Trees Hold Up the Sky 9 William James Johnson

Carlos Santander moved quickly through the aircraft alerting his passengers to prepare for the arrival at San Fernando. Jess gently shook Laura.

"Better wake up sleeping beauty. Time to return to the real world."

She sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes. "So soon?"

"We both slept right through lunch. I guess this bucket of bolts wasn't so bad after all."

Her face was flushed where she had rested against Jess. Opening her carry-on bag, she looked into a small mirror and toyed with her hair. For a moment she was more woman than scientist. Jess smiled at her attempts to make herself presentable.

"Why bother? This place is hardly a town. Who's going to notice you anyway?"

"Never can tell. There might be some rich Colombian looking for a gringo wench with a bit of class."

Requesting they fasten their seat belts, the Captain warned them there would be a strong cross wind on landing. San Fernando was in the eastern highlands, about 9000 feet above sea level. At this time of the year, there were often unpredictable gales.

Racing below them, were the sparkling white waters of the Aturus Rapids, plunging 58 feet in just five miles of the mighty Orinoco. Checking the small map he was carrying, Jess realized for the first time San Fernando de Atabapo was on the Venezuelan side of the river.

"I thought our base was in Colombia."

"Isn't it?" asked Laura, puzzled by his remark.

"Not according to this map."

"Can I see it?"

"Help yourself."

While studying the map, Laura felt the plane jerking to the port side, descending into the heavy gusts. The only option available to the Captain was a north-south runway, cut between giant trees, standing in a jungle swamp. Desperately fighting to keep it under control in the tremendous cross wind, Valenzuela knew if he over-corrected, they would end up wrapped around the huge trees which smothered the small airstrip. Laura dropped the map and grabbed the armrests with all her strength as the plane bounced uncontrollably in the turbulence. Then came that moment of terror, when the huge machine is no longer supported by air. As sudden as a cardiac arrest, the plane dropped out of the sky and smashed the ground like a free-falling elevator.

A loud explosion and high pitched screeching of metal against rock, terrified the passengers, wrenched cruelly by the plane's spastic careening off the gravel, swinging madly towards the heavy brush. For several anxious seconds the old war-horse twisted and groaned until it skidded to a stop, angled sharply starboard, its wing touching the swampy grass.

"Holy God. What the hell happened?" asked Jess, looking back at Hank Newton.

The voice of Captain Valenzuela came over the speaker.

"Please forgive me Senors and Senoritas. We blew our starboard tire when we landed and the rest you already know. I ask you to remain in your seats until we can check our situation. Gracias."

"Blew a tire?"

"That's what the man said," replied Jess.

"Not so surprising when you get a look at the condition of that runway," said Hank. There were several large rocks covering the surface of the poorly maintained airstrip.

"We're lucky we didn't lose more than a tire. I'm surprised they let aircraft land on such a poor surface."

"If you've had a look at your map, you'll see that we're a long way from any civilization. The landing strip probably hasn't been used in years. It's left to the pilot's discretion."

Tightening her seat belt to avoid falling against Jess, Laura watched the Captain and co-pilot stagger along the steeply tilted cargo compartment, followed by Carlos. The rear door had been twisted in the contortions of the machine before it stopped, and it took the steward several wacks with a hammer to pry it open. He extended the metal steps and the Captain went outside to check the damage. The complete starboard undercarriage was missing, and the end of the wing had a massive tear. Other than that, it was a good seat of the pants landing, considered by bush pilots to be any landing you could walk away from.

"Okay folks. Let's go," said Hank.

"Can I ask you a question Hank."

"Of course. What's the problem?"

"I thought you said San Fernando was our base camp."

"It is."

"But this isn't Colombia."

"That's right. It's Venezuela."

"Then why are Gonzalo and Obispo involved? This isn't even their country."

"The cave is on the other side of the river, in Colombia. San Fernando is the closest civilization we could find within reason."

"How far is the cave from here?" asked Laura.

"Sixty miles up river. Just on the edge of the rain forest."

"Beyond those rapids I saw coming in?"

"Yes. Getting past those rapids will be the toughest part of our trek inland. We have to cut a path through the undergrowth because we can't use the river. You saw how turbulent it is."

Following the students out of the wreck, they helped carry the supplies back to the runway, across a shallow marsh. Each uncertain step in the mucky bottom, exuded the pungent odour of decaying vegetation. Brightly coloured lizards and snakes darted for cover as the water was stirred up. It took over an hour to carry and stack everything on the dusty gravel strip. None of the equipment appeared to be damaged in the landing.

Gales of dust obscured the row of low buildings in the distance, churned up by a jeep and two trucks heading towards them. Like the plane, these also were vintage transportation, left in the area by the U.S. Army when the Corps of Engineers did an extensive survey of the Orinoco in 1944. A young, red headed technician skidded the jeep in the loose gravel before coming to a stop, and rushed over to them.

"Welcome back Hank. Sorry to be late. The boat had trouble getting out of the current. From the looks of things, I'm glad I wasn't here to see that landing. That's going to take some time to fix. Are you folks okay?"

"Thanks Stuart. We're fine. Just a little shaken up that's all. We blew a tire on landing."

