Amazonia

Manny shifted his feet nervously. The professor’s plan was based on too many assumptions for his liking.

Finished with the last stick of bamboo, Kelly and Kouwe stood. Manny stared around the fire. Everyone had packs in place and was holding a short length of bamboo, like his own.

“Okay,” Jorgensen said. “Ready?”

No one answered. Everyone’s eyes reflected the same mix of panic and fear.

Jorgensen nodded. “Light the torches.”

As a unit, each member reached and dipped the ends of their bamboo in the bonfire’s flames. The powder ignited along with the dry wood. As they pulled the bamboo free, smoke wafted in thick curls up from their makeshift torches.

“Keep them close, but held aloft,” Kouwe instructed, demonstrating with his own torch. “We must move quickly.”

Manny swallowed. He eyed the whirring wall of locusts. He had been bitten only twice. But the wounds still ached. Tor-tor kept close to his side, rubbing against him, sensing the fear in the air.

“Keep together,” Kouwe hissed as they began to walk away from the sheltering fire and toward the waiting swarm.

The plan was to use the tiki torches primed with tok-tok powder to breach the swarm while holding the locusts at bay. Under this veil of smoky protection, the team would attempt to flee the area. As Kouwe had explained earlier, “The locusts were drawn specifically here by the scent from the burning Ban-ali symbol. If we get far enough away from this specific area, we might escape them.”

It was a risky plan, but they didn’t have much choice. The shaman’s supply of powder was meager. It would not keep the bonfire smoking for more than another hour or two. And the locusts seemed determined to remain in the area. So it was up to them—they would have to vacate the region.

“C’mon, Tor-tor.” Manny followed after Corporal Jorgensen. Behind and to the side, the group moved in a tight cluster, torches held high. Manny’s ears were full of the swarm’s drone. As he walked, he prayed Kouwe’s assumptions were sound.

No one spoke…no one even breathed. The group trod slowly forward, heading west, in the direction the other team had taken. It was their only hope. Manny glanced behind him. The comforting light of their bonfire was now a weak glow as the swarm closed in behind them.

Underfoot, Manny crushed straggling locusts on the ground.

Silently, the group marched into the forest. After several minutes, there was still no end to the cloud of insects. The team remained surrounded on all sides. Locusts were everywhere: buzzing through the air, coating the trunks of trees, scrabbling through the underbrush. Only the smoke kept them away.

Manny felt something vibrating on his pantleg. He glanced down and used his free hand to swat the locust away. The bugs were getting bolder.

“We should be through them by now,” Kouwe muttered.

“I think they’re following us,” Anna said.

Kouwe slowed, and his eyes narrowed. “I believe you’re right.”

“What are we going to do?” Zane hissed. “These torches aren’t gonna last much longer. Maybe if we ran. Maybe we could—”

“Quiet…let me think!” Kouwe scolded. He stared at the swarm and mumbled. “Why are they following us? Why aren’t they staying where they were summoned?”

Carrera spoke softly at the rear of the group. She held her torch high. “Maybe they’re like those piranha creatures. Once drawn here, they caught our scent. They’ll follow us now until one or the other of us is destroyed.”

Manny had a sudden idea. “Then why don’t we do what the Ban-ali do?”

“What do you mean?” Kelly asked.

“Give the buggers something more interesting than our blood to swarm after.”

“Like what?”

“The same scent that drew the locusts here in the first place.” Words tumbled from Manny in his excitement. He pictured the flaming symbol of the Blood Jaguars. “Corporal Jorgensen and I doused the flames that produced the smoky pheromone or whatever—but the fuel is still there! Out in the forest.” He pointed his arm.

Jorgensen nodded. “Manny’s right. If we could relight it…”

Kouwe brightened. “Then the fresh smoke would draw the swarm away from us, keep it here while we ran off.”

“Exactly,” Manny said.

“Let’s do it,” Zane said. “What are we waiting for?”

Jorgensen stepped in front. “With our torches burning low, time is limited. There’s no reason to risk all of us going back.”

“What are you saying?” Manny asked.

Jorgensen pointed. “You all continue on the trail after the others. I’ll backtrack and light the fire on my own.”

Manny stepped forward. “I’ll go with you.”

“No. I won’t risk a civilian.” Jorgensen backed away. “And besides, I can travel faster on my own.”

“But—”

“We’re wasting time and powder,” the corporal barked. He turned to his fellow Ranger. “Carrera, get everyone away from here. Double time. I’ll join up with you after I’ve lit the motherfucker.”

“Yes, sir.”

With a final nod, Jorgensen turned and began to trot back toward the camp, torch held high. In moments, his form was swallowed away as he dove through the swarm. Just the bobbing light of his torch illuminated his progress, then even that vanished amid the dense mass of swirling insects.

“Move out!” Carrera said.

The group turned and once again headed down the trail. Manny prayed the corporal succeeded. With a final glance behind him, Manny followed the others.

Jorgensen rushed through the swarm. With only his single torch protecting him, the swarm grew tighter. He was stung a few times by bolder bugs, but he ignored the discomfort. A Ranger went through vigorous training programs across a multitude of terrains: mountains, jungles, swamps, snow, desert.

But never this…never a goddamn cloud of carnivorous bugs!

With his weapon on his shoulder, he shrugged his pack higher on his back, both to make it easier to run and to shield him from the swarm overhead.

Though he should have been panicked, an odd surge of zeal fired his blood. This was why he had volunteered for the Rangers, to test his mettle and to experience balls-out action. How many farm boys from the backwaters of Minnesota had a chance to do this?

He thrust his torch forward and forged ahead. “Fuck you!” he yelled at the locusts.

Focusing on the abandoned campfire as a beacon, Jorgensen worked across the dizzying landscape of whirling bugs. Smoke from his torch wafted around him, redolent with the burning powder. He circled around the Brazil nut tree and headed toward where the Ban-ali’s burning signature had been set in the forest.