The Amazon Code (37 page)

The chanting stopped.

All of the natives turned their heads and looked behind Reggie. He couldn’t twist around enough to see what it was they’d reacted to, so he waited until whatever they were looking at came into view.

When he did see it, he nearly gasped.

61

IT’S THE GOLDEN MAN FROM the dream
, he thought. He looked to his left and saw Paulinho, his head lolling while he groaned. When his neck rotated and Paulinho’s face fell toward Reggie, he saw that the man’s eyes were white, rolled up into his head.

“Paulinho, are you okay? Can you hear me?”

Paulinho didn’t respond to Reggie’s voice, but he noticed his face turning slowly.
He’s watching the golden man.
Paulinho clearly couldn’t see anything, but his face was somehow locked onto the steadily moving man nearing the lake.

The man was naked, but covered head to toe in a gold powder. It shimmered as it caught the last of the dying rays of sunlight, but Reggie couldn’t tell if it was the powder itself that was reflecting or a layer of sweat on the man’s skin. The powder seemed thick, almost syrupy, and it coated every inch of skin. When the man blinked, gold eyelids replaced white eyes. Two women and a younger girl followed the golden man, each holding half of one of the fruits Reggie had seen earlier. They kept pace with their leader, rubbing him down with the fleshy portion of the fruit as he neared the lake. When one of the women saw a spot that was unsatisfactorily covered, they’d reach out and smear the fruit on his skin.

Reggie was dumbfounded. The exact image Amanda had described in her subjects’ dreams was walking directly toward them. Instead of actual gold, they were using the juice and pulp of a golden
fruit
, but the image was unmistakable. The man strolled as if taking in the scenery of a park, completely unaware of the captives tied to tree trunks yards away. He was heavyset but looked muscular, and he carried himself with an air of authority.

He’s the chief
, Reggie thought. There was something visceral in him, a feeling the man had evoked when he met eyes with Reggie. He knew, without a doubt, this man was in charge.

“That’s him,” Amanda whispered.

Reggie could see that her hands, bound at the wrists, were shaking. He nodded, then realized Amanda hadn’t looked away from the golden man.

“I know,” he said. “And I have a feeling we’re about to be part of their special ceremony.”

“It’s the Muisca tradition,” Archie said. Archie was mounted two poles over, between Amanda and Julie. Joshua was just on the other side of Julie, and Ben was tied to the pole at the far end. Reggie looked at Archie, waiting for him to explain. He almost grinned when Archie cleared his throat out of habit, looked at the others as if preparing a lecture, and continued.
 

“Remember, the Muisca are thought to be the originators of at least one of the El Dorado myths,” he said. “No one knows exactly why, but during their initiation ritual, their chief would cover himself in gold dust and jump into the lake. The Spanish, and many others after them, drained the lake — Lake Guatavita — near the Muisca people’s home, but the legends were never confirmed. Besides, this is nowhere near where they were thought to have lived.”

“But you told us a few days ago that if El Dorado was not an actual city, but a
people
, they could move anywhere they needed to to stay out of the way.”

Archie nodded, his head lowering. “It is true,” he said. “But it is still hard to believe. I have wanted to believe in it since I heard the myth, but seeing this — actually watching this procession — it is still unbelievable.”

Reggie looked at Amanda. “And you’re sure this is the man from the dreams?”

She nodded. “Without a doubt.” Her voice was shaking slightly, but her eyes seemed adamant.
 

“Okay,” Reggie said. “Archie, what happens, in this ‘legend,’
after
the chief jumps into the lake? Specifically, does the legend mention anything about the people tied up to poles around the lake?”

“No,” Archie said. “But that was merely a legend. There is no boat here, either. In the stories, the chief would float out to the middle of the lake on a gold-covered boat.”
 

The chief held his hands in the air, waiting for all eyes to turn to him. The only sound was the churning of the waterfall cascading down into the valley far on the other side of the lake. Satisfied, he lowered his hands and stepped into the lake.
 

