He ran toward the water, but Jorge grabbed him around the waist. Zane tried to fight him off, but the Brazilian shook his head and nodded at the stream.
When Zane looked, his heart sank. Nash was no longer visible. The water churned where he’d been standing only moments before. Even if he could be pulled out now, there was very little chance he would survive.
Zane tried to shake free, but two more hands grabbed him from behind.
“Zane, no,” Bennett whispered. “It’s over.”
Zane finally shook him off but remained in place. He watched in silence as the thrashing swarm of fish moved downstream.
Bennett stepped up next to him. “We did what we could.”
Zane remained silent, unable to turn away from the macabre scene.
Bennett spoke without turning his head. “Right in the middle of the fight, Corporal Nash told me something. He said he was sorry for what happened earlier when we got off the boat. He also said he was determined to make things right.”
Zane’s brow furrowed. If true, it was an incredible act of valor. He looked at Bennett. “You think he planned all that?”
Bennett shrugged. “I’m not sure. I just know he was determined to protect everyone.” After a long pause, he continued. “What happened back at the river… shooting at those monkeys… that wasn’t the Corporal Nash I knew. He’s as solid as they come. Something seemed to have changed when we got to Manaus. He became a different person.”
“What do you think it was?”
“I don’t know.” Bennett exhaled. “But whatever it was, I hope it doesn’t happen to anyone else.”
Zane gave him a nod of understanding. Nothing was worse than losing a soldier under your command. In this case, it was likely made worse by the corporal’s strange behavior prior to his death.
“Let’s get back to the others,” Zane said.
As they rejoined the group, Zane saw Amanda sitting in the sand, weeping softly. Katiya stood next to her, staring at the place where Nash had made his last stand. A tear ran down her cheek.
“Hey, I think he’s going to need some help over here,” Artur said.
Zane turned. The Brazilian had just finished cutting off one of Brett’s pant legs. Zane cringed at the sight underneath. It looked like his leg had taken a close-range shotgun blast. The cuts weren’t particularly deep, but they had to be painful.
Katiya moved quickly to Artur’s side. She looked at Max, who had come over as well. “Can you bring us some water? Oh, and please get a bottle of disinfectant from one of the first aid kits.”
The linguist nodded and walked away.
Zane crouched next to Katiya. “How does it look?”
“Fortunately, the wounds appear to be superficial,” she said without looking up. “The main thing we have to worry about is infection. I’m sure there’s a lot of bacteria here in the Amazon basin that our bodies aren’t used to fighting.”
“Wonderful,” Brett groaned.
Zane laid a hand on his shoulder.
Max arrived with the items Katiya had requested. She poured the water across Brett’s legs, washing away the excess blood. Then she wiped them with a clean towel.
“Okay, this is going to sting a little,” she said, squeezing some of the antibacterial ointment into her hand.
“Go for it,” he said.
Brett grimaced and let out a loud groan as she spread it over his skin. “A little?”
“Amazing the damage they can do in such little time,” Zane said as he examined the wounds.
She looked up at him. “Sometimes the piranha are in such a frenzy that they end up biting each other. That’s why you’ll often find one with a hunk taken out of its tail or an eye missing.”
“Lovely creatures,” Zane said.
“Believe it or not, some species are quite docile,” Katiya said. “Unfortunately, we happened to cross a stream filled with Pygocentrus nattereri.”
Zane gave her an odd look. “Pygo what?”
“Red-bellied piranha. Unlike some of its brethren, these boys have a nasty temper.” She squeezed out some more antibacterial gel then continued. “You know, even though these particular piranha are known to be aggressive killers, I’m still a bit surprised we were attacked.”
Zane’s brow furrowed. “Why would that surprise you?”
“Attacks on humans aren’t unheard of, but they’re usually during the dry season when their usual prey are scarce.”
“I guess they couldn’t resist my legs,” Zane quipped.
Brett shook his head. “Unfortunately, I think they liked mine better than yours.”
Zane rose to his feet.
“Speaking of legs,” Katiya said, “I need to look at yours next.”
Zane glanced at his pants. They were soaked in blood, but he could tell the cuts were superficial. “I need to go help the others set up the tents. I’ll be fine.”
“Well, as soon as you’re done, get back over here,” she said.
As Zane walked away, he heard the growl of thunder directly overhead. Steel-gray clouds had moved in, and the first raindrops were hitting the surface of the stream.
A hand touched his arm, causing him to turn. Jorge stood at his side, a cigar dangling from his mouth. The Brazilian nodded toward the woods, indicating Zane should follow him.
“What’s up?” Zane whispered as they climbed the bank.
Jorge paused. He gestured back toward the stream with his cigar. “The jungle just delivered a death sentence. From here on out, we need to make sure everyone here gives it the respect it deserves. If they don’t, then I fear we may suffer loss again.”
Zane nodded but said nothing.
“But that’s not why I called you over. I think we have a problem.”
A hard gust of wind blew through the clearing. A few leaves broke from tree branches and bounced across the ground. Zane could tell that the storm was about to unleash its fury. “I know. I was just about to get everyone to set up the tents—”
“No, not that. Something else.” The Brazilian motioned for Zane to follow him.
As they continued up the trail, Zane could see that it ended in a T-shaped intersection with another, larger trail that ran north-south along the east side of the stream. Before arriving at the intersection, Jorge stopped at a large grove of ferns on the left. He grabbed several fronds and pulled them back. Zane squatted and looked in the darkness beyond. There, lying hidden just out of sight, was a pile of ropes and boards.
The bridge.
“I found some more footprints and followed them here,” Jorge said.
Zane bent over and grabbed one of the ropes. He examined the end carefully, noting the strands had been sliced through cleanly. “I’d say it was cut with a knife, a very sharp one.”
Jorge nodded. “It confirms what I had already guessed, that someone took the bridge down on purpose.”
Zane tossed the rope back to the ground. “Who do you think did it?”
“That is the million-dollar question.”
“And what’s the answer?”
Jorge took a draw on his cigar and allowed the smoke to drift slowly out of his mouth. Finally, he said, “Someone who hoped a few of us would die crossing that stream.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Amanda tossed another tree limb on the fire, sending a plume of crackling embers into the air. Thankfully, Artur had collected and covered some wood before the storm hit. And now that the fire was going, he had stacked some wet limbs and branches nearby to dry them out. The Brazilians were worth their weight in gold out here in the jungle.
A melancholy atmosphere permeated the camp in the wake of Nash’s death. Everyone was still stunned by the scene they’d witnessed only hours before. It was one thing to hear of a horrible death. It was another thing altogether to witness it for yourself. But it wasn’t only the shock of watching it; it was the shock of knowing they’d been on land for less than twenty-four hours and already someone had lost their life.