The Arcturus Man (47 page)

Jared focused on keeping fear at bay. The bushmaster was a nocturnal hunter and
one of the most aggressive snakes in the world.
It was a pit viper and its venom was a
haemotoxin.
Everything he had learned about the bushmaster flashed through his mind
as the index cards of facts flipped through his thoughts.
The venom would soon attack
his haemostatic system.
He would begin to hemorrhage. Just as bad, the venom started
an insidious digestive process. His flesh would begin to break down. Maybe it wasn’t as
bad as he imagined it could be.
The bushmaster’s fangs were almost an inch and a half
long, but the venom wasn’t the deadliest among pit vipers. The bushmaster depended on
delivering a huge amount of venom.
reflexes.
Had he caught it in time?
He had pulled off the snake with lightning quick
How much venom was now in his circulatory system? Was it just a prick? He didn’t know. Would Rubio win after all despite his careful
planning? He hadn’t counted on being bitten by a snake. Bushmasters like to hide in dry
leaves on the jungle floor. What was it doing in the swamp? Jared must have crossed a
dry island. What did it matter? He was bitten and he had to deal with it now.
Whatever venom he received was already in his circulatory system.
He concentrated hard.
He began to shrink the blood vessels and capillaries by sheer will and concentration. He ordered his body to fight the venom. He wasn’t feeling the effects yet, but
they might come—soon. He had to get rid of the snake.
Jared’s night vision was exceptional. He pulled a nylon cord from his pack and
using his free hand, he quickly fashioned a noose. Jared slipped it over the snake’s massive body and threw the other hand of the cord over a low branch. He could hear one of
Rubio’s men coming close. He was carrying a torch. Jared dropped the cord and pulled
his revolver.
He fired three rapid shots at the approaching man.
He aimed for the torch
but it didn’t matter. The man took cover, dropping the torch into the water.
More shots
rang out as other pursuers panicked.
He could see pin-points of light moving around in
the distance.
One of Rubio’s men fired blindly toward where the torchlight had been. Walking
in the waist-deep swamp, the flat trajectory of his bullets skipped off the water. It was a
burst of six rounds. The bullets ricocheted off the water, striking two of the men walking
in front.
Jared could hear men screaming.
They weren’t thinking.
They were reacting.
Survival instincts were ruling. “
That was good
,” thought Jared. “
Two gone
!”
Jared retrieved the cord and pulled it until it was tight and he could feel the weight
of the snake lessening.
He carefully released the bushmaster’s head and backed away,
pulling the cord as he stepped back. The snake was suspended from the branch and was
violently coiling around the cord and branch. Jared tied off the cord at a safe distance and
slipped into the darkness. The great snake couldn’t free itself from the noose.
Within just a few minutes Jared heard the closest man shriek.
“
Madre dios! Serpiente
.”
He had found the present. Good! Rubio just lost another man. It was starting.
Jared now felt pain where the snake had bitten him.
It was beginning. He felt
flushed.
His body temperature was rising.
He blocked the pain.
He moved quickly
through the water even though he understood that moving would push whatever venom
was in his body quicker throughout his system. He needed to get some distance from his
pursuers. He needed a little time now.
He found a massive tree with roots that spread out more than twenty feet.
He
worked his way into the widely spaced roots growing out of the water and found a hiding
place deep within the tree’s roots. Light from torches and flashlights flickered in the distance. Now it was time to be silent.
He listened.
Rubio’s men were chattering to one
another. Rubio couldn’t be happy about that but the men were frightened.
The irony of the moment almost made Jared laugh. He was carrying a Bushmaster survival knife. This was a massive 15-inch knife with a handle large enough to store a
small survival kit.
He opened the handle and found something that looked like a scaled
down version of the Sawyer snake bite pump. He aligned the pump extraction nozzle directly over one of the fangs marks and pumped from the same hole into which the venom
had entered his body.
He quickly pumped the other hole. He wished he could see it but
although his knife also held a small flashlight, he just couldn’t risk it.