"With the condition of that strip, I'm surprised you didn't end up back in the trees."

"Looks to me like Valenzuela locked on the brakes after he felt the right tire blow," said Jess.

"Sounds like you're a pilot."

"Helicopters. Viet Nam. I'm Jess Martin. How are you Stuart?"

"These are our two new members Stu. Jess and Laura. They'll be working on the decoding."

"Hope you weren't expecting Shangri-la," said Stuart MacGregor, a young electronics specialist from Glasgow, who had been working with Newton for three years. Well-liked by everyone, his wry sense of humour took the edge off jungle living. He and Eric had been the best of friends.

"Stu is our communications expert. He's going to keep us in touch with your people back in Washington."

"We were all shocked to hear about Eric. Damn shame. I'm really going to miss him."

"We're all going to miss Eric. He was a helluva guy."

"When the film kept getting ruined, he didn't quit. It's too bad no one thought about radiation."

"There was no way of knowing. Dr. Ama Khan has sent us some special gear to use in the cave. Hopefully no one else will have to go through what he did."

"Is Peter with you?"

"I left him in Bogota. He has a miserable case of dysentery. I had him check into a hospital. Gonzalo promised to keep an eye on him."

"I sure hope it's not radiation poisoning like Eric."

"I don't see how it could be. Peter spent more time in the surrounding area than in the cave. I think it was more likely insect bites which got to him. That, and the possibility he may have gotten some contaminated water. Gonzalo said he'd get him to us as soon as he feels better."

"Well let's get this stuff on the trucks. This time of year you never can tell when there might be a sudden downpour." Stuart paused for a moment and studied the bright faces of the mestizo who were joining their party.

"Who are all these young folks?"

"Gonzalo's idea. Without the zambos, we had to get help somewhere to carry all that new equipment to the cave. They're his special students. We met them the other night. I'm sure you're going to like them."

"There's one I like already, and I don't even know her name."

"Which one is that Stu? asked Jess.

"That beauty over there," he said, pointing at Estrelle. "You've got good taste that's for sure. She's Estrelle Garvas."

"This could be my lucky day." He called everyone to come to the jeep, and gave them instructions. "Let's get everything on the trucks. Put the equipment on one truck, and the people on the other. When you're finished, the trucks will take you over there, by those buildings. Then the hard work begins. The road ends there, and you're going to have to carry the equipment through the trees to the village beside the river. Are there any questions?"

There were none.

"Good. Let's get to work."

When they were finished loading, Stu started the jeep and signalled to the others to follow in the trucks. Surrounding the airstrip, was an unending swamp. The road into the tiny village of San Fernando had been raised out of the floor of the bog. It had been built by the Corps of Engineers when they linked their makeshift runway with the small village. Many of the houses stood on stilts above the stagnant water, and were joined by rickety board walks suspended on the trunks of trees jutting out of the green slime. The road began at the runway, and ended at the first of the boardwalks. Native women in threadbare dresses stood in the doorways of their makeshift cabins, holding naked children, curiously watching the arrival of these outsiders.

"I told you it would be primitive," said Hank.

"But this is more than primitive. This is hardly marginal. So where do we live?" asked Laura.

"In town."

"You mean this isn't San Fernando de Atabapo?"

"This is San Fernando. There are about eight San Fernando's in this part of the country. We have to transfer to one of the small steamers at the other end of the village. Our base is about a three hour trip on the Orinoco."

"It's not as bad as this I hope," said Jess.

"Hell no. You'll be staying at Hotel Granada. It's at least a four star hotel," said Hank, smiling.

"Really?" asked Laura.

"Don't let him tease you," said Stu. "The Granada is the only hotel in town. It's not bad. Considering."

"Considering what?" asked Jess.

"That it's run by the military."

"What are they doing running a hotel?"

"They needed a place for their jungle contingent. You know what it's like with the Army. They grabbed the best there is."

"Why are they here in the first place?" asked Laura.

"The governments of Colombia and Venezuela have anti-drug squads located in many of the small villages. The soldiers are supposed to sanitize the area they've been allocated, so that the government bosses can convince the rest of the world that they are making a sincere effort to destroy the cocaine trade. They get millions of dollars every year from the big western countries for the Army to fight the drug lords."

"And is it working?"

"Are you kidding? The soldiers are being paid off by the producers, and the traffickers. They've got the best of both worlds. That's why they've got themselves located in the best hotel in town. They've got money to burn."

"How does our group get along with the Army?" asked Jess.

"On the surface, it seems okay," replied Stu giving another one of his annoying, ambiguous answers.

"Stuart thinks the Army may have been responsible for our zambos leaving," said Hank.

"Why would you think that?" asked Laura.

"Just a feeling I have. Now that we've discovered the Atabapo Cave, I think they would just as soon have us leave, so they can take credit for the find."

"I don't agree Stu," said Hank. "If that were the case, the government could easily revoke our visas. Instead, Obispo arranged for us to fly rather than have to spend days on the river."

"That's because they realize they still need us to decode the symbols. If I were you, I'd feed them false information until we're all free and clear of this place."

