I turned to Zaketa and held up my hand with as much authority as I could muster. It was like playing a desperate game of charades, but I finally made her see that I, as the representative of the Sun God, was turning thumbs down on this particular sacrifice. Using gestures worthy of a college frat house smut session, I let Zaketa know that this sacrifice was no virgin and therefore inacceptable.
She made a game try at arguing the point. For a few minutes we must have looked like a couple of longshoremen from rival unions cursing each other out in the most obscene deaf-and-dumb language. Finally, she had Victoria dragged over and set about examining her to determine the point of issue for herself. She was pretty rough in the way she went about it, and it was obvious that she’d never win any prizes for sympathetic gynecology. Long after the answer was obvious, she kept poking around sadistically. I guessed that she figured I was the one responsible for Vickie’s unvirginal state and jealousy was making her vengeful. But finally, Zaketa had to reluctantly agree that this female outlander would never do as a virgin sacrifice.
There was much wailing from the other women of the tribe as Zaketa announced her findings. This was followed by some scurrying among the younger girls to grab off a man. It looked like quite a few of them lacked the religious fervor to want to die virgins.
They dispersed, and we trailed back to the village after them. I walked between Zaketa and Victoria. The former made no effort to harm the English girl, but she did keep up a dire murmuring to herself in a way that left no doubt about her feelings. When we were inside the hut, she shook her finger in my face and chattered something which I easily understood to be a warning against any hanky-panky. Then she left Victoria and me alone with each other.
“I don’t think she much likes me,” Victoria observed.
“She thinks I’m leching after you and she's jealous,” I explained.
“Why should she be jealous?”
“She has her reasons.”
“Oh! So it’s like that.”
“Just like that. And none of your business, I might point out.”
“And is she right?” Victoria asked coyly.
“Right about what?”
“About you leching after me.”
“That,” I told her, “is a leading question and even if she is right, I don’t have to be hit over the head to know exactly where I stand with you.”
“Stood,” Victoria cooed. “Past tense.”
“Since when?”
“I don’t know. But why are you fighting it? It’s a woman’s prerogative to change her mind. Maybe I’m just wondering what it is about you that makes that Amazon think you're so terrific.”
“I wish I’d known before that all it took was a little competition to stir up your interest. Maybe if I had, Foster wouldn’t have beaten me out. And speaking of Foster, what about him?”
“What about him?”
“I thought you two were lovebirds. I figured you were knocking yourself out being true to him.”
“Maybe I’d rather be true to you.”
“You aren’t about to be true to anybody,” I told her. “Not you!”
“Look who’s talking!” She looked angry now. “Do you call going native with that big-busted hussy being true to me?”
“For Pete’s sake, I had nothing to be true to. You’ve been Foster’s girl all along.”
“Well,” she announced, “as of now, I’m you’re girl if you want me. Do you?”
“Sure I do.”
“Then keep away from that jungle goddess, or whatever the hell she is. And come here and kiss me.”
I did as she said. Victoria still had it for me as no other woman ever did—-or would. I had to restrain myself from making love to her right then and there. “Later,” I told her. “Right now we’ve got quite a lot of unfinished business to attend to.”
“That’s true.” She moved out of my arms with obvious reluctance. “Which reminds me, are we being held prisoner here, or what?”
“I don’t think so. I haven’t been treated like that at all. And if I had enough influence to save your life, then I must have enough to keep you under my protection.”
“Fine and dandy. But we can’t stay here forever.”
“That’s true. But I’m not sure I know which way to head when we leave here,” I admitted.
“After Von Koerner and Mendoza, of course.”
“Of course,” I echoed sarcastically. “And would you happen to know just which way that might be?”
“As it happens, I do,” she told me sweetly. “I found their chutes and was following their trail when your girl friends grabbed me. They’re heading due south through the jungle.”
“It’s an awfully big jungle.”
“Well, we’re certainly not going to catch them sitting here.”
“True. But we can use all the help we can get. These people seem to know the jungle pretty well. Maybe I can convince Zaketa to help us.”
“Just don’t be too convincing,” Victoria warned me, or she might decide not to let you go. And,” she added as a jealous afterthought, “I might decide to slit your throat.”
As it turned out, Victoria’s jealousy was strictly ex post facto. Zaketa had other things on her mind. It seemed her devirginization had raised some weighty problems of doctrine. She must have figured that those problems might be simplified by my leaving, because she readily agreed to help us on our way. Still, ego forced me to recall that her feelings were far from unmixed. There was also a sadness for the joys we had tasted blended with her willingness to part.
I got across to her that we wanted to head south, and she drew a diagram in the dirt to show me that there was some sort of tribal settlement in that direction She would assign a couple of girls to guide us within walking distance of it if that suited me. It seemed as logical a place to inaugurate our hunt for Von Koerner and Mendoza as any, so I let Zaketa know that would be fine.
It took almost two days of trudging through the jungle before the girls assigned to guide us indicated we were close to another native village. For reasons of their own, they pointed out the trail and vanished before we reached it. Victoria and I hiked the last mile by ourselves. She was tired, but elated because she was sure we were heading in the same direction as our prey.
The natives were friendly. They spoke a sort of Spanish-Portuguese patois which Vickie was somehow able to understand. She found out that two white men had come through the village two days before us, mooched some supplies and continued due south. That could only be Von Koerner and Mendoza.
Vickie asked the head-man if he had any idea what their destination might be. He rolled his eyes, and there was a sort of superstitious awe in his voice as he answered.
“What’s he saying?” I asked, noting the look of excitement that swept over Vickie’s face.
“He says there’s some sort of evil place about three days south of here. I gather the natives give it a wide berth. They’re afraid of it. But there are white men there.”
“What sort of place is it?”
“He says it’s all underground. He makes it sound like some sort of mine, or maybe just a cave at the base of some hills. He’s not really too clear. But he sure is scared. He’s advising us not to go anywhere near it. Evidently he gave the same advice to Von Koerner and Mendoza, but they didn’t heed it. He’s convinced that the white men there are possessed by evil spirits and that anybody who goes there will also be possessed.”
Even allowing for the superstitious fear, it wasn’t too encouraging. But the next morning we cadged some food from them and headed toward the “evil place” anyway. “Do you think this could be some sort of base the neo-Nazis have set up?” I asked Vickie.