“Yes, Manolo, it was great! What’s for lunch?”
“Ah, only the best for all of us,” answered Manolo, cutting fresh fruit.
As they all ate, no one was aware of their visitors; several men dressed in black uniforms… watching.
After lunch, the group packed everything up, said goodbye to their watery oasis and set themselves back on track.
“We need to make only a few miles before we make camp for the night. I need to check in again with Ben,” Randall told Manolo as they began following what looked like an old trail. “This trail must be one used by the locals, although not lately.”
“This trail very old. Not used in very long time,” remarked Manolo, looking around intently for any trace of any type of trail use. “I not sure where it goes or where it comes from. It started from nowhere. This very hard to understand. ”
“Interesting,” said Randall. “Comes out of nowhere and goes wherever. Let’s follow it for a while and see where it takes us.”
“Yes, Dr. Randall,” answered Manolo quietly, although now it was clear he was becoming a bit more concerned with the jungle around them than before.
After a few hours along the trail, the group came upon a small clearing about ten feet in diameter. Many people would have missed the marker but not Randall.
“Wait a minute!” yelled Randall as he stopped, stepping off of the trail and approaching the low, vine-covered stone column. “What have we here,” he asked rhetorically as Dana and a few of the others walked over to see what he was so excited to see. It was clearly a man-made marker of some kind.
“Is that what I think it may be?” asked Dana, leaping over Randall to get a better view. “It is definitely an old marker of some type and it has been here quite a while.”
Both were now kneeling in front of the small rock column a little less than three feet tall. Randall and Manolo cleared the vines so they could get a better view. What they thought was a single stone column was actually made from several stones stacked together. There was one very interesting characteristic to the stone, though. The rocks that made up the column were finely chiseled and fit together very tightly. Several faded symbols or letters were chiseled in the stone.
“I swear if I did not know any better this looks very Incan. But this is not an area that the Incas were known to roam; too far inland,” said Randall, trying to make some kind of meaning out of their finding.
“Wait a minute,” added Dana. “This has to be a modern marker of some sort made to look old. None of the indigenous tribes in this area have the skill to make this.” She ran her hand across one of several indentions on the stones. In her mind she was definitely having a hard time envisioning where this originated. Her curiosity and knowledge of the area were clashing and there was no immediate answer that made sense.
“The stone cuts are very specific. And the fit between the stones is remarkable,” said Dana inquisitively. “You can’t even get a piece of dental floss between those stones.”
“I have never seen anything like it,” said Randall. “Manolo, where are the cameras?”
Manolo turned to one of his men and within a minute the Finleys’ camera bag was produced. Dana took one of the three Nikon D700s from the bag and began taking pictures of the stone column. She was very thorough in her recording of this seemingly unexplainable monument. She paid particular attention to the faint markings, hoping to be able to decipher them later. Randall simply sat there in front of the stone making notes in his notebook, trying ever so hard to make sense of what they had found. The two Finleys were truly perplexed by their find.
The remainder of the group now settled into the small clearing, put down their packs and sat down. Randall turned to Manolo and told him to make camp over on the other side of the clearing opposite from the column. He also told him to send a few men out to see if there was water nearby. Then he turned his attention back to Dana and the column.
As Manolo and his men began to set up camp, the men in black continued to watch. In the jungle there were more men in black moving silently about them. The men waited as a predator waiting on its prey, sizing up the group.
After a few minutes one of Manolo’s men ran back into the clearing. He excitedly reported something to Manolo. The man’s arms were waving and he was pointing into the jungle.
“What’s he saying?” asked Randall.
“He says there are people out there.”
“Where… tell him to show me… are they natives?” Randall was clearly excited as well. They could be scouts from the tribe the Finleys had been looking to contact. Dana stood listening intently. She checked her camera. She thought maybe she could get a few pictures of these people. The other men were mumbling to each other and backing away from the stone, hiding in the jungle bushes at the edge of the clearing.
The man continued his diatribe as Manolo tried to calm him and ask him Randall’s questions.
“He says the men are not native. They have black clothes and carry machine guns. This is not good, Dr. Randall. I don’t know these men.”
Randall’s eyes widened as he looked at Dana. “Shit, we may have stumbled on some guerilla unit or, worse, some drug smugglers.” He turned to Manolo. “Tell the men to get their packs and let’s back out of here while we can. I’ll call Ben and let him know what is going on.”
The group quickly grabbed their equipment and packs and took off running back down the trail. After about a mile everyone was ready to collapse.
“Wait, Randall,” gasped Dana. “We have to stop. I can’t run anymore.” Everyone was spent. Running through the Brazilian jungle is not easy, especially in 100 % humidity and 100+ degree heat.
“Okay. Let’s stop over here,” said Randall gasping for air. “Over behind those palms. We can hide in the lower fronds.”
They all collapsed behind the low fronds of several small palms. They hid like their lives depended on it.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The group lay under cover for well over an hour but it felt like days. They made as little noise as possible. Randall thought about sending another of Manolo’s men out to scout but decided to lie low until dark. They listened intently. All they could hear was the myriad of jungle noises. While that was disconcerting to a degree, Randall was glad he had not heard sounds of men searching the area. With the light quickly fading, he decided to try to move again, this time under the cover of darkness.
“Manolo,” Randall whispered. “Get everybody ready to move. We are going to go back down the trail from where we came.”
“Senhor Randall, it is night coming soon. We should not be moving in the dark. Too many night creatures come out at night,” Manolo explained.
Manolo was right. The jungle at night was a very different place than during daylight hours. Not only was it dark, but many nocturnal predators come out at night to hunt for food. The jungle was dangerous during the day; the jungle at night was exponentially more dangerous. Both Manolo and the Finleys knew their chances of survival were far better during daylight. They also knew that at night in the jungle they fell much lower on the food chain.
“You want to try to trek back down the trail at night?” asked Dana quietly. “I don’t hear anyone moving around. I think they are gone. Let’s set up camp here and regroup in the morning. Moving at night is probably not our best bet.”
“No; we have to pull back now. We can’t be sure they are still out there. If we can get away from here, we can check with Ben. We are overdue now and need to let them know what’s happened. Manolo, let’s get going.”