Addison Cooke and the Treasure of the Incas (12 page)

“Then I've got good news for you, Eddie,” said Addison.
“The Amazon is freshwater, so you don't need to worry about crocodiles.”

“Excellent.”

“What you
should
worry about are the caimans.”

“Caimans?”

“South American alligators,” Raj piped in. “They grow up to twenty feet long and can weigh over a thousand pounds. They're called black caimans to be precise.”

“I don't care what you call them,” cried Eddie. “I care about them not eating me!”

“Eddie, all you care about is what you want to eat and what wants to eat you,” said Molly.

“What can I say, I'm a pragmatist!”

“We have no choice,” said Guadalupe, losing all patience. “Talking about it's not going to help. We have to cross.”

“Black caimans are man-eaters,” Raj protested. “We really shouldn't go in the water.”

“Está berraco,”
said Guadalupe, rolling her
r
's with exasperation. “I would rather be eaten by twelve alligators than stand here another minute listening to you babies whine. Besides, I'm your guide. And I'm absolutely positive there are no alligators, crocodiles, or caimans in this river.” She fixed her ponytail, hiked up her pants, and sloshed into the water.

“This is my favorite blazer,” sighed Addison. He loosened his tie and stepped in after her.

•   •   •

All things considered, there were any number of places Addison would rather have been. His dress shoes sunk into the muddy bank, suctioning his feet with every step. The water pooling around his ankles and drenching his dress pants was surprisingly cold. He clung to clumps of reeds for balance until the murky water rose to his chest and the current took him.

Addison doggy-paddled into the wide river, unable to see what swam beneath his feet. “The current is pretty strong,” he said, trying to sound relaxed about it.

Guadalupe paddled ahead. “Then you'll just have to swim strong. Keep going!”

The team reached a weed-covered sandbank, where the current slowed.

“You know, maybe this isn't so bad,” said Eddie, getting used to the temperature.

“Don't get cocky,” said Molly. “We've still got a long way to go!”

Guadalupe swam to the far side of the sandbank and froze. “Hey,
amigos
, remember when I said I was absolutely sure there were no alligators in the river?”

“Vividly,” said Addison.

“It's possible I wasn't being completely straight with you.”

The team turned to look where Guadalupe was staring.
A pair of sixteen-foot black caimans slid off the far mud bank into the river. The man-eaters floated toward the group, gliding like silent submarines, only their eyes and nostrils visible above the muddy brown tide.

“John . . . Wilkes . . . Booth,” Addison breathed, watching the caimans drift closer.

“What do we do?” Eddie called, his voice rising an octave.

“Just stay quiet and slowly back away,” said Guadalupe.

“That's for bears,” said Raj.

“Okay, wave your arms and make a lot of noise to scare them,” Guadalupe offered.

“That's for mountain lions.”

“Well, what are we supposed to do for alligators?” Guadalupe demanded.

“Not go in the water,” Raj said flatly.

•   •   •

The caimans closed in on the team. There was no turning back. Addison's group turned and swam downstream as fast as they could, into the deepest part of the river.

The swift current caught them and swept them into the churning white waters of the rapids. Waves frothed and boiled, sliding the group between jagged boulders. Paddling furiously, they spun ever faster down the whirlpool currents of the raging river.

“We're out of control!” shouted Molly.

“Yes,” yelled Addison, “but we're getting a lead on those caimans!”

Addison heard the rush of a waterfall looming ahead. Rising cliffs funneled the wide, roiling river down to a narrow point, forcing the water ever faster. The violent torrent built to a deafening roar.

“Everybody take a deep breath!” called Raj.

“We're all going to die!” shouted Eddie.

Addison gritted his teeth and watched as his friends were swept, screaming, over the edge of the falls. He shut his eyes tightly and felt the current take him.

His screams were cut short half a second later.

To Addison's astonishment, the waterfall had been all of three feet high. “You see, guys? That wasn't so bad,” he sputtered. “You just need a positive mental attitude.”

And with that, they all plummeted over a twelve-foot waterfall.

The pounding water held Addison under until his lungs burned. Thousands of gallons crashed continually over the falls. Addison kicked and flailed, not sure which way was up.

At last, he surfaced downstream, coughing and gasping for air. He wiped water from his eyes and searched the river. To his relief, his friends' heads bobbed above the waterline. Everyone appeared to be more or less alive. “You see?” he said. “Again, really not so bad.”

“It's worse than bad!” yelled Molly, pointing her finger. “There are more caiman coming after us!”

