Amazonia

Kelly cringed.

Nate pointed to the laptop. “There are more details in the files. My father and the medical doctor of the group began to formulate a frightening conclusion. The tree hadn’t just mutated the lower species. It had also been changing the Ban-ali over the years, subtly heightening their cognitive abilities, their reflexes, even their eyesight. While outwardly they appeared the same, the tree was improving the species. My father suspected that the Ban-ali were heading genetically away from mankind. One of the definitions that separates different species is an inability to breed together.”

“The stillborn child…” Manny had paled. Nate nodded. “My father came to believe that the Ban-ali were near to leaving Homo sapiens behind, becoming their own species.”

“Dear God,” Kelly gasped.

“It was why their need to escape became urgent. This corruption of mankind in the valley has to be stopped.”

No one spoke for a full minute.

Anna’s voice, full of horror, whispered, “What are we going to do?”

“We’re going to get that damn GPS working,” Kostos said harshly. “Then we’re gonna bug out of this damn place.”

“And in the meantime,” Carrera added, “we should gather as much of that repellent powder as possible, just in case.”

Kelly cleared her voice and stood up. “We’re all forgetting one vital thing. The disease spreading across the Americas. How do we cure it? What did Gerald Clark bring out of this valley?” Kelly turned to Nate. “In your father’s notes, is there any mention of a contagious disease here?”

“No, with the inherent healing properties of the Yagga tree, everyone remained incredibly healthy. The only suggestion is the taboo against one of the Chosen, the Ban-ali, leaving the tribe. A shadowed curse upon he who leaves and all he encounters. My father had dismissed this as a myth to frighten anyone from leaving.”

Manny mumbled, “The curse upon he who leaves and all he encounters…that sounds like our contagion.”

Kelly turned back to Nate. “But if true, where did the disease come from? What triggered Clark’s body to suddenly become riddled with tumors? What made him contagious?”

“I wager it has something to do with the Yagga tree’s healing sap,” Zane said. “Maybe it keeps the disease in check here. When we leave, we need to make sure we collect a generous sample. That’s clearly vital.”

Kelly ignored Zane, her gaze unfocused. “We’re missing something…something important,” she said, low and quiet. Nate doubted anyone else heard her.

“I can see if Dakii will cooperate,” Kouwe said. “See if he has any answers—both to the final fate of the others and about this mysterious disease.”

“Good. Then we have a working plan for now,” Sergeant Kostos said by the door. He pointed around the room and assigned missions for each of them. “Olin will work on the GPS. At daybreak, Kouwe and Anna, our Indian experts, will act as intel. Gather as much information as possible. Manny, Carrera, and I’ll search out where the repellent powder is stored. Zane, Rand, and Kelly will watch over Frank, ready him for a quick evac if necessary. While at the tree, it will be up to you three to collect a sample of the healing sap.”

Slowly everyone nodded. If nothing else, it would keep them busy, keep their minds off the biological horrors hidden in the pristine valley.

Kouwe pushed to his feet. “I might as well get started. I’ll chat with Dakii while he’s alone down below.”

“I’ll go with you,” Nate said.

Kelly moved toward them. “And I’m going to check on Frank one last time before full night falls.”

The trio left the common room and crossed the deck to the ladder. The sun was only a sharp glow to the west. Dusk had rolled like a dark cloud over the glade.

In silence, the three descended the ladder in the gloom, each in a cocoon of their own thoughts.

Nate was the first one down and helped Kouwe and Kelly off the ladder. Tor-tor wandered over and nuzzled Nate for attention. He scratched absently at the tender spot behind the jaguar’s ear.

A few yards away, the tribesman named Dakii stood.

Kouwe crossed toward him.

Kelly stared up at the Yagga, its upper branches still bathed in sunlight. In her narrowed eyes, Nate saw a wary glint.

“If you’ll wait a moment, I’ll go with you,” he said.

She shook her head. “I’m fine. I’ve got one of the Rangers’ radios. You should get some rest.”

“But—”

She glanced over at him, her face tired and sad. “I won’t be long. I just need a few minutes alone with my brother.”

He nodded. He had no doubt the Ban-ali would leave her unmolested, but he hated to see her alone with such raw grief. First her daughter, now her brother…so much pain shone in every plane of her face.

She reached to him, squeezed his hand. “Thanks for offering, though,” she whispered, and set off across the fields.

Behind Nate, Kouwe already had his pipe lit and was talking with Dakii. Nate patted Tor-tor’s side and walked over to join them.

Kouwe glanced back at him. “Do you have a picture of your father?”

“In my wallet.”

“Can you show it to Dakii? After four years spent with your father, the tribesmen must be familiar with recorded images.”

Nate shrugged and pulled out his leather billfold. He flipped to a photo of his father, standing in a Yanomamo village, surrounded by village children.

Kouwe showed it to Dakii.

The tribesman cocked his head back and forth, eyes wide. “Kerl,” he said, tapping at the photo with a finger.

“Carl…right,” Kouwe said. “What happened to him?” The professor repeated the question in Yanomamo.

Dakii did not understand. It took a few more back-and-forth exchanges to finally communicate the question. Dakii then bobbed his head vigorously, and a complicated exchange followed. Kouwe and Dakii spoke rapidly in a mix of dialects and phonetics that was too quick for Nate to follow.

During a lull, Kouwe turned to Nate. “The others were slain. Gerald escaped the trackers. His background as a Special Forces soldier must have helped him slip away.”

“My father?”

Dakii must have understood the word. He leaned in closer to the photograph, then back up at Nate. “Son?” he said. “You son man?”

Nate nodded.

Dakii patted Nate on his arm, a broad smile on his face. “Good. Son of wishwa.”