred feet. The guide didn’t have to point out the bodies. There were three, all near the trail. All reduced to skeletons.

Suarez watched Duncan as he whispered, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Jesus fucking Christ, what the fuck is going on.”

When Duncan had finished, Suarez said quietly, “Please, Mr. Howard, don’t curse the savior’s name like that.”

It wasn’t clear whether Duncan heard Suarez, but he stopped swearing in any case. His mind was racing with questions. What should they do? Suddenly, heading west on the trail was fraught with danger. He had given no thought to the insects since yesterday, when it became apparent that the expedition was over. The optimism he felt when they broke camp this morning took a hit when they realized they couldn’t return to the cabin, but it brightened when they determined they could make higher ground. What residual optimism remained vanished at the sight of the skeletons.

Even so, it was difficult for him to concentrate. Everything he’d planned had gone to hell. The satellite phone didn’t work. He wasn’t prepared for the rain, and they were running low on food and already they were using purification tablets as they filled their water bottles with flood water. Along with the optimism, his self-confidence suffered. Suddenly, he found himself struggling to overcome self-doubt. It seemed to him that nothing he planned had worked out, and now they were in the worst of places with death seemingly confronting them no matter what they did. Anyone could have done better, and now he had to face the others, and he had nothing to say. And then there was the pressure. He had to come up with a plan, but he didn’t feel that he could play a leading role, given his success thus far. It didn’t help that darkness was approaching. Decisions had to be made quickly or they could be stuck where they were.

The group moved quickly and cheerfully when he waved to join him. Then they saw the bodies. There were gasps and exclamations, and they all seemed to instantly recognize how the situation had changed. It was no longer about avoiding a flood.

59

Hamel did not
hesitate. His voice had a whiny quality, even when he wasn’t whining, but now the existential threat stretched his vocal cords to the extent that his voice had gone up an octave. Maggie Cross at first thought it was one of the women who spoke.

“My God, my God, fearless leader,” Hamel said loudly. “I did not sign up for this, and I don’t think anyone else did.”

Hamel stood near Duncan, his narrow face contorted, red. Cross watched him with a mixture of anger and embarrassment.

“What do you want him to do?” Boyd demanded. “He didn’t cause any of this.”

“No, he didn’t,” Hamel said. “But so far, all he’s done is make it worse.”

“That’s bullshit,” Johnson said angrily.

“You could do better?” Boyd said. “Tell us what you would do. Go ahead.”

Hamel stopped talking, unprepared for the challenge.

“C’mon, man,” Boyd chided. “Tell us, save us, why don’t you?”

Johnson and Boyd crowded Hamel but didn’t touch him. Cross looked at Duncan, who seemed unwilling to step in.

“This is not helpful,” she said, finally.

“No, it isn’t,” Azevedo said, glaring at Hamel. “It’s pointless to argue. We have a serious problem, and that’s what we should be talking about.”

“The professor is right,” Rankin agreed. “I’m scared to death right now.”

“Me too,” Peeples said. “Anyone not scared?”

Nobody responded. Cross approached Duncan and nudged him.

“Say something,” she whispered.

Duncan had been focused on the situation, but nothing seemed to resolve itself. What could he say? What could he suggest? Everyone knew why they couldn’t return to the cabin and, after what they’d seen, everyone knew that continuing down the trail could mean certain death. And those who had seen the snake attack Boyd’s boot felt that trying to build something out of the debris wasn’t safe either. If only the satellite phone worked.

Duncan took Boyd aside, out of earshot of the others except Suarez, who was leaning against a tall tree stump. Duncan trusted Suarez. He was not the type of person to argue or panic.

“Is there any way to get the phone working?” Duncan whispered.

“I’ve been trying every chance I get,” Boyd said quietly but insistently as if Duncan was asking him to do the impossible.

“There’s nothing you haven’t tried? I’m not blaming you; I’m trying to find a way out of this.”

Boyd sighed, held up his forefinger and went to where he had dropped his backpack. He rifled through a side pocket and returned with the phone in hand, which was inside a clear plastic bag. Others watched him and saw the phone.

“Is it working?” Rankin asked, hopefully. Others stopped talking or whatever it was they were doing and looked at Boyd and Rankin.

“No, it’s not working.”

“Then what are you doing?” Hamel asked.

“I’m gonna show it to my boss. That’s all. Sheesh. I’m just doin’ my job,” he said, peevishly.

Approaching Duncan, he pulled Duncan toward Suarez, who had found a spot where rain wasn’t dripping through the thick canopy, removed the phone from the bag and handed it to Duncan.

“See for yourself,” Boyd said, still peevish.

“Hey,” Duncan said quickly. “I’m not accusing you of anything. Anyway, I don’t know beans about satellite phones. I’ve only used them, never had to learn what makes them tick, or not.”

