City of the Beasts (14 page)

"You are a very brave woman, Omayra," commented César Santos with admiration. "I'm staying. I am the guide, I can't leave you here," he added.

Alex and Nadia exchanged knowing glances; they had noticed how César Santos followed the doctor with his eyes and never lost an opportunity to be near her. They both knew, before he spoke, that if she stayed, he would do the same.

"And how do we get back without you?" Leblanc asked uneasily.

"Karakawe can lead you," said César Santos.

"I stay," the Indian stated, as always, stingy with words.

"Me, too, I'm not leaving my grandmother here alone," said Alex.

"I don't need you, and I don't need kids tagging along, Alexander," Kate grumbled, but in those eagle-sharp eyes everyone could see the glint of pride at her grandson's decision.

"I am going back for reinforcements," said Leblanc.

"Are you not in charge of this expedition, Professor?" Kate asked icily.

"I am more useful there than here…" he gabbled.

"Do whatever you wish, but if you leave, I personally will publish that information in
International Geographic
so all the world will know just how courageous Professor Leblanc really is," she threatened.

Finally they agreed that Matuwe and one of the soldiers would take Joel González back to Santa María de la Lluvia. The trip would be faster than it had been coming, since they would be traveling with the current. The other members of the party, including Ludovic Leblanc, who did not have the nerve to defy Kate, would stay where they were until reinforcements arrived. By midmorning everything was ready; those staying told the others good-bye, and the boat with the injured man started down the river.

The remainder of that day and a good part of the next were spent in setting a trap for the Beast, following Professor Leblancs instructions. It was of childlike simplicity: a huge hole in the ground covered with a net camouflaged with leaves and branches. The thought was that when the creature stepped onto the snare, it would fall in, dragging the net with it. At the bottom of the pit was a battery-powered alarm, which would sound and immediately alert the expedition. The plan was to get to the trap before the Beast could disentangle itself and get free, and to shoot several darts with an anesthesia powerful enough to down a rhinoceros.

The most difficult part was digging a pit deep enough to hold a creature as tall as the Beast. Everyone took turns with the shovel except Nadia and Leblanc, the former because she was opposed to the idea of hurting an animal, and the latter because his back was hurting again. The ground was very different from what the professor, comfortably installed at a desk in his home thousands of miles away, had expected when he designed his trap. There was a thin layer of humus, and beneath that a thick tangle of roots, then clay as slippery as soap, and as they dug deeper, the hole filled with reddish water in which all sorts of tiny things were swimming. Finally they quit, overcome by obstacles. Alex suggested using a system of ropes to hang nets from the trees, with a lure below. When their prey moved in to take the bait, the alarm would go off and the net would drop over the Beast. Everyone, except Leblanc, thought that that plan might work in theory, but they were too exhausted to test it and decided to postpone the project until the following morning.

"I hope your idea doesn't work, Jaguar," said Nadia.

"The Beast is dangerous," Alex replied.

"What will they do with it if they catch it? Kill it? Cut it up in little pieces to study? Put it in a cage for the rest of its life?"

"What's your solution, Nadia?"

"Talk with it and ask what it wants."

"Now there's a brilliant idea! We could invite it for tea," he jeered.

"All animals can communicate," she insisted.

"That's what my sister Nicole says, but she's only nine."

"I see that she knows more at nine than you do at fifteen," Nadia replied.

They had camped in a very beautiful spot. The dense tangle of growth along the riverbank opened up farther inland into a majestic forest, the straight, soaring tree trunks forming the pillars of a magnificent green cathedral. Orchids and other flowers hung from the branches and glittering ferns covered the ground. Animal life was so varied that there was never a moment of silence; from dawn to late day, the songs of toucans and parrots filled the air, replaced at night by the clamor of tree frogs and howler monkeys. This Garden of Eden hid many dangers, however: distances were enormous, the solitude absolute, and without long experience it was impossible to get your bearings. According to Leblanc—and in this César Santos was in agreement—the only way to get around in this region was with the help of Indians. Contact with them was essential. Dr. Omayra Torres was the one most eager to find them because, as she explained, she first had to fulfill her mission—the vaccinations—and then establish a basic health care system.

