Boneca [Doll]

Chapter 23: Brewing Storm

Luuk and his motley crew embarked on their next morning's patrol, and the chief started pointing out the blatant signs of invasion in this neck of the woods. Think open lands, DIY roads, and beer cans strewn about, despite the territory's no-alcohol policy. It was like the government and the police were competing in the "kick-the-can" Olympics for their ineffectiveness.

The indigenous chief, never one for sugarcoating, gave them the lowdown on his infuriating experiences with the invaders. "I asked the police for help, and they just redirected me to government officials. When I went to the government, they promptly sent me back to the police. It was like a never-ending loop of bureaucracy. A few years ago, federal police swooped in on an illegal gold mine. But those persistent invaders just kept popping up."

As they drove back to the Kamaiurá village, they were surrounded by desiccated brown land. It looked as barren as an abandoned spaghetti western set. Amidst this desolation, a towering tree with a canopy fit for a royal parade stood proudly, looking like something straight out of a fairy tale. Zack, channeling his inner fanboy, exclaimed, "Isn't that the Brazilian nut tree, Professor Chaves?"

Chaves, with a twinkle in his eye, replied, "The King of the Rainforest, indeed."

Zack, in full tourist mode, gushed, "Never thought I'd lay eyes on one. Bucket list, check!"

Luuk, always the buzzkill, couldn't help but quip, "Note to self: check if Zack's bucket list includes 'seeing a tree.'" Luuk then confessed, "I've actually tasted the nuts."

Jona added his two cents, "It's endangered and off-limits for logging, but that hasn't deterred the renegades. While it grows in all nine Amazonian countries, these days, it's like the rare Pokémon of the tree world, mostly in Bolivia and maybe Suriname."

Chaves, with a theatrical sigh, lamented, "It's still in its tree-ager years, around seventy, eighty. It can potentially live to five hundred, but it's on a countdown timer now, probably not another decade left. It's gasping for survival, in desperate need of an untouched habitat and a specific group of insect friends to help with the pollination. Even a tree this big needs a social life."

Unbelievable. Luuk felt an odd sympathy to a tree.

As Chaves dove into the intricacies of forestry, Luuk turned to his earphones and focused on transcribing the recorded tribal conversations. Writing it down on the bumpy ride felt more like deciphering hieroglyphics. Time slipped away, and Jona woke Luuk from his data-entry coma. As a hand held the truck's door open, Jona removed Luuk's earphones.

"Passamos a noite aqui." [We're stopping here for the night.]

Luuk took in the scene and realized everyone was heading towards a weathered diner, parked vehicles scattered like toys. "Onde estamos?" [Where are we?] he inquired, scanning the road they'd traveled.

"A cidade por onde passámos ontem." [The town we passed yesterday.]

"I thought the chief couldn't stay in this town."

"This morning, Aarón predicted a storm. The chief said it's dangerous to continue the journey." He pointed to the ominous gray sky.

As they strolled along, Luuk muttered, "Tsk. As if it's safer here with assassins out there to get his ass." Stepping onto the pavement, a cool gale hit his face just as thunder drummed in his eardrums. The smell of everything undesirable wafted through his nostrils—dump, cow dung, chicken dung, human sweat, spices.

Jona started for the diner but was nearly knocked over by a squad of more than ten mountain motorbikes. "Fuck!"

The ensuing dust cloud obscured Luuk's view of the motorbike mayhem for a few seconds. "Watch out for traffic," he advised, grabbing Jona's shoulder. They waited for the chaotic road to clear, motorbikes and jalopy trucks performing their own version of a demolition derby. "And watch the colorful language. It doesn't suit your... mushy face."

"Oh, come on." Jona raised his arms in frustration. "Stop calling me that!"

A playful smile crossed Luuk's face. "You're the one who likened yourself to a pudding. But seriously, keep the vocabulary rated PG."

"What are you, my brother?" Jona rolled his eyes as they dodged a windswept watermelon stall with its tent tilting at a dangerous angle.

Luuk mused, "You're not much older than my sister, so... not too farfetched." The dreaded word 'sister' reminded him to call the infuriating Milada.

Jona's shoulders stiffened, and he turned, a mischievous glint in his eyes, along with a hint of something else. "I'm not a girl." He pushed his hair back.

"Now I'm convinced you picked up English in Japan. Sheesh. I didn't say you're like my sister."

Jona took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes, and entered the fly-infested diner. He was like a rollercoaster of moods, and Luuk couldn't quite predict the next loop.

Taking in the surroundings, Luuk spotted a small internet café. Instead of risking a digestive adventure with the diner's cuisine, he decided to upload his research data online and perhaps try to make sense of his handwritten notes.

"Luuk, where are you going?" Chaves called as he was about to brave the deserted road.

"Internet café," he declared without looking back.

"The storm is brewing outside. You should stay indoors."

"An internet café is indoors." Tsk.