Worse, he could
get shot by the Kuna. They would assume that Jared would never turn on a light.
Extracting venom wasn’t recommended for snake bites but there were no medical
services in the jungle. It had to do for now. He cut a small length of nylon cord and tied
it around his forearm, just above the bite.
He tightened it, being careful not to get it too
tight. It was dangerous to completely shut off circulation. That was the best that he could
do for now. He thought about Jenny. Then he realized that this was unusual.
He knew
who he was and he was not a selfless person. Nevertheless, he thought about Jenny. She
meant more to him than he realized—more than he normally would be willing to admit.
He cleared his mind of her image. Tonight was more dangerous than he planned it to be.
She warned him about not treating this like a game.
Jared heard the crack of a small caliber rifle. That must have been the single-shot
rifle that the Kuna carried. Another scream! And then there were more shots—slow and
spaced apart by minutes. Jared could hear screams each time a shot was fired. He didn’t
know if someone had been hit or if it was only fear. He also heard arguing. Then he
thought he heard Rubio’s voice. The Kuna were firing at the lights. It didn’t take the pursuers much time to realize that.
More of Rubio’s men had been hit; probably with each
shot fired by the Kuna.
The lights began to go out.
They were close enough that Jared
could hear the hiss as each torch was dunked into the water.
Soon, Rubio’s men were
firing wildly in all directions. They were hysterical. The dark won.
All of the lights were gone now.
The men stopped talking but Jared could still
hear whispers.
Everyone froze. Rubio’s men clumped into pairs and threes.
They were
back to back, seeking one another’s comfort and whatever security that seemed to bring.
Now the waiting began. One of his pursuers had stopped at the tree roots that Jared was
hiding in. Jared didn’t move.
He was silent and he listened and he sensed who was
around him. They had unknowingly formed a semi-circle around his hiding place.
Whenever one of Rubio’s men moved to establish a better resting position, if
there was any noise, a Kuna shot cracked in the dark—the deadly dark. Soon, no one
moved and no one whispered. The jungle was silent. Even the animals were quiet.
The men huddled in the darkness.
If they felt a large tree, they tried to quietly
climb out of the water as much as possible.
They could feel things moving in the water
around them.
They couldn’t see what it was but there was certainty that it was deadly.
Were they snakes? A few of them had seen the man bitten by the bushmaster hanging
from a branch. Were they crocodiles?
They knew they wouldn’t see the light of day
again.
They were dieing one by one and there were still many hours of darkness to endure.
Rubio’s men were confused. Who was shooting at them? Was it the quarry? The
shots seemed to be coming from everywhere.
No matter how still they tried to be, as
soon as something frightening was felt in the water, they moved.
A split-second later
there was a shot.
Some missed, but more hit the intended target—hit the source of the
sound. The Kuna were patient hunters and deadly marksmen.
Leaning back to back, they waited.
There was a strange clicking sound. What
was it? One man thought he heard a hiss.
Serpiente
? It was impossible to see. Fear was
quickly turning into terror. Jared could sense their terror. He was counting on it.
Jared felt fever. The pain was blocked but he knew it was there, waiting for him
to let down his guard. His heart rate was slowing, but it wasn’t Jared doing it. It was the
venom. He had to do something before he was unable to do anything. His timetable was
no longer viable. He processed a new plan in his mind. It only took seconds.
Jared focused on Rubio.
He was close. He was very close. Surprisingly, he
couldn’t sense any fear. Rubio was apprehensive, but there was no fear. No terror! Jared
focused deeper.
What was Rubio thinking?
It wasn’t clear.
Rubio learned that the
Chocó guide had disappeared. So what. He wasn’t needed now. Then Jared’s senses felt
fuzzy. A mental fog settled over him again.
Jared felt a sharp sting on his neck and then another. Ants! There were arboreal
ants in this tree. Soon there would be hundreds. Rubio’s man was still huddling against
the same tree he was hiding in.
