We Dine With Cannibals (15 page)

“Or mine!” another shouted.

“Take my husband's,” a woman called out.

Soon half the town had offered their boats to the Navel twins.

“Generous people,” said Corey Brandt.

“They just want to get rid of us,” said Celia.

“Well, it worked,” Oliver said. “Let's go before they get too far away with Dad.”

“Why are you so adventurous all of a sudden?” Celia asked her brother as they climbed onto a small canoe with an outboard motor.

“No reason.” Oliver shrugged, glancing at Corey Brandt, who was starting up the motor.

“Oh,” said Celia. “I get it.”

Celia could understand Oliver trying to impress the TV star; she just wished they could do it from the safety of their hotel room. They had rescued their father before, as much as it annoyed them, but she worried that this time they'd all become dinner for cannibals in the process.

But she wasn't about to say anything. She didn't want Corey Brandt to think she was a wuss. She was way tougher than Oliver.

She just prayed she wouldn't have to prove it in the jungle.

THE SUN SANK
below the horizon as they sped away from town. Darkness swept over them. Soon they could see nothing on either side of the river but the trees nearest the bank. Beyond them, all was black. Corey steered the boat and kept his camera propped between his knees so he could film himself. Celia and Oliver held flashlights they'd found and scanned the river for signs of … well, anything. Bugs swarmed in the beams of light.

They couldn't hear each other over the roar of the motor, so they rode without talking. Celia thought about losing their father and becoming orphans. Oliver wondered if, somehow, their mother might show up to save them. She'd done it
in Tibet. He really hoped she'd do it again. They could really use some saving.

Celia flicked her flashlight on and saw a big log up ahead, almost the same length as their boat. They were about to crash into it. Just as she was about to signal Corey to turn, her light caught a red gleam on the log, like a jewel.

“What the—?” she began to wonder, when the red gleam blinked and the whole log dove under the surface. “Alligator!” she yelled.

“What?” Oliver yelled back.

“I saw an alligator!”

“No you didn't!”

“Yes I did!”

“No you didn't! You saw a black caiman! They're related to the alligator, but they are native to the Amazon River.” He smiled at Celia. “Nature Channel. Reptile Reruns Week.”

Celia rolled her eyes. She didn't like the Nature Channel. And she really didn't like Oliver knowing more than she did.

They sped onward for hours. Celia wondered why they hadn't caught up with the Cozinheiros yet. Something wasn't right. Their motorboat had
to be faster than a canoe. She looked back at Corey Brandt, who was focused on driving the boat and not crashing into anything in the dark. She couldn't believe that the teen star was really there and that he was helping them save their father. She wondered if he'd be upset that the kidnapping had messed up his expedition. She would apologize later. And maybe she'd ask him why he chose Annabel over Lauren at the end of
Sunset High
. She'd heard a rumor that it was because he was dating Annabel in real life.

Celia dozed off, thinking about
Sunset High
and celebrity gossip. Oliver too fell sound asleep. As they slept, Corey Brandt pulled out his cell phone and made a call.

“I'm going in,” he said. “There's been a problem.”

Oliver and Celia woke to the screech of birds hunting for breakfast. A pod of pink river dolphins played in the wake of their boat, leaping from side to side in a playful race. The sun had risen and they were approaching the tight twist in the river that the mayor had told them about.

Corey turned the boat slowly onto the narrow tributary, and the dolphins did not follow. The trees hung over the banks, leaning in on each other from both sides to form an archway. The river looked like a long emerald corridor in the palace of a lunatic king. Mist rose off the water.

The thick canopy of trees blocked out most of the light, so everything was shaded in a green twilight, with streaks of sunlight breaking through to sparkle on the river. The banks narrowed as they urged the boat forward. After a few minutes, they felt like they were in an entirely different world. Corey slowed the motor so they could hear around them.

The silence was shocking. An occasional insect buzzed. A tree rustled. Otherwise, there was nothing. It was as quiet as a school hallway on a Sunday, and just as creepy.

They listened carefully as they moved forward, deeper into the mysterious world of the Javari River valley. They scanned the thick foliage on the banks for any signs of life.

An ink-black jaguar eyed them lazily from a high branch. In this remote part of the world, the animals did not yet know to fear humans. They
all kept their eyes fixed on the cat as they passed, but it didn't move.

Celia watched the shadowy forest. She couldn't decide if she was more worried about a wild animal attack or a blowgun attack. Oliver was pretty sure he was equally afraid of both. Corey steered with his mouth hanging open in awe. He kept swatting mosquitoes from his face.

“This is the most beautiful thing I've ever—,” he began, but a loud noise interrupted him, shattering the silence.

“
I'd show you something new, but your book is overdue
 
…
” Madam Mumu blared. “
I'd show you something new, but your book is overdue …
”

Corey's phone kept ringing.

