I moved silently through the foliage, inching closer to my targets. Months of stalking game and hiding from hostile tribes had taught me to be silent in the forest, a skill that I readily employed now. I drew from my quiver a long arrow fletched with brilliant red feathers and fit it to the bowstring, ready to fire. I crept increasingly closer until I was only a few yards away.
I then got my second shock of the day. They were speaking English.
The big one, the one I pegged as the leader was trying to find out from the pilot what had happened. He sounded tense, angry.
"What the hell happened?" he demanded of the man whose head was tucked into the engine compartment. He wasn't yelling, but his heated words reminded me of the jaguar's growl. "I thought this thing was checked out before we left."
The pilot lifted his head, wiping his greasy hands on his shirtfront. "It was. I have no idea why they let this bird fly. Half the wiring is shot and we must have been leaking coolant for at least the last couple of miles. We're lucky I was able to get us down in one piece."
The big man nodded, accepting the report but clearly not liking it. "What are the chance of getting this POS back in the air again?" he asked.
The pilot shook his head. "Out here? Slim to none, Captain. I might be able to jury-rig the wiring, but I can't do anything about the coolant. We try to fly without it and we'll burn the engine out."
"How's the radio?" the captain demanded, the large man growing increasingly disgusted with their situation.
A second man step forward. "It's shot, sir. I don't know what the hell is going on… it was working fine when we left."
The captain sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "Do what you can, Serris. We need to have it up and running in the next couple of days so we can call for a ride out of here. Worse comes to worse, we can hoof it if we have to. In the meantime, that village is just over this hill. We'll go there and set up operations. We still have a mission, folks, so lets get on it."
Okay, boys and girls… let's review… I've got eight soldiers, Americans, heading right towards the Chopec village. I'm out here with a bow and arrows, and while I'm no expert on weapons, it looked like these guys are armed with automatic assault rifles. Odds of me being able to take them all out before they reached the village… well, let's just be thankful that I've gambled often enough to know that sometimes you can beat those odds.
I drew my bow and aimed the arrow directly at a point at the center of the captain's chest. The muscles in my arm trembled slightly at the strain of drawing the bow in this awkward posture. I held my breath, waiting for the right instant to loose the bowstring. He was just standing there… a perfect target. For the life of me, I couldn't understand why I couldn't will my fingers to release the bowstring.
A muscle in my leg began to cramp from the unnatural position and I shifted my weight slightly. My bare heel cracked a twig beneath my foot. The sound was so soft, I nearly didn't hear it. I'd made louder noises than that while hunting and not startled the game I was stalking. I would have paid no mind to it had the captain not reacted to the sound. Somehow, it seemed that the captain heard me. His head shot up, his entire posture now one of a warrior on full alert to possible threat.
"There's someone out there," he warned his men. They fell into position, training their weapons on the clump of bushes where I crouched. I was painfully aware of eight weapons now pointed directly at me, but I still couldn't help from wondering at how he could have properly heard me. It made no sense.
The captain's eyes scanned the foliage, the sharp blue eyes seeming to bore through the leaves. I hunched down, trying to make myself as small a target as possible. Painted as I was, I blended in well with the surrounding brush. I could make myself all but completely invisible.
The captain seemed determined to give me a heart attack. His eyes stopped searching and seemed to zero in directly on where I was hiding. Impossible. He couldn't possibly see me. He then called out in Quechua, "Come on out! You won't be hurt if you come out."
It wasn't the Chopec dialect, but his words were completely understandable. In spite of my immediate peril, I couldn't help from wondering what American soldiers could be doing here in the middle of a Peruvian rain forest and why at least one of them spoke even a little of the local language. The fear from my vision faded slightly as my customary inquisitiveness reared its nosey head.
I sighed, relaxing my bowstring. Mom always warned me that my curiosity would get me into trouble on of these days. I still didn't know if they meant any harm to the Chopec, but I just couldn't bring myself to bring harm to any of them until I knew for sure. More of my mother's influence creeping out at an inopportune time.
Just was I was getting ready to abandon the relative safety of my hiding place, Incacha arrived in the clearing with several of the warriors. They were all armed and ready to defend me from my own stupidity if necessary. I watched the two sides facing one another, bows vs. machine guns and knew that I could not allow the others to come to harm because of me.
I stood up, my bow lowered to show my good intentions and quickly went to Incacha's side, ignoring the guns that were still pointed at me. I tried to ignore the captain's gaze, but it felt as if his eyes were burning a hole into the back of my skull. Only once safely at Incacha's side did I dare bring myself to face the captain directly.
I was right, he was a big man. I was no weakling by any stretch but, but this guy looked like he could pick me up with one hand and toss me across the clearing. The greasepaint smeared over his face empathized the angular lines of his bone structure and the pale, almost cold blue of his eyes. I guess you might call him handsome if he weren't trying to deliberately intimidate you.
Incacha stepped forward, addressing the captain. "Why are you here?" he asked simply, giving no sign of fear. I knew that he wasn't ignorant of what those guns could do to him. He just didn't seem worried that they might actually use them.
