How Teddy Roosevelt Slew the Last Mighty T-Rex (22 page)

 
“You do realize,” George Cherrie said calmly, “that you will both likely die lonely deaths in this god-forsaken wilderness with only the trees and mosquitos bearing witness to your utter stupidity.”

Julio tugged violently at the cloth strips binding Cherrie’s hands behind the naturalist’s back. Theodore Roosevelt could almost feel Cherrie’s searing agony, even though he sat on the ground several feet away. “Quiet,” Julio hissed. “You will get what you deserve, Mr. Cherrie. I will never forget the beatings I received at the hands of your mindless slaves. My only regret is that the man-boy Rondon was not among you. How I would have loved having some fun at his expense. Is that not right,
senhor
Martin?”

Martin cackled like a madman, maintaining his rifle’s barrel aimed directly at Roosevelt’s head. Kermit sat passively to Cherrie’s right, his own hands bound and his mouth gagged. Roosevelt noticed Kermit’s nose dripping blood. Theodore Roosevelt closed his eyes and shook his head, recalling Kermit’s minor insurrection only minutes before, and it’s abrupt and inevitable end at the butt-end of Julio’s rifle.

Theodore Roosevelt seethed.
Stay calm
, he thought.
Keep the hostage-takers occupied with conversation, observe, and probe for weakness
.

Julio de Lima grasped Roosevelt’s hands, drawing them firmly behind Teddy’s back. Julio leaned forward whispering into Roosevelt’s ear like a coiled snake. “And you, Colonel, I remember every degrading remark and every accusation.” Julio pulled the bindings tight. “You rich Americans… You come to Brazil to steal our resources and enslave our peoples. Now it is time for the underclass to fight back. It is time for me to live like a king for a change, not take orders from filthy royalty like you.”

Roosevelt cringed with pain. “You’re a madman, Julio. You are stealing from nobody but your own native people. Two men cannot survive in this wilderness without help. What you are doing is suicidal.”

Lieutenant Martin lowered his gun.

Julio backed away slowly. He stood before all three captives and smiled wryly. “
Senhor
Martin is a crack assassin with his rifle. He can take out Rondon and his monkey Lyra with little effort, and I can easily remove the doctor. The others should fall into place once the officers are eliminated.”

“I think you greatly underestimate these men. Most are of sound moral character. They would most likely—”

“It is you, Colonel, who know little of the camaradas or the men of Brazil. We are all born with so little that we will forge alliances with the devil just to survive botched expeditions like this one. Once these men realize
senhor
Martin and I are in control and they see the riches we carry, they will side with us. Trust me when I tell you the majority of these men were already quite fed-up with Colonel Rondon’s and your own incompetent leadership. The task will be easier than you might imagine.”

“What about men like Antonio? Luiz?”

Julio chuckled. “I never said the task would be without some… very minor difficulties.” Julio turned to Martin, who gleefully issued a quick and rude slicing motion across his own throat. Julio brushed his hand as if removing a pesky flea. “See,
senhors
, Mr. Martin knows exactly how to handle dissent amongst the rabble.”

Martin howled with laughter. The Englishman began pacing back and forth gesturing with his hands and muttering to himself. Roosevelt overheard him say, “If only the mighty
Arawuua
doesn’t eat us all first… chomping us to bits for a light evening snack.”

Julio’s eyes widened. He shook his head.

“I think you can plainly see,” Cherrie whispered, “that Lieutenant Martin has completely lost his mind and cannot be trusted.”

Julio sneered. “Have no worries about Martin,
senhor
Cherrie. He will do his part when the time is right.”

“Have you not been paying attention? He has not eaten in over a week, even though he has been offered his due rations several times.”

“He is accustomed to living on very little.”

“Even fresh game…”

“The Nhambacurras survive on next to nothing.”

“Starvation can fill a man’s mind with illogical thoughts. I have seen it happen on many expeditions.”

Julio sighed. “Do not play me for a fool,
senhor
. I understand what you are trying to do. You attempt to divide Martin and myself in a desperate ploy to make your escape.” Julio waved his finger. “This will not work. Any attempt at escape will be met with a bullet directly into Theodore Roosevelt’s brain.”

“Do not hesitate, George,” Roosevelt interrupted breathlessly. “I am fully prepared to die. Try anything to—”

“Silence!” Julio hissed. “I must inform you that the second bullet will silence your precious little pampered son.”

“Listen, Julio,” Cherrie said, attempting to change the subject and calm some frayed nerves. “What do you suppose Martin is doing here? Why did you not just kill the three of us and be on your way?”

Julio sneered. “Now, you finally speak some sense,
senhor
. I have questioned this tactic many times since Martin and I agreed to this scheme.”

