Gerrie Nelson - Lab Notes

The only in-depth questioning regarded the bruise (by now quite purple) on her right jaw. After Diane explained it resulted from a fall on a boat, they bemoaned the fact that an accident had marred such a beautiful face. She wasn’t even required to produce identification for the permits issued in Dr. Florencia’s name.

As for “Dr. Leona”, who remained cool and composed throughout, she already had yearly passes.

Diane was surprised at her own calm demeanor while playing the imposter. Later, analyzing her attitude, she determined that since two of the most powerful men in the country were probably trying to track her down to kill her, being busted by local authorities for using an alias seemed almost laughable.

“One last stop,” Olimpia announced as they pulled up to a restaurant named Bellini’s. Olimpia and Juan jumped out, Diane looked on from the cab. Juan turned and spoke to Olimpia who threw her head back in laughter. Diane turned away; how could Olimpia be enjoying herself?

Ten minutes later Olimpia and Juan emerged from the restaurant. Juan carried two large Styrofoam containers to the taxi’s trunk. Olimpia slid into the backseat, looked over at Diane and said, “Pizza.”

“Pizza?”

“Yes, thirty frozen pizzas. I ordered them this morning.”

“What kind?”

“Does it matter?”

“If I’m going to eat fifteen pizzas, I’d better like them.”

“Chunky pepper and herb sauce topped with crumbled fried plantains.” Olimpia grinned. “When in South America…” But the grin faded quickly. “We may not get to eat them though.”

Diane scanned Olimpia’s features looking for an explanation, but none came.

Diane was tiring of this game. As she stared out the cab window, she saw her past unfold before her. Olimpia had played a prominent role in most aspects of it, from the selection of her schools all the way up to her job at BRI—and now, dealing with the fallout from it.

How she wished she could have seen into the future that day at the conservatory in Pittsburgh. She would have shoved Olimpia into the “adder’s mouth” orchid, crushing the thing that so maliciously arranged their introduction, and fled.

Olimpia leaned forward and instructed Juan to head back to the hotel. They needed to change into jungle attire and pick up their belongings. Then off to the airport and the wilderness.

Diane and Olimpia stowed their backpacks under two of the six seats in the passenger section of the helicopter. The engine whirred to a start.

They had the compartment to themselves except for the two Styrofoam containers strapped to the seats across from them. Diane looked over at the coolers and shook her head. She turned back to the window as the helicopter lifted off the ground with what seemed like a grunting effort and headed toward the mountain.

In spite of herself, Diane’s spirits rose with the aircraft. She was on a magic carpet flying up the lush Buritaka River Valley. Beneath her flowed every shape and shade of green in the universe. She settled back and listened to the beat of rotor blades stroking the air. The throbbing was curiously relaxing; it seemed to be resetting her biorhythm to jungle time.

How she loved the jungle. What an adventure this could be, if only…

The helicopter settled down into a hole in the dense greenery. Once below the jungle canopy, Diane could see they were landing in a clearing atop a ridge. From there, the ancient city was tiered downward into terraces connected by elaborate brick pathways supported by substantial stone walls.

From Olimpia and the pilot, Diane had learned that “The Lost City” was found in 1965 by quaqueros , grave robbers who plundered Indian tombs for antique gold jewelry, semi-precious stones and other artifacts, some dating back to 500 B.C.

An archeological base was set up there in 1976. The site was a sacred city of Kogi ancestors. Legend told of two more ancestral cities, still hidden in precipitous mountain valleys. In recent times the tribe complained loudly to the government about tourists overrunning the area. So now visitors to the city were restricted.

Diane and Olimpia stood amidst their gear and pizza in a whirlwind of dirt and dead leaves while they watched the helicopter depart. It would return for them in three weeks.

Diane inhaled a deep whiff of jungle bouquet. Mingled in the wet foliage was a strangely familiar smell she couldn’t immediately identify. She stepped over to the edge to study the vertical maze of staircases built by the ancient civilization, then turned back to express her amazement to Olimpia. But she was gone.

A quick scan located her at the opposite edge of the clearing. To Diane’s astonishment, two white-robed figures with dark shoulder-length hair rose toward Olimpia from below.

Diane jogged toward them to give Olimpia back-up if necessary. But reaching within ten feet of them, she was halted by sounds emanating from the threesome. Their tones were not like any language. They were more like a deaf person’s indistinct speech, but melodious and, in fact, the trio seemed to be in perfect communication with one another.

At that moment, Olimpia turned and invited Diane into the group.

“Diane, this is Oji and Baluna. They are Kogi. In addition to their tribal language, they can speak some Spanish.”

“ Buenos tardes ,” Diane, Oji and Baluna said in unison, bowing slightly. The men’s gentle manner put Diane at ease.

“They will bring pack mules to carry our things. And they have prepared a hut where we will spend the night,” Olimpia said.

The men took that as their cue. They raised their hands in a parting gesture and headed down one of the stone staircases.

Diane heard a neighing sound in the distance. Aha! That was the smell in the air. “Can that be horses?”

“They belong to some elite hunting club. The Kogi take turns descending the mountain to tend the horses. You will get to see them. Their stables are not too far from our lodging.”

Diane smirked at Olimpia and said, “About that hut: You said the Kogi have prepared it for us. They were expecting us? Did you phone them and make reservations this morning too?”

Olimpia laughed. “Hardly. But even if they had access to telephones, they would not need them. Just as they knew when the conquistadors were coming, they know when I will arrive; they are clairvoyant. Some of them practice telepathy also.”

Oji and Baluna returned with two mules and some ropes woven from liana vines. They tied the ropes to the coolers and slung them over one mule. The gear and other provisions were packed on the other animal. And off they went down and around the labyrinth of ancient stairways.

Their hut, called a kankurua , was a round thatched structure with a cone-shaped roof. Olimpia touched Diane’s arm to slow her entry. “Listen.”

At first Diane heard only the sound of loose thatch rubbing. But then from side vents in the apex came a sound, a chorus of whispers. The voices rose to a crescendo, then died, then rose again. Was it an architectural anomaly? Or had she entered the Kogi’s sanctum sanctorum? She looked at Olimpia for an explanation.

“We are in contact with a Kogi state of mind. An understanding of it can only come with time.”

Diane listened to the voices from aloft while she surveyed her surroundings, typical jungle accommodations: two hammocks covered with mosquito netting, a crude table that held one large and one small gourd, presumably the wash basin and water ladle and on the floor beside the table stood a wooden bucket with a flat stone lid, probably the toilet.

The floor was carpeted with a scattering of fresh leaves. Diane was pricked with a momentary longing for civilization, her customary reaction to the first night on a trek.