Storyteller, Colin & Anne Brookfield [best fiction books to read .TXT] 📗

don’t need that on my conscience.” A few seconds later, Michael shouted, “It’s time to jump. Please change your mind!”

Robert slid his side door open; he was already geared up for the jump and turned to look at his friend.

“Got to do it! I’m tougher than I look, so don’t write me off just yet.” Then smiling, he gave Michael a friendly punch to the shoulder and uttered his favourite cliché, “I’ll be back,” and was gone.

Michael circled around for a while, watching Robert manoeuvring his chute towards a tiny clearing until he disappeared from view. Then he turned the plane for home.

The downwards pull on Robert’s body, lightened considerably as the heavy, dangling satchel impacted on the ground and he applied his new innovation – air brakes. Nevertheless, his landing was still dangerously heavy, due to the rough ground, and reminded him that a broken leg could have been fatal.

The first job was to survey the vicinity, so he left everything where they were, and reconnoitred the area. Two hours later, he found what he wanted; it was a narrow, dry cave in a cliff face down a small ravine. This cave was chosen from others he had passed, because it could not be overseen. It was more than likely that his exotic noisy entry into this vast, primitive world had already been noticed.

Once the bag and chute had been collected, he checked the inner cave with his wind-up flashlight, to make sure it wasn’t already occupied by a hungry predator; he was going to use this as his store. His main residence was a cave much further away. The reason for this arrangement was that he could not afford to have his main survival kit falling into the hands of inquisitive natives, if he were discovered.

By now the light was starting to dim, and he had lit a large fire which burned brightly at the cave entrance. Having eaten food and loaded his rifle, he lay back on his sleeping bag and slipped into a shallow, alert sleep. Every two hours, his watch alarm reminded him, to re-fuel the fire to keep predators at bay. This was to become a regular nightly routine after that.

The first meal of the day was rationed, as would the later ones; this ensured that the food would last as long as possible before having to live off the land.

Robert soon organised a regular system of searching wider around his base camp. It was on the second day, when he chanced upon some signs of a previously occupied clearing, although there was no way he could tell whether it was recent or not. He had prepared for such an event with the lure of a small, new, shining saucepan, which he then left dangling on a piece of string at eye level from a tree branch. Disappointingly, it was still there the following day, but the day after, it was missing. So he knew he had company. He needed a change of strategy if he were to stay alive.

The time had come for him to ‘go native’. His tribal tattoos were the only hope of showing he was not an enemy.

No sane person would walk around without clothes in the world Robert had grown up in, but he still felt a little awkward as he left the cave later, as naked as he had been found as a child. Even the Scarlet Macaws high in the branches, seemed to be jeering and grow more scarlet.

The daily explorations continued; it was tough on the soles of his feet, and the rifle sling rubbed on his shoulder. Another small saucepan had also been tied alongside the gun that he carried; this would rattle his presence, even to the most distant ears.

His project for the day concerned a small lagoon that his cryptomnesic instincts suggested, might lay in the direction he was following. Several hours passed before he entered a wide clearing, fringed by forest, and in its centre was a clear pool that his childhood had known so well.

As he stood there in wonderment, a sudden sound high up in the green, canopied roof, broke the enchantment. This was followed by a ‘THWUMP’ as a Muriqui monkey landed dead on the ground. There was a tiny dart protruding from the creature’s side, and Robert knew his life was in great danger; one wrong move could end it all.

The forest about him would now be full of unseen eyes, all looking at him. His mind searched wildly around for the saving answer. He slowly backed away from the monkey; it was not his property and it seemed sensible to show no claim on it.

His next thought concerned a sound he had uttered occasionally in his earliest days, until dissuaded by the modern people bringing him up. The sound ‘KAA-EE’ rang out from his lips in a clear, penetrating tenor note that resonated throughout the forest trees. Then it echoed back to him – but it was from another voice.

Robert slowly undid the bright shining saucepan, placed it on the floor and moved slowly backwards until he was well away from it. In his hand was a photograph that had been lightly stuck inside the saucepan.

For several seconds, nothing happened. Then in a silence and speed that deceived both ears and eyes, he was surrounded by natives as naked as he was. One of them stepped forwards and picked up the pan, which was followed by sounds of wonder from the others.

