Алистер Маклин - River of Death

‘I would say they have done this sort of thing before,’ Navarro said. ‘How long is this going to take, do you think?’

‘Not long at all.’

Hamilton sighted his pistol and shot a quiexada that seemed to be more industrious than its companions. The dead animal toppled into the river. Within seconds, the smooth surface of the river was disturbed by a myriad ripples and there came the high-pitched, spine-chilling buzzing whine as the needle teeth of the voracious piranha proceeded to strip the quiexada to the bone.

Navarro cleared his throat and said: ‘Perhaps you should have shot one not quite so close to the river.’

Hamilton said: ‘Quiexada to one side, piranha to the other. You don’t by any chance see a constrictor lurking in the branches above?’

Involuntarily, Navarro glanced upwards, then down at the boars which had redoubled their efforts. Both men started firing and within seconds a dozen quiexada lay dead.

Navarro said: ‘Next time I go boar-hunting – if there is a next time – I shall bring a sub-machine-gun with me. My magazine is empty.’

‘Mine too.’

The sight of their dead companions seemed only to increase the blood lust of the boars. They tore at the roots with savage frenzy – and, already, several of the roots had been severed.

Navarro said: ‘Señor Hamilton, either I’m shaking or this tree is becoming rather – what is the word for it?’

‘Wobbly?’

‘Wobbly.’

‘I don’t think. I know.’

A rifle shot rang out and a boar dropped dead. Hamilton and Navarro swung round to look back the way they had come. Ramon, who seemed to be carrying a pack of some sort on his back, was less than forty yards away and was prudently standing by a low-branched tree. He fired steadily and with deadly accuracy. Suddenly an empty click was heard. Hamilton and Navarro looked at each other thoughtfully, but Ramon remained unperturbed. He reached into his pocket, extracted another magazine clip, fitted it and resumed firing. Three more shots and it finally dawned on the quiexada that they were on to a hiding to nothing. Those that remained turned and ran off into the forest.

The three men walked back towards the camp, dragging a quiexada behind them. Ramon said: ‘I heard the shooting so I came. Of course, I brought plenty of spare ammunition with me.’ Deadpan, he patted a bulging pocket, then shrugged apologetically. ‘All my fault. I should never have let you go alone. One has to be a man of the forest–’

‘Oh, shut up,’ Hamilton said. ‘Thoughtful of you to bring my rucksack along with you.’

Ramon said pontifically: ‘One should not expose the weak-minded to temptation.’

‘Do be quiet,’ Navarro said. He turned to Hamilton. ‘God only knows he was insufferable enough before. But now, after this–’

The cooking fire burned in the near darkness and boar steaks sizzled in a glowing bed of coals.

Smith said: ‘I appreciate the necessity for all the shots. But if the Horena are around – well, that must have attracted the attention of everyone within miles.’

‘No worry,’ Hamilton said. ‘No Horena will ever attack at night. If he dies at night his soul will wander for ever in the hereafter. His gods must see him die.’ He prodded a steak with his sheath knife. ‘I would say those are just about ready.’ Ready or not, the steaks were dispatched with every sign of gusto and when they were finished Hamilton said: ‘Better if it had hung a week, but tasty, tasty. Bed. We leave at dawn. I’ll keep the first watch.’

They prepared for sleep, some lying on waterproof sheets, others in lightweight hammocks slung between trees at the edge of the clearing. Hamilton flung some fuel on the fire and kept on flinging it until it flared up so brightly that the flames were almost ten feet high. Machete in hand, Hamilton departed to obtain some more fuel and returned with an armful of branches most of which he cast on the already blazing fire.

Smith said: ‘Well, granted, granted, you know how to make bonfires. But what’s it all in aid of?’

‘Safety measures. Keeps the creepy-crawlies at bay. Wild animals fear fire.’ He was to be proved half right, half wrong.

He was on his third fuel-hunting trip and was returning to camp when he heard the piercing scream of fear. He dropped the fuel and ran into the brightly lit clearing. He knew the high-pitched scream could only have come from Maria and as he closed on her hammock the reason for her terror was obvious: a giant anaconda, at least thirty feet in length and with its tail still anchored to one of the trees that supported Maria’s hammock, had one of its deadly coils wrapped round the base of her hammock. She was in no way pinned down, just too paralysed with fear to move. The anaconda’s vast jaws were agape.

It was not Hamilton’s first anaconda and he had a nodding respect for them but no more. A full-grown specimen can swallow a 150-pound deer in its entirety. But while they could be endlessly patient, even cunning, in waiting for their next meal to come along, they were extremely slow-witted in action. While Maria continued to scream in the same mindless terror, he approached within feet of the fearsome head. No more than any other creature on earth could an anaconda withstand three Luger bullets in the head: it died immediately, but even in its death the coil slipped over the girl’s ankles and continued to contract. Hamilton struggled to pull the leathery coil free but was brushed aside by Ramon who carefully placed two rifle bullets into the upper centre of the coil, severing the main spinal nerve. The anaconda at once went limp.

Hamilton carried Maria across to his groundsheet close by the fire. She was in a state of mild shock. Keep a shocked patient warm, Hamilton had often heard, and the thought had no sooner occurred to him than Ramon knelt alongside, a sleeping-bag in his hands. Together they eased the girl inside, zipped up the bag and sat to wait. Navarro came to join them and jerked a thumb in the direction of an apparently sleeping Smith.

‘Observe our gallant hero,’ he said. ‘Asleep? He’s wide awake. Has been all the time. I watched him.’

Ramon said complainingly: ‘You might have come and watched us.’

‘When you and Señor Hamilton can’t take care of a simple-minded reptile like that it’s time for us all to retire. I saw his face and he was terrified, seemed quite unable to move: not, I am sure, that he wanted to move or had any intention of moving. Has the girl been hurt?’

‘Not physically,’ Hamilton said. ‘I’m afraid this is basically my fault. I had a big fire going to frighten off wild animals. Well, anacondas are also wild creatures and as frightened of fire as any other. This one just wanted out: it was the devil’s bad luck that it was roosting in the tree that helped support Maria’s hammock. I’m pretty sure she would have come to no harm. The reptile was simply easing its way down the tree. Apart from the fact that its belly is swollen and obviously would not be requiring another meal for a fortnight, it probably had a much greater matter on its mind, such as getting the hell out of here. All very unfortunate but no harm done.’

‘Perhaps,’ Ramon said. ‘I hope.’

‘You hope?’ Hamilton said.

‘Trauma,’ Ramon said. ‘How deep does a trauma lie? This has been a traumatic experience. But I think that’s only a side issue. I have the feeling that her whole life has been a traumatic experience.’

‘You plunging into the deep waters of psychology, psychiatry or what-have-you, Ramon?’ Hamilton didn’t smile as he spoke.

‘I agree with Ramon,’ Navarro said. ‘Twins, you know,’ he added apologetically. ‘Something is wrong or not what it appears to be. Her actions, her behaviour, the way she talks and smiles – I find it hard to believe that this is a bad person, a common whore. Smith, we know, is a bad person. She doesn’t care for him, any fool can see that. So what goes on?’