Part 10 (1/2)

”Nothing we can do now,” Terry whispered back. ”At least Gus isn't dead. I wish they'd used more of that stuff on Campos, though.”

”But we can't go likethis !”

”I don't even want to go if I had on a safari suit, but we're gonna go, that's for sure. Either walking or carried like them.”

They heard rather than saw the burial ceremony. It was done quietly, with the sound of chanting coming from somewhere out of sight, and it was Terry who guessed the meaning of the sound, not from any experience but from the sadness on the faces of their guards and the workers who paused, many with tears in their eyes.

But when the burial party returned, it was all business. It was no longer dark, but the mist from the ground still ob-scured even the tops of the trees. Alama was counting on that heavy mist not only to keep the investigators away a little bit longer but also to allow them to cross the open patches of jungle caused by the impact. A last, unpleasant touch was to be smeared, almost covered, with a thin paste made of herbs and clay that dried a sickly pea green. The whole tribe did it, and one of the tough warrior women su-pervised treating Terry and Lori.

Camouflage. Primitive but effective.

And just as primitive and effective was the simple pan-tomime the warrior woman did for their benefit, taking an ax with a stone blade that was polished razor sharp and showing how easy it was to cut things with it using a large leaf. She then pointed to their mouths and put a hand over each in an unmistakable warning message. Then she stuck out her own tongue and pretended to cut it out. It was amazing how easy it was to get some concepts across.

They trussed up Campos and Gus Olafsson with rope made of tough vines and slid logs through so that they could be carried on poles. Clearly, they were being kept drugged.

Although Lori was taller than any of the tribe and felt she could hardly lift herself, it took only two of the tribes-women, one on each end of the pole, to carry each of the men with ease. All these women were muscular, many as well muscled as body builders. It was in its own way as in-timidating as the blowguns and stone-tipped spears. And none of them was more intimidating than their leader, al-though she was perhaps the smallest of all the women there, certainly under five feet and thin and limber as an ac-robat. It was her manner, her fire, her arrogance that com-manded instant respect and obedience. She had the kind of personality and confident manner that a Napoleon probably had possessed.

Therewas something decidedly odd about her, though. She simply didn't look like any of the others.

Rather, it was like a Chinese or j.a.panese woman amid a group of Mon-gols. She even had the almond ”slanted” eyes that had van-ished, if they were ever there, from the Amerind over the millennia.

The trek was arduous, though they would break for short periods every once in a while, mostly for their captives' benefit. Gourds were offered, one containing a fruit juice of some kind, another some sort of thick and nearly tasteless cold porridge with the consistency of library paste. Terry and Lori took it and managed to get some of it down, mainly because at this point anything seemed good. How the two trussed-up men were managing wasn't clear, but they at least were barely, if at all, aware of their circ.u.m-stances, and as terribly uncomfortable as they were bound and carried, they at least hadn't had to walk.

Mercifully, they stopped for the day after what seemed like an eternity, deep within the thickest part of the jungle. Other than the occasional glimpses of the sun high above the nearly unbroken canopy indicating they were heading north, it was impossible to tell where they were. It was also incredible that so many of them-there must have been fifty or more, plus small children and supplies-could move through such dense jungle with confidence and leave no apparent trace.

Lori had not thought that she'd make it to the end of the journey, though when the day's march ended, she wasn't certain that it was such a good thing, after all. Too ex-hausted even to sleep, too uncomfortable even to relax, she could only think, and that was the last thing Lori Sutton wanted to do.

Just a few days before she'd been in a funk over her per-sonal problems, which now seemed so trivial.

The speed at which she had been plucked from obscurity and plunged into a dangerous but romantic adventure culminating in the professional event of a lifetime for an astronomer left her mind spinning.

Now, naked, hot, exhausted, and in pain, she was trapped in the Stone Age, where virtually all her hard-won knowledge was totally useless.

She had to admit that she felt a little better that her cap-tors were women. At least she would be spared the horrors that she imagined she'd be subjected to by a tribe of prim-itive men. Still, there were children here-all female, she'd noted-and that meant these women had to have mates somewhere. Had the meteor wiped out the men? Were they all away? It seemed unlikely, but it only made the puzzle deeper.

Terry looked only slightly better for the experience than did Lori, but Terry was younger and in better condition and was the kind of person who never gave up hope. She, at least, lay in a deep sleep on the forest floor, oblivious to the world.

Theywere probably the story now, Lori thought. Maybe the hunt for them would be ma.s.sive, but it wouldn't last forever. Not in this jungle-and these primitive women knew the forest as no one else did; it was their entire world. Where was all this ma.s.sive deforestation the environmentalists were always protesting about? She could use a little open clear-cut land right now.

Alama checked on her people, then saw that the white woman was still awake and made her way over to her. It would take a while for these soft Outsiders to build up their strength and become wise in the ways of the forest; until then they would be both captives and liabilities, a fact on Lori's mind as well as she eyed the leader nervously and wondered what was next.

The tiny but tough woman knelt, and black almond eyes looked deeply into the scientist's own. After a moment the leader pointed to herself and said, ”Alama.”

Lori realized that the woman was at least attempting to communicate. Alama was probably a name, possibly a t.i.tle. It didn't matter. She pointed to herself and said, ”Lori.”

”Lo-ree,” the small woman repeated, nodding.

Sutton pointed to her sleeping companion. ”Terry,” she said.

Alama looked over at the newswoman. ”Teh-ree,” she said.

Lori sighed. She was now convinced that this woman, so different in appearance and manner, could not have been a member of the tribe originally. She wished she knew some Portuguese or even j.a.panese, but her languages had been German and Russian. Not much practical help here. Terry's Spanish might do, but Terry was going to be out for some time.

