Deadly Serenity: Escaping This World, #2

By Mark Ashmore

The pursuit of the man who murdered their life-long friend on the streets of London has forced Giles, Michael, Francis, and their newfound companion Vasily to the shores of far-off Brazil, an unfamiliar land to them. They are forced to rely on themselves only to traverse through dark paths to catch the mysterious fleeing criminal, Alikhan. Unbeknownst to them, they have become players in a global struggle among Illuminati-like forces, each striving to land the ultimate death blow to dominate the other.

The mystery cargo transported south by Alikhan is one such terrorism operation that the three friends from London inadvertently have been dragged into. They are forced to confront many terrors as before they lay many crime networks that plague the region. They must find a way to capture Alikhan and stop his supporting gang from transporting the dangerous cargo across southern Brazil. Along their journey, they find themselves always behind their enemy, outgunned and outnumbered, always striving to anticipate the next move and purpose of the criminals. Constantly presented with the natural choice to quit and flee, the four muster their courage to continue, only to find that fortune sometimes smiles on them.

They are rewarded with help found from new friends. Their quest stretches from the Atlantic Ocean coast and proceeds further from civilisation towards the sparsely inhabited regions in the interior where bandits reign supreme. As they race further west into Brazil's interior, the scale, and reach of destruction, pillaging and banditry shock and horrify the companions. Unknown to the outside world, long has this region suffered under the persecution of those who seek power and profit. They discover by accident hidden people who still hold out against the evildoers and share a common enemy. But the plans and machinations of the criminals are fast coming to fruition, and the friends are forced to divulge details of the conspiracy of the dangerous cargo they are pursuing. They are thrown into a last desperate war of life and death for the persecuted people of the region. Murder and destruction sweep the lands as the friends are scattered and pushed to oblivion. The search for peace, happiness, and redemption strains their relationship. Giles' underlying struggles to find joy in this world force him to question the point of continuing towards more significant dangers and seeing him at odds with those who want to persevere. He finds romance with an astute local woman, Elisabetta, who offers Giles the path to a new serene life. Torn in two and faced with the choice to continue pursuing Alikhan or grasp his dreams with Elisabetta, Giles is ultimately forced towards a lonely end where betrayal and death become his last companions.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mark Ashmore
• Release date: Aug 4, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201049546

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Deadly Serenity

Book II: Escaping This World

© Mark Ashmore

Deadly Serenity: Book II: Escaping This World

First Published in Great Britain 2020

Copyright © Mark Ashmore 2020

Mark Ashmore asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

ISBN

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters, and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events are entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the author.

Contents

CHAPTER I

STRANGE SOUTHERN LANDS

CHAPTER II

THE TURNING OF THE TIDE

CHAPTER III

A STALKER IN THE NIGHT

CHAPTER IV

FIGHT IN THE DARK

CHAPTER V

REST AND DEBATE

CHAPTER VI

LIMPING INTO HARBOUR

CHAPTER VII

A RIDE INTO TOWN

CHAPTER VIII

PORTO ALEGRE

CHAPTER IX

OLD ENEMIES

CHAPTER X

FIRE IN THE PORT

CHAPTER XI

PEDRO

CHAPTER XII

COUNCIL AND A NEW DIRECTION

CHAPTER XIII

THE FINAL FURLONG

CHAPTER XIV

A COMPACT IN THE FOREST

CHAPTER XV

WOLVES ON THE SCENT

CHAPTER XVI

DESOLATION

CHAPTER XVII

A LIGHT IS EXTINGUISHED

CHAPTER XVIII

THE FIRST SUNDERING

CHAPTER XIX

UNEXPECTED FORTUNE

CHAPTER XX

SANTO CRISTO

CHAPTER XXI

SANTA ROSA

CHAPTER XXII

A DAY IN SANTA ROSA

CHAPTER XXIII

A WINDING PATH TO TRÊS DE MAIO

CHAPTER XXIV

A CONVERSATION

CHAPTER XXV

A SECOND PAINFUL PARTING

CHAPTER XXVI

THE CROW’S NEST

CHAPTER XXVII

A RELUCTANT MARCH WEST

CHAPTER XXVIII

SLIPPING THE NET

CHAPTER XXIX

DEVASTATION AND PLIGHT

CHAPTER XXX

THE GREAT COUNCIL OF WAR

CHAPTER XXXI

THE DEPARTURE OF VASILY

CHAPTER XXXII

THE BATTLE OF THE MARSHES

CHAPTER XXXIII

A WEB OF MANY FATES

CHAPTER XXXIV

AN AGREEMENT

Rio Grande do Sul | state, Brazil | BritannicaRio Grande do Sul : free map, free blank map, free outline map, free base map : boundaries, hydrography, main cities, roads, names

CHAPTER I

STRANGE SOUTHERN LANDS

Giles was deep in a rocking, fluid, but altogether unpleasant dream. Although unconscious, he strangely knew he didn’t like these particular dreams at all and wished from the recesses of his deep mind that he would wake up suddenly and escape the series of torturous dreams he was enduring.

