“We’ll fix it,” Ben said confidently.
“But what if the changes that Andy made were already done and bringing him back won’t make any difference at all? We might not be here when you get back.”
“Don’t say that. Don’t even think like that,” Ben insisted.
“The world could be destroyed,” she said. “And only we’ll know it.”
“No, it won’t be destroyed,” he said softly. “But maybe a new version of the world might be made.” He sounded like he shifted, and the connection began to crackle. “I’ve got to go, but stay positive, please. We can’t undo what’s already been done. But we can certainly stop anything else happening. That’s all we got right now.”
“I know,” she said and looked out again at the dry plains of their estate. “Ben… ” she began.
“Yeah, Emm, I’m here,” he said softly.
“Be careful down there. That jungle you knew before is now probably very different to the one you’re entering. Who knows what lives in there now.”
“I know, and I will, I promise. Stay positive; I’ll be back in a week… all of us will.”
He already sounded far away as he signed off.
CHAPTER 32
Nicolás Manduro paused as the light flicked on and off, like something had been thrown over the sun for a second or two. It passed as quickly as it came and he adjusted his backpack, grabbing a tree trunk to momentarily steady himself.
He had trekked now for many days, and although he had ventured into the jungle before, he had never ever been into the dark region he was now at.
Being a native Venezuelan, his father and grandfather had taught him to hunt, fish, and survive off the land, and it served him well now, mainly by being able to reduce the amount of supplies he needed to bring. Still, his pack sagged with the weight of the meteorological equipment he had brought with him.
He was determined to be at the plateau when the strange weather effects took place. He wanted to see for himself what the meteorological department’s electronics’ eyes and ears could not. He desperately wanted to know what actually caused their ‘eyes in the sky’ to become whited-out when trying to see down into that hidden tepui. And what the strange images were that looked like giant bat-like birds in the clouds he had seen exactly 10 years ago.
He had heard the legends of the monsters from the Amazon jungle that came down to claim the souls of the people once every half generation. He didn’t believe any of them, but he did believe something strange was going on in there. His suspicion was that somehow the phenomena of the wettest season and the comet Primordia approaching were linked. He didn’t know how, but right now, he believed in that more than it being something supernatural rising from the jungle.
He was only a day out now, and the ground was becoming mushy beneath his feet. There would be a waterway close by. He also knew that water and jungles meant insects, parasites, and in most cases, predators who came to drink or lie in ambush, waiting for prey animals to drink.
The only weapons he had brought with him were his hunting knives and his wits. He suddenly regretted not taking his father’s old rifle.
Nicolás plodded on, and though the raucous sounds of the jungle masked his movements, he doubted they were hidden from any predators because his sounds were unnatural — two-legged creatures like him just didn’t belong here.
After a moment, the buzzing, clicking, and humming of bugs, the scream of birds, plus the rustling of leaf litter all fell away. He stood in near silence in an open space about 10 feet square. It was only noon, but the heavy jungle canopy overhead made it seem like twilight.
Sweat streamed down his face, and the salty residue was attractive to all manner of flying things even though he had lathered repellent on himself and continued to do so every few hours. He knew it usually worked to keep the insects at bay, but it also advertised him blundering through the jungle inside a chemical cloud, probably 100 feet wide.
Nicolás stood quietly, turning his head slowly. He even made his breathing shallow and strained to hear anything approaching. He sensed danger, and the other creatures of the jungle did too. It could be anything — a jaguar, anaconda, or something else entirely. He eased in close to a tree trunk, keeping it at his back, that way he only had to worry about three sides, and if something did attack, he might have a chance of repelling it.
He had the urge to run but stood his ground. One thing was for sure: predators in a jungle were much better at chasing something down than he would be at fleeing.
Come on, he breathed. Show yourself.
The hairs on his body lifted and his scalp tingled from tension. He was being watched, he knew it, and he could feel his heart beating in his chest.
He was first grabbed around the neck. Whatever it was, it was fast and very quickly also wrapped around his forehead, and then he felt it sliding around his waist. The pressure was enormous, and with it came a stink that enveloped him and made his eyes water.
Nicolás yelled in surprise and fear and grabbed at the thing, feeling what seemed to be a thick snake, but instead of the dry scale feeling he expected, it was slick, slimy, and his hands slid away and were coated in a jelly-like mucus.
His eyes streamed from the chemicals, and then the pressure increased on his head and waist, and he felt himself begin to be lifted off his feet. He panicked then, punching at it, tearing and scrabbling, but he couldn’t get a grip on the revolting thing.
“Help.”
He thrashed some more, kicking his legs as he began to be lifted higher into the tree canopy.
“Help!”
He tried to grip the tree trunk with his legs to stop being lifted, but the thing that held him was far more powerful than he was.
Nicolás began to panic, becoming scared out of his wits at the thought of what would happen when the thing or things finally had him up and into the dense tree.
His eyes streamed and his breath was beginning to be cut off. He had seconds left.
“He-eeelp!”
“Did you hear that?” Drake frowned and turned to Ben, but kept his head tilted, listening.
“Yeah, yeah, I did.” Ben held up a hand, stopping the group.
“What is it?” Helen asked.
Chess and Francis hefted their guns; Shawna and Buster turned their backs on them, covering their rear.
“That was a voice,” Chess said. “Up ahead; sounds like trouble.”
“Yup.” Ben nodded. “Let’s go; low and quiet.”
He and Drake led them out, Chess and Francis right behind, and then Helen, Shawna, and Buster.
Ben burrowed through the wall-thick jungle, making too much noise but not being able to help it. He’d been in far too many jungles now to know the signs of a predator — all around them the rest of the jungle held its breath and just watched.
He also knew from experience there was the pause during the stalking, and then the attack, and just like now, the sounds of the final death struggle. Often it attracted other predators and scavengers. If it was someone in trouble, Ben needed to be quick.
Ben was first into the small clearing and the group piled in fast, spreading left and right. Ben saw the pack on the ground and breathed in the stink.
“What the…?”
“Holy shit.” Drake pointed the muzzle of his gun. “Look!”
About 10 feet up from the ground, someone struggled furiously. They were held aloft by something wrapped around his neck and waist, but it was what the things were attached to that made the hair on Ben’s neck stand on end.