Still, Alama seemed adept at this sort of communication and appeared to want to teach some basics of the tribe's language.

She pointed to her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and genitals.”Seku” She pointed at Lori. ”Seku.” Pointing to others of the tribe, she said, ”Seku, seku, seku,” and to the two bound and drugged men,”Fatah. Fatah.” Then to the guard next to them, ”Seku.”

Seku. Woman. Fatah. Man.

Walk in place.Kaas. Run in place.Koos. The lesson pro-ceeded slowly, with much repet.i.tion when a new word was added. Alama knew what she was doing.

At the end of perhaps an hour Lori thought she under-stood the bare basics. Of course, when any one of the oth-ers talked, it still sounded mostly like gibberish, but that was to be expected. Attempts to return the teaching by matching words in English were abruptly rejected. This was not a lesson for mutual benefit and understanding so much as for the benefit of the tribe.The better to give orders, my dear, Lori thought.

Finally, Alama said, ”Lo-ree sleep,” and it was under-stood. On the other hand, there was still no way to be as sophisticated as to convey ”I want to sleep but I just can't.” Alama, however, seemed to understand. She went away for a moment, then came back with a small gourd and taught another word.

Kao. Drink.

Lori was still dehydrated, and she took it and drank. It was some sort of fruit juice again, with a slightly bitter af-tertaste. Still, after a few minutes, the pain seemed to fade away and the inner turmoil quieted.

She went over her new twenty- or thirty-word vocabulary in her mind, settled down, and was suddenly as deeply asleep as she had ever been.

The next few days were unpleasant but in some ways less traumatic. The men were allowed to come out of their stu-por, although it seemed clear that repeated doses of the same drug on the blowgun darts kept them in partial paral-ysis. The guards were able to keep them quiet with a dem-onstration of what a Stone Age knife or ax might do to not only their tongues but their genitalia.

In the meantime the language lessons continued, some-times with Alama, sometimes with others doing the teach-ing to both women. No talking in any language but the tribe's was permitted. Absolutely none.

Even an unthinking comment uttered in English or Spanish was punished with a quick lash delivered with a vinelike whip to the back or b.u.t.tocks. Ithurt and could cause welts or even draw blood. As bad as that was, it caused amused giggles among those nearby, particularly the children, which made it embarra.s.s-ing as well. They were under constant watch during the day and were made to sleep apart with tribeswomen during the terrible pitch-dark nights. Alama had forbidden all use of fire, and under the thick jungle canopy not even the late, waning moon could be seen.

Eating without cooking was another thing, and it was several days and a bad case of gastric distress before their bodies, if not their minds, fully tolerated the raw-well,creatures -that were offered them and which the rest of the tribe ate with relish. Indeed, both had to be forced, more or less, to eat anything other than the fruit and greenery, which was only slightly more palatable.

A number of times they heard helicopters, often very nearby, and the sound of small planes, but neither seemed to come close enough. Once the sound of voices caused the entire tribe to hide in the underbrush, tensely waiting to at-tack, but the voices soon faded away. Clearly, though, there was a ma.s.sive search going on, but these women were in their element, and soon the searchers moved on, finding nothing.

The two men continued to have the worst of it, and it worried both Lori and Terry. Not that either had much sym-pathy for Juan Campos, whose manner suggested that he knew he was going to die eventually and wanted just one chance to die fighting. Gus, however, was a different story. He just didn't deserve this, and his former irrepressible spirit had gone out of him, almost as if he'd retreated into a world of his own.

For the two American women it was a total immersion into a culture and life and language in which all their edu-cation and experience meant nothing. They lacked even ba-sic knowledge. What was edible?

What would harm them? What animals were a threat, and how did one deal with them? What water was fit to drink? What water contained things that might harm or even eat one?

Still, the tribe quickly put them to work doing what little ch.o.r.es they could manage, such as walking with large gourds filled with water balanced on their heads. First they got lessons, then help, then they were on their own. Either they got it right the first time or they kept at it-all day, if necessary-until the job was done. They did fetching, haul-ing, even bathing the wounded, removing small bugs and other creatures from skin or hair. All the while they were derisively calleddur ordua -child, or even baby-because they were so helpless and ignorant. They werein the tribe but notof it; to become one of the People, one had to earn and desire the privilege.

True to her nature, Terry did not lose hope that one day she would be able to escape or be rescued, and she kept seeing the book she'd write and the movie it would make. These thoughts kept her going, but they were also mixed with pragmatism: Such a time might not come soon, and until then, she wanted to be a member of the tribe, not a slave. In that sense, she was adapting better than Lori.

The scientist was in turmoil over the situation. She was no longer waking up each day surprised that it hadn't been some awful dream; she wasn't even daydreaming much about her nice apartment, bathtubs, showers, and flush toi-lets, but she hated this place and this existence. She was be-coming afraid again, not so much that she might die at any moment but rather fearful that she might actually live, and that she wasn't sure she could stand.

The worst part was that she realized that Alama's sophis-ticated immersion system was working as easily on her as it would on a woman from another primitive tribe. The only way to avoid that wicked little lash was to try tothink in their tongue. Both Terry and had learned enough to be able to do that, but it required constant observation and at-tention. Many of the women seemed to make a game out of trying to force them to make an accidental slip, which would earn another lash.

The language was more complex than it seemed. Terry had the basics down pat, but there were subtleties and nu-ances that were still a mystery to her. For one thing, they had no real concept of time except on a physical level: baby, child, child bearer, old. But ”day” and ”night” were all the clock or calendar they had or needed. The language itself was basically all in the present tense, as if they had no need of a past or future. The ideal of this culture was that every day be like the last and the next; change was evil.