“Then why not kill us?”

Roosevelt had immediate reservations about Cherrie’s present tactics, but lacked any ideas of his own at the moment.
I just hope for Kermit’s sake he doesn’t heed the naturalist’s advice.

 
Julio sighed with resignation. “Because,
senhors
, I stick to my side of agreements. I find this to be an inconvenient personal fault. Martin is obsessed with luring the Wide Belt’s giant crocodile into this pit. I think he wants to slaughter the beast to prove some point to the natives.” Julio shrugged. “I suppose every man has a personal journey to fulfill. I told him we were too far from the river to find such a creature, but he simply laughed and waved his hand.”

“This creature, “Roosevelt said, “may be far more dangerous than a river crocodile.”

“And it could very well be a forest-dweller,” Cherrie added. “Martin may be correct to wait for the creature here, but Mr. Roosevelt is also correct when he warns that the creature may be more ferocious than you envision.”

“And yet I agreed,” Julio continued, “to allow him his fun for just one night. I will use the Wide Belt’s shelter to protect me through the evening. The natives were more resourceful than we could ever have imagined.”

“And how does he intend to lure the beast?”

Julio laughed perversely. “Unfortunately,
senhors
, fresh carrion is rare in the deep jungle.”

Roosevelt closed his eyes.
This cannot be happening
, he thought repeatedly, testing his hand’s bindings.

Darkness overtook the clearing. The men watched silently while Martin collected firewood and constructed a fire above the deepest end of the pit. Julio appeared impatient with his role as camp guard and griped constantly of hunger.

“Eat,” Martin said. “You have stolen more than we can carry. Stop your complaining and eat!”

Julio opened several cans of the expedition’s stolen provisions. He gulped the precious foodstuff down in minutes. Afterwards, he lay back and gazed into the starry sky.

Martin, whistling an inappropriately merry and wholly British tune, arranged the hostage’s rifles and ammunition near the fire. Upon finishing his task, he sauntered over to Julio. “Let them see, Julio. Let President Roosevelt and Mr. Cherrie see the diamonds you have plundered. Allow them to see how the gems sparkle in the firelight.”

Julio sighed deeply. Reluctantly, he reached for his sack of plunder.

Martin slowly leaned over the Brazilian’s shoulder. Roosevelt noticed an odd gleam in the Englishman’s eyes, followed by a brilliant grin.

Roosevelt watched in stunned silence while Julio—caught completely off guard—seemingly never noticed the blade of Martin’s knife materialize beneath his chin. Before Julio could react, Martin’s blade slid effortlessly across Julio’s outstretched neck, severing the brawny camarada’s carotid artery.

Roosevelt watched wordlessly as Julio de Lima collapsed to the ground like a sack of potatoes just a few feet beyond his own bound ankles. The camarada lay convulsing, his severed throat spewing rivers of blood across the clearing’s floor. Roosevelt could not help but stare into Julio’s blank eyes as his life-force drained away to eternal stillness. Lieutenant Martin straddled his victim like the Colossus of Rhodes, holding his bloodied knife at shoulder height in the grand fashion of a victorious Roman gladiator.

Roosevelt felt for a moment a surge of hope, but the feeling turned abruptly to confusion and then to despair, watching the Englishman stare at the dying man with eyes the size of saucers and his mouth agape with sickening ecstasy—the look of the criminally insane.

George Cherrie uttered nothing during the whole brief episode.
There is little doubt he is likely as shocked as I am
, Roosevelt thought. Almost an afterthought, Roosevelt spied his bound and gagged son a few feet beyond Cherrie. Roosevelt noticed a tiny trickle of dried blood on Kermit’s temple, no doubt from the blow from Julio’s rifle butt a few hours before. Roosevelt felt relieved that his son’s eyes were now open and that he had finally regained consciousness.

“Unbind us immediately, Lieutenant,” Cherrie said suddenly. Roosevelt detected a bit of desperation in the naturalist’s normally steadfast voice.

Martin stood his ground, continuing to stare down at Julio. After pausing several seconds, the Englishman suddenly looked up, laughing hysterically.

“You heard Mr. Cherrie, Lieutenant,” Roosevelt commanded. “Release us and be on your way. We will not stop or hinder you. You have my word!”

 
Ignoring Cherrie’s and Roosevelt’s pleas, Martin grasped Julio’s hands and began dragging the limp body away from the hostages and nearer to the pit’s edge. The Englishman dropped his gruesome burden, gasping for breath. Roosevelt overheard him mutter to the corpse. “You are still quite a load, my friend. I see that even a month in the jungle has not pared your bulk.” Martin rubbed his chin. “I wonder…?”