In his dream, the world around him was agitated and in flux. He was alone in a dark, cramped area of some sort. There were no boundaries, no perceivable limits or discernible margins that could be detected. An unnerving void. The only thing he could sense was the distinct sound of this brother, Michael, who was calling to him. Calling for aid somewhere at an unforeseen distance. Giles frantically ran with heavy leaden feet in the general direction of the calls, but could not immediately locate Michael. He came suddenly upon a great rent in the earth before him, where it seemed the faint echoes of Michael were originating from. He looked down into the rent, but only a thick, impenetrable blackness lay within. Furthermore, he could not see Michael, but he was in there somewhere and calling for Giles. As Giles looked around the rent, he soon discovered that there was no way to climb down towards his brother. It was sheer and featureless without footholds, roots, or embedded rocks. Suddenly, Giles froze in terror as the rent in the earth began to close in on itself. Giles desperately clawed at the opening in a vain attempt to stop it from closing shut, but it was a futile effort as finally it closed shut on Michael and great terror and pain seized hold of Giles like sudden lightning. All the surrounding sounds suddenly ceased, and the predatory blackness now turned towards him and approached from all sides. He cowered in terror, but his consciousness was jarred suddenly from the shock and anxiety as he felt a hand on his arm and realised that it wasn’t in his dream; someone was trying to wake him.

Giles shook himself from his dream and opened one eye. He gazed around at the familiar imagery of the battle-ridden bridge around him. The ship they had been sailing on seemed to be standing uncharacteristically still, and the faint light of the very early morning began to fill the world. He could now, even in his groggy, slightly confused, and agitated state, could make out rough figures of several people pointing and gazing outwardly next to the sedentary helmsmen within the cabin. He opened his second eye and, mercifully, saw that it was Michael crouched before him with his hand on Giles’s forearm, gently shaking him slightly to wake. The sight of Michael safe after the horrific nightmare eased Giles tremendously, and he felt his body ease immediately and his muscles relaxed in relief. He exhaled deeply and rubbed his face with his hands. Even though he had slept a few hours, he still felt utterly exhausted.

‘Sorry, bro,’ spoke Michael more quietly than normal, as this seemed to be the current trend in the cabin at the moment. Those already on the bridge were also whispering, as though they were endeavouring to conceal themselves and the presence of the ship. ‘It’s time to get up. I think we are there. I can’t see the shore, but I think we are close. The ship has come to a stop, and I think they dropped the anchor?’ It was an inundation of sudden information for Giles to take in and process, so soon and near to sleep and the disturbing dreams he was forced to endure. He slowly raised himself and found his legs were stiff from the cold floor. He tried to stretch them but found them resisting his will slightly and were rather unresponsive. Bending half folded, he rubbed them vigorously, stretched upwards, and soon stood up right beside Michael.

Seeing his difficulties plainly, Michael spoke again in a continued whisper, ‘I didn’t sleep well either. Not like the beds back at home, is it?’ Giles looked at Michael, who held that familiar optimistic smile of his on his face once more. Giles was ever so happy to see it safe and sound before him. He quickly decided not to mention his dream to avoid seeding some needless worry within Michael. It was all too clear, from the earlier discussion, that Michael was nervous and petrified about the unknown smuggling trail which they must now suffer to arrive at Porto Alegre. Giles was also.

‘Yes. Hopefully, we’ll be back in those beds soon, bro... one day...or some nicer beds in the short term somewhere down here in Brazil.’ Giles took Michael’s hand and led him towards the cracked windows, where the light of the day seemed to grow minute by minute.

He could now clearly see Vasily and Francis, whispering between themselves, at one end of the cabin window, near the door entrance, already with their backpacks slung over their shoulders in preparation for their departure.  Sensing the movement of the two brothers, Vasily turned around to address them, ‘Good. Time to vake. The moment of our dis embankment is upon us. Grab your bags and wake your senses. Zey are lowering their skip and will drop us quickly on zhe shore. It is nearby, just a few hundred metres to the shore. You can’t see land yet, but land can’t see us either. Zhis is fortunate. Ve must be quick and unseen. Let’s go! To the stern, follow me!’

With that, Vasily slid past them and through the door, turning right and disappearing towards the rear of the ship. Francis patted the two brothers reassuringly on their shoulders and held the door open for them before the three passed into the moist and cool early morning air along the rails of the ship.