Jared slowly moved his right arm up and silently
brushed the biting ants off his neck.
His mind began to play back everything he knew about them. It was an immense
collection of knowledge. They often inhabit birds nest. The ants and birds somehow get
along. The ants protect the nests and thereby the birds. These birds are seed eaters. They
don’t eat ants. There might be some kind of olfactory camouflage as well. Scientists weren’t quite sure about that. “
Interesting
,” thought Jared. Worker ants don’t leave the host
tree.
Why was he thinking about biting ants? Well, two bit him. But why was he trying
to decide which species it was? His mind was wandering. The venom was beginning to
affect his mind. His only real weapon was his ability to sense where his pursuers where
and sometimes what they were thinking. But he was slowly losing this weapon.
His
ability to sense was going in and out like waves.
Jared realized that he had to take some
action before he lost all of his abilities. Of course, the snake bite might kill him first. He
had to act. Now!
He slowly walked both hands to his pack and quietly unbuckled another side
pocket. The sound of nylon rubbing over nylon was unmistakable. Rubio’s man was just
a few feet away surely heard it.
But would he recognize it? There wasn’t any time to
worry about it.
His mind was addled. He had great night vision but now he could only
see shapes. His vision was blurred. He wanted to be with Jenny again. He mustered all
his reserves. It had to last.
Jared pulled out a short cord from the pocket.
He very slowly worked his way
forward toward the man just outside his reach.
As he drew closer he could sense the
man’s body heat.
The head was emitting a lot of heat.
Then he lunged.
He slipped the
cord over the man’s head and pulled tight. There was a gagging sound and then the man
thrashed in the water, kicking his legs and flailing his arms, trying to reach behind to
grasp his tormenter. It was no use. Jared held the cord tight. More shots rang out. It was
automatic weapons fire. Rubio’s men were firing wildly, again, hoping to get a lucky hit.
Then there was the distinct crack of a Kuna rifle. Another man screamed.
The man stopped struggling.
Jared released the cord and felt for a pulse in his
neck. He was still alive. Good! He grabbed the man by the hips and lifted him slightly to
hook the webbing of the man’s pack on a stump.
He didn’t want him to drown.
There
were other men around the tree they were all sharing but it wasn’t possible to see anything. The darkness was absolutely total. They were petrified waiting for their turn to be
attacked by whatever got their friend.
Jared felt his senses returning again, but would it last? He had to move fast; perhaps faster than was safe. He had to gamble.
His mind kept working on a new plan on
the fly.
He trudged through the water. His vision was returning. That helped as he
worked his way through the mangroves. He was sloshing water. He was moving too
quickly.
Rubio’s men at the tree remained frozen where they were. They had weapons
but knew that the muzzle flash would draw fire. They did nothing.
Jared sensed danger. Someone was aiming toward him and slowly squeezing the
trigger. Jared tuned it in. He felt for the moment that the shooter would get the shot off.
Now! He wrenched his body to one side as the bullet ripped through the tail of his shirt.
It was Lopez. The best shot among the Kuna.
“
Damn it, Lopez
,” thought Jared. “
Can’t blame Lopez
.
How could he know it was
me? I’m making all this damned noise.”

How long would it take Lopez to reload? Was there another Kuna in range? Who
else could hear him moving in the water? If anything, he had to move quicker.
He couldn’t feel that anyone had a night vision scope on him.
He could barely
sense some infrared energy emanating to his right, but he wasn’t in the field of view. So
far so good! But someone was taking sight on him. It was Lopez again. Jared froze. He
couldn’t take a shot if there wasn’t any sound to aim at.
Jared dropped down and submerged in the water where he stood. Something bumped into him, but whatever it was, it
was gone again.
Lopez took his shot.
Jared rose out of the water after the shot passed.
Lopez had hit someone. A scream!
Someone must have been on the same line.
Other
men were thrashing in the water now.
They were stampeding like cattle running from
thunder.
The defenseless feeling of being blind was more than some of the men could
bear. Rubio’s little army was dwindling fast.