He unfolded the stubby antenna, turned it on and held the phone to his ear.

“I’m hearing static.”

“Yeah, I know. That’s what it’s supposed to do. Now, try dialing a number. See what happens.”

“Who should I dial?”

“It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t work.”

“But what if it does?”

“I don’t know, dial yourself. Wait, no, you can’t do that. No cell reception.”

“I know who you can dial,” Suarez said. “Call the guy who brought us here. Maybe he can help.”

“You don’t understand,” Boyd said to Suarez. “The phone doesn’t work. I tried it myself several times today. I try it all the time. It just never works. Sometimes it sounds like a call is going through and then it stops.”

Suarez could hear the frustration in Boyd’s voice and returned to his own thoughts. Like Duncan, he knew little about satellite phones. Duncan shook his head and pointed the phone at Boyd as if to hand it to him. Boyd held up his hands.

“It’s yours now. Just dial a number. You’ve got nothing to lose, or gain for that matter.”

The conversation had gotten loud enough that others started paying attention. Hamel, Cross, and Rankin approached Duncan to find out what was going on.

“Is the phone working?” Rankin asked.

“It’s not working, Steph,” Boyd said. “It’s a piece of crap.”

“You don’t have to shout,” Rankin responded.

“I’m not shouting!”

“Yes, you are,” Cross said. “They can hear you over there,” she added, nodding toward Azevedo and the others.

“Sorry,” Boyd said. “It’s just that I’ve been trying to get the phone to work since we started, and I’ve gotten nowhere.”

“But it works now, right?” Hamel said, hopefully.

“Where’d you get that idea?” Boyd asked.

“Just watching you and Duncan. It looks like he’s going to make a call, that’s why.”

As was their practice whenever it looked like something had either happened or was going to happen, everyone gathered, this time around Duncan. He felt that Boyd had put him on the spot and was resentful but avoided showing it. At the same time, he was flustered and wasn’t certain of whom to call. His phone was in his pack safely out of the rain, and it had been so long that he had called the landline at his office in Pennsylvania that he couldn’t remember it.

“Professor Azevedo, help us out here. Can you call your office? I just want to make sure one last time that it doesn’t work.”

Azevedo limped forward and took the phone from Duncan.

“This works like a regular phone?” he asked.

“Yes,” Boyd said. “It’s already on, and the antenna is up. All you have to do is press the keypad like you would with a regular phone.”

Azevedo studied the phone as if it were a previously unseen specimen of insect and then started pressing the buttons, holding it against his ear after he finished.

“Nothing’s happening,” he said to Boyd, still holding the phone to his ear.

“Did you dial the country code?”

“I’m not sure. What is it?”

“Plus 55.”

“Plus 55?”

“Yeah, a plus sign then five five. You need to include the country code and the area code, or it won’t work, not that it will.”

Azevedo tried again, careful to enter the numbers correctly. Pressing the phone against his ear, he could distinguish a change in the static and what sounded like clicking sounds followed by buzzing. Disappointed, he handed it to Boyd who looked at the tiny LCD screen. For an instant, he thought he was seeing things. Previously, the signal strength display registered near zero, and now three of five bars appeared. Moving quickly toward the clearing they were trying to leave behind, he held the phone over his head and saw a fourth bar appear.

“Holy shit!” he shouted. “We’ve got a signal.”

Not wanting to risk losing the signal, he called to Azevedo to join him. While the professor lumbered toward him, he entered the country code and handed the phone to Azevedo as soon as he reached him.

“I already punched in the country code. Just put the area code and phone number in. I think this is gonna work. I can’t believe it,” he said loudly enough for everyone to hear.

Excitement spread through the group, and within a moment everyone had gravitated toward Azevedo and Boyd. Seeing that rain was splattering on the professor and the phone, Boyd pulled him away from the edge of the clearing.

“
Olá, olá
,” Azevedo said into the receiver. “Daniel, are you there? Dan.”

The call went to voicemail.

“We are surrounded by floodwaters. We need help.”

Holding the phone away from his face, he asked Boyd, “What should I say?”

“Just keep talking,” Boyd said, “I’ll get GPS coordinates. Just keep talking, so the voicemail doesn’t quit.”

Boyd ran to his pack, pulled out the GPS receiver and saw it had a signal as soon as he turned it on. Within several seconds, the coordinates appeared on the tiny screen.

Racing back to Azevedo, he held the GPS so that Azevedo could see the coordinates. He waved him away.

“I can’t read them, they’re too small. Just read them to me.”

Azevedo repeated the coordinates into the phone.

“Dan, call Gonzalo Juarez, he’s the captain of the boat that brought us here. His number is on a note on my desk. Tell him we can’t get to the cabin and …”

And then the voicemail clicked off.