A steady fall of misty light rain was still falling from the skies, and the pitter-patter of impacts on the surrounding water played like a steady natural symphony. The smell of the new local air was a shock and surprised them greatly as the distinct and pungent smell of green smote them; trees, notes of bushes, and even the damp rich smell of wet soil and earth were strong in the air. It seemed peculiar and alien compared to the singular smell of fresh salted air that they had been accustomed to for over several weeks now. This confirmed that they were quite close, remarkably close; to land, and it served to awaken within them an almost long forgotten familiarity with solid, unmoving land. Far off, somewhere in the near gloom, chirps, and echoes of strange morning birds could be heard as well. This served to unexpectedly excite them and entice them towards moving forward in their journey.

As they followed along the walkway in single file, numerous crew members on the roof of the ship, which was on the lookout, bent over towards them and wished them luck in Spanish and broken English. Luis, Diego, and Renato extended their hands and shook the hands of the three in a parting gesture. They came quickly to a huddle of four people around the ship's small wooden skip. Humberto was already sitting within and, with the assistance of pulleys, was being lowered down to the black water below. They could now clearly hear the soft lapping of small waves touch the hull, but the engine was now off and silent. The ship seemed nervous, and it was quieter than they had ever heard it yet, as it was on station-keeping mode.  Among the group was the captain, who wore a thick cotton hat to ward off the coldness of the morning. Her breath could be seen, panting outwards as her long dark hair hung around her, laced with shimmering water droplets. She turned and was gesturing with Vasily as she was trying to impart some last instructions to him regarding their journey ahead in a hurried fashion.

The three friends quickly walked up to the two and listened intensively as the captain now turned to the other three. She avoided looking at Giles and spoke towards Francis mainly.

‘It is now your time to go. We must be off before the sun finally rises. It will burn off much of this low mist that covers us. We can’t risk the authorities seeing us, either by sea or air. Plus, there are others about. The weather fronts to the south have hastened westwards, and our luck, that which it is, has turned more ill. We must chance the south passage while we can. Another fateful curse for us. But I hope a blessing for you. In the forest, you will be sheltered from the oncoming storm, and I hope that the storm will aid you while, at the same time, it attacks us with all its malice. The dark weather will conceal you and provide you cover through your journey west and south. West and straight south, you must remember that!’

‘The storm will at least lessen the weight on my heart that I have for you along this pass. Those who live on the trail, and they are there, would rather whatever dry abode they reside in than abide along a muddy trail during the coming storm. By now, they will know it is coming. That is your hope! You must be quick! Light no fires, move silently and speak only in whispers! Strike due west with great caution. After the second river, you traverse, strike due south, and leave the trail quickly behind you. With luck and God’s blessing, you will reach the suburbs of Porto Alegre two evenings from now, where you will have plenty of cover among the inland lagoons to the North of the city. Do you understand me clearly? Good.’ She paused and gazed downwards.

‘Now go; while you can, and goodbye.’

Vasily, with the help of the captain, clearly understood the situation and descended into the skip below in the water waiting for them. Francis moved towards the rail, ready to follow Vasily into the skip, as Michael and Giles stood waiting to give their thanks and say goodbye to the captain. But she was having none of this and pushed them gently towards the rail. ‘No, there is no more time. Go now while you can... And God speed to you!’ This saddened the two brothers, especially Giles, as they each, in their own way, wanted to properly say goodbye. But in truth, the parting of the company was a sad point for all, especially the captain, who was altogether ill-equipped to handle the severing of relationships. It was a lingering and historic inheritance from the tragic loss of her father, from which she had never truly recovered and which she seemed to perpetually bear as a burden. She determined to herself, there and then, to return to the familiar life on board the Dama Noche, and turn her back forever on what could have been.

One by one, Giles and Michael followed Francis into the skip until they were all in. The accumulated water at the bottom of the skip alarmed them as they gazed in wonderment at the old boat to ascertain if it was seaworthy at all? It was a cumbersome-battered hulk of a skip whose paint had long eroded off its sides. Here and there, whites and reds of previously painted layers could be seen. Eroded and rusty metal rings, used to tie ropes, stuck out along the rail, and seemed utterly ancient in origin. The appearance of the craft did not fill the passenger with much reassurance about its seaworthiness.

As they all finally descended and boarded the skip, the crew above gestured a silent goodbye and pushed them off as Humberto heaved with mighty strokes of his oars to commence the journey to the undetectable shore somewhere not far off. Swirls of sea foamed and frothed from the oars as the sea bubbled, and the skip jumped forward and lurched slowly away from the ship towards the mysterious shore awaiting them.