Roosevelt whispered to Cherrie. “We are obviously dealing with an insane man. I doubt we can persuade him with rational argument.”

“We must be careful, Colonel. He has already proved his willingness to murder without provocation. Any miscalculation could very well be our last.”

“Lieutenant Martin,” Roosevelt bellowed. “As your commanding officer, I demand you tell us your intentions. Why do you keep us captive? If you desire the jewels, simply gather them up and be on your way. We cannot stop you.”

Martin laughed heartily. He casually strolled over to Julio’s sack, untied its bindings, and flung its contents across the length and width of the Wide Belt’s pit. He tossed the empty bag toward George Cherrie. “There, gentlemen, I have appeased the Wide Belt’s Gods. Are you satisfied?”

“Well then, Mr. Martin, just what are your demands? I feel we have every right to know.”

Martin shook his head, saying softly, “I have no particular demands, Colonel Roosevelt. But I am going to grant you and Mr. Cherrie the greatest favor a scientist can bestow upon another of an equally inquisitive mind. I intend for you to bear witness to the ancient ritual of the
Kariati. I only request that you
report such to the outside world, that is, if you are fortunate enough to survive…”

“You’re mad,” Cherrie said flatly. “You wish to lure a living tyrannosaur into this pit and then slaughter the beast singlehandedly? Judging by the size of the footprints we found beside the river, this creature is most likely twelve feet tall and six tons in bulk.”

“Even the African elephant,” Roosevelt added, “which is considerably smaller and presumably less nimble then this creature, requires several skilled shots from a powerful rifle… even then, the kill may not be assured. I know this from direct experience.”

Martin grinned. “I have no intention of using a rifle, my simplistic American friends.” Martin reached down and lifted a long spear from the ground. Roosevelt noticed that it was constructed in Wide Belt fashion, yet a hunting knife functioned as the spear’s tip. “An ancient ritual requires traditional weapons, do you both not agree?”

“You will be killed,” Cherrie said, tugging at his bindings in desperation. “And we will likely die shortly thereafter in the jaws of this beast.”

“Quite possibly, good chap, but first I must prepare for our special visitor.” Martin looked down at Julio. “Are you ready my greedy friend? It warms my heart knowing you will serve a higher purpose for the first time in your pitiful life. I hope those tins you stole were consumed in earnest, because your flesh should be ample and meaty to be worthy of such a magnificent beast.”

Martin stripped off his own clothes, and soon he stood stark naked before the hostages and the fire’s flames. He tossed his ragged trousers and shirt into the pit. “There,” he muttered to himself. “That feels much better. Now, I must get down to business.”

“By the grace of God,” Roosevelt whispered to Cherrie. “He has finally lost all touch with reality. He truly believes he is a native!”

Martin grabbed his axe and chopped forcefully into Julio’s left leg just above the knee. Roosevelt glanced away in revulsion. Martin chopped repeatedly until the leg broke free. The Englishman whistled a merry English tune while performing his grisly task. Roosevelt noticed Martin’s legs coated in freshly splattered blood.

Lieutenant Martin systematically removed Julio’s arms, legs, and finally the camarada’s head. Roosevelt and Cherrie watched helplessly, not uttering a word. Roosevelt assumed from Martin’s skilled butchering that he’d worked from experience gained from living amongst the
Nhambiquaras, who had long been rumored to practice the abhorrent act of consuming human flesh.

Martin grabbed the torso by its shirt and dragged it toward the pit’s edge. He shoved the bloody mass into the deepest part of the pit. Martin grabbed each leg, tossing them into the forest near the pit’s mouth.

“Bait,” Cherrie said. “The smells of fresh kill for a predator.”

“Or scavenger,” Roosevelt countered.
“Either way, some will certainly come, whether it is jaguar or monstrous beast.”

Martin continued his ghastly butchering as the stars shone brightly above the clearing through a cloudless sky. The Englishman, now almost completely covered in human blood, gathered up most of Julio’s remaining body parts and distributed the bloody slabs near and around the pit. Roosevelt noticed Martin setting aside parts of Julio’s upper arm, and his stomach turned imagining Martin’s intentions with the leftover flesh.

Roosevelt calculated that midnight had passed, and with Martin currently occupied organizing and discarding Julio’s body parts, he whispered to Cherrie. “The moon should be full and directly overhead in a few hours. We can attempt our escape within its light, if the opportunity presents itself.”

“I’ve tried for hours without success to pry my binding loose, Colonel. I’m afraid they were tied securely. What about yours?”

Roosevelt maneuvered his wrists against the small of his back. He felt a measurable gap between his hands. Struggling mightily, he couldn’t pull the binding over either palm. “I’m very close,” Roosevelt said. “Apparently, Julio failed to bind my hands as well as he did yours. He most likely underestimated my strength and tenacity to escape. That may have been his final miscalculation!”

