Part 12 (1/2)
Lori was shocked. ”I-I never knew . . .”
”Well, we never had the time to get to know each other well. Go if you must-I pray that it is as wonderful as you dream. I don't know if I can live like this forever or not, but I realized a long time ago that if anybody was to get away without all of us getting killed, I would have to stay. I accept that.”
”What? No! I want you to come!”
”You know Alama's plan. The four of us disappeared here-who knows how long ago now, but they still have guns up there. It will be necessary to have someone who can speak with them.”
”But you don't know Portuguese!”
”No, but it is close enough to Spanish.”
”Butyou can't go up there! You know how they're sup-posed to be diverted!”
”It is not the same. If it is to work, I must go with them.”
”You have spoken to Alama about this?”
”Yes. She made some of the same arguments, sort of, but she said it was up to me. She knew, though, that the plan had a much better chance with me staying behind than go-ing with you.”
”You can still change your mind.”
”Perhaps. Maybe I'm crazy. Maybe I will always regret this. But the fact is, I have little choice. I really believe I might wind up thinking this was the best choice for me. Time will tell.”
Lori could only hug her and say, ”I hope for your sake that it is.”
Terry shrugged. ”Besides, I can always come out some-day. Be the tattooed lady, the sole survivor who lived as a Stone Age savage. TheEnquirer alone would pay me enough, with book and TV movie rights, for me to live out my old age.”
Lori sighed. ”Then I betterreally see Gus.”
Gus was still drugged, as was Campos, but he was con-scious. After a long period of apparent catatonia, he was able to be coaxed out on occasion, although he did not rec-ognize what had happened to him and still seemed only vaguely aware of his surroundings. He was thin and weath-ered; his bindings had scarred his wrists and ankles, and he looked almost like a living skeleton. It was pretty clear that he'd need a lot of help, but he was so wasted away and Lori was in such good shape now that she found she could carry him with little trouble.
”Gus, hang on,” she said to him. ”One more day and we'll get you out of here.”
He smiled sleepily like a little child. ”Big story?”
”The biggest.”
”Lots of pictures?”
”As many as you can take.”
He seemed happy at that. She squeezed his hand and went over to Juan Campos. Compared to Gus, Campos was in great shape. He was one very tough cookie, and he had eventually made the best of a mostly intolerable situation. After two early attempts at escape, when he'd shown enough strength to break the tough natural rope bonds and shake off the effects of a very mind-dulling drug, he'd ac-cepted his punishment and the improbability of getting away and tried to make the most of it. He had begun to play up to his captors and to show unmistakable invitations and intent, and he'd been taken up on it by many, and one, possibly two, had conceived with him.
He'd still remained drugged and mostly bound and al-ways well guarded, but he had managed by this to gain ex-tra food and drink and, while weak for lack of any regular exercise, might well be able to make it on his own.
He had figured out who Lori and Terry were and found their transformations into native jungle girls highly amus-ing.
”All right, Campos. Listen up. The tribe wants to dispose of you, but the chief has other plans.
Tomorrow your legs will be freed, and we'll try and give you a little time to ex-ercise them. You're going for a walk, and you'll wear a gag and have rope binding your arms. You doexactly what you're told and you might get out of this alive. Understand? You make one funny move and you'll be full of darts with enough curare to kill you in midstep. Understand?”
He nodded sleepily.
”Do one thing right and you're home free. Be stupid and you're dead. And be aware that n.o.body here really cares which.”
There was nothing else to do now but get some sleep and wait for the next day. It was not easy to do.
Please, G.o.d! Let Terry and I bothbe making the right decision tomor-row!
Professor Umberto Alcazar-Diaz, visiting professor of astrogeology at the University of Sao Paulo, director gen-eral of Site A, and, not incidentally, also a research fellow at the National Aeronautics and s.p.a.ce Administration in Houston, had just taken off his gla.s.ses and settled back for a nap. He had been working almost nonstop on the lab findings dropped off by the morning helicopter, and his eyes were killing him.
Suddenly he heard a commotion among the guards out-side. He was curious but too tired to see to it.
”Carlos. You want to see what that's all about?”
”Si,Professor,” the young man replied, getting up from his bunk and putting aside the routine security report he'd been writing up in English so that his bosses at the Agency could quickly read it back in Was.h.i.+ngton. He opened the frame door on the elaborate tent with a casual air and felt something sting him in the neck. He fell back inside, out cold.
The professor couldn't see much without his gla.s.ses, but he knew that the young man had fallen, and he jumped up and went to his aid. Seeing that he was unconscious, Umberto Alcazar-Diaz opened the door to call to the guards, but he felt a sting in his neck before he could call out, and that was the last he remembered. The door came shut again.
Outside, the guards were oblivious to the happenings in the tent some twenty meters from any of them, but the armed soldier on duty in the camp was staring at something in the evening sun and had his rifle to the ready, while the other off-duty guards stopped what they were doing and tensed, guns not far away.
”No tire! Somos amigos simpaticos!”a young wom-an's voice called from not far away. It wasn't Portuguese and was oddly structured, but one of the men at the card ta-ble made it out.
”Antonio! Hold up!” he called in Portuguese. ”It's some woman speaking Spanis.h.!.+”
”Woman? Women?” the duty guard called back in amazement. ”Can you understand them?”
”Let me see.” The Spanish-speaking sergeant looked out and saw a number of native women standing nervously in a clearing just in front of one of the few immediate stands of trees that had survived the blast.
They were all naked and painted up, but that wasn't all that unusual, although he'd never seen markings quite like those before.
”Habla espanol?”the same woman asked. She seemed to be the leader.
”Si. Quien es?”the sergeant called back, not too ner-vous but puzzled.
”Soy llamado Teysi.”
”Donde viene de?”
”Somos de la aldea.”
”She says her name is Teysi and that they come from the village. That must be the one about three kilometers south-east that refused to evacuate.”
”What are they doing out here so late in the day and all by themselves?” the duty guard asked, not suspicious but just as curious. ”I have been out here so long that eventhey look good to me.”
”You never know about these natives, but the ones in the village are friendly so long as you don't ask them to leave.” He turned back to the small group of women-six, noseven of them!”Porque vienen ustedes ninas aqui? ” he asked them.
The answer came in halting, not very good Spanish, but the message was clear.