"I don't think the Indians will voluntarily offer their arms for you to stick, Omayra. They have never seen a needle in their lives." César Santos smiled. There was a strong current of sympathy between them, and by then they were acting like old friends.

"We will tell them that it is powerful magic sent by the white man," she said, and winked.

"Which is absolutely true," approved César Santos.

According to the guide, there were several tribes in the vicinity that had almost surely had contact, if brief, with the outside world. From his airplane, he had sighted
shabonos
, but since there was nowhere to land, all he could do was mark them on his map. The communal huts he had seen were rather small, which meant that each tribe was composed of only a few families. Professor Leblanc, who declared himself an expert on the matter, assured them that the minimal number of inhabitants per
shabono
was around fifty—otherwise they would not be able to defend themselves against enemy attack—and, very rarely, more than two hundred and fifty. César Santos also suspected that there were isolated tribes that had never been seen, which was what Dr. Torres expected; the only way these groups could be reached was by air. They would have to fly to the rain forests on the high plain, the enchanted region of the waterfalls, where outsiders had never traveled before the invention of airplanes and helicopters.

With the hope of attracting the Indians, the guide tied a cord between two trees and hung a number of gifts from it: bead necklaces, bright scarves, mirrors, and plastic trinkets. He held the machetes, knives, and steel tools for later, when the real negotiations and exchange of gifts would begin.

That afternoon, César Santos tried to reach Captain Ariosto and Mauro Carías in Santa María de la Lluvia, but the radio was out of order. Professor Leblanc strode around the camp, furious at this new difficulty, while the others took turns in vain to try to send or receive a message. Nadia took Alex aside to tell him that last night, before the soldier had been murdered during Karakawe's shift, she had seen the Indian fooling with the set. She said she had gone to bed when her turn was over, but hadn't fallen asleep immediately, and from her hammock had seen Karakawe near the apparatus.

"Did you see him clearly, Nadia?"

"No, because it was dark, but the only ones up during that shift were the two soldiers and him. I'm almost sure it wasn't either of the soldiers," she replied. "I think Karakawe is the person Mauro Carías mentioned. Maybe it's part of the plan for us not to be able to call for help in case of an emergency."

"We should warn your father," Alex determined.

César Santos was not interested in their report; he merely warned them that before they accused anyone, they should be very sure. There were many reasons why such antiquated radio equipment might fail. Besides, why would Karakawe put it out of commission? There was no reason he would want to be without communication. He calmed Alex and Nadia, saying that reinforcements would be there in only three or four days.

"We aren't lost, just isolated," he concluded.

"And the Beast, Papa?" Nadia asked, troubled.

"We don't know if it even exists, child. On the other hand, we can be sure about the Indians. Sooner or later they will appear, and we hope they will come in peace. In any case, we're well armed."

"The soldier who died had a rifle, but it didn't help him," Alex rebutted.

"He was distracted. From now on we have to be much more cautious. Unfortunately, there are only seven adults to stand guard."

"I count as an adult," Alex assured him.

"That's fine, but not Nadia. The only time she can help is during my shift," César Santos decided.

That day, Nadia discovered an
urucu
pod tree near the camp. She picked some of its fruit, which looked like shelled almonds, opened them, and took out the red seeds. When she squeezed them and mixed them with a little saliva, she formed a red paste that had the consistency of soap. This, along with other vegetable dyes, was what the Indians used to decorate their bodies. Nadia and Alex painted lines, circles, and dots on their faces, then tied feathers and seeds onto their arms. When Timothy Bruce and Kate saw them, they insisted on taking photographs, and Omayra combed the girl's curly hair and adorned it with tiny orchids. César Santos, in contrast, did not approve; the vision of his daughter painted like an Indian girl seemed to fill him with sadness.