Filled with optimism, Boyd suggested Azevedo call Juarez himself.

“Maybe there’s enough water where he can get a boat to us. It’s worth a shot.”

Azevedo handed the phone to Boyd and looked up Juarez’ number on his cell phone. Boyd handed the phone back. Azevedo entered the numbers and waited, but this time there was only static. He tried again. And again. Then Boyd tried several times. But the signal strength had disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared. The sky was heavy with storm clouds just as it had been most of the day. The phone wasn’t working, and when he looked at his GPS, he saw that it too had lost its signal.

“Goddamn it!” Boyd shouted at the phone. “Goddamn it!”

Duncan watched while all this went on and put his hand on Boyd’s shoulder.

“You can’t blame the phone,” he said, “but at least Dr. Azevedo got through to his voicemail, and you had the coordinates, so as soon as his assistant listens to it he’ll, he’ll …”

“He’ll do what?” Hamel asked.

“I hope he’ll call the captain,” Azevedo said.

“Or the police,” Peeples said. “Wouldn’t they come looking for us? I mean, they wouldn’t just leave us out here like this if they know we need help. Right?”

Azevedo smiled knowingly.

“I think the environmental protection agency would be a good place to start. They have rangers who patrol public lands.”

“They could rescue us, couldn’t they?” Peeples asked.

“They could,” Duncan said, “but they’re not going to help us anytime soon. So, let’s stop thinking that someone is going to bail us out, and all we have to do is wait. We still need to decide what we’re going to do. Now let’s get out of this rain and get on with it.”

They moved en masse to a relatively dry area on the trail but out of sight of the bodies. Everyone dripped with sweat and rain, their boots covered with mud. They looked as if they’d just finished a fifty-mile forced march though it was still early in the day, and no one was physically tired—with the exception of Azevedo, who continued to struggle.

Duncan made the case for finding high ground.

“Once we get there, we can stay there and wait for someone to find us,” he concluded.

“But you want us to go in the same direction the bugs are going,” Hamel retorted. “I, for one, would rather get my feet wet.”

“You won’t be saying it when it’s up to your waist,” Boyd said. “This whole forest is going to look like a lake, won’t it, Antonio?”

“Yes, there will probably be lots of water.”

Boyd was hoping for a more forceful reply.

“And you don’t know what’s gonna be in the water,” Boyd continued. “There will be snakes, maybe rays, maybe even caiman.”

“What about piranhas?” Alison Peeples said.

“Yeah, piranhas, too,” Boyd said.

Hamel sighed. Maggie Cross patted him on the shoulder and whispered, “I’m not sure there’s a better way.”

Hamel tried to argue with her, but she shushed him.

“I suppose there’s no chance of going back and crossing the river?” Stephanie Rankin asked.

“Not a chance,” Johnson said.

“But you don’t know that for sure, do you?” Rankin said.

“It’s for sure,” Duncan said. “The only reason we’re not flooded now is because the ground is a little higher here than back there. Cody’s right. This whole forest is gonna turn into a lake, probably sooner rather than later.”

“You know, we could try to climb trees,” Hamel suggested. “That’s what our guide did, right?”

“Yeah, but he’s an excellent tree climber. And he only spent the night in a tree. It could be a week or more for the water to go down, and that’s if it stops raining soon,” Boyd said.

No one wanted to climb a tree, and Hamel dismissed his own suggestion with a wave of his hand.

“Maybe the bugs can’t swim,” Rankin suggested.

“That’s possible,” Duncan said. “We don’t know, of course. But insects drown just like any other terrestrial animal.”

“Unless they’re adapted,” Azevedo said. “Insects that are very light and distribute their weight, like mosquitoes, can walk on water. But the heavier and larger they are…” he held out his left hand, his thumb pointing down.

“This is getting us nowhere,” Boyd blurted. “We can’t just stand here talking. Somebody needs to take the lead here.”

Carlos Johnson nudged and gestured slightly toward Duncan, who shot an angry look at Boyd who, recognizing it, smiled weakly and stared at the ground.

“Cody’s right,” Duncan said. “We don’t have alternatives. I think we should pick up any machetes we find around here and keep moving to where the high ground is. Professor Azevedo’s assistant will realize we need help. He has the coordinates. He’ll send someone.”

“But we won’t be at these coordinates,” Hamel said. “Am I right?”

“Yes, that’s true, but we should be within a few miles of our destination. We won’t be far away.”

“We can leave a message of some kind, can’t we?” Rankin said optimistically. “Like we could carve it into something.”

“Great idea,” Duncan agreed. “Why don’t you and Cody take care of that? Do it quickly. We need to get moving.”