Uncontacted, page 9
But Antonio had already decided on the stakes, and this was just a big piece of luck toward that end. To let this man live was to sign his own death warrant, yet as he watched the primitive human groggily rise to his feet, no longer an immediate physical threat to him, he found that he couldn’t do it, could not bring himself to strike the man again. He stood there a moment, trying to conjure a scenario in which both of them could live…but no such situation would come. His father had said they planned on killing him anyway, even before they knew he had visited the sacred…artifact? Was that what it was? The strange computer seemed like it had been here a long time embedded in that rock, but he couldn’t be sure. He was having trouble staying focused now, and the tribal man was upright, coming at him again…
Antonio easily fended the man off with a kick to the mid-section. Even if he did kill him, he thought, when they came to check on the artifact again, the body would be discovered, obviously the victim of a fight, and they would know what happened. The sound of rushing water far on the other side of the cavern caught his attention. This place was close to the waterfall and it was no surprise that there would be an underground river of some sort down here.
The tribal man tried a move on him then, what was supposed to be a feint with his left hand and then a kick with his right leg, but it was executed in such slow motion as to be almost comical, and Antonio easily sidestepped the intended kick. He then moved off in the direction of the rushing water, baiting the man to follow him, because it would be easier if he walked himself rather than having to incapacitate and then carry him.
Even while engaged in this fight to the death, Antonio couldn’t keep his mind off the strange device in the center of the cave. It still pulsed deep red, and looking around the cave, Antonio saw that the phosphorescence on the cave walls—at least that’s what he had thought it was—now glowed red also. Extremely strange, and he would have to come back to investigate that. But right now he had business to finish up.
Thankfully, the tribal warrior stumbled after Antonio across the cave, muttering an indecipherable chant as he went, reaching out with an arm now and again to make what was no doubt intended to be a threatening swipe, but what actually came out as an uncoordinated, zombie-like flailing. Antonio continued to slow-walk toward the water source, guided by the unearthly red light that seemed to be driven by the strange device encircled by stalagmites. His damaged opponent followed him, unwittingly making his foe’s work easier.
When the sound of the water was very loud, Antonio jogged ahead to get the first look at what was up here. He didn’t need any more surprises at this point. He turned and ran to the water, leaving the tribal warrior to stagger onward. Antonio felt the spray before he actually saw the water. Cool flecks of mist dotted his face as he walked up to a cut in the rock; it was like a channel or groove in the bedrock through which a fast-moving current of water flowed. He had no idea how deep it was, for looking down into it he saw only black water. The bottom could be just inches below, or untold fathoms, he had no way of knowing and no time to try and find out.
Looking left, he saw that the water jetted directly out of a hole in the rock; no doubt it connected to the waterfall somewhere. To the right, it traversed the cavern floor before disappearing as discreetly as it entered—through a dark hole in the cavern wall, without any kind of precipitous drop that Antonio could see. He jogged across the cave, following the channel of water, which was about three feet wide. Widespread enough for his purposes, but would the exit be tall enough for what he had in mind?
Once he reached it, he could see that it would be cutting it close, but would likely work. He turned to see the tribal man groggily changing course to come at him at his new location. Antonio waited patiently for him. Then, when he began his flail-fighting, Antonio reached out and grabbed the man by his swinging arm, and dragged him by it until he plunged into the swift-moving water.
The tribal attacker uttered no sound as he was carried along the channel. He reached a hand up toward the edge a couple of times, but was not coordinated enough to grasp onto it. When he reached the aperture in the cave, he reached a hand up to try and prevent himself from being dragged in, but he didn’t have the strength and was carried away into the darkness.
Antonio didn’t know where the outflow of this underground river was, but even if he was found outside somewhere now, at least it might appear that he had slipped, fallen into the water and drowned, rather than being attacked.
Antonio crossed himself, said a silent prayer for the man, and then set about leaving the cave. He’d been down here too long. But first, there was one more thing he wanted to do.
He raced back to the circle of stalagmites and wedged himself inside again. He hadn’t noticed the change, but the LED panel embedded in the rock was now glowing green instead of red. Looking up at the rest of the cavern walls, they also glowed a subdued green. Antonio reached down and tried to extricate the device from the rock, but found it wouldn’t budge. Maybe he could pick up the entire rock, then? It wasn’t that large, perhaps the size of a soccer ball, but would it come loose from the cave floor, or was it attached like a stalagmite? With only one way to find out, Antonio put his hands beneath the black rock and lifted.
He felt the grinding of stone on bedrock, and then the black orb with its embedded technology rose from the cave floor in his hands. He was holding it! Antonio picked it up until he was standing, sure that he was cradling the entire contraption—rock, device and all—eyeing the floor of the cave to make sure no piece of it had been left behind. Satisfied he had all of it, Antonio tucked it into his small backpack (it just barely fit after fussing with the zipper to get it to close all the way). Then he slipped out of the circle of stalagmites once again.