“Molly, can't you just let me have this?”

The current drew the team more swiftly, but it pulled the caimans more quickly as well. Their powerful tails drew S-curves through the water, their long mouths bristling with teeth.

“Raj, what are our options?” gasped Addison, pulling hard through the water. “Don't you have firecrackers in that backpack?”

“Couldn't get them through customs!” shouted Raj.

Addison pumped his arms, swimming faster. He glanced over his shoulder to check on the caimans and watched in surprise as the beasts suddenly broke off their pursuit. “Finally, we get a lucky break!”

It was at this point Addison realized he could hardly hear his own voice over the growing roar of an even more massive waterfall.

“Addison!” Molly hollered.

“I know, I know! But look on the bright side—no more caimans!”

“The first rule of survival is not to panic!” Raj shrieked at the top of his lungs.

The whole world trembled with the rising din of pounding water. Addison spun around and saw his team was heading for oblivion. “Hold hands! Grab hold of anything you can!”

The team reached out to cling together. Yet Guadalupe, a little farther downstream than the others, couldn't free herself from the raging current. She hurdled toward the hammering waterfall. Addison saw she was done for.

“Addison, take my hand!” Molly called. “Hurry!”

Addison hesitated. Guadalupe was paddling for her life, but couldn't fight the current sucking her toward the brink of the falls. Before he could think, Addison turned and swam after her. Within a few strokes, he reached her and grabbed her by the hand.

But it was too late.

The greedy current drew Addison and Guadalupe ever closer to the roaring edge. Addison kicked hard and lunged. At the last moment, their clasped hands managed to snag onto a jagged boulder that pierced the waterline like a shark's fin. The angled rock held them pinned, mere feet from the dizzying precipice of the eighty-foot waterfall.

“If I let go,” Guadalupe shouted over the roaring waterfall, “you'll go over!”

“If you let go, we'll
both
go over.” He quoted Guadalupe.
“Está berraco.”

Guadalupe nodded.
“Está berraco.”
She held on.

Addison held on.

Raj reached the opposite bank. He found a long tree branch, cast it at arm's length like a fishing pole, and managed to snag Eddie.

Eddie grabbed Molly's hand, forming a human chain in the water.

Molly held out her free hand. “Addison, grab hold!”

“I'm not letting go of Guadalupe!”

Molly stretched, but she could not reach Addison. “Raj, get me closer!”

Raj waded deeper into the water. Eddie spread his arms as wide as they would go. Molly reached just a little bit farther. Her fingers latched onto Addison's.

Addison clutched tight.

Raj hauled Eddie toward the shore. Eddie dragged Molly. Molly reeled in Addison, who towed Guadalupe with him. Hands clasped together, they fought the eager pull of the current and tugged one another to the river's edge. One by one, the group crawled up on to the muddy bank and collapsed, gulping for breath.

Eddie turned on Guadalupe. “You nearly got us killed! What kind of guide suggests crossing an alligator-infested river!”

“It doesn't matter,” said Addison, still getting his wind back. “She got us to cross it. And we did. We made it.”

Guadalupe stood up, wringing the water from her clothes, a look of triumph on her face. “You're welcome.”

G
UADALUPE LED THE GROUP deeper into the jungle. With the detour downriver, they'd lost the trail entirely. Addison navigated by compass and hope.

The rain-forest canopy grew so dense it blocked out all light. The forest floor was a twilight world wriggling with innumerable insects and reptiles. The group picked their way around kapok trees tall as skyscrapers, with trunks wider than city buses. They feathered their way past venomous plants, bloodsucking horseflies, and strangely painted birds that Addison longed to sketch in his notebook if he only had the time.

“I think we'll catch the trail if we keep bearing north,” he said at last.

“We don't even know if there is a trail on this side of the river,” said Guadalupe.

“Well, you're the guide. Which way do you think we should go?”

Guadalupe turned in a slow circle and then shook her head. “It's possible I haven't been completely straight with you guys.”

“Again?” said Eddie.

“Look, it's not so much that I'm an expert Amazon guide. It's more that I just really, really needed to get out of Olvidados.” Guadalupe shrugged. “They could have put me in jail for months.”

“But we could be in
here
for months,” said Molly.

“Harika,”
Eddie groaned. “Even our guide is lost.”

“The first rule of survival is not to panic,” Raj said, repeating his favorite mantra. “The jungle can provide all our needs! Look,” he added, kneeling down beside a puddle of water in the mossy undergrowth, “the jungle is providing a cooling drink of water.” He bent low and began lapping from the muddy puddle.

