Jungle Stakes (SHORTLIST Open Novella Contest II)

Chapter 2

The next morning Helena breathed in the humid jungle air deeply and stretched onto her tiptoes as she searched the forest canopy for signs of any animals. She was trying not to be alarmed, but the usual cacophony of noise was still eerily absent. She pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head.

She tuned out the professor's voice in the tent behind her as he almost whined into the phone that yet another contact was on vacation and couldn't be reached.

Before the professor had commandeered the videos yesterday, she'd played the moment of the stake collapse several times. It was impossible to see if the chest moved, but her eyes hadn't deceived her. Her gut also said she'd seen it, and it had never lead her wrong.

She hesitated mentioning it, because the others hadn't shown a hint of alarm or worry. Fitzy and Jake would never let her live it down if they didn't see anything.

The locals hadn't been much help either. Glad for the excuse to get away, she'd gone up to ask if anyone could give them clues to the engravings. Particularly Javier's mother. The old woman had insisted no one watch the videos and no one go down in the tomb. The others had wide, terrified eyes and scrambled when the old woman barked an order at them to go back to camp.

"Please just look," she'd pleaded to Javier's mother, holding out the camera.

Javier saw the still picture of the stake on the screen and said, "That's made from chontah. It's a special wood from the jungle. Very hard." His mother had said something curt in Quechua. "My mother will watch. But you must promise not to show this to the others. It is not for them to see."

"Why not?" Helena asked.

"It is better not to. Please promise, and she will watch."

Helena looked at the woman to take the measure of her. The woman's black eyes locked onto hers. As they looked at each other, a strange tranquility stole over Helena. The longer they stood staring, the deeper Helena felt the old woman was plumbing the depths of her soul.

After an indeterminate amount of time, Javier's mother blinked and looked away. Helena dragged in a ragged breath and bent over to rest her hands on her knees. Her heart was beating a rapidly in her chest. Her mind was exhausted and foggy, and her muscles ached as if she'd run a mile full out.

The old woman and Javier spoke quickly in Quechua. Finally he turned to Helena. "Please show her the video."

With slightly shaky hands, Helena held up the camera and let them watch. The whole time she examined Javier's mother for reactions, but the woman's face was as responsive as the stone of the tomb.

When it finished, the woman again said something in Quechua. Then she reached out and drew a line down Helena's forehead with her thumb. Without another word she strode off towards the camp.

Helena watched her go, her stomach tight with fear.

"My mother said you should not have disturbed this site," Javier said.

"All of these carvings? She doesn't know what they mean?"

Javier shook his head. "She can not help you." With a small smile, Javier backed away from her and followed his mother up the trail.

Helena scrubbed her hands over her face at the frustrating memory.

Now she was uneasy and wired for sound. What she needed was to work out some of this tension. "Hey Fitzy, up for some training?" Helena called as he came out of his tent.

He clutched at his stomach and shook his head. "Nah, something I ate yesterday isn't agreeing with me."

She crossed to him and peered into his eyes. "You're even pastier than usual, dude. We ate all the same things, and I'm fine. Your shots are up to date, right? Those mosquitoes have been feasting on you."

They slowly walked to the canteen tent and sat down. "Yeah, I'm up to date on everything. I feel so weak. My legs are actually shaking. And my stomach is turning over, but the food smells good, which doesn't make sense."

Helena chewed on her lip. "No, it doesn't."

She looked around the tent and saw a few other people who looked like they were feeling ill. In Spanish she called across to Javier, "Are you feeling ill? Weak? Nauseous?"

He nodded and laid his head on his arm.

"Maybe some of the meat in the stew was bad."

"It was a vegetarian stew, but it could still have been off. I'm going back to bed. How's Jake?" Fitzy dragged himself off the bench.

"I'll check him now. I'll check on you later." On the way, she found out a quarter of the camp were feeling sick. All with the same symptoms. But they had all eaten out of the same communal pot.

"Jake?" She called softly into the shadows of their tent. "You awake?"

"Babe, I feel like death." Jake raised a shaky hand to push back his hair.

She felt his forehead. He was clammy with sweat. "A bunch of people are sick. Must be some bug going around."

He nodded. "So cold." She tucked the cotton sheet tight around him, added a blanket, then lay down behind him and wrapped her arms around his shivering frame. He fell back asleep a long time before he stopped shivering. When he was finally resting peacefully, she went out to find the professor.

He was in the main tent, again on the phone. "I know she's on vacation, but she'll want to be in on this...What do you mean you don't know where she went? You're her assistant!...Then call the cruise lines...Then call all of them!"

Helena waited as the professor argued with an assistant that must have been a saint not to have hung up as the demands got more and more ridiculous. Finally, he yelled, "Yes, call me when you've spoken to her family!" and hung up.

She ducked into the tent quickly, "Hey Professor, do you need anything?"

"If you can find me someone versed in ancient languages that would be nice! Even our government contact isn't around. He's getting emergency surgery after a bloody car accident!"

"Oh man. Uh, I'll just go and clean out more of the dust, then." She grabbed the equipment bag and cloths, dustpan and broom and quickly made her escape. Yesterday he'd shown them how to carefully clean away the dust, then he spent the next several hours "examining the carvings" while they cleaned.

She had just pushed back the tent flap when the professor called her name. She looked back over one shoulder. "Remember don't open any of the jars," he said in a strained voice. After the stake disintegrated, the professor remembered his craft and had clamped down on the site like a clam.

She nodded and breathed a sigh of relief. This might be her only chance to examine the body alone. "Got it."