A Stranger in Town Episode Five: Barney goes somewhere

The sun was just breaking over the top of the massive structure ahead. Oranges and pinks dance along the edges of their destination, the mist playing tricks with the light, causing a muted rainbow effect.

A large bird of prey flew into Barney's field of vision, shooting straight as an arrow toward the complex. Barney watched in amazement as the bird shrank and shrank and finally disappeared long before nearing their goal. He realized the structure was even more massive than he suspected, and they were still a long ways off.

The natives and other members of the expedition now plied their paddles with increased urgency, making amazing progress down the river. Barney realized they were flowing with the river, and the river itself seemed to be picking up speed. For the first time, their diminutive guide seemed concerned, if not exactly worried, and he exhorted them to even more speed.

Abruptly, he whistled a staccato melody, and the three canoes veered sharply toward the left bank just as a cove came into view. They hurtled to shore without slowing, and drove well up onto the beach. The shock of hitting land knocked Barney headlong into shallow water, striking his head on unforgiving sand. Momentarily dazed, he struggled to his feet, shaking his head and checking for injuries. All sense that he was having a directed dream drizzled away from his consciousness.

Barking orders in that odd pseudo-english, their guide had them hastily flood the canoes, and sink them in the cove. They had to be ballasted with some stone to overcome their natural buoyancy; the guide's strident tone evinced his dismay at the delay. Finally, some standing reeds were subtly intertwined, indicating in some way, Barney supposed, where they could be found.

It was then that Barney heard another incongruous sound, and realized their guide must have heard it long before. They melted into the dense verdant jungle as some remaining natives covered their tracks, returning the cove to the prisitine state they had just violated.

Once inside the screen of the bushes, they halted and grew silent. The noise was louder now, and Barney recognized, but could not name, the sound. One of the Europeans gasped as two inflatable attack boats burst into view and roared past them. All the Europeans were wide eyed. The boats carried five men apiece, one of whom manned a mounted weapon. As they disappeared down the river, the guide snorted and turned to Barney. In faintly accented English he said, "We probably could have stayed on the shore and waved at them, as observant as they are. We, however, will continue to take precautions."

Barney just looked at him, or rather, just over him, trying to remember what they were doing there, and wondering why those boats seemed familiar. And that noise! He thought about asking, but the guide had already turned away, and was preparing for jungle travel.

“No machetes,” he said. “The sign can be seen from the air.” “From the air?” thought Barney. “By what, birds?” The guide spoke again in that other language, and the natives began loading up. “What’s going to see us from the air?” Then he remembered those boats, and how they used no paddles, and the noise. Shouldering his pack, he joined the group as they began their overland trip, feeling a sense of déjà vu.

All that day they traversed the jungle, stopping once for water, once for a quick lunch of hard biscuits and some sort of pulpy, almost tasteless fruit, and once again in the afternoon for water. Barney could not tell how far they had traveled. The jungle gave up no secrets, and he had no frame of reference. They were traveling in a muted green world, lit from without by the unseen sun, filtered so completely they barely cast a shadow. Twice they heard the sounds of the motor boats, once coming back toward them, the motors gunning and forcing the boats upstream. Then later, very slowly, now near, now far. Barney imagined they were crisscrossing the river, drifting with the current. He was certain he knew who they were searching for, and the other Europeans were tense, hunched over as they made their way, as if expecting attack.

The little guide however, had merely walked along, not paying any attention. Barney realized that they were following the river downstream. He watched the guide for awhile, wondering how he could find his way, and keep so close to the river. There did not seem to be any visual or auditory clues. As he watched the relaxed gait of the guide, he followed suit, and let the tension flow from his shoulders, consequently, he was not nearly as tense and irritable as the Europeans when they finally halted.

Barney thought it odd they had stopped so early. It seemed that they had hours of daylight remaining, and he wondered why they did not press on. No one asked his opinion however, and everyone sprang into action, setting up little hammocks, and camouflaging them with some kind of netting. Barney was led to a hammock by one of the other natives and was handed some kind of vegetable. It had a hard purple rind that nevertheless peeled easily, once started. He realized that it was dinner, so he sat in his hammock eating dutifully. Just as they finished setting up camp, if it could really be called ‘camp’, night fell like a hammer. Barney then realized why they had stopped when they did, and he felt his way into a prone position in his hammock. The camouflage acted as a barrier to insects as well, for which he was grateful. He tried peering through the netting, looking for any glimpse of stars or moon. Nothing. The canopy overhead seemed impenetrable, and Barney wondered why the insistence on what he assumed to be camouflage. He nibbled on the remainder of his foodstuff, and then the days exertions took over and he fell asleep without realizing.

Barney woke with a start. He listened intently to the nocturnal noises emitted by the various night living denizens, and then became aware that the little guide was standing next to his hammock. He could just discern his outline, and two faint glows where his eyes would be. Evidently, the pupils were wide open, and they reflected what little gathered light they could.

“Come,” he said in that pleasant soft English. “You need to see this. Quietly though.” Barney rolled out of his hammock and trod closely behind his guide, trying to match his noiseless passage. When they had walked for about 10 minutes, the guide stopped and addressed Barney in a normal tone of voice, unconcerned that it would be heard, “I presume you have come for this, though I know not your intent. Look!” He parted some bushes. With a sharp intake of breath, Barney stumbled and almost fell.

They were on a rise overlooking a valley. Standing in stark relief against the night sky was a fantastic pyramidal structure. Emanating from its apex was a blinding beam of light, blazing skyward. “Yes!” Barney exclaimed, his memory returning.

The guide hit him over the head, and hoisted his inert body over his shoulder.


to be continued