Recruits (Keeper of the Water Book 2) (25 page)

The young explorer reacts quickly, dodging the spear-tip that’s jabbed toward his chest. He also shows surprising quickness for someone so malnourished, as he grabs the shaft of the spear and tries to wrestle it away. When the rest of the crowd sees that he’s not another sacrificial lamb, they cheer louder but also ready their own spears. The battle between explorer and tribe warrior is ferocious and quickly turns bloody. The explorer just about pulls the spear free from his opponent’s hands when the Man-Eater unexpectedly lets go. With the explorer falling off balance, the Man-Eater launches himself toward him, baring his sharpened teeth, aiming for the explorer’s throat.

A part of me wants to look away but instead I raise my bow and aim toward the bloody circle. If I fire an arrow, I know I’ll be putting my life
and
my recruit’s life in jeopardy. But I can’t stand idly by any longer and let this brutality happen, especially since I feel an inexplicable pull toward the two pale-faced explorers I’ve never seen before. I no longer have any doubt about whether I’ll intercede but the two fighters are too intertwined to give me a clear shot.

The explorer turns his head just in time to avoid having his throat ripped out. Still, the Man-Eater sinks his teeth into the young man’s shoulder. The explorer cries out in pain but promptly headbutts the Man-Eater, who backs up in a daze. Despite the blood flowing freely from his shoulder, the young explorer goes on the attack, throwing punch after punch like one of those bare-knuckle brawlers. He knocks down the native and picks up the spear, holding it high above his head as he stands over his fallen opponent.

The tribe continues to cheer even though one of their own is about to die. They don’t seem to care
whose
blood is spilled as long as they get to witness carnage. But the young explorer refuses to satisfy their urges. Instead of impaling his wounded opponent, he takes the spear in both hands and snaps the shaft over his knee. The crowd quiets, but only long enough for the elder Man-Eater to yell another command.

A few more warriors charge forward and the young explorer can’t fight off them all. He lands a few more solid punches before finally being taken down. Two Man-Eaters pin him to the ground while a third grabs a spear, ready to produce the tribe’s second meal. The older explorer cries out for mercy but his tone is so full of desperation that he must not think help is possible.

But that’s where I prove him wrong. Before the third Man-Eater can stab down with the spear, I step out from behind the tree and fire. My arrow rips into his back and the tip explodes from his chest. I don’t see what his face looks like but I imagine he’s as shocked as the others. The two natives holding down the explorer jump to their feet, making themselves an easy target for the next two arrows that I fire in quick succession.

“So this
is
happening,” Harriet says with a huff.

The rest of the tribe turns and scatters but Harriet and I don’t waste our chance to go on the attack. We sprint across the open clearing, reaching the first of the Man-Eaters in less than a second. Harriet wields her massive club and swings it at every moving target, knocking aside cannibal after cannibal, sending several dagger teeth flying out of mouths. I follow up by shooting arrow after arrow toward any Man-Eater foolish enough to stay and fight rather than flee.

And there are a lot of fools. The battle is chaotic but the two living explorers join in the fray and help any way they can, mostly by staying out of our way. A Man-Eater charges at Harriet from behind so I reach for an arrow in my quiver only to find it empty. I sprint toward my recruit but she’s halfway across the clearing and not even
I’m
that fast. I call out her name in warning but she’s already battling half a dozen tribe warriors and can’t turn around.

The Man-Eater leaps toward Harriet and I can almost imagine him zeroing in on her long slender neck. But he never reaches his intended target. I’m so focused on the Man-Eater and my recruit that I didn’t notice someone
else
rushing toward the fight. The older explorer crashes into the Man-Eater, causing the native warrior to do a complete flip before cracking his skull against the ground. I look at the older man, shocked that he could hit so hard.

“Used to play rugby as a lad,” he says.

This is the first time I’ve had a clear look into his eyes, seeing beyond the wool hat, scruffy beard and funny-looking handlebar mustache. It wouldn’t be the last time I’d gaze upon his face.