It was all rather quick and convoluted to Giles, who had, only minutes ago, emerged from a terrifying dream. He did not have much time to wake properly and gather his senses together. It all seemed surreal as he looked around him to obtain a less dizzy and foggy grasp of the situation. It was altogether sobering as the shelter and relative safety of the now-familiar ship was left behind in exchange for land that he could not entirely see nor guess as to what exactly was awaiting them. Beside him, Michael was squinting ahead as the raindrops lay heavy on the outside of his spectacles, obstructing much of his view. The hood to his jacket was over his head now, but he had not let go of Giles’ cold hand. In front of the two was Francis, who was kneeling in the skip and leaning on the side of the precarious craft, looking quietly forward into the dim darkness ahead. Just in front of him, Humberto, still rowing hard but with care, constantly turned around, peering into the gloom for a sense of direction and wondering himself what would await them near the beach. In the bow sat Vasily. He sat motionlessly but crouched low and was transfixed towards the direction they were heading. He held his pistol ready in his hand as a contingency against the unknown before them.

They progressed in silence. No instruction was given to do so, but it seemed necessary, as even the crew of the ship behind them made no sound or movement. All were following the practice to avoid unwanted detection. The skip continued to bob up and down as it split silently through the wave, which ushered them relentlessly towards the hidden direction of the shore. The wind seemed to gently swirl around them and probed and blew from all directions. Splatters of forceful rain, propelled by sudden gusts of violent wind, stung them on their faces as they laboured to see ahead of them on several occasions. Finally, after some dozens of oar strokes from the hard-working Humberto, the vague outline of rising dark land reared adamantly ahead; rolling forest formed slowly ahead in the gloom as the ship behind them grew steadily farther away and shed any detail as itself now began to grow more distant and less distinguishable.  

Vasily and Francis remained transfixed towards the direction they were heading, while Michael preferred to lean his head on the rail of the boat and bow his head downwards for cover. Giles instead gazed back towards the ship to catch one last glimpse of the captain, as he would have preferred a more apt departing than rushing away from her. He felt he did not prepare himself enough or prepare for the departure of the ship, and found that a part of him wished they had wished he had stayed on board. Out of safety or for the company of the captain, he did not know precisely why? But he suddenly discovered that he had grown fond of both and did not wish to depart either of them. He admired their freedom, the lack of servitude and their complete ability to fashion their own lives and fortunes. Yes, albeit they were submerged in a clandestine world, separated from most of the humanity. All alone and wandering the seas and winds of the world with no home but the steel hull beneath them. But there was something in that particular life that Giles appreciated, even yearned for. He always wanted to escape his world and rarely met those who had done so.

Giles peered at the fading view of the ship, which stood rather grey and still in the turmoil of the heaving sea around it. To Giles’s surprise, he noticed that a great portion of the crew was still standing port side. The statue-like figures could still be made out facing them and watching their progress. He could not make out who they were and scanned the idol figures for any site of the distinctive Captain’s hat. He could not make out any such sight and wondered if she was watching without her hat on, or had she withdrawn from sight altogether, ignoring their progress? Giles exhaled and looked upon the ship for the last time as the curtain of rain grew thicker behind them and soon shrouded any view of the ship. He wondered if he would ever see her again and turned towards the bow.

Humberto sensed that they were nearing the beach and marked his position and angle carefully to plot his return journey back to the ship after depositing the travellers on the beach. The four companions could now see more clearly the land ahead. The brooding wall of dark picketed trees frowned sternly at them, as their angular shapes and spires bore the hallmark resemblance of tropical trees; rather than their hardy northern tree shapes to which they were accustomed. On a pleasant sunny day with a fair warm wind around them, the forest may have appeared to them more altogether pleasant and inviting. Instead, in the rain and wind, it neither looked inviting nor did the forest seem hospitable to the world around it. The sight of that land held a feeling as if it was rather resistant-unyielding to those from the outside. Rather than bright with illuminating life-giving greens and twinkled with the sighs of the leaves in the wind, it appeared dark and still, more like inanimate rocky folds of hills than a thriving living ecosystem. From this forest, they felt an agitated and silently growing antagonism emitting outwardly from it as they neared its eaves. The forest did not want to suffer strangers to pass underneath its mighty arms, as the forest wall before them was dense and looked impenetrable. It gave them the impression that it coveted its peace. It was keen to protect its inner secrets and the companions, looking now more closely at its immediate contours, wondered where and how they would pass into such a dark place? The only sound they could hear was the tapping of water in the ocean and the lapping of waves upon the shore ahead. As they approached, no bird, not even the gulls of the ocean, could be heard as the air was suddenly heavy and breathless.