"I wish you weren't so negative," said Hank. "In the three years we've been on the Project, I've had excellent co-operation. Gonzalo has been most generous. I'll admit their way of doing things may be different, but give it time, and you'll get used to it. I really think they want to help us."

"Well Hank, as I said before. What have they got to lose. We'll do all the work, and they'll get the credit," said Stu.

"There's one thing you're forgetting Stuart."

"What's that?"

"The native peoples of these countries remember the obscene exploitation of their resources by the Europeans four centuries ago, and the continued abuse of their lands and their people by our own powerful country. I think you're sensing their fear of being exploited again, this time by our party. All I would like to say is, try to forget these negative attitudes, and let's get the job done."

Stu grinned at the two new members of the expedition. "The guy's got a golden tongue. As I was saying to some of the fellows just the other day, Hank Newton could charm the drawers off a nun."

"I don't know if that's a compliment or not," said Hank, smiling.

Stu felt the need to explain his attitude. He didn't want to begin his relationship with these newcomers on a sour note. "I'd like you both to realize I'm not really such a downer. It's just that losing my best friend like I did, I guess I wanted to blame something."

When they reached the end of the wooden walks, the ground became firm. A narrow path, wound its way through the heavy growth to another small settlement by the river's edge. Moving gently at it's moorings was a small steamboat, the "Orinoco Queen".

Hank Newton spoke with an elderly black man who managed a weather beaten warehouse on the dock. Arrangements were made to have the students carry the supplies and store them in this building until the trek inland would begin. Henriquez was put in charge of the work, and Newton and his friends went aboard the small steamboat.

Waiting to greet them was Skipper, Jose' Barbarosa, over three hundred pounds of smiling latino with a raggy beard that didn't quite fit his fat face. The small craft tilted against the dock as he moved to the edge and extended his hand. He sweated profusely, even in the moderate air at this altitude. At sea level he would probably just melt away.

"My dear friend Dr. Henry." His voice had a hollowness about it, sounding as if it were electronically produced.

"Thank you for waiting Jose'. These are my two friends, Dr. Mason, and Dr. Martin."

Jose' extended his hand to Laura who reluctantly took it, and was repulsed by the huge man's lips touching her flesh. Tactfully she withdrew it, looking towards Jess who helped her out by extending his own hand to the fat man.

"It's nice to meet you Captain."

"Any friends of Dr. Henry, are friends of Jose'. Me and my humble boat are at your service."

"We can go whenever you're ready Captain. The others will have to come along later. They have a lot of equipment to move."

"I can wait Dr. Henry. My boat can carry a heavy load."

"I have no doubt about that," said Hank, smiling at the others, appraising the enormous bulk of the man.

"Then we go."

Grabbing a frayed pull cord, Jose' blew the steam whistle. Two of his men yanked in the mooring lines, and the small boat chugged into the fast running current. Swiftly they moved past the dense green of the jungle which dipped into the river's edge. Laura and Jess stood in the bow, watching the battered boat cutting its way through the dark water.

"So what do you think so far?" asked Laura.

"Too soon to tell. It was interesting though to hear Stu's comments. Seems he's got the same premonitions we both have."

"I think there's more to this drug thing than we've been told."

"Like what for instance?"

"The Army is located back here in the jungle. Getting paid off by both sides. Cocaine is big business. They sure don't want outsiders seeing the real dimensions of this thing," said Laura.

"Then why not refuse to let us do our work altogether?"

"In the beginning, no one expected the expedition would find anything. They were only trying to confirm the ancient legends. Now they've got a real mystery on their hands, complete with a radioactive cave. If they were going to stop us, they should have done it before Hank's discovery. Now it's almost too late."

"So what do you think could happen?"

"From what I've read, these drug lords think nothing of wiping out whole villages to keep control of their business. You can imagine how quickly they would come down on us, if they suspected we were nosing around their action."

"From what I've heard, even the Army has trouble finding these producers. What makes you think we're going to suddenly come across one of these compounds?"

"Colombia is the main refiner of the product. Brazil and Guatemala send enormous amounts of raw materials to be processed here. It makes sense, after you saw the condition of that runway, that the traffickers are going to use the river to get their product to the coast. So it seems to me, it also makes sense that the processors are going to locate as close to the river as they can, and we're going to be trekking across the land bordering on the river." Laura stopped for a moment and looked intently at him. "Does any of this make sense Jess, or do you think I'm becoming terribly paranoid?"

"That's the problem. It makes too much sense. Like you said before, we both better be alert. No matter how strange something may seem to either of us, don't be afraid to talk about it."

"Look at the fat excuse for a man, sucking up to Henry like that. What a ridiculous waste of skin. When he touched me, my flesh crawled. There are very few things in life I can't stand, and he's all of them."

"Avoid him. Stick close to me. I don't mind running interference for you."
Laura grabbed his arm and tilted her lovely face upwards, turning on the school girl charm which had turned many men to putty.

"I really do love you Jess. I feel safe with you."

"I just hope I haven't got you mixed up in something we'll both regret further down the road."

"Right now, I would be ready to go into the very jaws of hell with you, that's how much I trust you."

"Let's hope those words don't come back to haunt us.