-
- - - - - - - - - - -

My eyes stare blankly at the forest surrounding the motel but I see my memory more clearly than ever. Butterflies swarm within my stomach at the realization of what my memory means.

“
I
saved my father’s life,” I whisper breathlessly. “Well, not my
real
father but my father from
this
life.”

Amelia nods. Her expression finally softens as she understands that I still don’t fully remember who I am.

“Cassie and the queens complained for years that you and Harriet endangered the Amazons and the Keeper and the water by saving those explorers,” Amelia explains. “I think it upset her even more that the Keeper actually
appreciated
your sense of humanity. Even when Percy and Jack hunted down their rescuers and nearly found our camp and the – ”

“Wait, wait, wait,” I interrupt, my heart skipping a beat though I’m certain my ears
must
be playing tricks on me. “What names did you just say?”

“Percy, that’s the real name of the man you came to know as your father,” Amelia says. “And the other man you saved was Percy’s son, whose name was – ”

I interrupt her again but say only one word. “Jack.”

“You didn’t remember him yet?” Amelia asks.

“It’s coming back to me now,” I say.

I hold up a hand to stop Amelia from talking. It’s not that I don’t want to hear what she has to say but I really need to focus on remembering my father and his
real
son.

-
- - - - - - - - - - -

The Man-Eaters’ camp is cleared of natives… at least natives standing on their feet. Plenty lay on the ground, unconscious if they dealt with the wrath of Harriet’s club, dead if they tested the power of my bow. We wiped out nearly half the tribe before the rest of them scattered into the nearby jungle. Unfortunately, I don’t think they’ll be gone for long.

“We need to get far away before they regroup and attack again,” I tell Harriet and the man who introduced himself as Percy Fawcett. “Their leader won’t let them hide for long.”

“I can not thank you enough for saving my son’s life,” Percy says.

Jack Fawcett is on the other side of the clearing. He moves gingerly after taking a severe beating – and blood still runs from the bite mark in his shoulder – but he still finds the strength to lift Raleigh’s inert form from the large cauldron. He lays his friend’s body down and kneels beside it.

“We never should’ve come this far on your stupid search for Z,” Jack calls out, his back still turned. “It’s not fair that Raleigh had to die while we got to live. He was supposed to get married when we got back.”

Percy frowns, sorry for his son’s loss.

“You can not show weakness to these kinds of people. Raleigh refused to fight so they treated him the way they would treat
anyone
viewed as a coward. But I want you to know how proud I am of the way you fought, the way you saved your own life.”

“What other choice did I have?” Jack snaps.

Percy’s face tightens. “Raleigh knew the risks of signing up for the mission. He knew there would be grave dangers searching for such amazing glory.”

“Of course he did but it’s
my
fault he came,
my
fault for filling his head with tales of
your
adventures,” Jack says. “I idolized you during all the years you were gone, all those years I was waiting for the chance to come with you to search for the lost city. And all for what?”

Percy frowns again but turns back to Harriet and me.

“He’s still upset, this experience has been more difficult than he expected. I
told
him the trip wouldn’t merely be excitement and adventure,” he tells us. “But I have to ask the obvious question: who
are
you two?”

“The woman that saved ya’ll backsides,” Harriet interjects, the first –
and last
– thing she says to either explorer.

“You both speak English so well, but clearly not the same dialect,” he says. “You seem
very
out of place in this part of the world.”

I glance at Harriet, who opens her eyes wide and scowls at me, her way of saying ‘I told you we shouldn’t have gotten involved.’ Helping still feels like the right choice but I understand that this scenario – that Percy’s questions – are the exact thing the Amazons try to avoid.

“You’re still in a lot of danger from the Man-Eaters. I suggest you spend less time talking and more time walking if you don’t want to end up like your son’s friend,” I tell him.