“Raj, what are you doing?” said Addison, aghast. “We have water bottles in our backpacks!”

Raj paused, muddy water dripping from his chin. “That is true,” he admitted. “Well, the jungle is providing a napkin.” He wiped his mouth with a palm frond.

“The jungle is also providing a spider,” Molly said, pointing at Raj's chin.

Raj yelped and leapt backward, stumbling over an enormous tree root. He rolled to his feet, smacking and scratching at his face. “Did I kill it?”

“I think you just scared it to death. Anyway, it's gone now.”

“First rule of survival,” Raj said with a satisfied smile.

Molly blew the strand of hair from her eyes and shook her head.

The group forged on, following Addison's compass. They crossed forests of red mangroves and dark mahogany and clambered over tree roots as massive as the twisted, gnarled fingers of giants. They wandered through hazy green dells of palms and ferns so monstrously large, they looked as if they were transplanted from primeval worlds.

Parting her way between towering fronds, Guadalupe caught a sight that made her jump back in fright. The group gathered at her side.

A ten-foot statue of a demon barred the way. It was carved from stone, with the head of a jaguar and the wings of a bat. Addison's group gaped in terror and fascination.

“Who made this?” Addison wondered aloud, fearing the answer.

“Máloco Indians.” Guadalupe turned and spat. “Cannibals.”

“You're kidding,” said Eddie. “Is there anything in the Amazon that doesn't want to eat us?”

Blood dripped from the mouth of the statue. Addison reached out a finger and dabbed at it. “It's fresh.”

“Gross,” Molly declared. “And you touched it.”

“Is it human blood?” asked Raj, a bit too hopefully.

“It's probably from an animal sacrifice. Maybe a bird or a frog.” Addison studied the strange symbols carved into the sides of the statue.

“What does it mean?” asked Eddie.

“It means ‘keep out,'” said Guadalupe. “The Máloco fight anyone who crosses their land. They say not even cartel smugglers will use this part of the jungle.”

Addison's team was silent for a moment, peering nervously into the unfathomable depths of the rain forest.

“Well, this is great news,” said Addison brightly.

“Addison, how is this great news?” asked Eddie. “Even smugglers won't go here.”

“The Incan clue said
‘through the jungles of the headhunters.'
This means we're on the right track.”

“But there aren't really such things as cannibals, right?”

“The Wari' people eat their own relatives after they die, as a sign of respect. The Jivaroan tribes shrink the heads of their enemies to keep as trophies.” Addison smiled, marveling at the statue. “The Amazon is lousy with cannibals.”

This was not at all what Eddie was hoping to hear. “But even in this day and age?”

“There are protected Amazon tribes who've never had
contact with our civilization.” Addison traced some of the strange symbols into his waterlogged notebook and stood back to admire the demon statue, with its bared teeth and bulging eyes. “Aunt Delia would love this.”

“What do we do, Addison?”

“We've come this far. We can't very well go back.” Addison turned to look at the frightened faces of his team. He pocketed his notebook and shouldered his pack. “Look, we're going to get out of here. It's as simple as getting back on the Incan trail.”

“How?” asked Eddie.

Addison set a course and began walking deeper into the jungle. He moved with enough confidence that the group followed. “The Incan trails were used by Chaskis,” he spoke over his shoulder, “ancient runners who delivered messages across the empire.”

“Is he giving another history lesson?” Guadalupe interrupted.

“This is how my whole family talks,” Molly sighed.

“One Chaski would run to a relay station, where he'd hand the message off to the next Chaski—”

“Like a pony express,” Raj cut in, “but with people instead of horses.”

“Exactly. The upshot is, the Incas usually built their roads along the tops of ridges. That way, the relay stations could see when a Chaski was incoming.”

Molly looked at Addison doubtfully. “You're saying if
we keep heading uphill, we'll cross the Incan trail again?”

“Absolutely.” In truth, Addison had no idea. But he knew that choosing a direction and sticking with it was better than choosing no direction at all.

•   •   •

The land sloped uphill. Parrots and toucans chattered in the canted afternoon light that sifted through the primordial trees.

Guadalupe fell into step beside Addison. “What happened to your aunt and uncle, anyway?”

“They were kidnapped in New York.”

Guadalupe considered this. “Usually, New Yorkers have to come to Colombia to get kidnapped.”

“We do things differently in my family.” Addison parted his way through the overhanging vines, careful he was not accidentally grasping at tree snakes.

