Temple of the Jaguar God (8 page)

Argh.

Damn that cat.

***

“
The other odd thing. I don’t know where all that treasure came
from, but it wasn’t from our temple.” That was a mystery only
Syrmes could have solved, according to Harry, and he wasn’t around
to answer questions. “I would love to see where he got
that
from. It must have
been an extraordinary discovery.”

Jeremy
wasn’t all that familiar with the food, but after letting Uncle
Harry order for him it turned out to be good old grilled steak,
with a genuine baked potato and some over-boiled mixed vegetables,
probably from a tin but at this point he didn’t much care. Up until
now, Jeremy had never really thought of learning
Spanish.

Hot rolls and real butter…
God.

The first bite was heavenly…they had all been sort of
reconciling themselves to the smell. It took a very short time back
in civilization. Their hostess, perhaps knowing something about
them in such a small town, hadn’t said anything, but they were
going to need a bath as soon as they could get it. The
pong
was mostly wood
smoke, mixed in with stagnant water, filthy organic muck and human
sweat.

Lots and
lots of sweat.

Mister
Day looked up from his first cold pint in many days.

“
So. What happened? What have you heard.”

For
surely Uncle Harry was just bursting with the news.

“
Did they cash your cheque, Uncle Harry?”

“
Ah, no. They didn’t, Jeremy. But Mister Cezar, in light of the
circumstances, was kind enough to advance me some money. We’ve done
business before, and he will wire an inquiry to the bank in
Caracas. As you may recall, I went even further up the big river,
ah, four years ago. In the meantime, we’re not going anywhere. No
steamers due for another couple of days.” It was late in the day,
telegraph and telephone lines were always uncertain, and such
inquiries often took a while.

“
What do we do in the meantime?”

“
Eat your steak, Jeremy. It’s getting cold. Hmn. In the
meantime, we could sleep in the tents—”

“
Professor. What happened to Mister Syrmes?”

She’d
been silent so far, face low over the plate and seemingly unengaged
after their lucky escape from the jungle.

“
Ah, yes. About that. Well. Let’s wait for our coffee and then
I shall tell you.”

***

They
were running out of patience as Harry stirred his coffee
maddeningly, and at length. Lighting up the one cigar he allowed
himself on any given day, he puffed at the blue smoke
contentedly.

“
So. Here’s how it went. They were having trouble with the
motor. According to Mister Cezar, who seems to know everything in
this place, it was a simple fuel leak. Rather than stop and try and
fix it, Mister Syrmes was out of control, yelling and shouting. The
natives were just trying to please him, which is their way. No skin
off their noses, right? They kept pouring fuel into it, and kept
going as fast as they could. Bear in mind, Syrmes was alone, with a
good eighty pounds of some of the finest and most valuable
artifacts, certainly, that I’ve ever seen. He must have gone
slightly mad. He was probably
afraid
of them to some extent,
although I’ve never had a lick of trouble. Foaming at the mouth,
actually, which is no way to deal with the local people. He told
Paolo to get the boat downstream any way he could, leaving the
pay-box and showing them that he wasn’t just deserting
them.”

“
Wait a minute, wait a minute—”

“
I’m getting to it. He was holding a gun on them by this point.
Just mad. Insane, really. He made them run the boat up on the
beach—just the odd, narrow little strand, which we did see along
that stretch.”

It must
have been right close to town, or he never should have attempted
it.

“
And then?” Jeremy prodded further.

“
And then, according to the natives, the biggest snake they’d
seen in some time, came up out of the water and grabbed him before
he even saw it. They say they were all yelling and screaming and
trying to warn him, but of course he was too wrought up to even
listen. According to them, he’s dead. Just dead.”

“
And—and the gold?” Mister Day was aghast. “The
artifacts?”

“
Swallowed. He was wearing the backpack. The snake had wrapped
itself around him. His arms were pinned. There was nothing anyone
could do—” Syrmes had tried to break free, but it was all to no
avail.

Once
he’d blacked out due to constriction, it was game over.

Uncle
Harry was staring at Melody O’Dell, silent so far and with her head
down.

“
And so he’s gone. However, we have made a major discovery. As
I believe I said earlier, our temple may very well be part of a
larger complex. There may be tombs, other buildings and
game-courts. There may be official and ceremonial buildings of all
sorts, although the homes of the common people have probably left
little trace.” He studied the tip of his cigar. “Anyways, that’s
just the way it is—”

In
Harry’s words, Mister Syrmes had gotten exactly what he deserved, a
bag of gold and then eaten by his own kind. As for himself, this
was the dream, and the opportunity, of a lifetime.

They
were still alive, and still together.

There
were always going to be setbacks. A bit of sensational publicity
couldn’t hurt the book sales, either.

His
fellow members, the boys at the Explorer’s Club were just going to
eat this right up.

***

They
were lucky enough not to have to sleep in the tents, on the
riverbank, scrounging for meals and begging for scraps.

With
Uncle’s credit quickly established, a stroke of luck there, (in his
words), they had installed themselves on the second floor of a
relatively clean little place a couple of blocks back from the
water. The cat came and went by night, leaping from the balcony
into unknown peregrinations. There were plenty of low rooftops and
shade trees right across the alley.

After
sleeping in the jungle, always waking up before dawn, Jeremy was
enjoying a nice lie-in, in that dreamy fog-state that comes just
before true consciousness.

…
that cat really grew on you…he couldn’t really deny
that…
snork.