As the light began to fade, they knew that somewhere the sun was preparing to disappear below the horizon, yielding to night. Beneath the treetops the sun was rarely seen; its brilliance was hazy when filtered through the green lace of vegetation. Only occasionally, where a tree had fallen, could the blue eye of the sky be seen. At that hour, the shadows of the trees began to close around them like a fence. In less than an hour, the jungle would be black. Nadia asked Alex to play the flute to entertain them, and for a while the music, delicate and crystalline, filled the jungle. Borobá, the little monkey, followed the melody, moving its head in time to the notes. César Santos and Dr. Omayra Torres, kneeling at the bonfire, were roasting fish for dinner. Kate, Timothy Bruce, and one of the soldiers were securing the tents to protect their provisions from monkeys and ants. Karakawe and the other soldier, armed and alert, were standing watch. Professor Leblanc was dictating ideas that flashed through his mind into a pocket recorder he always carried for the times he was gifted with a transcendent thought that must be preserved for humanity. This happened so frequently that Alex and Nadia, bored, were just awaiting their chance to steal the batteries. About fifteen minutes into the flute concert, Borobá's attention suddenly shifted: he began to jump up and down, fidgeting and tugging at Nadia's clothing. At first Nadia tried to ignore her pet, but the animal kept bothering her until she got up. After she peered into the thick growth, she signaled Alex, who had just come to the end of a song, and led him outside the circle of firelight without attracting the others' attention.

"Shhhh," she whispered, putting a finger to her lips.

There was still a trace of twilight but the colors had faded; the world lay in tones of gray and black. Alex had felt he was being observed ever since he left Santa María de la Lluvia, but just that evening the impression of being spied upon had disappeared. He had been filled with a sensation of calm and safety he hadn't felt for many days. Also, the penetrating odor at the place where the soldier had been killed the previous night had dispersed. Alex, Nadia, and Borobá walked a few yards into the thicket and waited there, more curious than uneasy. Without having stated it, they supposed that if there were Indians about, and if they had any intention of harming them, they would already have done so, because the members of the expedition, lighted by the campfire, were exposed to the aim of arrows and poisoned darts of the dwellers of the jungle.

They stood very quietly, feeling they were sinking into a cottony mist, as if when night fell the normal dimensions of reality were lost to them. Then gradually Alex began to see, one by one, the beings that surrounded them. They were naked, painted with stripes and spots, with feathers and leather thongs tied around their arms—silent, airy, motionless. Even though they were right beside him, they were difficult to see; they blended perfectly into nature, which made them invisible, like stealthy ghosts. Once he could see them, Alex figured that there had to be at least twenty, all men, all with their primitive weapons in their hands.

"Ah-ee-ah," whispered Nadia.

No one answered, but a barely perceptible movement of the leaves indicated that the Indians were moving closer. In the darkness, and without his eyeglasses, Alex wasn't sure what he was seeing, but his heart was pounding wildly and he could feel the blood throbbing at his temples. He had the same hallucinatory sensation of being in a dream that he had felt in the presence of the black jaguar in Mauro Carías's patio. There was a similar tension, as if things were happening in a glass bubble that might shatter at any instant. Danger was in the air, just as it had been with the jaguar, but he was not afraid. He did not feel threatened by those transparent beings floating among the trees. The idea of pulling out his knife or calling for help never occurred to him. Like lightning, a scene flashed through his mind that he had seen years before at the movies: a young boy's encounter with an alien. He was living in a similar moment. Through his amazement, he realized that he would not trade this experience for anything in the world.

"Ah-ee-ah," Nadia repeated.

"Ah-ee-ah," Alex murmured, too.

No response.

They waited, hand in hand, still as statues. Even Borobá was quiet, expectant, as if he knew he was participating in a precious instant. Endless minutes passed and night fell rapidly, completely cloaking them in black. At some point, they realized they were alone; the Indians had evaporated with the same airiness with which they had emerged from nothing.

"Who are they?" Alex asked as they returned to camp.

"They must be the People of the Mist, the invisible ones, the most remote and mysterious Indians of the Amazon. It's been known they exist, but no one has ever spoken with them."