His foot fell beneath the surface, but stopped after only a few inches. He strode forward, confidently, his other foot landing again just inches below the waterline.
 

“There must be a platform or something,” Ben said.
 

“Boulders,” Archie said. “You can barely see them, but only when the light catches them just right.”
 

Reggie saw and confirmed this fact for himself. The slowly widening concentric circles left by the chief’s steps revealed a line of huge rocks, perfectly placed, leading outward from the shore and rising to just below the water’s height.
 

The leader of the tribe continued, never hesitating, until he reached the center of the lake. He stood up to his ankles and began to speak in a slow, deep voice. The words were unintelligible to Reggie, but they seemed to have a soothing effect on the gathered tribespeople. They sighed, and he heard some speaking the same syllables back to the chief, their voices lowered to a near-whisper.
 

They were witnessing an ancient ritual. The chief’s arms were slowly rising again, this time until they were extended straight over his head. His words, the repetitive incantation, rose in volume and intensity to match his arms, and when he opened his palms directly above his head he was nearly shouting.
 

The villagers copied his enthusiasm, and he saw hundreds of hands raising simultaneously with the chief’s. He noticed a few of the tribesmen to his left, near the last pole on the shore, walk toward the mercenary tied up and begin to untie the knots binding the man’s wrists and ankles. They worked methodically, each member of the tribe performing their duty in ritualistic precision. Some of them untied, while others held him steady. Still others removed his clothes, one layer at a time, until he was nearly naked, standing only in his briefs.
 

“Now we know where they get their clothes,” Reggie said to no one in particular.

In less than a minute the man, one of the men Reggie didn’t recognize from the attack at the atrium, was standing with his arms held to his sides by a handful of indigenous people. They pressed in against him, preventing him from fighting back or lashing out, and they slowly gripped sections of his body until they had lifted him completely off the ground.
 

They half-dragged, half-carried the naked man around the edge of the lake and toward the hidden line of submerged boulders. Their trajectory brought the entire group directly in front of Reggie, and he tried to read the man’s thoughts.
 

His eyes were dark, set deep into his head, and he wore a deep frown. Besides that he was completely motionless, allowing the tribal men to pull him along until he was in front of Joshua.
 

He quickly turned his head, staring down his former leader, and spat. The saliva reached Joshua’s feet, landing on the side of his boot. Joshua clenched his teeth a few times but otherwise stared straight ahead, ignoring the obvious insult.
 

Reggie grinned — he couldn’t help it — but the action from the mercenary was answered swiftly. Two of the warriors carrying him released their hold on him for a moment. In the second they’d dropped him, they lashed out with the weapons they were holding. One of the men reached for a club hanging in a belt on his waist and swung it up and onto the back of the mercenary’s head, earning an angry howl from the man. The second tribesman pulled out a shortened spear he’d had slung over his shoulder and shoved it into his hip. This particular attack caused a much greater reaction, the mercenary falling limp, screaming in agony.
 

The group of indigenous men didn’t falter, however. They pulled the man to his feet and out onto the first rock. Two of the natives poked at his back with spears, forcing him forward to the next boulder.
 

The mercenary obliged, holding his hip and working slowly to maintain his balance.
 

It was an excruciatingly long ordeal, but Reggie noticed that the chief hadn’t so much as shifted his position on the rock in the center of the lake. Arms held high, he waited the ten minutes for the mercenary to join him.
 

When he did, the chief wasted no time. He lashed out with both hands, each of them holding a tiny dagger Reggie hadn’t seen before, and plunged them into the man’s neck. Reggie saw the mercenary reaching up to grab at his severed artery, but the two natives behind him immediately pushed forward with their spears and sent the tips through the man’s back.
 

Amanda screamed.
 

