The Creation: Axis Mundi (The Creation Series Book 1) by Behrg The

Author:Behrg, The [Behrg, The]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, mobi, epub
Publisher: Pricks Like Thorn Media
Published: 2015-09-01T04:00:00+00:00

Verse V.

The trees beyond the river barely rustled with the breeze, their limbs and vines, branches, even leaves, carrying a weight to them which seemed to hold the wind at bay. They were like the tepuis – immovable. Permanent. Indestructible to all but the human hands that would one day ravage as far as this remote part of the jungle in exchange for a few pieces of lumber and a multi-million dollar contract.

Dugan stood at the bank of the Icabarú river, studying the foliage beyond with a cigarette in hand. Chupa laughed behind him at something one of the men said, the noise blending in with the cries of birds and chitter of monkeys.

The bridge here was collapsed, whether from the earthquake or sabotaged by natives he wasn’t sure. In truth, Dugan believed it was one and the same. The Humvees were more than capable of passing through the river, its depths typically less than six feet, but these days were feeling less and less typical.

“What do you think?” he asked, without looking away from the opposite side of the river.

Oso, of course, couldn’t vocalize his answer, but he also didn’t write one. Maybe he sensed Dugan’s question had been rhetorical; the native had been the one, after all, to stop the vehicle and get out, observing quietly their surroundings. Oso had a strange intuition that Dugan had learned to trust and right now the native’s apprehension was making him nervous.

Kendall approached, stretching his arms wide and groaning loudly. Dressed in his camos, he was only missing a beige hardhat to complete what would surely be a Ken doll safari outfit. Though Dugan doubted Mattel outfitted their dolls with fully automatic rifles.

Further down, where debris from the bridge had gathered in the water, the Kid was taking a leak into the river. A few of the others had gathered nearby.

“Should we pull out the picnic blankets?” Kendall asked, swatting at a mosquito on his arm. “Or you want us to build a rowboat?”

Dugan ignored him, glancing again at his handheld GPS coordinator. They were less than two miles from where the native Guayanata had fled; no wonder the men were antsy.

A sharp scream sounded, Dugan following the noise.

The Kid toppled into the water with a huge splash, Rojo and Chupa laughing at the river’s edge. The black Somalian handed Rojo a joint. Weed was like candy down here. Not that much different from where things were going in the States, from what Dugan had heard.

The Kid came up, slapping water at the two of them. “Come on, man, my dick was still in my hand!”

“It’s always in your hand,” Rojo said, to more laughter.

Kendall left to join the others, shouting something Dugan chose to ignore. His attention fell back to the river. It was a dark turquoise, greener at the shores with moss and growth. Giant Amazon water lilies, Victoria amazonica, stretched across the river just north of them; deceptive stepping stones, each up to four meters in length. Thick vines passed in the currents, though they might have been snakes.

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