Now Jared had to move fast again before Lopez could reload. The nausea was returning. He was starting to lose his edge again. He had to move quicker. He focused on
everyone around him, trying to sort everyone out. He was searching for Rubio.
Rubio’s men were scattering. One pulsed his flashlight on and off so he could
check his compass, but as soon as he did the Kuna shot. With his men moving wildly in
panic, Rubio heard a man close, but never imagined that it was Jared.
Jared unsheathed his Bushmaster knife and in almost slow motion ran it beneath
Rubio’s throat. Rubio froze as the sharp edge pushed against the soft skin.
“Don’t move! Don’t talk!” Jared said in Spanish in almost a gentle whisper.
A
Kuna shot rang out. It missed them both. Jared quickly shifted to the right.
Rubio didn’t speak.
“Do you yield? You may speak, but very quietly.” Jared pulled Rubio to one side,
just a few feet.
Another Kuna shot passed where they had been standing, waist deep in
water.
“Siemels? It is you?”
“Yes, it is me.” Jared sank down into the water, pulling Rubio with him. Another
shot came from another location. They stayed as low as possible. Only their heads were
out of the water. The knife remained on Rubio’s throat.
“What is it you want?” asked Rubio.
“You enjoy reading historic novels—novels about the glory days of Spain—about
knights and chivalry. You love El Cid. You know what yield means.”
“
How could he know this
,” thought Rubio. “Yes, I know what it is to yield. I am
not afraid to die. I do not yield.”
“I know you aren’t afraid to die. But you must ask yourself if this is worth dieing
for?
Think about your wife and your children.
They will lose a husband and a father.
What happens to Vivento?” asked Jared.
“A moment, please.”
“You have 30 seconds Rubio.”
“Yes, I yield. You are correct. This is not worth dieing for. You are not my enemy.”
“Will all of your men obey you?”
“Yes, they will obey.” A Kuna rifle shot cracked in the distance. This time it was
close. The bullet entered the water a few inches from Rubio’s head.
“Do I have your word of honor that you will leave and that you will never again
seek to kill me or anyone close to me?”
“You have my word of honor. I yield.”
At that Jared pulled his knife away. Jared yelled out in Kuna.
The rifle shots
stopped.
“There is no shame in this for me,” said Rubio.
Jared shouted to the Kuna again that it was over and that they could all leave. He
thanked them. His words were in Kuna. No one else understood what was said.
It was over, but not quite yet.
The Kuna fired salutes for the victory as they
waded away, backwards.
Bursts of automatic weapons fire came from the directions of
the various bunches of Rubio’s men spread out around them. Jared and Rubio immediately dropped down into the water. The Kuna immediately began to return fire, aiming at the
muzzle flashes. Another man screamed.
“No, do not fire,” yelled Jared. “No, do not fire,” he yelled again, but this time in
Spanish.
Rubio pulled his handset from the Velcro holder.
“Cease fire. No more firing. That is an order. We all shall leave now.”
He turned to Jared. “Is it safe for them? Can they use lights?”
“Yes, it is safe.”
He spoke into his radio again. “You may turn on lights. You will not be fired on.”
The men were suspicious. What had happened? How could it be safe again?
After many minutes of waiting, a flashlight came on.
It was only three meters
from Jared and Rubio.
Then another and another.
With light, new torches were made.
The men began to gather.
They were relieved when they saw Rubio and that there wasn’t a gun pointed at
his head. They didn’t know why they were instructed to leave, but they didn’t care. This
swamp was Hell.
Now—it was over.
Rubio talked to his men.
He didn’t explain that he had yielded, but he said that
the matter was settled and that they could all leave. There was a unanimous cheer. They
trickled in, walking toward where they first entered the swamp. The jungle would be paradise—even in the night—compared to this swamp. Several helped the wounded trudge
through the water. Seven were clearly dead. They were carried out so their families could
give them a proper burial in a Church.
Several men were unaccounted for.
