The Source - Michael Cordy [66]
It never came.
Instead the sound fell away, became muffled, as if someone had closed a door. He moved to the deck. They were no longer under the waterfall but in a tunnel inside the cliff. The river evidently didn't end in the whirlpool and the cliff face, but continued into the rock. He guessed that this area of the jungle was riddled with subterranean rivers, the lower ones fed by the whirlpool.
As if on Charon's ferry to the underworld, they travelled down the dark waterway. No one spoke. Ross's main fear was that the river would descend deeper and spill them into an abyss.
They emerged, eventually, into a small pool. When Ross looked back he saw they had come through a ridge of rock that curved round on both sides as far as he could see, resembling the edge of a large crater. The contours were disguised beneath trees and thick foliage but from this angle its shape was clear. Ahead, a narrow stream meandered into the jungle.
'Let me see your hand,' Hackett said. Ross winced as the doctor felt it. 'Looks like you've fractured your wrist. It's nastier than it looks and could take a while to heal.' He went to his cabin and returned with a black medical bag. 'Ideally, you'd have an X-ray to find out if you need surgery and then we'd put it in plaster, but that's not an option here. If I put it in a tight bandage and you limit the use of the hand, it should be okay for now.'
'Señor Hackett,' said a voice from the wheelhouse.
'What is it, Juarez?'
'The radio's not working. I can't find anything wrong with it but it's dead. Probably got damaged back there.'
Hackett was bandaging Ross's hand and wrist. 'A buggered radio means we're stuck out here with no means of communicating with the outside world. We're on our own. Be grateful you haven't broken a leg.'
Zeb was studying Falcon's directions and a copy of the Voynich translation. 'We've got to carry on down that stream, but even I can see it's too narrow for the Discovery.'
Ross pointed to her two dinghies, each about eight feet long. 'How about those?'
Hackett nodded. 'Three to a boat. And whatever we need to take with us.' He turned to Juarez and Mendoza. 'Why don't you two get them down and start transferring supplies and equipment? Take the guns and machetes, too.'
'I'll help,' said Zeb.
Sister Chantal was sitting in the galley, eyes closed. Ross rested his good hand on her shoulder. 'You okay?'
She opened her eyes, focused on him and smiled. 'Yes,' she said. 'I'm fine.' He studied her anxiously. Falcon's directions were even more cryptic from this point.
For the next hour and a half they transferred all they needed from the Discovery to the two dinghies. Ross, Sister Chantal and Hackett would travel in one boat, Mendoza, Zeb and Juarez in the second. Finally, as they were boarding, Hackett returned to the Discovery. He had a key in his hand.
'What are you doing?' asked Mendoza. 'You've already battened down the hatches and locked the doors.'
Hackett inserted the key in a black box by the wheelhouse and turned it. 'Arming the alarm.'
Zeb laughed and Ross couldn't restrain a smile. Hackett had been so stoic in handling the attack by the bandits and negotiating the Mouth of Hell that Ross had almost forgotten his obsessive habits. Genuine crises seemed not to faze the Englishman, but minor concerns elicited disproportionate anxiety.
Zeb got into her boat. 'Nigel, I can understand you closing her up to keep out animals, but an alarm? Who the fuck's going to steal her out here?'
'You can't be too careful,' said Hackett. He sounded hurt.
'But who the hell's going to hear the alarm out here?' said Zeb.
'It's a deterrent, and it's my boat,' he said.
Zeb returned to her notes and the Voynich translation. 'Our guiding priest warns us that this waterway is filled with dragon-like creatures.'
'Crocodiles,' said Sister Chantal.
'Makes sense,' said Hackett calmly.
'Shit,' said Zeb.
'Juarez, you know about Amazon crocodiles,' said Hackett. 'They shouldn't trouble us in the boats, should they?'
'No,' said Juarez, with reassuring confidence,