Lost Voyage (4 page)

4

The blood-drenched bandage dripped from the gushing wound of the injured soldier standing before Andres Vallejos. The look on his face was one of shame, and after the cartel leader demanded to know what happened, he finally uttered, “It all happened so fast. A firefight broke out. I was able to escape with the woman’s paperwork, but was unable to obtain the gentleman’s.”

The soldier handed the paperwork to Esperanza, who was standing next to him. Vallejos exclaimed, “Five men! Five of my men are dead and you are telling me one man is responsible. I want this man brought to me at once!”

He dismissed his subordinate and looked at his head of security. “Find out who this man is, Kervin. I want his decapitated head.”

Esperanza nodded in acknowledgement and looked down at the paperwork in his hand. After looking at it for a moment, he finally said, “Emily Lundy of the USGS. She will lead us to this man. And then, they both will die.”

***

Vigil was lying down in his tent reading a comic book when he heard the scraping tires coming to a halt on the dirt outside. As he sat up to look out his screen door, he could see his partner carrying Emily into the medical tent. Eager with curiosity, he stepped into his sandals and walked across the road to find out what the commotion was about.

As he walked in, he could see some men tending to Emily’s bloody shoulder. “What the hell happened?” he asked.

Mercer looked up and answered, “We were ambushed by three men as we were loading the truck. They must’ve been waiting for us to return. I killed two of them, but the third escaped while I was tending to her. If they were looking for their own men, we now have a much bigger problem. We need to prepare ourselves, Pat. Trouble will be knocking soon.”

Vigil stared at his friend and muttered, “Well, I better put some coffee on if we are to be having guests.”

Just then, Hunt walked into the tent. “Ms. Lundy, are you okay?”

“Just a flesh wound,” she quipped. She was trying to remain jovial, but was in obvious pain.

Hunt could see the agony in her eyes. “Well, you just lay there and let my team take care of you. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

Emily rested her head back on the pillow and said, “Thank you, Colonel. You’ve already done so much, but thank you.”

Leering over at his Special Operations Director, Hunt cocked his head in the direction of the door. Mercer knew to get up and make his way outside, and Vigil followed suit. After a few moments of debriefing, Hunt wearily asked, “What are we getting ourselves into, Sean? You and Pat are now responsible for the deaths of five mercenaries. This isn’t going to go unnoticed. Someone is going to come looking for those who are responsible. What then?”

Mercer knew to keep his tone subdued. He knew Hunt was a lenient man, but he also knew this wasn’t the time for whimsical remarks.

“Let Pat and I do a little nosing around. We’ll find out what we can about these so-called mercenaries and see what they’re really up to. Whatever Ms. Lundy and her partner stumbled upon was obviously reason enough to try and kill them both. There must be something they’re trying to keep hidden. Give us just a little time and then we can figure out a way out of this fiasco.”

Hunt looked at him and nodded his head in agreement. He had never been let down by his team before and knew this was most certainly not the time to think that would happen now. He had the utmost confidence in both of his men and knew if there was something being concealed or hidden, Mercer was the one who could unravel it and bring it to the forefront.

“Very well, Sean. Twenty four hours. That’s about all the time we have and that’s all I can buy before this blows up in our faces. Find something. Find anything.”

Mercer acknowledged, “Understood. Keep an eye on Emily, Colonel. If these people come looking, they’ll stop at nothing to silence her.”

He looked over at his partner. “Okay then. Let’s get going.” The two men were off within minutes and heading down the road from their camp.

“Where exactly are we going?” asked Vigil.

Mercer didn’t take his eyes off of the road. “Back to where we first ran into Emily. If we can retrace her steps and find out where she came running from, then we’ll know what it is that’s worth killing her for.”

“Well, you know me, buddy,” Vigil quipped, “If there’s excitement to be had, I wanna be the first one at the party.”

Mercer didn’t respond. He knew his friend would be by his side no matter what the scenario. They rode in silence for a few miles as both men prepared mentally for what they may end up encountering.

***

As they approached the point where they had first encountered Emily running through the forest, they noticed that the bodies of the men they had killed a day earlier had been removed. This didn’t sit well with the two NESA partners. An uneasy feeling began lurking within them as they realized whoever removed the bodies was now probably searching for the people responsible for their deaths. They also didn’t find the body of Emily’s colleague, Tony. Mercer guessed they removed the body as to leave no trace of what had transpired.