They might
be stragglers who will show up later. Perhaps a few deserted.
Now—it was really over.
Rubio extended his hand. With light, he saw the Jared was hurt. He didn’t know
it was a snake bite but that Jared was infirm was obvious.
“I made a vow and I will keep my word,” said Rubio.
Jared shook his hand.
“And I will return the favor some day.
I do not wish for this obligation to last,”
said Rubio.
He slogged backward toward his men and soon was out of sight.
The adrenaline had kept Jared going, but now that the danger had passed, he saw
that his body was trembling.
The letdown was sudden.
The venom was destroying tissue, he was bleeding internally, and his mind was clouding. He thought of Jenny again.
He wanted to be with her now. He wanted it more than anything he could remember ever
wanting.
He called out to the Kuna for help. Jeronimo came quickly, followed by two others. The rest were too far away to have heard him.
Jared pulled out his Bushmaster knife and opened the handle again.
He took out
waterproof matches and a miniature flashlight. The little light helped, but not much. At
least he could see what he was trying to do.
His clothes were soaked.
He had nothing
dry to make into a torch and the miniature flashlight in the knife handle was too small to
help much. Jeronimo understood what he was trying to do. The Kuna never submerged
themselves during the night. Their shirts were damp from sweat and humidity, but drier
parts would burn. Jeronimo ripped his shirt into strips. He broke a branch from an overhead tree and wrapped the cloth strips around the end.
He soaked it with the mosquito
repellant that was snapped to Jared’s belt. He lit it with a match.
Now they had good
light.
“Jared, you are sick,” said Jeronimo. It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.” He showed him the fang marks. The burning torch gave his skin a yellow
look. The skin looked putrefied. The swelling was pronounced, even in the bad light.
“I see. We will carry you. What snake did this?”
“Bushmaster.”
Jeronimo could not hide the worry in his face. Jared would die and it would be
soon. He knew that enough time had passed that there was nothing that he could do to
save Jared. If time had not passed, he would have quickly hacked off Jared’s arm to stop
the poison from spreading, but now it was too late. Jared will die.
The Kuna called the Bushmaster the “silent bringer of death.”
Jared noticed yet
another irony. The Latin name for the Bushmaster
, lachesis muta
, literally meant the silent fate. This could be understood to mean the silent bringer of death. Wasn’t that interesting? Jared’s mind was wandering again. He was getting delirious. His fever was high
now. His eyes were glassy and he was sweating heavily. His breathing was labored. Jeronimo put his ear to Jared’s chest.
Yes, the heart was slow.
He had seen Bushmaster
victims before.
None had ever survived.
The snakes were rarely seen by people, even
the Kuna. They lived deep in the rain forest, away from people. When someone was bitten, the victim was too far away to have any chance of medical help.
Jeronimo would take Jared’s body back to his woman.
The three Kuna lifted
Jared above their heads and propped him on their shoulders. They slowly carried him out
of the great swamp.
There was more darkness in front of them than behind them. It would take a long
time for the sun to return. Once they got to dry land they quickly built a stretcher. Now
they could move quicker. They walked all night. They could not use their cayucos. Even
with torches, they could not find their way in the dark. The river had hundreds of tributaries.
They had to walk.
As the sun was finally coming up, they finally reached the savannah near the lake.
They were all old men but none had stopped and none complained.
By this time
four more Kuna had found them. They changed bearers often so that they could get their
friend to help as quickly as possible.
He should already be dead by now.
As Idel often
said, the spirit of the earth was in Jared. The spirit was keeping him alive, but it could not
last. It could not defeat the spirit of the great snake. Jared lost consciousness in the dark.
The bite wound was now very bad.
The green, foal smelling death might have already
entered the arm. His life would escape his body soon.
The Kuna walked quickly but they didn’t talk.
Everyone knew that Jared would
die soon.
Conversation would be an insult to their friend.
They were walking through
the high grasses.
The lead man beat at the grass with a stick.