After adjusting his backpack straps for the heavier load, Antonio made his way out of the cavern, retracing his steps, guided by the eerie cave light--now a deep, cerulean blue. He had a scary moment upon reaching the branching tunnel portion of the underground labyrinth, where he wasn’t sure which path to take, but he spotted a familiar pattern of glowing lights and was able to backtrack before getting hopelessly lost.
Slipping into a tunnel he recognized, he followed its slope gradually upward until a curtain of green vegetation was visible, framed against the mouth of the tunnel. He had reached the exit.
Glad to be above ground once more, Antonio set off into the jungle at a trot.
Chapter 16
Oxford University, England
Dr. Stel Foster opened the door of an adjoining room and stepped into a small conference room where Alfred and two other anthropology and linguistics colleagues were already seated at a table. Normally, he had many more colleagues than that to choose from, but these were the only two on hand he could trust with such a sensitive matter. Through a window with one-way glass set into the wall, they could look into the adjoining room Stel just came from.
In that room was a similar table and chairs, with two people seated. One of them was a linguistics expert, while the other was the tribal man they had brought from the Andaman Islands. The indigenous person was now wrapped in a blanket—the only thing they could get him to wear—and sat on the very edge of his chair, pushed back from the table so that he was not able to touch it at all. Right now he stared warily at the linguistics expert, who had recently begun speaking to him in various Amazonian tribal dialects, after none of the Indian Ocean region ones had worked.
While he tried to break through to the tribal individual, Stel and the others observed the proceedings from the adjoining room, from which they could hear via speaker.
“He’s been reciting phrases to him for hours, Stel.” Alfred gestured to the activity through the glass. “Don’t you think he would have said something by now if he was going to?”
One of the other linguistics experts nodded. “It does seem unlikely that this is having an effect, Stel. How do we know, for example, that he didn’t already say something that was understood, but the subject chose to ignore it? Because he’s already through with the Indian languages, he’s trying out Amazon dialects, just for the hell of it, but of course we don’t expect a hit there.”
They watched through the glass for the next fifteen minutes as the tribal man returned the linguistics expert’s Amazonian conversation with blank stares. The expert stood from his chair and looked through the mirrored glass, holding up a finger.
“We’re going to take a break, Stel, and then I’ve got one more thing to try. It’s a long shot, but it’s all I’ve got.”
“Right, let’s give the guy a break, have Devin bring him in some water and fruits. So far the fruits are the only thing he’ll eat.”
While they waited for the session to resume, Alfred stressed the importance that they wrap things up soon. “We can’t keep this guy hidden for too much longer, Stel. I’m pulling every string I’ve ever had just to get us this far, but this is just too explosive—word of this is going to leak, Stel.”
The other colleague in the room spoke up. “Agreed. Once the administration finds out that this person has no visa, and that we didn’t file any kind of intention to work with human subjects, it’ll be a pure scandal with a lot of fallout.”
Stel looked sullen for a moment, but quickly recovered. “But it’s amazing, isn’t it? I mean, you guys are worried about procedures and paperwork, and…look at what we’ve got here! A living human in the year 2018 who speaks no known language. How crazy is that?”
The linguistics colleague shrugged. “It’s highly unusual, no doubt about that. But it doesn’t give us the right to circumvent established human subjects protocol. After this next round, Stel, we’ve got to return him to his island.”
They peered in on the tribal person, who still sat in his chair, pushed back from the table, staring at the two way glass, appearing to marvel at his own reflection, making faces at himself, shaking his head rapidly back and forth, and gesturing with his arms.
“Of course we’re going to return him to his island! I told you the plan was to bring him here temporarily for study, specifically to solve the langue problem, ask him a few questions, after which he’ll be spirited right back to where he came from. The only snag so far is that none of the languages are a match with his, which is an unanticipated setback. Excuse me for that.”
An awkward silence followed, which was broken by the other linguistics expert reentering the adjoining room. He carried with him a laptop computer, which he set up on the table in front of him as he sat across from the tribal subject.
“What have you got?” Stel asked, glad for the interruption in their conversation.
The expert held up a flash drive briefly before inserting it into his computer. “What I’ve got here are old field recordings of Amazon tribe dialects which are now thought to be extinct. No one uses them anymore that we know of, and no one actually speaks them, although many of the root words are familiar. But let’s just see how he reacts, shall we? Here we go…”
The researcher played the audio recording of a tribal elder speaking to a noisy tribal group. The recording was not high quality, especially by modern standards, but the words were legible enough. They all watched the tribal subject’s face closely for signs of recognition, but there was no visible change in his demeanor. The linguistics man shook his head.
“I’ve got one more.” He cued up another audio file and let it play, the exotic sounds of an Amazonian tribal chant echoing in the English conference room. Again, the same reaction from the subject. No recognition whatsoever.
Stel slammed a fist on the table in the other room and lay his head on the desk.
“That’s it,” Alfred said. “We’ve got to start the return trip process with him, Stel.”
Stel felt his hopes of a stunning discovery vanishing before his eyes. Oh well, he thought, there’s still that thing Dr. Medina brought up, with that strange language in the little known Amazon tr—
Stel broke off his thoughts and raised his head. He looked at Alfred.