Reggie couldn’t help but look away. The entire sickening spectacle had lasted only a few seconds, but the massacre was the most gruesome he’d ever seen. When he looked back to the center of the lake, the mercenary was already falling sideways into the water. The two warriors held him still for a moment, then yanked their spears out of the man’s flesh and allowed him to sink into the lake.
 

“Oh my God,” Amanda whispered. “Oh, my God…” She was shaking uncontrollably, repeating the three words in a whimpering, defeated voice.
 

The two warriors with spears were making their way back to the shore, but the king was already beginning his chant again. When Reggie looked over at where the mercenary had been tied, he saw another group of warriors untying the second man in the line.
 

So this is what happens to the people tied to the poles,
he thought.
But we’re not even going to have to wait for the chief to jump in the lake.
 

Reggie wished for a moment that the legend of El Dorado hadn’t been passed down through the ages with only the good parts of the story intact.
 

62

BY THE TIME THE THIRD mercenary had been slaughtered and sacrificed to the lake, the sun had completely disappeared and there was nothing but a crisp line of moonlight illuminating the village.
 

Ben had hoped that the tribe would pause their ceremony and continue it in the morning, but as of now it seemed as though they had every intention of finishing. He was beginning to lose control, a feeling he strongly disliked.
 

He was upset, not just at the tribe and village but at everyone he’d come here with. He wanted to blame them, to make it their fault he was here. But he knew it was foolish; he was the only one he could blame. He’d dragged Julie here, too, and now he had to watch her get murdered by a ruthless Amazonian tribe.
 

His only saving grace was that he likely wouldn’t live long enough to have the weight of her death upon him.
 

Ben struggled against the bindings, but his wrists only ached more with every twist of his hands, the ropes never loosening. He looked over at Reggie, hoping the man would have found a way out by now.
 

Nothing. Reggie was staring straight ahead, directly at the chief standing in the middle of the lake with his hands above his head.
 

What is this supposed to be, anyway
? he thought.
This isn’t how sacrificial ceremonies are supposed to go.

He had no idea if it was true or not, but he’d imagined there would be more fanfare, more excitement.
A purpose
.
 

To him, there was no purpose to all of this. The chief seemed hardly engaged in the ceremony, and even some of the younger children had lost interest.
 

“Ben.”

Ben turned to his left and saw Joshua looking at him.
 

“That one on the end,” he said, motioning with his head.
 

“Paulinho?” Ben asked.
 

“Yeah, him. What’s up with him?”
 

Ben frowned. “What do you mean?”
 

“Back at the atrium, remember? You were surrounded by another tribe. A different tribe. But they backed off. Why?”
 

Ben had almost forgotten about their earlier encounter, but his mind was suddenly drawn back to the moment. He remembered beating Rhett and losing Julie and Amanda, but he did also remember the encounter.
 

“I — I think it was his tattoo.”
 

“A tattoo?”
 

“Yeah, on his arm. Their leader grabbed his arm and looked at it, and got spooked.”

“What was the tattoo?”
 

“No idea. He doesn’t know, either. Just a design on something his granddad gave him.”
 

Joshua nodded, thinking, and Ben tried to anticipate the man’s thoughts.
 

“Why?” Ben asked. “You think it can help us here?”
 

“I don’t know, but it’s the only thing I can think of besides waiting in line to die.”
 

The others had started listening, and Reggie spoke up. “I’m voting against waiting in line.”
 

“What if it doesn’t help us?” Amanda asked. She was still whispering, afraid to call undue attention to herself.
 

“What if it does?” Julie asked.
 

Ben cringed at her tone and tried to ease the hostility. “Amanda, it’s our only hope. Look at him — he needs help either way.”
 

“And that’s why we need to figure out how to get
out
of here. Not ask them to kill us faster.”
 

“I understand that, Dr. Meron,” Reggie said. “But consider the options. We’re stuck to poles, and without a
way
to get
un
stuck we’re not helping anyone.”