He looked at his partner. Without speaking any words, they both acknowledged each other and could feel each other’s thoughts. They slowly moved through the jungle in the direction where Emily first came running from and walked for about a mile before they came to a clearing in the brush. Vigil was the first to notice the foul smell.

“You know what that is, right?” He looked at his partner and instantly knew he was thinking the same thing.

Mercer replied, “Rotting flesh. I wish I didn’t know what it smelled like, but I know that’s what it is.”

They both crouched down and began gazing off in the direction where the smell was coming from. Not seeing anyone, they slowly and quietly got up and began moving forward once again. After walking about fifty feet, they encountered the first body. A quick glance of the area revealed a horrific scene – a landscape that was covered with decaying corpses.

Mercer broke the silence. “Genocide. That’s what is worth killing Emily over…covering up mass genocide. We need to get back to camp and tell the Colonel.”

5

Kervin Esperanza briefed his men based on the description the soldier had given about the man who had killed two of their own. He told them the American was to be brought back alive, but also informed them the woman was good either dead or alive, and preferred she be left to rot in the jungle. The only thing that mattered to Esperanza was that someone was held accountable for the slaying of fellow cartel members.

After dismissing his men, he returned to the office of his employer, where he was greeted by a very uneasy look on the face of Vallejos.

“Where do we stand, Kervin?”

“The men are heading back to the site now. As soon as they report back to me, you will be the first to know.”

He knew his employer was an impatient man, but also knew he had earned the trust of Vallejos over the many years of service he had provided.

“We will find this man, Andres. And I will see to it that he dies a long and agonizing death.”

Vallejos looked up at the ceiling, seemingly staring through it. It was a few seconds before he spoke.

“Bring him to me first. Then, you may have your way with him.”

***

Colonel Hunt sat in his tent and listened to his two men. The look on his face was one of horror and disbelief.

“While you were gone, I had a little background check done on the cartels in the area. It seems this entire region is ruled by a brutal dictator by the name of Andres Vallejos. He’s held a grip over the entire area for more than a decade. Countless civilians have been slaughtered under his rule, and if what you say is true, then we’ve uncovered something way beyond our grasp. The local government will be useless to us, as they are governed by the same cartel.”

Emily sat speechless as she listened to Hunt’s words, and Mercer could see the fear in her eyes. He knew what she had witnessed firsthand and that she couldn’t endure much more of what transpired over the past few days.

He spoke first. “I think the best thing to do is get Ms. Lundy out of here and back to a safe place. We, on the other hand, still have a job to do. We haven’t finished what we came here to do and I for one will not be run out of town by a bully.”

Vigil had a mischievous smirk on his face. He was about to comment, but saw Hunt glaring him down, and thought better of it. Instead, the Colonel spoke.

“Sean, I admire what you’re thinking, but I cannot put the safety of the team in jeopardy for the sake of you finishing our expedition down here. We’re packing it in.”

Mercer tried to argue his case. “Sir, we only have a few more days to finish what we’re doing here. Pat and I can stay behind and finish up. We’ll be back home before you know it.”

Hunt knew he could trust his men to finish up on their own, and reluctantly agreed. “Fine. You have two days, Sean. Two days and you’re back home. Understand? And for god’s sake, please don’t start an international war.”

Mercer smiled. “You have my word. Two days. As for the international war, let’s just say Pat and I will be on our best behavior.”

Hunt paused for a moment and finally said, “I’ve seen Pat’s best behavior. So much for that idea.”

They all smiled uneasily, as they knew it really wasn't a joking matter. The severity of the situation wasn’t overlooked by any of them, but Mercer had every intention of keeping his word to finish up with their project. He just didn’t know what else to expect from the fallout of what had already been laid into motion.

The remainder of the day was spent packing up the NESA equipment by the rest of the team that was leaving. Mercer had already picked out what would be needed to finish the project and packed it into the back of the Jeep, which was now parked in the same spot his tent had been just twenty minutes earlier. Emily came walking up to him from behind.

“Sean, are you crazy? You need to come with us. Eventually, they will find out it was you and Pat who killed those men and they’ll come for you.”

“Ms. Lundy, I have a job to do and we came down here for some important data. When I’m finished collecting that data, I'll be joining you for a drink on the beach and we can put all of this behind us.”