“Sorry … sorry.” He fumbled for it. “Amazing we get cell service out here! You got Corey,” he answered it. “Oh, it's you. How many times do I have to tell you that I'm in the Amazon? Well, I can't help you. … You'll just have to do it yourself. You're the professional, after all.” He hung up and stared at his phone a moment, shaking his head. He put it back in his pocket. “Sorry about that. Personal shoppers … can't do anything for themselves. Sometimes I wonder if it's worth hiring them, you know?”

Oliver and Celia just stared at him blankly.

They would have continued sitting in awkward silence, but just then they heard a sound up ahead. The beating of drums. The beat was steady and loud and growing faster.

“War drums?” whispered Corey Brandt.

“I don't think there's such a thing as peace drums,” said Oliver.

“Shut the engine off!” said Celia.

“Shh!” said Oliver. They ducked low in the boat and listened.

Boom, boom, boom.

The sound came from in front of them.

Boom, boom, boom.

This time it came from behind. In the bush they saw nothing, but the beat continued.

Boom, boom, boom,
called the drums ahead of them.

Boom, boom, boom,
answered the drums behind.

“
Come closer, come closer, come closer.
” The beat ahead seemed to call out a language older than speaking.

“
Come closer and we'll eat you,
” called the drums from behind.

Boom, boom, boom, boom. Boom, boom, boom.

The water was moving faster and starting to churn with white rapids where the river narrowed over jagged rocks. White foam splashed and sprayed in all directions. Water splashed into the boat. The drums from behind were closing in and the drums from the front were getting closer. The river pushed them forward.

And then they jerked to a sudden stop.

THEY WERE STUCK.
The boat had wedged itself into a large rock in the middle of the river.

“This is not a good place to be stuck,” said Oliver, listening to the drums and looking at the rapids ahead of them.

Corey tried to push the boat free with a paddle. It rocked and swayed but didn't move. He tried to start the engine again. He pulled the cord, but nothing happened.

“Uncool,” he said.

“We've got to go,” said Oliver.

“We're gonna have to swim,” said Corey.

“We can't swim,” said Celia. “Caiman.” She pointed at a group of the black alligator look-alikes that were now circling their boat. “Try the engine again.”

She got up to help just as Corey yanked the cord back hard. She got a face full of the teen star's knuckles, which knocked her backward on the boat, right at Oliver.

“Watch out!” Oliver called, but too late. She stepped onto the flashlight he'd set down on the floor. Her foot flew into the air and she went backward off the front of the boat, right past her brother, splashing into the river. It would have been a funny fall if it wasn't about to turn deadly.

“Grab my hand!” Corey shouted, reaching over the edge to rescue Celia.

“Don't lean so far out!” Oliver warned. “I don't weigh enough! You'll tip the—” But it was too late. Corey leaned out and the boat tipped up on its side, dumping them both sideways toward the water.

“Crud,” Corey said as they rolled out of the boat and into the river. He actually used a different word than
crud,
but our story is about to get bad enough without adding foul language to its troubles.

Oliver tried to hold on to the boat, which turned sideways and slid right off the rock upside down.
The caiman disappeared below the surface to get out of the way. Oliver was being dragged down the river with the boat.

“Let it go!” shouted Celia.

“But your pack's in there … with the remote control … and the … poop thingy!”

“You know it's called a khipu!” Celia shouted.

“I like my way bet—” Oliver couldn't finish his sentence. Something sucked him underneath the water.

“Oliver!” Celia shouted.

He kicked with all his might for the air and broke the surface with a gasp.

“Just the current!” he said.

“Swim toward the shore!” Celia commanded.

The three of them started to swim as hard as they could toward the riverbank, but the current was much stronger than they were. They were getting pulled into the rapids ahead of them and there wasn't anything they could do about it.

Oliver stopped swimming.

“What … are you … doing?” Celia panted, still fighting her way toward land.

“It's like a waterslide. We've just gotta ride it to the bottom!” Oliver answered.

“You … hate … waterslides,” she said.

“I hate a lot of things,” Oliver replied. “But I'm stuck with most of them!” He let himself be sucked along with the current. It was a heck of a lot easier than fighting a river. Celia lost sight of him in the roiling rapids.

“Oliv—,” she called out, only to get a mouthful of water as she was sucked under herself.

Celia had seen music videos where sweaty teenagers slam into each other over and over again, twisting and turning and knocking around from side to side, while a guitar screeches and drums rumble. A mosh pit, it is called, and it is a special feature of heavy-metal culture, long studied by anthropologists, but rarely experienced by eleven-year-old girls. But at this moment, Celia felt like she was in a mosh pit at the bottom of a river.

Her body slammed into the muddy riverbed and then the current tossed her up into a boulder. Then she was pushed aside and spun around and found herself gasping for air at the surface. Just as she caught her breath, she was pulled back under and thrust forward through a narrow channel of rocks, scraping her elbows and she passed. A sneaker whacked her in the head. She got angry
that Oliver was kicking her until she realized it was her own sneaker, torn off her foot by the current. She reached out and grabbed it and found herself breaking the surface of the water again.

“Oliver!” she gasped.

“Celia!” Oliver called. She saw her brother a few feet from her, trying to swim toward land again. Corey Brandt was standing on the side of the river, soaked.