There were snakes in the
savannah grass but they would retreat if they knew something large was approaching.
There was a low, throbbing sound in the air.
They stopped and looked up.
The
sound was coming out of the sun. Now they finally spoke.
“Helicopters, it is helicopters.
I have heard this sound before,” said Jeronimo.
Many of the Kuna had part-time jobs with the Army, working at the Jungle School at Fort
Sherman. They knew helicopters.
Two green choppers descended on the savannah.
The downdraft from the blades
was flattening the tall grass.
Debris from the dry dead grasses on the earth was being
kicked up into a dust storm. It was difficult to see.
The helicopters flanked the small group of Kuna, driving them into a tight bunch.
There were no markings on the choppers. They were hovering twenty feet high. Suddenly men began to fly out on zip lines, dropping to the ground with small automatic weapons aimed at the Kuna.
Shots were fired into the air. The Kuna did not panic. They unslung their ancient
rifles from their shoulders and quickly hid in the tall grass.
They would die before they
would surrender.
A loud speaker came on from the helicopter to the east of them. Someone spoke
in Spanish.
“Lower your weapons or we will fire.”
Lopez chambered a round.
The men in green uniforms without insignias fired
another burst into the air.
The Kuna tried to read her faces but they all had green and
brown paint on their faces. They looked fierce. They could not read their faces.
“Lower your rifle, Lopez,” said Jared in Kuna. Lopez looked at his friend on the
stretcher. He was awake. He had not died yet. He lowered his rifle.
“I don’t think they intend you harm,” said Jared. “Please, place your rifles on the
ground.” They did as he asked.
Rubio had broken his promise.
Jared knew that he intended to keep his promise
when he made it, but now he had changed his mind. The Kuna would be slaughtered. He
couldn’t allow that to happen.
They only wanted him.
He hoped they would allow the
Kuna to leave unharmed.
He felt bad about lying to his friends but it was for their own
good.
“Mr. Siemels? Is that you Mr. Siemels?” asked one of the green men.
“Yes, I am Siemels. Who are you?”
“We are here with the compliments of the President. We are to escort you out of
here. It looks like you need medical attention.”
“The President?”
What did that mean
, “thought Jared. Then he focused. The
sleep had given him back his edge, or at least enough of it. This was a rescue party. Had
the President really sent them? Why? Who ordered it?
He spoke to the Kuna again. “These men will not harm you. They have been sent
to help me.”
“We have a corpsman. What is your problem?”
“Snake bite. A bushmaster.”
“Bushmaster? Friend, why aren’t you dead?”
“You can lower your weapons now. The Kuna are not a threat.”
They lowered their weapons. The corpsman ran up.
“I don’t have any antivenom for this, but I know where we can find some.”
“Let’s get moving,” said the first man.
All of the choppers landed but they kept
the blades spinning.
“How long ago was the bite,” asked the corpsman.
“I think about five hours ago.”
“Wow! You should be pushing up daises by now.”
“Move it,” said the first man.
Several slung their weapons and took the stretcher from the Kuna. Jeronimo and
Lopez signaled the rest to back up. They did.
They put Jared into the helicopter and the two groups each returned to their positions on the choppers. They lifted off.
Jared leaned from the open door and waved to his friends.
They waved back to
the friend they would never see again.
“Where to corpsman?” asked Jared.
“Costa Rica. San Juan.
I will get on the horn and clear this with command and
ask them to call ahead for us. We have to get to Instituto Clodamiro.”
Another man, the one who acted like the leader of the group spoke. “Do it.
I
don’t think he has much time. There has to be gangrene by now. The wound is horrible.
His skin is rotting away.”
The chopper pitched and picked up speed.
It was more than 400 miles to San
José.
Even with pushing it, it would take them almost three hours, maybe longer, to get
to the institute. Worse, they had to refuel.
They didn’t have the range.
The corpsman
stayed on the radio.
“There is no option for mid-air refueling, but I found a refueling stop in Puerto
Armuella on the coast.”