He knew he was just saying what she wanted to hear so she would feel more comfortable about the situation. He did, however, have every intention of joining this stunningly beautiful woman for a drink on the beach in the very near future.

She let out a little smile that seemed to light up her face. “Thank you again, Sean. I really owe you my life.”

He took her hand and looked into her bright blue eyes. “Nothing is owed, Ms. Lundy. You just make sure to have that smile lit up the next time I see you.”

She couldn’t help but be absolutely enthralled by the overall charm of the man who had twice saved her life. She felt like a kid with a schoolgirl crush and had already begun pondering when she would see him next. She gave him a hug and then turned to walk back to the NESA vehicle convoy, where another charming man greeted her and held the door open for her.

“Always the gentleman, Mr. Vigil. It has been duly noted.”

Vigil grinned and replied, “What would my mother say if I didn’t hold the door open for a lady?”

She quipped, “I’m sure she would be proud to see the man you’ve grown up to be.” She reached out and shook his hand from inside the vehicle.

“You know, Ms. Lundy,” he joked. “A little peck on the cheek would be better than all the handshakes. Not that I don’t appreciate the gesture, however.”

She paused a moment and then responded, “I’m sure your mother will give you all the pecks on the cheek you so desire.”

Vigil couldn’t help but let out a chuckle as he closed the door and waved goodbye. Within a few minutes, the vehicles were out of sight and it was just the two partners standing in the middle of what had previously been their base camp.

The Colonel had left a pup tent behind so his men would have shelter for the night. After creating a strategy for the next day, they settled in for some much needed rest. Both men wanted to get to sleep quickly, as they knew they would need to be at the top of their game the following morning. They were sound asleep within fifteen minutes.

6

Early the next morning, Mercer and Vigil began making their way to the river near the town of Tamarindo, which was located two miles away from their current location. The base camp had been set up in Izapa at an historic archeological site because it was the only place in close proximity they could use as their base of operations without bothering the local townspeople. This was important to the NESA team, as they had built many good relationships with towns and communities over the years while they tried to help solve problems they were brought in for.

It was primarily Mercer’s idea to set up there due to the fact that he was a history fanatic and the site proved to be more of a fun digging place for him. He all but begged Colonel Hunt to use it their base and his superior gave in after listening to his plea.

As they drove to the river, they knew Hunt was serious when he said they had forty eight hours to finish up. Mercer had every intention of finishing the assigned task, but it was also in the back of his mind to do a little more inquiring into the horrific tragedies that had unfolded over the past few days.

Vigil was humming what sounded like the theme from
Batman,
and he couldn’t have been more relaxed and nonchalant. It was this quality that Mercer admired about him the most. Pat was his best friend and could be counted on no matter what the situation called for. He couldn’t stop thinking about what he would uncover if he decided to pursue the mass slaughter of locals they discovered. He finally broke the silence between the two.

“What do you say to wrapping up today and then doing a little R&R tomorrow?”

Vigil looked at him, his eyes almost sparkling as he knew what his friend was thinking. “R&R, huh? I think I could handle a little of that. Where do you think we should start our little picnic?”

“I was thinking maybe I would just stroll around town asking where to find this Andres Vallejos. After all, if he’s looking for me, I might as well make it easy for him,” he smart-alecky replied.

“You sure do know how to crash a party, Sean. I’ll give ya that.”

As they pulled into the town of Tamarindo, Mercer turned down a dirt road which would lead them to the riverbed about a mile away, and to where they had been conducting their research thus far.

As they pulled up to the shore of the riverbed, he asked, “What do you say we head upstream a little further today and check it out?”

Vigil complied and they started walking on a trail by the side of the waterway and headed upstream. As they made their stroll, they happened upon a woman doing some laundry in the river about a half mile from where they had started. A young boy was sitting on the bank next to a wicker basket, holding a fishing rod made out of a stick with some string on the end.

The woman looked up at the two men approaching and went back to washing her clothes as casually as if they weren’t even there. As they walked by, Vigil let out a hello and the woman looked up again, this time taking the time to respond back with wave and a smile. They both politely nodded back at her. Mercer caught eyes with the youngster and winked at him, prompting a smile from the boy, revealing a gap in his front teeth. He also waved his hand as the men passed and continued upstream.

