Read Online Dead in the Water by Brian Woolland - Free Book Online Page A

observers. And that includes Da Silva, Dias and Rachel. Jeremy is convinced that the attack was politically motivated, but the officer in charge merely shrugs in a gesture that says ‘Tell me about an attack like this which isn’t.’ He’s not bothered by the fire, not bothered by the break in, and doesn’t want to question Salvador. Nobody died. Nobody’s hurt. So it’s a waste of his time.
     
     

11 Amazonas
     
    The source of the light is a luminous spider. Rachel lifts her face closer to watch the almost spherical body pulsing on and off like a beacon. Perhaps a mating signal, a courtship ritual, an arachnid equivalent of the peacock’s fan? Or a warning against predators? When the body is illuminated, the light makes it seem transparent – and she realises that nearby is another spider, dark, unglowing, presumably a mate, caught in the lucent spell, dazzled by the radiant one. A fatal attraction? She regrets her ignorance; but feels curiously elated. However bizarre the private lives of these little creatures, they are not helicopter gunships.
    Exhaustion overtakes her. José seems more at peace. He has not called out for a while now; and the regularity of his breathing soothes her.
     
    Rachel is woken by an eruption of sound as daybreak prompts every forest creature to announce its presence to a world obscured in heavy morning mist. As the burning sun gains strength, it draws mist up the trunks of the trees to the canopy, and in less than an hour, for the first time in several weeks, the sky is cloudless, blue and harsh. They are, as she guessed, in a clearing. She extricates herself from the survival bag, waking José as she does. His naturally dark skin looks lifeless, pallid as candle wax,. He claims he’s feeling OK, but she knows he’s lying: he has no appetite, and is reluctant to talk. Yesterday, when they stopped, he was convinced they were less than an hour from the river, but it looks unlikely that he can stay on his feet for an hour. The heat of the sun is already ferocious.
    She digs into a pocket for the compass. South West will take them to the river. She shakes out the survival bag, trying to rid it of ants and bugs; and then rolls it up. They both need water. Fresh water and shade. She takes the machete; it’s a measure of José’s physical state that he allows her to lead the way. When they first arrived in the village he showed her forest plants with leaves rich in moisture, showed her others which are toxic; and now he’s trusting her to make those judgements. But she’s making mistakes – it wasn’t until after they have left the clearing that she thought to use the solar charger on the satphone battery.
    As the hours pass and they seem no closer to the river, Dias stumbles and falls with increasing frequency; and although he says nothing of his pain, Rachel fears that fortitude alone will not see him through another night. Her hands are covered in blisters from wielding the machete, her feet are covered in sores. And the forest is closing in on them. If there had ever been a path here, it has long since healed over. An hour to the river he said. It’s taken an hour to cover a hundred metres. José’s childlike trust in her is all that’s keeping her from succumbing to her own terrors. She’s losing confidence in her ability to identify the leaves which are nourishing. And they have to find fresh water. She checks her pocket again. The digi-card and the camera are sealed in the protective bag, zipped in a pocket..
    Her gloom lifts as they reach another small clearing, bordered by plants with enormous green leaves that act like funnels, storing rainwater. Gently, she manoeuvres José to sit beside one of the giant leaves; then reaches into her rucksack and pulls out the water bottle. Gives it him to drain the last drops. He moistens his lips; but his eyes are shut and he’s losing consciousness. She kneels and scoops water from the leaf. She should taste it before filling the