“Good, good.”

“But, even if I manage to free my cuffs, what do you suggest we do? The rifles and ammunition are stockpiled close to Martin and the pit.”

“We need a diversion. We need some way to distract a madman.”

“One step at a time, George. For now, we will speak of this no further.”

George Cherrie nodded in agreement.

Martin returned to the fire and placed Julio’s dismembered arms gently upon its glowing coals. Theodore Roosevelt’s stomach churned. Roosevelt had seen evidence of cannibalism practiced by the tribes of Africa but never by an individual born of such an honored and traditional culture. More bemused than shocked, Roosevelt had little of substance to say to the naked Englishman: “And all this time I figured you a civilized man, Lieutenant, but apparently, I was mistaken.”

Martin laughed. “Humans have consumed their own kind since the dawn of man, Mr. Roosevelt. This meat will provide me great comfort and rejuvenate my weakened body. I will need all my strength to confront the beast, would you not agree?”

“Release us from these bonds,” Cherrie said. “And the three of us will help you slay this creature.”

“But you will try to escape and ruin my fun, Mr. Cherrie. Even in this darkness, I can see it in your eyes and sense it in your voice.”

“Three rifles will most certainly provide better odds than a single man with a spear,” Roosevelt added.

“Gentlemen, the wisdom of the Amazonian natives is far superior to those of the so-called civilized world.
 
When I was amongst the Navaïté, their shamans revealed to me a closely guarded secret about the mighty
Arawuua. The creature can be
killed with a single spear-thrust into its neck, but the penetration must be precise and sever the creature’s artery. It is said the beast will bleed out and die very quickly.”

“And if you fail in your first attempt?” Cherrie asked.

Martin shrugged. “Then I believe we will all suffer the consequences of the creature’s wrath.”

“You have gone completely mad.”

“Perhaps… yet, if I succeed, I will rank with the greatest warriors and scientists the world has ever known! Newton… Darwin… Julius Caesar!”

“You will be regarded as none of these,” Roosevelt said flatly. “You will be greeted with scorn and ridicule, and then you will be imprisoned for kidnapping and promptly hanged for murder. Colonel Rondon will see that justice is done.”

“Colonel Rondon is a fool, but he pales in comparison to the British and their utter hypocrisy. They have conquered a quarter of the world to butcher, rape, pillage, and plunder—all in the name of Her Majesty. And the Americans act no better as their influence swells on the world’s stage; no small thanks to you and your despicable policies, Mr. Roosevelt.”

“So, what exactly happened in South Africa?” George Cherrie asked suddenly. “Did the children cry for mercy before you murdered them in cold blood?”

Martin sat silently for a moment, inspecting the human bicep sizzling on the flames before him. Roosevelt caught a whiff of the searing flesh and promptly gagged. Just the thought of burning human skin turned his stomach, although its smell was indistinguishable from the monkey-meat they enjoyed along their journey. “Almost time for a midnight snack,” Martin said.

“You did not answer my question,” Cherrie pressed.

Theodore Roosevelt instantly recognized George Cherrie’s strategy.
Provoke the kidnapper until he lowers his guard. Bravo!
This was certainly a courageous and brilliant maneuver.

Martin shook his head. “Poor Julio, he was as strong as an ox, although he proved just as vapid in the end. My greatest blunder was choosing such an inept co-conspirator.”

“Did you kill all those people?”

Martin sighed. “You are quickly becoming quite a bore, Mr. Cherrie.”

Roosevelt asked, “But innocent women and children…? How could you do such a thing?”

Martin removed Julio’s smoldering bicep from the fire and set it aside to cool. “One does what one must, Colonel Roosevelt. The women and children were just a small sacrifice for the common good of all South Africans…”

Martin stood quietly for a few moments. Even at some distance and shrouded in shadow, Roosevelt felt Martin drifting into some dark and mysterious corner of his overt insanity.

Martin continued, softly, “You should have seen their tiny faces flushed with terror and begging for mercy.” Martin shrugged as if brushing demons from his brain. “Perhaps they were better off dead than living under Britain’s crushing hand.”

“But the innocent—”

“Spare me, President Roosevelt. I acted no differently than your own legions did to your Native Americans. None of us can claim complete innocence, can we? The pendulum of moral absolutism and high-mindedness swings both ways.”

Martin grasped the meat and ripped out a huge chunk with his discolored teeth. He chewed slowly before swallowing the first morsel. He closed his eyes and then tore into Julio’s flesh like a ravenous dog. Theodore Roosevelt promptly looked away.