The deciding moment seemed to have arrived. The same man moved towards Robert with his arm stretched out, pointing a finger until it almost touched the prominent tattoo on Robert’s arm. Again, there were sounds of wonderment from all the natives, and the tenseness seemed to dissipate as they all drew in close and began to smile.

Now there was the problem of communication. There was of course, the probability that his rain forest family group might not have individual names, or anything worth calling a ‘language’ at all.

He showed the photograph to the leader; it was a naked picture of him that had been taken when he was first found. However, the picture did not seem to have the effect he had hoped. Nobody seemed to understand what it was; they were turning it back to front then upside down. Finally, he indicated for its return, and held it up the correct way with the picture facing them. They all leaned forward inquisitively.

For the next few minutes, he continually pointed at the picture and then to himself, with further hand signals to indicate his former height. Suddenly, an older lady let out a scream of recognition. With tears freely running down her cheeks, she rushed forward to grasp his hands. There was also a man at her side, equally ecstatic and waiting for his turn.

In those remarkable moments, everything of former value flooded back to him. He was re-connected once more with his family roots and the natural world. This re-connection would transcend both time and distance wherever the future might take him. Although, when he had time to think about it later, the odds of him having a future here, were extremely slim. As a child, this had been a paradise, but to leave a ‘Garden of Eden’ and return, only means to find ‘Paradise Lost’. There was no place for him here anymore.

Robert’s greatest fear was passing infection on to these pristine people and for that reason, had taken every medical precaution to preclude that possibility. Many such isolated groups had already been lost to epidemics due to Western contact.

For the next few days, Robert ate and slept by the side of his parents at a nearby temporary camp. On the third morning, everyone arose early, ready to move on. This changing from place to place, was always the way nomadic people avoided over exploitation of their area.

That morning, despite his parents’ remonstrations, Robert indicated firmly, that he could not go with them and stood watching sorrowfully, as they slowly moved out of sight.

Although his wish not to follow them could not possibly be understood by his parents, at least they now knew he was alive, so the thoughts and feelings between the three of them, would be linked forever now, through space and time.

As he left, the rain began cascading through the high forest canopy, which made it difficult to see and find his bearings. It was almost dark before his base cave appeared. Fortunately, he’d had the foresight to leave dry kindling beneath a rock overhang at the cave entrance, so was able to get a fire blazing. This was very necessary, as he had seen a large jaguar on several occasions nearby.

He was awakened early by a family of noisy howler monkeys, that had taken up residence in the surrounding trees but, they were not the only company.

Robert sat bolt upright; there was a native sitting on his haunches by the fire watching him – and something was cooking which smelled good. The native grinned, pointed to his offer for breakfast, and they were soon sharing a roast leg of Tapir between them.

After they had eaten, the tribal man indicated for Robert to follow him along a track, until they eventually finished up by some tall, riverside reeds from which projected the prow of a Periperi canoe. The man then drew an elaborate map of the river and streams in the sand with a stick, part of which, Robert recognised as the Purus River junction and far beyond. He indicated that the canoe was a tribal gift, which rather overwhelmed Robert. He expressed his profound thanks.

Once they were back at the cave, the only present he could give the man in return, was his parachute material and a penknife. This seemed to please the native tremendously, and he then went on his way with a gesticulation of farewell.

Robert collected all his things from both caves and deposited them later in the canoe. None of his belongings could remain, that might disturb the pristine nature of these people; he had already given too much.

The canoe paddle was not quite as conventional as he had been used to, but he soon adapted to it. It took several days working by compass, and a copy of the sand sketch, before the canoe finally emerged from the myriad of small streams and lagoons into the Purus River.

Finding places to sleep and dry wood for his fire, was a constant problem. It meant that rest and sleep were always inadequate in his seemingly endless journey along the Rio Purus. The only company he had, was the occasional noisy howler monkeys or macaws in the trees along the banks. Occasionally, he saw iguana, sloth and large colonies of fruit bats festooning tree branches.

The moment that proved Robert had finally survived his audacious undertaking, came in a way that seemed amazingly portentous.

He was hailed with some apparent urgency, by an old native in a canoe at the shoreline, who hurriedly paddled out towards him. The man told him, that if he had gone another half a mile further, the speeding current would have sucked him into the narrow gorge of ‘no return’.

As he thanked the man for helping him, he noticed something on the man’s shoulder and arm – they had been deeply scarred from the claws of a jaguar.

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