“I’ve spent years in these jungles,” Percy whispers so his son can’t hear. “Raleigh’s death is unfortunate – especially since he and Jack were lifelong friends – but this isn’t the first death I’ve witnessed on my quest to find Z.”

“You would’ve died if not for us. You would be wise to remember that and return to wherever it is you’re from.”

I nod at Harriet and the two of us begin to head back in the direction where we came from. Along the way, I yank several arrows out of dead Man-Eaters, wiping gore from the tips before putting them back in my quiver. Percy rushes to keep up with us.

“How did you know to help us?” he asks.

I shrug my shoulders, seeing no reason to lie.

“We saw you canoeing on the water and followed you downriver,” I say. “When we saw you stop in Man-Eater territory, we decided to follow you to see what happened. I couldn’t let them kill all three of you knowing I could step in and help.”

“So you could’ve helped sooner and stopped them from killing Raleigh?” Jack asks.

I didn’t even hear the young explorer approach but he’s now standing next to his father behind us.

“Your friend was very weak and clearly not much of a fighter,” I say, not meaning to sound as harsh as I probably do. “Either way, I doubt he would’ve survived the battle.”

“You should be thankful they stepped in when they did,” Percy tells his son, though that answer clearly doesn’t satisfy Jack.

“Mentor, please,” Harriet says.

We leave the clearing, proceeding cautiously in case the Man-Eaters have gathered nearby. Every tree or tangle of vines is a potential hiding spot and we remain ready to defend ourselves if any native should leap out looking for someone to chomp on. The two explorers rush to keep up with us, Percy basically dragging along his son who doesn’t want to leave his friend’s body behind. Father and son begin to argue but it only takes one angry glare from Harriet to shut them up. I know she doesn’t want them following us any longer. But there’s no point of going through all the trouble to save them just to let them get lost in the jungle while looking for their canoe.

“Over the years, I’ve immersed myself in the culture of many native tribes in this region,” Percy says. “One similarity between most of the cultures involves the protocol of one person being saved by another. With that being said, I feel as though my son and I
owe
you our lives, or at least a lifetime of servitude.”

Jack snickers behind his father. “You
are
crazier than I realized.”

This rationale isn’t exactly the way things are done with the Amazons but the whole mentor/recruit relationship isn’t so different. Still, I shake my head at the idea of Percy ever being able to do anything beneficial for me. We pass through more of the jungle until we reach the spot where the Man-Eaters first approached the explorers. The path cut through the vines should be no problem for the two men to find their way back to the canoe.

“Fine, you owe me your life, so therefore you must listen to me. Right?” I ask the aging explorer. He nods his head. “Then do what I say and leave. Get into your canoe, leave the jungle and go home.”

Harriet and I turn and run off into a section of jungle not so easily traversed by others. I steal one final glance behind me, seeing Percy with his head hung in disappointment and Jack glaring angrily at us.

I have zero doubt that the angry young explorer is the same one who would help Cassie, Celeste and me nearly a hundred years later.

-
- - - - - - - - - - -

“We saved them from the Man-Eaters and sent them back to their canoe but he looked pissed at us,” I whisper to Amelia. “Like he
blamed
us for his friend dying. But it was definitely
him
.”

“Who?” she asks.

Deep in thought – or should I say deep in
confusion
– it’s not until my mind registers the sound of chirping birds that I realize my recruit asked me a question.

“Jack, the
same
Jack who saved Cassie from being kidnapped,” I mutter.

Amelia remains respectfully quiet as I try to contemplate the odds of Jack simply being in the right place at the right time to help us. It just doesn’t make sense. My mind is in overdrive trying to figure this out and I don’t want to become lost in my memories any more than I already have.

“What happened after Harriet and I left them?” I ask my recruit.

I realize Amelia wasn’t a part of the Amazons when this happened but I hope she’s heard the story enough from me – from the
old
me – to fill in some of the blanks. If I wasn’t tired before, all of this thinking is making me want to find a bed of my own and let my brain shut down for a few days.