A
pounding at the door had his heart racing, and he sat bolt upright
in bed as excited voices called out for Doctor Harry.

“
Doctor Harry! Doctor Harry!”

Throwing
aside the mosquito netting, wearing nothing but his boxer-shorts,
he opened the door to see a dozen natives of all shapes, sizes and
ages.

“
Doctor Harry! Doctor Harry!”

“
Just down the hall—”

Of
course they didn’t understand.

His
uncle’s door was already open and the man himself came striding
out, tying the belt on his dressing gown, bare feet incongruously
pale compared to the sunburned face and neck, and all veined in
blue.

All of
them were talking at once.

“
Serpiente serpiente,”
and
gesticulating wildly.

Luckily,
at least one of them spoke a little more Spanish than just that.
They also knew he had money—

His
uncle turned to Jeremy, as Mister Day and Melody O’Dell came out of
their rooms in various states of sleeping attire.

“
Get dressed. We’re going to see a snake. A really, really big
one.”

“
Whoa.”
What else could you say,
really.

The sun
wasn’t even up yet.

Act Three

A small
procession, natives, Europeans, and a local white man who was said
to know the local native language pretty well, went down to the
river and boarded a trio of long, out-rigged canoes. They proceeded
to paddle up the river, each of them with their own thoughts and
their own hopes and fears.

A mile
or two upriver, on the left bank, appeared one of the ubiquitous
encampments. More naked and half-dressed children clustered on the
riverbank. The headman appeared, along with a half a dozen young
men, a couple of them armed with rusting old shotguns, and most of
them with machetes. A couple of the younger boys had skinny little
spears, bent as usual. The spears were meant for poking rather than
throwing, was the basic conclusion.

The
headman smiled a gap-toothed smile, looking distinctly odd in a set
of steel-rimmed glasses. He waved happily, sensing reward possibly,
or just some good old-fashioned entertainment. The boats rammed
ashore and willing hands steadied them, young men coming into the
shallows to assist the lady and the doctor. Uncle Harry strode up
the bank, with the interpreter in tow.

“
Right. Now, where’s this bloody snake?”

Jabber-jabber-jabber…

“
This way, Señor.”

The
younger ones were running and the sounds of a crowd came from up
ahead.

“
Good Lord.”

Bloated
with its recent meal, the snake was huge—with a telltale bulge
right in the midsection. It was difficult to tell how big it
was.

It was a
jaw-dropping sight. Someone had had some foresight. They’d grabbed
a rope and somehow gotten a loop over its head, tied tightly to the
nearest big tree. That must have taken some real guts. Confused,
choking, eventually exhausted and unable to escape, the animal had
curled up in a mass of angry toils at the base of the
tree.

“
Oh, that poor thing.” Melody had her hands up over her mouth
as Mister Day strode forward, gun-hand extended.

She
screamed when he began firing and the rest of the people were going
mad. Why they hadn’t already killed it was a good
question—

Day
fired seven times, how many times he might have hit it was an
unknown as the thing began to twist, and thrash, and all of a
sudden it was coming at him and he backed up quickly.

Mister
Day stood there gaping.

The
snake came to the end of its rope and his uncle fired, a careful
shot that hit under the chin and spurted blood from the top of the
skull but the thing was not easily killed. The children were
hustled back by parents and older siblings, away from the thrashing
tail, sweeping through great arcs in its rage and its
agony.

Jeremy
had no doubt that animals could feel pain, and yet he couldn’t tear
his eyes away from the unforgettable sight.

This was truly sickening. Surely the
snake
hadn’t done anything
wrong—

“
All right. Stand back.” The snake was quieter now, with blood
bubbling from its mouth and nostrils.

His
uncle fired again, aiming apparently for the point where the head
met the first vertebra in the neck.

The
dying animal jerked, and quivered and gasped loudly in the
stillness of the midday heat.

Harry
fired again, and again, and again…click, click.

It was
over, finally. There were no more bullets.

“
Right. I’m going to need a really big knife.”

Jeremy
hardly recognized Uncle Harry in that moment.

He’d
been spattered by a fine spray of hot wet blood, but was seemingly
oblivious to it. Mister Day as well. For all they knew, that big
lump in the animal’s belly might just as well be some anonymous
deer, another big snake or a wild pig.

There
was only one way to find out.

***

“
Here, let me do it. I owe you that much, anyways.” Mister Day
extended a hand, and after a look, Uncle Harry gave him the big
hunting knife their interpreter had whistled up from the proud papa
of a dozen children between zero and twelve years of age…all lined
up in a row, watching with eyes wide, half of them sucking their
thumbs too.

Not
afraid of a little blood, willing hands pulled and tugged, and the
dead snake was stretched out straight upon the ground.

“
Roll it over.”

The
gentleman translated and the people argued amongst themselves and
finally agreed on right to left. Someone cut the rope. They rolled
it over on its back. The spinal bones would otherwise be in the
way, and all he had was one small blade.

Dropping
to his knees, his upper legs almost too short to reach the ground
while astride the belly of the monster, Mister Day took a deep
breath and decided exactly where to put the knife in. The snake had
to be thirty feet long, and a good two feet in diameter at the
bulge.

Fresh
rivers of blood spurted. The snake was clearly dead as there was no
reaction to the first cut. People steadied it, as he pulled
again.

Sliding
back, trying to gauge the thickest section of snake, Mister Day
kept pulling. He got about five feet, and then took a little rest.
He wiped his forehead with the back of his left hand.