We Dine With Cannibals (19 page)

“The destroyers?”

“Outsiders. They came with swords and metal helmets to burn our villages.”

“That's the conquistadors,” said Oliver. “But that was hundreds of years ago!”

“In the life of this forest, hundreds of years is a blink. The destroyers never stopped coming. They came with horses and swords and armor; they came with guns and airplanes; they came with cameras and microphones. Now they come with trucks and axes and they take our trees. Like that little man you were with. They sell our trees to make themselves rich.”

“But isn't this a nature preserve?” Oliver asked. “The mayor of Benjamin Constant said no one was allowed in.”

The girl just snorted at the mention of the mayor.

“The mayor is in business with the loggers. They cut down our trees and float them out on the river and the government looks the other way. Every tree is sacred to us, the way your fingers and your heart are sacred to you. They are part of us. They give us life and they make us who we are.”

“A tree makes you who you are?” said Celia. That seemed pretty weird.

“They tell us stories. The flowers of the jacaranda tree tell us of the seasons changing. In the large roots of the
uacu
tree live the
bamberos,
mischievous spirits who are covered head to toe in
hair. My family has told me stories of the
bamberos
since I was little, but they vanish with the trees. What stories will I tell my children?”

“We aren't here to take your stories,” Celia explained. “We just want to rescue our father from whoever took him.”

“Outsiders always brings calamity.”

“Calamity?” Oliver whispered.

“Disaster,” Celia snapped back. “Really, Oliver, you should know that one.”

“How does
she
know that one?” Oliver pointed at the llama girl.

“
Wally Worm's Word World
,” the llama girl answered simply, as if it were obvious. “
If you find calamity, don't fall into insani—
”

The chief interrupted her with a loud cough.

The girl nodded and turned back to the Navel twins. “They wish to make an example of you,” the girl said.

“An example?”

The llama girl pointed at Corey Brandt's camera, which one of the warriors was now using to record them.

“The chief has heard that cable news television likes exciting videos. He thinks showing your trial
would be pretty exciting. And it would be better than breaking branches to warn off trespassers.”

“Our trial?” Oliver thought about Judge Baxter. “Like in a court?”

“Sort of,” the llama girl said. “It's more like a test. Or a game, even.”

“But we didn't do anything!” Celia objected.

“I told them this,” the girl explained. “That's why they are not spearing you to death right now. If you pass the trial, you will be accepted as fellow warriors and we will hold a feast in honor of your bravery.”

“And if we don't pass?” Oliver wondered.

“There will still be a feast,” the girl said sadly. “We are famous for our cooking, after all.”

The man with the camera zoomed in on Corey Brandt's face. He did not give his famous smile. He looked like he was going to be sick.

“What's the trial?” Oliver asked.

“It's an ancient game my people have played with the rubber from our trees for centuries. I believe you call it dodgeball.”

Oliver and Celia might have preferred being speared.

OLIVER, CELIA,
and Corey were shoved back outside. It was dark out. They heard the groans and growls of nocturnal predators in the forest beyond the clearing, which convinced them that trying to run would be a bad idea. Men holding torches formed a circle with Oliver, Corey, and Celia in the middle. The torchlight cast strange shadows across the painted bodies of the warriors. The rest of the villagers stood back, watching from the darkness. The man with the camera crouched in front of the warriors and zoomed in and out on the children's unhappy faces. He spoke to the llama girl.

“He says Corey Brandt looks older in real life,” she translated.

“Oh, come on!” objected Corey Brandt.

Three warriors stepped into the circle holding three black rubber balls, each one the size of a baseball—and just as hard. This was going to be a lot more painful than sixth-grade recess.

“Well.” Corey Brandt looked over at the camera. He pursed his lips in his practiced way. “This is what being a Celebrity Adventurist is all about, right?” He gave the camera a nervous thumbs-up. “Will you make sure he films my good side?”

The llama girl told the cameraman, who smiled to reveal his pointed teeth.

“I don't think they're worried about cinematography,” Celia said.

“I'd just hate for my last TV appearance to look terrible.”

Oliver rolled his eyes. He was now convinced that he liked Corey Brandt better on television than in real life.

“The rules are like this,” said the llama girl. “The balls are placed in the middle of the circle. When I shout, you run and try to get a ball before the other side does. Then you throw it at them as hard as you can. You can use the whole circle to run around in, but you can't touch each other and
you can't leave the circle. Whatever team still has a player standing at the end wins.”

“And?” Oliver asked.

“That's it.”

“But how do we get the other players out?”

“I said that. You throw the ball at each other as hard you can.”

“And if we hit them they are out, right?” Celia finished the girl's thought.

The girl crossed her arms. She was getting annoyed. “Well, you can't knock them out without hitting them, can you?”

“Wait,” Oliver said. “You mean, like, unconscious?”

“Yes. That's how you play dodgeball! Hit the other team until they can't get up anymore! I thought you all played this in your country!”

“We got kicked off the team,” said Oliver. “For bad sportsmanship.”