“Before we do that, I have one more thing to try. Have Lelani patch a call through to Dr. Antonio Medina’s satellite phone, right away. He’s currently on expedition in the Brazilian Amazon.”
Chapter 17
Brazilian Amazon
Antonio’s right foot caught on an exposed tree root and he nearly went tumbling headlong before managing to regain his balance. He’d been running non-stop since exiting the cave, and now neared the point of exhaustion. Fortunately, he had also almost reached his goal. Up ahead, he saw the blue and white of his ultralight peeking through the foliage.
He saw no need to return to the tribal village. His father, after such a stunning revelation, had told him all he needed to know. He had in his possession, in the pack on his back, the very secret the tribe had so painstakingly guarded. It was time to return to his own camp.
He slowed to duck under a profusion of branches, the clearing where he had landed his plane just beyond. His ultralight was there, but a new devious possibility sent a jolt of adrenaline that shocked his system. What if the tribe had sabotaged his plane, tampered with it? He had been gone a long time, now, and if they hadn’t started wondering why he wasn’t back yet, they would any second now. Hunting pigs didn’t take long for these people, they would question it when he didn’t come back soon.
He broke through into the clearing and ran to the airplane. A smile took over his features as he assessed its condition: gas tank still there and half full of fuel, tires looking good, wings intact…it had been left alone. To have sufficient takeoff distance, the plane would need to be turned around, though, since he had come in and rough-landed near the very end of the clearing.
As soon as he put his hands on the plane’s frame to begin turning it around, he heard the chants of the warriors coming from the game path that led to the village.
They were coming to check on his plane.
Jesus. Got to turn this thing around….His hands gripped the support struts and he strained his arm and leg muscles to move the unwieldy machine. After exerting himself to no effect, he saw a rock wedged under one of the wheels where it had come to rest, and he had to take the time to dash over and kick it out of the way. Then he got back into position on the struts and tried again.
The plane began to roll, slowly, but the tribe was much closer now. They made no attempt at stealth as they ran down the game path; he could hear leaves and branches being whipped out of the way. Come on, come on…Antonio pushed with everything he had, and finally he had the ultralight turned 180 degrees so that it faced his improvisational runway with what looked like, just barely, enough room to takeoff, if everything went well.
Antonio jumped up into the pilot’s seat, cursing as his heavy backpack hit the back of the seat, pushing him forward at a sharp angle that wouldn’t allow him to fly the plane. He hadn’t had such a heavy load in the pack on the way here. He stood and glanced into the jungle, where he could now see flashes of dark, bare skin as the tribal warriors ran to the edge of the clearing. Then he let the bulk of the pack hang over the back of the seat edge.
He hit the ignition button. There wasn’t even enough time to pray that it worked on the first try, he just reached out and did what he knew had to happen if he was going to live through this. The first arrows thudded into the ground around him as the engine whined to life.
Go go go…He throttled up faster than he knew was good for the little engine, coaxing everything there was to give out of the system at that very moment.
Images of his father flashed through his mind as the rickety little plane bounced and cavorted down the grassy clearing. The clean-shaven academic, lecturing in a university….the bearded researcher, uncovering new truths about indigenous people…and finally, the tribal human he had himself become, forgoing the society he had been a part of to live like the subjects of his studies...
The plane careened wildly as it hit a rock in the field and for one terrifying second, he thought the left wing tip was going to dig into the ground. It barely cleared, though and righted itself again. He heard the ping of an arrow glancing off the plane’s metal structure. He braced himself in the seat, hands clutching the stick, willing it to raise the plane into the air. He knew the archers would be correcting their aim after their near misses.
In addition to the threat of violence from the now hostile tribe, the rain forest itself was now his true enemy as his plane passed the two-thirds mark of his takeoff strip without yet going airborne. Antonio knew that was not a good sign, that if he wasn’t in the air by now, he might end up smashing into the trees on the ground at the other end of the clearing, like a head-on car accident going forty miles-per-hour.
More arrows plunked into the ground ahead of his plane—they were overcompensating now, Antonio thought—right before the engine finally caught up with its pilot’s instructions and gave a surge of speed, catapulting the plane forward. Recognizing that this was the kind of speed the plane need to go aloft, Antonio braced himself in his seat as he felt the plane leave the ground.
Keep going, keep going…he pulled back more on the stick and then used the steering wheel to keep the ultralight level as he aimed for the treetops. He heard the natives shouting over the engine noise. He wondered if they even knew yet that he had their sacred artifact, that it was being carried away into the sky by a technology they couldn’t possibly understand yet at the same time appeared to be much less advanced than what was in his backpack.
Antonio yanked back on the stick as much as he dared—too much and he would put the plane into a stall. Just a little more, that’s it…Another volley of arrows assaulted his plane as the ultralight reached the canopy, most of them missing, but this time one passed through the fabric of the right wing, tearing it, and another ricocheted somewhere off the metal framework. This arrow was deflected such that it hit him in the right shoulder, puncturing it enough to draw blood, but with the force greatly reduced by hitting the plane first.
