The Source - Michael Cordy [77]
'You get it?' Zeb called.
'It was too fast.' He ran back to help Zeb prop Sister Chantal against the wall. Blood flowed from a cut on her cheek and she had a large contusion on her forehead. Her right shoulder bore two shallow slashes where claws had torn her cotton shirt but, luckily, her shredded backpack had taken the brunt of the attack.
'What the hell was that?' said Zeb.
'A melanistic jaguar.'
'A what?'
'A black-pigmented jaguar. A panther.'
He sounded distracted and Zeb stared up at him. 'There's blood all over your face. You okay?'
'It's not mine,' Ross said, in a monotone. He was holding Sister Chantal's wrist. 'She's out cold and her pulse is weak.'
Zeb helped him lay her on her back, then loosened her collar. 'We'd better get Nigel.'
When she turned, a dazed Mendoza and an ashen-faced Hackett were walking up the stairs, carrying Juarez between them.
This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. As Hackett tried to staunch Juarez's bleeding, he knew his friend was close to death, and that he was powerless to prevent it. As he opened Juarez's shirt to examine the wounds in his throat and chest, he thought of all the times over the last three years they had sat together on the Discovery, drinking Cusqueña beer and talking about their dreams.
Juarez had been born in a remote Amazonian village close to the Ecuadorian border but had always longed to see Europe and North America. Hackett had promised that when he returned to London, having found fame and fortune in the Amazon, he would take Juarez with him. Only last night, asleep in his hammock, Hackett had dreamt of lecturing to the Royal Geographical Society. As the great and good applauded, the beautiful Zeb Quinn – who no longer mocked his idiosyncrasies but understood, admired and desired him – stood at his side.
But now his friend would never leave the jungle to live his dreams and, although Hackett had discovered his lost city and its gold, his own dreams of glory seemed hollow too.
Juarez gripped his arm and tried to speak. 'I'm not scared,' he rasped. 'I'm not a coward.'
'I know, my friend,' said Hackett.
'No, you're not,' Mendoza concurred. 'You're the bravest man I ever met. You saved my life.'
Juarez gripped Hackett's arm tighter, a smile playing on his lips. Finally his face relaxed. Hackett closed his eyelids and laid him on the floor. 'He's gone.'
'I'm sorry,' said Ross.
'So am I,' said Hackett. Zeb was kneeling over Sister Chantal, tears in her eyes. As he watched, she put a hand to her mouth.
'What do we do now?' asked Mendoza.
Hackett sighed. 'I don't know.'
Ross laid a hand on his shoulder. 'Nigel, there's nothing more you can do for Juarez. Why don't you attend to Sister Chantal while Osvaldo and I bury our friend? Then we'll build a fire.'
Hackett nodded numbly. 'I want him buried deep,' he said fiercely. 'I don't want any animals getting to him.'
'We'll make sure of it, señor,' said Mendoza. 'I'll say a prayer, and we'll put a stone on top of the grave.'
Hackett hesitated a little longer, then relinquished his friend to them and moved to examine Sister Chantal.
'How is she?' said Zeb.
Hackett checked Sister Chantal's cuts, contusion and breathing. 'She's concussed, but she appears to be breathing regularly. Her cuts are superficial and the bump on her head looks nastier than it is.' He reached for his medical bag. 'I'll check her blood pressure, then we'll make her comfortable and let her rest.'
'It'll be dark soon,' said Ross. 'I vote we spend the night on the flat top of this pyramid. We can build a fire there and it should be easier to keep away any more unwelcome visitors. If you guys can get Sister Chantal and our baggage to the top, Osvaldo and I'll look after Juarez.'
46
'You want some strong painkillers for your wrist?' asked Mendoza, popping a tablet into his mouth.
'No, thanks,' said Ross, welcoming the pain as he helped Mendoza lower Juarez's body into the hole they had dug in the soft earth behind the pyramid. It distracted him from the