About ten minutes later, they came to the end of where the river flowed in from the Pacific Ocean. From here, the river branched off into a dozen tiny streams that disappeared into the jungle. They began collecting samples from the river and put the vials in their backpacks. Mercer climbed up onto the embankment and noticed there was a tiny village on the other side of it. There were a few locals mulling around, as well as some children playing together in a small field set up with a makeshift soccer net. Vigil followed suit and joined his friend.

There was a man sitting at the edge of the field watching the children play. Mercer strolled towards him and politely asked, “Do you speak English?”

The man replied, “My grandmother taught me to speak it from a very young age. She always said it would be useful to know a foreign language or two.”

Mercer was taken aback by the old timer’s excellent understanding of the language. “My name is Sean Mercer and this is Pat Vigil. May we sit down and join you?”

The man jovially replied back, “Of course you may, Mr. Mercer. I am Anthony Mendoza. Very nice to meet you.”

“Thank you. And please, call me Sean.” He sat down and just watched for a few moments as the children ran back and forth in the field kicking the ball around without a care in the world.

Anthony Mendoza was an older man. Judging by his looks, Mercer took him to be about sixty five. He had a scraggily gray beard that covered most of his wrinkly face and his nose looked like it had been broken in a fight from many years ago. His eyes were as black as a starless night sky, but still, there was a genuine likeability about the man. He felt instantly comfortable talking with him.

Mendoza asked, “Where are you from, Sean?”

“We’re based out of Seattle, Washington. It’s in the northwest corner of the United States. In the surrounding areas, it’s as green and forested as your home here; only it’s not as hot. But it is truly a beautiful place to live. We both grew up on the east coast, though, right outside of Boston.”

The old man listened with great curiosity. “Ah, I see. I have never been to the United States. When I was younger, my grandparents took me on a fishing trip to the Gulf of Mexico. That’s as far as I have been from here. Now, that was a beautiful place.”

Vigil intervened, “Well, I would have to agree with you there, sir. Sean and I have fished the Gulf many times and it really is a magnificent place.”

“What are you doing half a continent away from your own home, if I may ask?” Mendoza inquired.

“We’re conducting research on the river and investigating what’s causing all the pollution. Have you or your family encountered any problems from using the water?”

Mendoza thought for a moment. “I personally have suffered no ill side effects, but others haven’t been as fortunate. Around here, we mainly use the river to wash our clothes. No one uses it for drinking purposes, but even swimming in it can cause enough of a rash to make you think twice about getting back in.”

“What side effects are you talking about?” Vigil inquired.

“Well, it’s usually just a case of vomiting or diarrhea. Children and the elderly seem to suffer more long term effects, but no one has been able to figure out the cause yet.”

Mercer looked at the old man and said, “I give you my word, Mr. Mendoza. We will do everything in our power to help figure this out for you and your people.”

The old man humbly nodded his head at Mercer. “I am truly grateful for that, Sean. I must warn you, however, that finding the source of the pollution is not the main issue you need to concern yourself with.”

Vigil asked, “And what would the main issue be?”

Mendoza continued, “It’s the cartel in the area that won’t allow any investigating to go on. Local authorities have tried to uncover the source of the contamination, but have been unsuccessful. They are shut down before they can even get close to finding out what the problem is. While others, I dare say, are murdered for getting too close.”

“Murdered?” Mercer asked, baffled.

“Yes. The cartel is the only form of law that many know. We live in constant fear of them,” he said in a subdued tone.

Mercer could see the fear in the old man’s eyes. “I believe we ran into a few of them earlier. We came upon a gruesome discovery while out in the forest and witnessed firsthand what they’re capable of. If Pat or myself can be of any assistance to you or your people, please do not hesitate to call on us.”

The three men looked over at the children playing and sat in silence for about a minute before Mendoza broke the silence. “I was just about to head back to my place before you fine gentlemen sat down. Would you like to join me for a cup of coffee?”

Mercer and Vigil graciously accepted and followed the man back to his home.

It was a small wooden structure with three tattered steps that led up to a tiny porch area to the right of the front door. The building was only about eighteen feet long and went eleven feet to the back of the hut, and Mercer and Vigil were both astounded by the modest living accommodations.