The boat now passed several large clusters of rocks that guarded the shore like ravelins as Vasily endeavoured to evade them by guiding the boat and alerting Humberto’s strokes of the oars. The foam was white now and swirled around the rocks, creating eddies that pushed them from the sides. The waves became higher in the shallow water as the bow continuously reared upwards and then plunged downwards after navigating a wave.  Rushes of water cascaded into the boat as the occupants grew wetter from the combined bombardment from the sea and air. After two more small clusters of rocks whose faces barely rose above the rolling water line, they could suddenly feel the sandy bottom scrape against the hull of the boat. This immediately prompted Vasily to jump upwards in the boat and, in one swift motion, flung himself with one arm out of the skip and into the water. His pistol was pointed towards the forest as he swirled around to the remaining occupants, ‘Out! Out and take cover in the dunes! Hurray, English, hurray! Francis, help me here!’ With these words, the three friends sprang forth into action as Giles, Michael, and Francis fumbled clumsily overboard, one by one, over the side of the boat in a far less fluid and graceful manner than Vasily had achieved.

The icy water was an absolute shock to them. They hadn’t anticipated the sea to be so cold in the southern waters of the Atlantic. The sea pinched and bit their legs with an icy, angry grip that was as sharp as needles.  Michael stumbled in the water over some unseen submerged rocks lying on the seafloor and fell arm deep into the water. He could feel the small pebbles on the bottom as he struggled to gain his balance as the following wave crashed into him from behind. He nearly lost his spectacles again in the fall, but Giles came to his rescue and hoisted him upwards. They stumbled forward together and plunged out of the water until they found a nearby dune, where they threw their soaked and frozen selves into its bowl for cover. The feel of static, unmoving land was instantly queer to them, as they were used to the continuous swaying of the ship for weeks. Michael shivered wildly in the arms of Giles, who paid no attention to the forest just beyond them. They caught their breath as they watched Vasily and Francis, still knee-deep in the frigid surf. They twisted completely around the stationary and bobbing skip with Humberto still seated in the middle so that its bow now pointed away from the shore towards the general direction of where the ship lay, still shrouded by the ever-increasing ferocious falling rain. Francis and Vasily leaned and heaved in unison one last mighty push to aid Humberto against the irresistible temper of the incoming tide. Humberto lowered the raised oars into the sea and strained with his back arched and rowed with all his might. He turned toward the direction of the ship again, gauged his position by looking back again toward the shore, and continued to row with all his might. He waved a half-hearted farewell, and road into the foaming surf around him.

Vasily and Francis struggled free from the sea and fumbled onto the sandy beach, where they finally collapsed beside the two brothers already in the dune. Vasily and Francis were almost out of breath from their exertions as they watched the difficult but steady progress of Humberto. They weren’t for certain, but they thought they saw Humberto make the sign of the cross in the air almost like a priest would in between oar strokes towards their general direction. Or was it a final goodbye?

Soon after, Humberto finally disappeared completely from view. This saddened the companions as he was the last glimpse of their time on the ship. The weather worsened, and the rain fell heavier still. The four companions fell silent as the dull and churning sound of the distant engines of unseen Dama Noche, utterly invisible to view, fired up and eventually faded away in the distance after some time.  They were now all alone, and the sounds of their panting mixed with the sweeping winds around them. Michael, still leaning on Giles and shivering from the wet and cold, looked down towards his hand on the beach and glared at the sands underneath his hand. There it was, the small grains of sand that signified a completely different country and continent, so far from home and so alien! Brazil! Brazil! It finally hit him, like a club to the head, that they were there. So far, far from home. The whole landing on the beach was more nerve-racking than any could have foreseen. It was all vaguely reminiscent to them of the D-Day landings, which they saw on television and in films of the landings on Gold and Sword beaches. A heavy realisation now smote them; there was no way back. They could not stand still. The only way forward was into the forest before them.