The captain turned to him, assuming that Incacha was our leader. Well, he wasn't that far off. "We are here to stop the men who are invading your territory," he explained in very badly accented and broken Quechua. It was clear that he had, at best, only a rudimentary understanding of the language. "We have been sent by our leader from very far away to help your people."
Incacha shrugged. "We do no need help," he said quietly. "You see we have warriors."
The captain nodded, as if understanding Incacha's reluctance. "Good warriors, I'm sure. But these are men from outside the forest. We can help you."
Incacha seemed almost amused by the soldier's attempts to communicate. He chuckled softly, motioning for the soldiers to follow him. "We will go to my village and talk. Come."
Walking back, I quickly fell into step beside my teacher, wondering at what he was doing. "Why are they coming with us?" I asked, hoping that none of the soldiers understood the language well enough to eavesdrop. "They'll bring nothing but trouble."
"Shame on you, Mapi, for speaking so about your own people," he chided.
I nearly stopped short, taking the words almost as an insult.
Incacha sighed and gently laid his hand on my shoulder. "You are of the Chopec, but you are also of these men. They are your people as much as we are. And we will need your help to speak with them. This man… his words are not easy to understand."
I grinned. Incacha was right. The captain's command of the language left a lot to be desired. I admired his obvious attempt to learn enough of the language to make himself understood, but they would need a real translator to effectively communicate with the Chopec. Another doubt nudged at me. "But if I help you, they will know who I am."
Incacha nodded his grip on my shoulder tightening almost imperceptibly. "Indeed they will. But who is to tell what will happen after that."
I knew what would happen. "They will make me go with them, " I said quietly. I had no doubt about that. There is no way American soldiers would leave a stranded fellow American behind, even if he didn't really want to go with them. "I will have to leave the Chopec. Maybe forever."
The glance in the shaman's eyes was full of deep sadness. "Yes… you will leave us. I do not wish to lose you to the Dead World, but your destiny will lie there. I have always known that would happen one day. That is why I have been teaching you."
I think a landed trout and I had the same facial expression at that instant. I tried to say something to answer that… anything… but all I could do was stare.
Incacha didn't seem to notice my shock. He just explained, "I have always believed that your coming here was the will of the spirits. I was meant to teach you our ways, and I feel that your destiny is bound to this man."
I knew he meant the captain. I couldn't resist glancing back at the tall man who was tramping along behind us. I wondered if that was why I couldn't bring myself to shoot him when I had the chance. Incacha was a firm believer that little happened without reason. My arrival in the Chopec village had been foreseen weeks before I actually boarded the plane for Peru. It would only be in the coming days that I would truly understand what the captain's arrival meant.
Our return to the village with guests was marked with the usual fanfare that surrounded the arrival of strangers. The women and children came out to see what was happening but held back until they were assured that all was safe. Warriors kept careful watch, just in case we were fooled and their intentions were hostile.
The soldiers just tried to take it all in without staring. I had to grin at the sight of them very carefully trying not to notice that most of the women were wearing short wrap-skirts, jewelry, a bit of paint and nothing else. I had no doubt they had been informed that the Indians in this region tended to dress in as little as possible due to the remarkable heat and humidity. Still, I can remember from my own experience that being told what to bit expect and finding oneself suddenly surrounded by a village full of bare breasted women of all ages took a bit of getting used to.
I was suddenly made very aware of my own appearance. I had long since abandoned normal jeans and tee-shirts, partly because most of the clothes I'd brought with me weren't worth wearing any longer, partly because the Chopec way of dress was simply much more comfortable. I also have to admit that the simple matter that I'd been there for so long also had a great deal to do with it. I hadn't wanted to stand out like the proverbial sore thumb. My skin had tanned nearly as dark as the Chopec and I had since grown to like wearing the loincloth wrapped about my hips, painting my face and braiding my hair with feathers.
No wonder they didn't pick me out as a white man immediately. Except for the texture of my hair, I looked exactly like my friends.
I could feel the captain staring at me, his eyes following my every move. I put my bow away, got a drink of water while Incacha tried to figure out where the best place to house our guests were. The captain's eyes remained fixed on me the entire time. His head was cocked curiously as he studied me, as if he knew that something wasn't quite right but couldn't quite put his finger on what it was.
"Mapi," Incacha called me over to where he stood with the captain. I hurried over, bare feet padding across the muddy ground. The shaman was lodging the soldiers where the bachelors slept. Wise thinking, I thought. Away from the women and surrounded by young warriors who would be able to hold their own if it came to a fight.
Incacha placed his hand on my shoulder and said, "Tell him that he and his men will sleep here."
I sighed, knowing that there was no avoiding this. Looking up at the officer and meeting his blue eyes with my own, I said in admittedly rusty English, "Incacha says that you and your men can stay here."
The captain started at my use of English, and by the sight of blue eyes looking back at him from a mask of red paint. "You speak English?" he blurted, not bothering to hide his surprise.
I nodded, holding out my hand to him. "It's been awhile since I had someone to speak English with. I tried to teach Incacha, but he didn't see the need to pick up more than a few words. I'm Blair Sandburg."
He took my hand in a strong grip and shook it, still shocked by this turn of events. "Captain James Ellison. Don't suppose you'd mind telling me what you're doing down here, son?"