There was a small bedroom to the left of the house. On the right, there was a small kitchen area and in the corner of the room was a cast iron stove that looked like a chiminea. To Mercer, the strange looking fireplace appeared to be from a different era. The bowl-shaped firebox had an opening on one side and a long, narrow chimney on top that extended to the roof. On top of the makeshift stove was where Mendoza heated up the water for the coffee. Vigil, curious about the fireplace, asked about the device.

As Mendoza put wood into the stove, he explained to the two men how the bowl shape provided the means for good air circulation within the firebox. The long chimney extended to the top of the room, where he had constructed a makeshift opening in the roof of the house to allow the smoke to vent out. The design of the fireplace resulted in heat being radiated out of the opening in one direction only, which made it ideal for warming up during cold nights.

As the water warmed up, Mercer browsed over a small collection of books on a shelf hanging from the wall. There were only seven books on the mantle, but he was intrigued by one in particular. Its binding was old and slightly decayed. He could discern the very faded lettering forming the words
Port Log
, and asked the gracious host if he could take it down to look at it.

Bringing over a cup of coffee, Mendoza responded, “Yes, but please be very careful. That book is over one hundred and fifty years old. It’s one of the last known remaining relics of what was once the original town of Tamarindo.”

“Original?” Mercer asked curiously. “What happened to the old town?”

The old man sat down in a beat up old rocking chair and took a sip of his coffee. As he started to tell his tale of the book and how he came into possession of it, Mercer and Vigil listened with much interest.

He began with the destruction of the town. “Tamarindo was an old gold mining town. It was a very busy port of destination for local ships carrying gold and other resources to the surrounding areas. The river was fed from Lake Managua and ran all the way to the Pacific Ocean. In eighteen fifty-seven, there was a large volcanic eruption and the town was destroyed. It was completely covered with rock and ash.”

“You mean Mount Momotombo?” Vigil asked.

“That is correct,” Mendoza replied. “It was her largest eruption in thousands of years. When she blew, the blast destroyed the entire surrounding region. The town of Tamarindo was directly in the path of the blast and was instantly decimated, covering any trace of the town and its people. The mudflows altered the flow of the river from the lake and the river was cut off entirely. Now, it only runs from just west of here to the Pacific.”

“And what of this old port log?” Mercer asked. “How did it come to be in your possession?”

Mendoza sat there, sipping his coffee and continued on with the story. “My great, great grandmother came upon it some time after the volcano erupted. There were very few remains of the town, and what was left of it was scattered throughout the forest in bits and pieces. As people scoured for any trace of what was left, they were met with the unfortunate realization that the tiny community was gone forever. They decided to rebuild a new town a few miles downstream to where it is now. My ancestors believed the town must live on and not be forgotten with all those souls that were lost there on that fateful day.”

“A very noble thing to do,” said Mercer.

“Take a look at the last entry in the journal,” Mendoza said eagerly.

Mercer turned the pages very carefully as not to damage them. He was surprised to see the book was in such good shape considering it was worn and battered. He scrolled through a few of the entries and found nothing overly exciting other than just routine entries of ships entering and departing port. He came to the last two entries in the log as suggested by Mendoza and glanced at them with peculiar interest. It read:

12 September, 1857, 22:20 Hours

S.S. Alyssa Marie, a U.S. mail steamship, pulled into port this evening. Captain Thomas Mackie, Commanding Officer, has informed me the storm was too powerful for him to continue. He has made provisions for his ship and passengers to stay in port until storm subsides.

13 September, 1857, 16:30 Hours

Very large earthquake early this morning. Mt. Momotombo has been smoking with greater intensity throughout the day. Eruption seems imminent. Captain Mackie has offered us safe passage on his vessel. We will be departing within the hour.

After waiting a minute to ensure Mercer had read the entry, Mendoza offered, “Now do you see how valuable this book is? This could very well be the last known documentation of any event that took place in the town before the volcano erupted. There was also speculation that the ship might not have made it out in time since the harbor master was never seen or heard from again.”

Mercer was intrigued. “Very interesting, Mr. Mendoza. Very interesting indeed.”

The men talked for a little while longer before deciding it was time to head back. There was a stiff breeze in the air, but it provided little comfort from the sun’s rays glaring down on the Nicaraguan jungle. As Mercer and Vigil stepped out of the cramped living quarters, they exchanged pleasantries and thanked the old gentleman for his time and hospitality.