“You must be close to your aunt and uncle, to come all this way.”

Addison weighed the question. “Well, they're separated, so we only see my uncle on weekends. And they work a lot. But they're the closest thing to parents I've got.”

Guadalupe nodded.

Addison knew Guadalupe lived on her own. He felt she might understand his situation. “Molly and I are on our own a lot. They're hardly around. It's kind of selfish,
right? People who raise kids and never see them. Like they're only thinking of themselves.”

Guadalupe hiked for a moment in silence. She studied Addison thoughtfully. “They didn't choose to have you, right? I mean, they're not your real parents.”

“Exactly.”

“And yet they took you in when you needed them. Even though they have to work harder. They don't sound like they're only thinking for themselves,” said Guadalupe. “But you do.” She walked on ahead.

Addison watched the afternoon sunlight filter through the wind-rippled leaves. He plodded along in thoughtful silence, the gently sloping forest floor muffling the sound of his footfalls.

•   •   •

The sun drew lower, and the group made camp for the night. Raj collected stones to build a fire circle. Eddie and Molly gathered firewood. Addison and Guadalupe walked to a nearby creek to refill the water bottles.

Addison sat down on the mossy bank and stripped off his shoes and socks. He stared in dismay at his jacket and trousers, caked in mud. “This is the dirtiest I've ever been.”

“You can wash your jacket in the creek,” said Guadalupe.

“Will that work?”

She shrugged. “It can't get any dirtier.”

Addison felt she had a point so he waded into the cooling water. The evening air hummed pleasantly with a chorus of crickets and cicadas.

Guadalupe followed him into the shallows, scrubbing dried mud from the knees of her pants. She waded past her hips and elbows until the water reached up to her chin.

“How did you end up here from Cleveland?” Addison asked.

“I told you before, it's complicated.”

“Try me.”

“When my parents divorced, my mother left Cleveland and took us to live with her parents here in South America. She only waited a year before getting married again. I didn't like my new stepfather. I couldn't stand being in the house. So I left.”

“But you said you're an orphan?”

“After I left, they were in a car accident,” said Guadalupe.

Addison slipped deeper into the water. He watched the gently running creek slowly dissolve the caked mud from his jacket. He tried to think of the right thing to say. “That's terrible. I'm really sorry.”

“What do you know about it?” snapped Guadalupe. “You're just some rich boy from New York.”

“I'm not rich.”

“Compared to me, you are.”

Addison treaded water and did not look at Guadalupe. Her words bothered him. She probably saw his blazer and tie and assumed he led a charmed life. Somehow, Addison wanted her to know he shared the same problems she did. “My parents died when I was eight,” he said finally.

Guadalupe swam in silence, the water lapping against the edges of the tidal pool. Crickets and night frogs heralded the dusk with chirps and purring trills. “What happened?”

“We were in Cambodia,” Addison began. “In the Dângrêk Mountains. A site called the Temple of God.”

Guadalupe squinted her eyes and looked at him closely.

“Molly and I grew up all over the world,” said Addison. “My parents were like gypsies. We lived on hippie communes, slept on steamboats, and once crossed Egypt with a Bedouin caravan. My parents would do whatever they needed to reach an archaeological site. I come from a very weird family.”

“That explains a lot.”

“All the Cookes are archaeologists. My father, mother, aunt, and both my uncles. It's sort of our family business. It takes us around the globe.”

“Why were you in Cambodia?” asked Guadalupe.

“My parents wanted to find an artifact called the Crown of Sita. I didn't know at the time, but later my uncle explained it. Khmer smugglers were looting artifacts and selling them to buy weapons. My parents wanted to rescue the crown from the temple and secure it in a museum before the smugglers could steal it.”

“This was your childhood?” She stifled a laugh.

“Look, do you want to hear my story or not?”

“I do,” said Guadalupe. “Sorry. So what happened?”

“Everything went wrong. The sky went dark, and we were trapped by monsoon rain. We couldn't escape. Khmer smugglers surrounded the temple and attacked.”

“Your parents put an eight-year-old in this situation? Addison, you may have worse parents than I do!”

“They couldn't have known we'd be ambushed.”

“I guess,” said Guadalupe, shaking her head.

“My uncle Nigel ran with Molly and me. We hid in the jungle. All we could do was watch from the trees.”

Addison treaded water silently for a while before he continued. “Molly was too young to remember, but I can close my eyes and see it like it was yesterday.”