Vasily quickly urged them together for a conference. ‘Now listen. Ve can’t linger here on the beach. Ve must find the path into the forest. It vill provide us cover, and it is the only way through. Stay here while I reconnoitre ahead. DON’T MOVE!’ With that, he nimbly vaulted over the edge of the dune and disappeared from view. The three friends silently waited until a few minutes later, when they heard heavy steps through the sound of the rain and saw Vasily jump back into the dune. They expected news at first, but found a sharp rebuke from Vasily instead. ‘Silly English. You should have kept a lookout! What if it wasn’t me jumping into the dune? Huh? A grenade could have been thrown in or a spray of AK-47! Set a watch from now on!’ The three were surprised at the alarm and sharpness of Vasily, but they were too cold and wet to bother objecting to the lecture from him. They were shivering, and Michael’s lips seemed to be a slight hue of blue. ‘Now...’ started Vasily once more in between panting breaths, ‘... I found the entrance. I did not venture through, but it is the entrance to the path ve seek.  I could not see what lies within, but we shall soon find out. Ve must be on our guard. If you heard anything while we were aboard the ship, I hope you took in vhat they said about this trail. It is perilous. Suppose those who use the trails don’t get us, the forest vill. Stay alert! No talk, no stumbling and falling. Slide by bushes, not through them. Don’t break branches or snap sticks. Walk over or around zhem. Death may come from every angle. From below and above. Keep your eye on the canopy above and to zhe sides. I will lead. Walk in my steps if you can and stay two metres apart... and for God’s sake, where are your pistols?’ Francis, Michael, and Giles did not think that they needed them, so they opened up their ruck sakes, groped and searched for them as their other ancillary contents were mixed within them. ‘Are you kidding me, English?’ uttered Vasily, who was frustrated at the site of the three companions fumbling through their contents and drawing out the pistols. ‘Keep zhem always available and ready! GOOD LORD, MICHAEL, DON’T POINT IT IN MY DIRECTION!’ Vasily reached out and pushed away from the oblivious hand of Michael, who was holding his pistol, almost carefree, away in the opposite direction from himself. ‘Be mindful vhere you are pointing that thing!’

‘Sorry.’ Murmured Michael apologetically through his quivering lips. Matters it seemed were quite serious, the three Englishmen thought to themselves. A sudden feeling of nervousness growled in the bellies. They were alone, now with no friends or help. Michael began to be afraid, and Giles now wondered in doubt whether leaving the ship, leaving Anna, was a clever idea at all?

The four repacked their bags and prepared to move out with pistols primed and ready.

‘I vill go first. Zen Giles, zen Michael, zen Francis. Francis, keep an eye out behind every now and zen. Don’t forget! Giles, keep an eye upwards. Michael, follow in our footprints and keep quiet!’ This was the second time that they heard Vasily tell them to follow in his footprints, and Giles was curious about this.

‘Why do we have to follow in your footprints?’ questioned Giles.  Vasily looked puzzled at why he should be asking this, but simply shook his head at their ignorance and inexperience in such matters.

‘Man traps, land mines!’ replied Vasily sharply.  

‘What!’ replied the three almost simultaneously in a collective astonishment at this revelation of an unanticipated layer of danger that they did not think to prepare themselves for. The three gazed at each other in disbelief, but Vasily just shook his head despairingly once again. ‘Please tell me you didn’t think it would be unguarded?’

‘I simply thought we would be evading guards, people, and men!’ said Francis. Vasily shook his head dismissively and adjusted himself to leave the dune. The three friends were stunned, and Francis decided to press the issue and reached out to Vasily’s arm and twisted him back to face him

‘Listen, Russkie! We need specifics from now on! Expect us to know nothing about all this! We don’t know these things! You need to tell us beforehand. Everything. We are city boys; fine, mock us for that. We haven’t been to the dumps you have, so don’t expect us to know what we don’t have a clue about! Specifics, alright!’ Francis glared into the eyes of Vasily, who violently shook free his arm and stared coldly back at Francis.

‘You vant specifics? Fine. You are boys. Not men. Ze Dumps- I have been to places you vould have nightmares for the rest of your lives! I’ve gone where angels fear to tread. Remember that you are children! While you take from zis world, I have been saving it! With no accolade or thanks! Follow me. I vill be ze von keeping us alive-not you! Zat is your specifics!’

The mood of the group had become dark. The atmosphere was tense. The wind swirled around them, and the rain seemed to hit them in the face now from all directions. ‘Come on, follow me quickly!’ cried Vasily as they each climbed out of the dune and raced behind Vasily with bent backs to keep a low profile.  The morning light had grown steadily in the last few minutes, as much of the wet world around them was now clear and vivid. With pistols in hand, the four meandered in single file around fallen trees, dunes, and outcropped rocks until finally, they could see a perceptible black yawning entrance to the forest. It seemed more like a mouth, ready to consume whatever prey ventured inside. There were four large grey trees, a type they had never seen before, with many spiked leaves the size of a hand that bent towards each other and formed a woven arched entrance. The four crept up stealthily towards the left of the entrance, where a large boulder sat guarding it like a sentinel. It was slick with water, smooth and grey. Peering over the shoulder of the one in front, they all gazed into the black opening and struggled to see very far inside. It was black with shifting shadows, as the outside light did not seem to penetrate through the ceiling of the forest at all.