Amelia relays the story I once told her: how Percy and Jack escaped the Man-Eater territory but headed back upriver instead of down, how they remained in the jungle for years, searching for not only the lost city but also their rescuers. When the father and son finally found the hidden path leading to the Amazon camp, my two recruits and I intercepted them before they could get too close. We reiterated our desire for the explorers to leave. Even though Jack wanted nothing more than to follow our orders and return to England, his father refused. As Amelia tells me the story, I seem to remember Percy’s response.

“We will follow your wishes and never approach your camp again but I can not leave in good faith knowing that I owe my life to you,” he once told me. “My son and I will live downriver until the day you require our services.”

Percy and Jack did not bother the Amazons again. But even after Amelia was recruited years later, we occasionally checked in on the two men. During the decades that followed, they aged slower than normal humans, likely the residual effects of our spring trickling into their water supply. They even avoided the elite squadron of German soldiers sent to our jungle in the 1940s searching for a magical panacea. But that’s a totally different story.

Percy remained ready and willing to help even though his son’s attitude grew worse over time. Jack’s desire to leave the jungle became much stronger as the years past though he refused to leave his father alone.

“Even
after
Jack started going a bit loopy,” Amelia says.

“Loopy? In what way?” I ask. I sort of recall this about Percy’s son but don’t remember anything specific.

“Jack tended to leave their camp more than Percy – he hated waiting there so much that he wandered around looking for danger, anything to take him away from the jungle’s misery,” Amelia tells me. “Jack always swore he heard voices out in the jungle.”

“Us?” I ask.

Amelia shakes her head. “Men’s voices.”

“The other tribes?” I ask, though I have a deeper feeling in the pit of my stomach with every word my recruit tells me.

“He always said the voices spoke another language –
not
a native language,” she explains. “He recognized it as being European but he didn’t know which one. He only heard the voices a few times during his years in the jungle but he swore they were real, swore his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him. Jack ran after the voices once and heard the sound of footsteps scattering away but didn’t find anyone – at least he didn’t find any
men
.”

“He found women out there?”

Amelia nods. “Supposedly, one woman tripped while he was running after the voices. Jack caught a quick glimpse of her. Before she ran off, she gave him quite a tongue-lashing – told him he was lucky ‘we’ let him live, that he’d be dead if it was up to her.”

“She was one of us? An Amazon?” I ask.

“I guess we can’t say for certain but the evidence seemed to point that way,” Amelia says. “But you always had a theory about which Amazon that could possibly be.”

“Cassie,” I say. Amelia nods. “But why would she be talking to random men in the middle of the jungle? The reason we put Percy and Jack far downriver from camp was to make sure the Queen Clan wouldn’t be tempted to kill them to hide our secret.”

“Well, if you remember
anything
about your time with the Amazons, then you understand that Cassie wasn’t forthcoming with information about anything questionable that she was doing. Besides, you and Cassie… never got along very well,” she says carefully.

“That’s putting it lightly,” I say.

Amelia smiles knowingly, though it’s clear that she doesn’t find that situation amusing by
any
means.

“Neither of you trusted one another and with good reason,” she adds.

I nod. That assessment doesn’t sound unlike my relationship with Cassie in
this
life, too.

“What happened between Cassie and me for us to drink so much water that we became this young again?” I ask.

While parts of my memory are shrouded with a fog that is slowly clearing, the part of my past I most want to remember is plunged in total darkness. Amelia frowns at my question and I can already tell that her response is going to be similar to the ‘answers’ that Celeste has given me.

“I’m sorry, Mentor, but I think it would be better if – ”

“If I remember on my own?” I ask, finishing her thought. “What if I ordered you – as my recruit – to tell me?”

“I suppose I would have to tell you,” Amelia says. “Is that your command?”

I sigh. I may have limited recollections of my interactions with Amelia – or my other recruits for that matter – but I don’t remember ordering them around. All I can think about is how Cassie must’ve treated
her
recruits in the past; I refuse to stoop to her level, even now.