“Well, try to follow the rules here,” the llama girl said. “Or they'll spear you.”

That did sound worse than getting sent to Principal Deaver's office.

Celia rubbed her palms on her pants to dry
them. The warriors in the circle glared at them and crouched low, preparing to leap. They wore only loincloths to cover themselves, but their skin was decorated with patterns in black ink that made them almost dizzying to look at. The light from the torches flickered across their faces.

Oliver thought that it was unfair to put children up against three full-grown adults, but he didn't think his cries for justice would be answered, so he didn't bother. Arguing with the angry chief would be like arguing with Celia. It was better to save his energy for the challenge ahead.

A very old man, older than the chief, stepped into the circle. He wore a headband of turquoise stones and feathers and a necklace strung with animal bones. He shook a rattle in the air and chanted, tossing seeds around the edge of the circle. He was the shaman.

“The circle has been blessed,” the llama girl said as the old man stepped back out, still chanting. Other men joined him in the chant.

“Oh, good,” said Celia. “I'd hate to get bludgeoned to death in a circle that hadn't been blessed.”

“Bludgeoned?” asked Oliver.

Celia just sighed; the llama girl nodded in understanding. She had brothers too.

She then gave a quick shout.

The game had begun.

Corey Brandt looked at the camera, gave a brave smile, and raced toward the center of the ring. Oliver and Celia looked at each other, a sad this-is-it kind of look, and rushed forward after him. Oliver felt everything go into slow motion, like at the end of a sports movie, except that instead of triumphant music there was only the creepy chanting of the crowd around him, waving their torches and spears in the air. Celia was determined to win. She ran faster than she'd ever run in her life. If only Mr. McNulty had threatened to eat the children, they would have given sixth-grade recess this kind of energy.

Of course, two eleven-year-old children and a teen television star are no match for experienced hunters of the tribes of the western Amazon. They spend their entire lives learning to run and throw. As we observed earlier, Oliver and Celia do all they can to avoid things like running and throwing. They did not make it to the center of the circle in time to get any of the balls.

The three warriors spread out around them, tossing the hard rubber spheres back and forth in their hands so their adversaries wouldn't know when they were coming.

“Hey, Oliver,” said Celia, keeping her eyes on the warrior right ahead of her and poised to leap out of the way if he threw his ball at her.

“Yeah?” said Oliver, who had taken a different approach. He was running in circles around the edge of the ring without stopping.

“Remember Greg Angstura,” she called out.

“Who?” said Corey, who was trying to stare down the warrior facing him.

Celia ignored him. “Remember what I did?”

“Yeah!” said Oliver, still running in circles. The warrior was getting dizzy trying to track him.

“Do it!” she shouted.

Oliver suddenly turned and ran right at the warrior, yelling, “Ahhh!” He raised his fist and punched straight up to hit the warrior right in the face.

The warrior didn't flinch. He looked down at Oliver and cocked his arm back with the ball.

“Dive!” shouted Celia.

Oliver dove to the side and the ball sailed over
him and slammed into one of the men on the edge of the circle, knocking him over. When the warrior across from Celia threw his ball, she hit the ground too. It also shot past her and whacked a man on the edge of the circle right in the stomach. He doubled over and fell.

“Hey, that's pretty goo—,” said Corey Brandt as the third ball cracked him right on the head. He fell backward into the mud.

“Now's our chance!” Oliver shouted.

Celia turned and saw what her brother meant. The balls had knocked out two of the men on the edge of the circle, making two openings in the ring. Without a moment to lose, they each grabbed one of the teen's wrists and dragged him, running through the gaps in the circle. They used his body like a battering ram, knocking spectators out of the way. Chaos erupted.

“What the—?” Corey said, waking up with a groan. The twins dragged him to his feet just outside the circle.

“Run!” Celia shouted, pulling him along. They jumped over small children and weaved past the shocked elders, who realized too late that the trio
wasn't planning on completing the trial. They were trying to escape into the jungle.

“Hey,” the llama girl called out. “This is a test of bravery! You aren't supposed to run away! That's bad sportsmanship!”

THEY RACED THROUGH
the clearing toward the dark forest beyond. In just a few strides, Corey Brandt was ahead of them, leading the way. Three rubber balls flew over their heads. Next came the spears.

“Come back and be brave!” the llama girl called out one last time. “Die with honor!”

The twins had no interest in dying at all, with or without honor. They needed to get away alive and figure out who had dressed up like this tribe and kidnapped their father. Could Sir Edmund have poison-darted himself to trick them? Could Janice McDermott have followed them to the Amazon? They really wished their mother were here to help. This seemed like a good time for her to reveal herself and explain things. But for now,
they had to keep running. They were on their own.

They dodged into the dark forest, weaving between trees and vines. It wouldn't be long until the hunters were upon them. They took cover together under a giant tangle of tree roots that was taller than a full-grown man. They watched a group of barefoot hunters race past them, moving effortlessly through the dark.