Vasily lay flat on the sand and crawled towards the middle of the opening. He tilted his head and gazed along the floor of the entrance as far as he could. For a few moments, he stayed in this prostrate position until he retreated and came back to the rest of his companions by the boulder. ‘I can’t see any tripwires. But they may be above or to the sides. We’ll not breach the entrance directly, but through zhe jungle for a few metres and re-join the trail. I suspect if where are any traps, they would be near the entrance at first. I see some suspicious depressions on zhe earth, a few metres in, and towards the sides of the trail. I don’t like zhem.’ Giles thought to himself that if it were up to him, he would have simply walked directly through without performing the scan that Vasily had just done if he was in charge of the company. Thankfully, he thought, they had Vasily with them, and matters may have already turned extremely ill for them if he had not been. Nevertheless, he realised that they were still getting quite an education from him, he concluded; if there was no other benefit from their awful journey thus far.

The four moved along the thick forest wall beyond the glistening boulder to a small opening where they could enter the forest. Vasily once more peered inside and quickly huddled the three friends around him. ‘Alright. Ve breakthrough here and then back to the trail. There are two rivers ahead, zhe Captain said. Our direction is straight west, past the two rivers. After zhe second river,  ve turn south, that’s left Giles, and with any luck right into Porto Alegre undetected, and unscathed! I don’t know my boy's vhat is waiting for us on this trail. That is the point. It could be anything. I hope nothing. But now is zhe time to find out. Stay alert! Keep your vhits. I do not vant some doom to fall upon you. I will lead our line. If I stop, you stop and kneel low. Follow my footprints and make no noise! Giles, keep your eyes upwards ahead of me and to the sides of me. Michael, follow your brother quietly! Francis, I now need you to keep watch to our rear. Sounds, movement, anything! Keep the safeties on your pistols locked, but don’t forget to unlock zhem at the first sign of any trouble. If you have to shoot, shoot in the direction I am shooting, not at me!’ Vasily glanced at Michael’s gun to see what direction he was holding it. The three friends now hung on every syllable Vasily had spoken, and they quietly nodded in the affirmative back to Vasily as any animosity left over from the beach dune seemed to have blown away in the wind. They had to rely on each other now, as there was no room for pride or disagreement.

Vasily walked through the dense foliage and quickly vanished beyond, as if swallowed whole by the forest. It was an unnerving sight for Giles, whose heart was heavy and thumping nervously within his chest. He turned towards Michael, who was shaking, either from the wind and rain or nerves; Giles could not tell. Giles reached for his brother’s hand and led him inside the forest, with Francis following behind. It was much darker already compared with the beach, and they could not see three metres in any direction as the undergrowth was like a green wall surrounding them. As they moved cautiously forward, the leafy hands of the bushes and low-hanging trees seemed to grope them outwardly and smack each member antagonistically in the face as they passed by. Punishing them for entering their domain. Giles, holding Michael’s hand with one hand, used his free arm to ward off the incoming blows of the forest and peer forward to follow the faint trail of Vasily ahead of him. He had already disappeared ahead, but the swinging movement of branches pointed to the only rumour of his direction. After three or four minutes, they caught up with Vasily, who had veered sharply to the right, back towards the trail. They found him once more prostrate on the ground, half laying on the forest edge, half on the black soil of the visible trail ahead. He was scanning both directions of the forest floor, just as he had done at the entrance to the beach. The three friends, remembering Vasily’s instructions, knelt quietly behind him and made no sound as they waited for their guide’s verdict.

‘Good.’ Whispered Vasily as he got up and crawled closely to his waiting companions. ‘There were traps. Over there, on the entrance floor and just behind them, up mid-way in that thick tree. You can see where they camouflaged some spear-like mechanism.’ Vasily patted Michael playfully on the chest, being proud of the prowess in the field he had already demonstrated to the other three. ‘They would have skewered you like a roast chicken! HAHAHA! Speaking of which, I could....’  Vasily mumbled to himself about his hunger, as Michael made an audible gulp and looked at his chest where Vasily had patted it.

The four moved onto the trail and crouched, looking around them. ‘Now what?’ asked Francis as he nervously scanned the forest in all directions as though there was danger behind every tree.

‘Now, ve follow the trail. Those traps were just a welcome mat, sort of speak. To dissuade any from entering. I suspect, for a while; we can follow the trail unhindered. As soon as we find we are close to the first river, I think any danger vill be concentrated there. But don’t let down your guard! I have rarely been wrong, but yes, even zhe great Vasily has been wrong at times. Keep quiet, follow me quietly, and perform the duties I assigned you. Let’s ford the first river, zhen worry about zhe rest later. With luck, the weather will worsen, and its malice will keep any evil eyes off the trail. With luck, tomorrow night, we will be sipping Vodka in Porto Alegre!’

