Brett pointed across the clearing. “I think Jorge wants us.”
Zane looked up and saw the Brazilian standing at the edge of the forest, motioning them over.
As they approached, Jorge pulled back a few leafy fronds and hacked them off with his machete. “We’re in luck. The trail is still here, although the entrance was grown over a bit. That probably means no one has used it in the last few months.”
Zane stepped forward and peered into the opening. A path wound through the maze of trunks beyond. “Wow, that’s tight.”
The Brazilian shrugged. “At times it will be tight, and at other points it will open up a bit.”
“No, that’s fine.” Zane’s eyes narrowed as he focused on something a couple of feet away on the trail. He squatted and carefully picked up a leaf, exposing an impression in the soil. “But I’m not so sure no one has been here recently.”
Brett squatted next to him. “What is it?”
Zane looked up at Jorge. “Did you step in here?”
The Brazilian shook his head. “No. I was walking along the edge, pulling limbs back and looking for the trail. When I found it, I called you over. Why?”
Zane picked up a stick and pointed at the impression. “Because that’s a footprint.”
“Maybe it’s one of the local tribesmen,” Brett said.
“An indigenous tribesman wearing boots?” Zane asked. He used the stick to point out a few faint horizontal marks made by the sole.
Brett nodded then stood and looked back at the beach. “Then why wasn’t the sand covered with tracks? I was one of the first down the ramp and didn’t see a thing.”
“The storm would’ve washed away any exposed prints,” Jorge said.
“He’s right,” Zane said. He turned and pointed at the vegetation overhanging the trail. “This print was protected by the jungle.”
Brett looked farther down the trail. “Is that the only one?”
“I believe so,” Zane said, standing. “From this point forward, it looks like the path becomes a mat of compressed vegetation. A professional tracker could probably find more prints. Unfortunately, I’m not that good.”
Brett turned to Jorge. “Well, you did say that tour groups occasionally use this route.”
The Brazilian’s eyes narrowed as he surveyed the ground. “Occasionally, but not very often. Generally they enter the jungle earlier.”
“The one thing we do know is that the print is relatively fresh,” Zane said. “I seriously doubt anyone would’ve come through here last night during the storm. And we haven’t passed any tour boats since leaving Manaus.”
“At this point, I don’t think there’s reason to get too concerned.”
Zane put his hands on his hips and looked at the impression once again. Could that be the boot print of a soldier? He thought so, but then again it could also be the boot print of an ornithologist or a herpetologist. Delphi had a database of prints, but this impression was too light and too faint to show up on a photograph. Besides, as Brett said, there was no need to ascribe any sort of ominous origin to the discovery.
A female voice broke the silence. “Did you guys find something?”
Zane turned, snapping out of his thoughts. Katiya and Max were standing a few feet away. “Ah, yes… yes, we did.” He pointed to the opening. “Jorge found the trail.”
Katiya looked at the trail. “Great.” She turned toward Zane. “You sure everything’s okay? You look concerned.”
Zane worked his mouth into a smile. “Not at all. It’s just a bit narrower than I expected.” He nodded down the path. “The good news is that there doesn’t appear to be any flooding.”
Something seemed to catch Katiya’s attention. She squinted, then her eyes widened. “Oh my! Huicungo!”
Zane tried to follow her gaze. The only thing he saw was a line of palms about twenty yards away. The trunks seemed to be covered in sharp spines. “Hui what?”
Katiya led them to the trees. As they neared, she pulled out her phone. “It’s a huicungo tree.” She stood in front of the nearest one and took a few pictures. “There are billions here in the Amazon basin. Their seeds are used to make black rings.”
Brett frowned. “Black rings?”
“Rings… you know, the kind of ring you put on your finger.” She stepped closer and took a close-up picture of the spines. “Not only that, but there is a soft substance inside the seeds that is used to make cosmetics.”
“Okay, I thought you were an anthropologist,” Zane said.
Katiya looked back at him and smiled. “I am. But my first love was biology. I’ve always had a fascination with the South American rainforest. The beauty, the biodiversity.” She held her phone close to the trunk and tapped the screen. “At one point I even thought about making it my life’s work.”
“Hey, check it out,” Brett said, lifting a finger toward the upper portion of the tree. “Monkeys.”
Zane looked up. A family of monkeys had apparently been watching in silence until the group’s approach. Now they scampered across one of the lower branches. They were moving fast but seemed to be grayish brown with white faces.
“We must have disturbed them,” Max said.
“Saimiri… squirrel monkeys!” Katiya exclaimed, holding her phone up to video the experience.
As Zane watched, one of the younger monkeys tossed something toward them.
“Dang apes,” a male voice said from behind them.
Zane looked over and saw that Nash had joined them. The corporal lifted his rifle.
“Time to show them who’s boss,” he said.
Zane opened his mouth to speak, but it was too late. Nash squeezed the trigger, spraying bullets into the foliage above. The monkeys screamed in fear, leaping through the trees with lightning speed and disappearing into the jungle.
“Stop it!” Katiya shouted, running toward him.
“Hey, hey,” Zane reached out and pressed the soldier’s arm down. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Jerk,” Katiya said. “Those are protected animals.”
Nash backed away, glaring at the two of them. “They’re dumb apes.” He waved a hand at the forest. “We need to let all these beasts know we mean business.”
“Do not under any circumstances fire at animals unless someone’s life is in danger,” Zane said, fixing his gaze on Nash.
Bennett came running over, undoubtedly drawn by the gunfire. “What’s going on?”
Nash jerked his gun toward the huicungo trees. “Those apes started throwing—”
“One of the squirrel monkeys threw us some food, probably a peace offering, and your soldier started firing at him,” Katiya said.
Zane gave Nash a stern look then turned to Bennett. “Get your corporal under control, Sergeant.”
“It won’t happen again, sir.” Bennett turned to Nash and said, “Go help Corporal Wilson with the supplies.”
Nash hesitated.
“Now, Corporal!” he commanded.
Nash glowered at Katiya briefly then marched off.
Bennett turned to Zane. “I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen again, sir.”
Zane nodded as the sergeant departed after Nash.
Everyone stood in stunned silence for a moment. Finally, Zane said, “Okay, let’s gather our things.”
As the others moved off, Jorge said, “That one is going to be trouble.”
Zane nodded. “I’m hoping it’s just operational jitters. I’ve seen that before, particularly when a soldier is exposed to a new environment. But your point is well taken.”
Jorge gazed up at the foliage where the monkeys had disappeared. “I fear the jungle may have just marked us as the enemy.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Zane surveyed the faces gathered around him on the beach. Beads of sweat glistened on foreheads, and several were already sucking on canteens. Their time on the river had probably given them a false sense of comfort. From this point forward, there would be no percolated coffee in the morning and no oscillating fans in the evening. Instead, there would be unrelenting heat during the day and a horde of flies, mosquitoes, and other biting insects at night.