deep valley beyond the
easternmost row of mountains where the river was fed by countless
waterfalls that had eroded into the sheer slopes from the higher
country. They wouldn't be able to take the boats any farther than
that. According to their maps, there was a thin gap that led to the
southwest into a perpendicular canyon. That had been the start of
Hunter's original route, and assuming they didn't stumble upon any
sign of him before they reached it, that was where theirs would
begin as well.
It was now just a matter of getting
there.
A large gray trunk with wild roots like the
tentacles of an octopus slammed into the side of the boat, and for
a heartbeat she feared they would capsize. She locked her feet
under the bench and gripped the sides so she would be better
prepared for the next collision. A glance over the side showed her
a dent the size of a satellite dish. And they hadn't even seen the
tree, which had fired up from beneath the water like a torpedo from
a submarine.
They couldn't afford to lose any of the
equipment, let alone their lives. They had to get out of the river
before it was too late.
Colton must have recognized the danger as
well. He leaned forward and shouted into Leo's ear, but she
couldn't make out his words over the roar of the rapids. Leo in
turn stood and yelled at Santos, who looked back with a placating
smile. He gave a single nod and pointed upriver toward a section of
the bank that was several feet lower than the rest. It looked like
there might be just enough room to drag the boats out of the water
and into the high weeds, but the slope was slick with mud. Scaling
it without the weight of their craft would be hard enough. Maybe
they could tether the boats to the enormous kapok trees.
Unfortunately, that would leave them at the mercy of the
projectiles cruising downstream.
Santos guided the boat to the edge of the
slope, beached the prow, and leapt out into the mud. He grabbed the
coil of rope attached to the frame and scampered up the sloppy
incline on all fours with simian agility. At the top, he wrapped
the thick cord around a wide gray trunk and signaled for them to
disembark.
Sam followed Leo and Colton to the front of
the boat, and dropped down into the mire behind them. With none of
Santos's finesse, she slipped and scrabbled and clawed her way up
onto solid ground. By the time she caught up with the others, there
wasn't a single inch of her that wasn't coated with brown
sludge.
The remaining craft puttered over behind the
first, their guides poling like gondoliers to keep them up against
the bank until the lead boat was dragged out of the water.
Sam joined the others on the opposite side
of the tree and helped pull on the rope. The boat was a lot heavier
than it looked, but with the leverage and relatively solid footing,
they were able to drag it up into the weeds under the broad arms of
the kapok. Thirty exhausting minutes later, all three boats were
crammed into the tiny clearing. They stood shivering as a group
beneath the dripping canopy, which only served to mildly attenuate
the deluge.
"Check this out," Dahlia said. She leaned
closer to a heliconia shrub, and gently peeled back a cluster of
broad-leaved branches. "Jay? Do you still have the camera handy? I
want a shot of this."
Sam crowded closer with the others while the
cameraman separated and headed back toward the boats. It was a
phasmid, a walking stick insect, a long-legged, slender-bodied bug
that perfectly mimicked the stem upon which it stood. She had to
smile at the memory of the first time she had seen such a creature,
and the hundreds of others with similar strange and wondrous
adaptations they would encounter along the way. She envied these
first-timers. There was truly something special about the instances
when one's eyes were opened to the magic of the Amazon basin.
"Such an amazing evolutionary marvel,"
Dahlia said. "To think that somehow through the ages this insect's
entire body changed shape to
easternmost row of mountains where the river was fed by countless
waterfalls that had eroded into the sheer slopes from the higher
country. They wouldn't be able to take the boats any farther than
that. According to their maps, there was a thin gap that led to the
southwest into a perpendicular canyon. That had been the start of
Hunter's original route, and assuming they didn't stumble upon any
sign of him before they reached it, that was where theirs would
begin as well.
It was now just a matter of getting
there.
A large gray trunk with wild roots like the
tentacles of an octopus slammed into the side of the boat, and for
a heartbeat she feared they would capsize. She locked her feet
under the bench and gripped the sides so she would be better
prepared for the next collision. A glance over the side showed her
a dent the size of a satellite dish. And they hadn't even seen the
tree, which had fired up from beneath the water like a torpedo from
a submarine.
They couldn't afford to lose any of the
equipment, let alone their lives. They had to get out of the river
before it was too late.
Colton must have recognized the danger as
well. He leaned forward and shouted into Leo's ear, but she
couldn't make out his words over the roar of the rapids. Leo in
turn stood and yelled at Santos, who looked back with a placating
smile. He gave a single nod and pointed upriver toward a section of
the bank that was several feet lower than the rest. It looked like
there might be just enough room to drag the boats out of the water
and into the high weeds, but the slope was slick with mud. Scaling
it without the weight of their craft would be hard enough. Maybe
they could tether the boats to the enormous kapok trees.
Unfortunately, that would leave them at the mercy of the
projectiles cruising downstream.
Santos guided the boat to the edge of the
slope, beached the prow, and leapt out into the mud. He grabbed the
coil of rope attached to the frame and scampered up the sloppy
incline on all fours with simian agility. At the top, he wrapped
the thick cord around a wide gray trunk and signaled for them to
disembark.
Sam followed Leo and Colton to the front of
the boat, and dropped down into the mire behind them. With none of
Santos's finesse, she slipped and scrabbled and clawed her way up
onto solid ground. By the time she caught up with the others, there
wasn't a single inch of her that wasn't coated with brown
sludge.
The remaining craft puttered over behind the
first, their guides poling like gondoliers to keep them up against
the bank until the lead boat was dragged out of the water.
Sam joined the others on the opposite side
of the tree and helped pull on the rope. The boat was a lot heavier
than it looked, but with the leverage and relatively solid footing,
they were able to drag it up into the weeds under the broad arms of
the kapok. Thirty exhausting minutes later, all three boats were
crammed into the tiny clearing. They stood shivering as a group
beneath the dripping canopy, which only served to mildly attenuate
the deluge.
"Check this out," Dahlia said. She leaned
closer to a heliconia shrub, and gently peeled back a cluster of
broad-leaved branches. "Jay? Do you still have the camera handy? I
want a shot of this."
Sam crowded closer with the others while the
cameraman separated and headed back toward the boats. It was a
phasmid, a walking stick insect, a long-legged, slender-bodied bug
that perfectly mimicked the stem upon which it stood. She had to
smile at the memory of the first time she had seen such a creature,
and the hundreds of others with similar strange and wondrous
adaptations they would encounter along the way. She envied these
first-timers. There was truly something special about the instances
when one's eyes were opened to the magic of the Amazon basin.
"Such an amazing evolutionary marvel,"
Dahlia said. "To think that somehow through the ages this insect's
entire body changed shape to
Similar Books