They all stood up in formation and walked along the trail directly towards the west. Michael turned towards the entrance, but could not see the traps that Vasily alluded to. The thought crossed his mind that perhaps he was exaggerating, but try as he might, he could not see anything as the bushes were incredibly thick. His heart told him to believe Vasily, and he once more touched his chest where Vasily had previously patted it before turning away. The trail itself was wide enough for one, and was a more continuous cleavage through the undergrowth than a demarcated path. Rocks and small fallen trees punctuated its route, while above, the weather of the world intensified and collided with the upper echelons of the trees.

All their combined senses searched in vain for any instinctively recognisable resonances of smell or feeling from the lands stretched out around them. To no avail did they find any hint of the familiar, as there lay no evocative memory being stirred whatsoever.  No past life, no descended memory handed down from those who came before was triggered or awoken from a long sleep within them. Brazil was utterly alien to them. Its very feel and strange, unidentifiable smells were rich and altogether new. The flowers that grew on the forest floor, which sprouted along climbing vines that lead straight up to the forest ceiling, were of a kind they had never seen before.  It was, however, not a forest of light and wonder. Instead, the brooding forest seemed more unremarkable in looks and feel. It was dense and thick, but green and black were the only shades of colour to be seen in any direction. Nevertheless, it felt to the three Londoners alive, awake even and throbbing with the vibrancy of existence and life. It was dark and dense, not at all like the tropical forests one would see on the television depicting paradisiacal islands and panoramas from the south Pacific or Caribbean islands. The undergrowth from which they briefly passed through (now hedged and squeezed them on the path) seemed infinite in variety. Every few steps, they seemed to notice one new variety after another as it tightly closed in around them and walled the area around every tree-which themselves were forced to breakthrough towards the sky in the continuous battle for sunlight in the forest.

The path itself was not straight, and twisted and turned ever in general westwards direction. They progressed at first with a high degree of apprehension. Their pace was slow, and every movement of branch or bush around them smote each with a sharp and sudden terror. In their minds, wild dark evils hid behind every tree, ready to waylay them. They became almost paranoid for a while, and their pace was slow. Even Vasily proceeded with utmost nervous caution. At many points on the trail, Vasily would sometimes stop abruptly, bend quickly to one knee, and raise his hand silently to signal the group to follow his act and stop where they were. After a nerve-racking pause, where the very beats of the friend’s hearts thumped loudly and sounded like drums in their chest, they proceeded again, sure that there was no present danger. On and on, they went like this, as the weather of the world above howled and roared against the ceiling of the forest. Its great assault was beginning. On they went—walking and pausing until they stumbled upon the next suspicious incident, where the process would repeat itself over and over again.

Eventually, the evidence of the hand of man could be seen in several places, with the odd hewn tree or cruel strokes of machetes needlessly hurled against innocent young trees. Vasily strangely stooped and tried to nurse the young trees in some fashion. The three friends thought this strange, but patiently waited and said nothing. Once, they came upon the remnant of an open fire with felled trees clumsily arranged and burned black.  The site was not welcome but a poignant, disturbing, and unwelcomed reminder that men were around and still used the trail recently. Above them, the eyes of the trees gazed downwards, with the memory of this wanton murder still fresh and festering within their wrath-filled hearts.  The forest would never forgive, but in the meantime, it would have to suffer the violations of man. The air was thick and difficult to breathe, as Michael felt oppressed and urged the group to move on quickly.

They indeed moved onwards for an hour at a good pace. On occasion, when the group was creating excessive noise as it ploughed chest-height vegetation, Vasily would turn abruptly around and, with animated gestures, order them to be quieter. The heat of the jungle floor steadily increased as the march lengthened. This affected Francis the most, who often struggled to keep up. Seeing him lag, the group elected for frequent respites from the march. They rested eventually at a bend where they hungrily drank their fill of water and ate from the food provided to them on the ship. It was frugal but welcome.  Giles saw in the thinning faces of both Michael and Francis that they had lost weight. Their combined appetites had left them since Phillip had died, and they had forgotten, or rather dismissed their stomachs and did not crave for the gratuitous pleasures of food any longer. Giles wondered how he looked as he stroked away rain from his own thinned face. He thought Michael now looked far too thin; he offered some of his hard bread to Michael, who politely refused it, but Giles insisted and was glad to see his brother relent and finally eat it.

The ground seemed increasingly hotter to them as the morning grew. The humidity was dense and thick even though a maelstrom raged on above them along with the ceiling of the forest, where the air seemed cooler. Michael’s glasses continued to be steamed up as he often took them off to wipe the condensation away. The humidity began to become suffocating, and the surrounding air was close and thick. Sweat mingled together with rain as their bodies glistened in perpetual wetness. The straps of the backpacks bit into their shoulders as the clinging wet shirts rubbed harshly in between the two. Francis found that even his trousers began to chafe between his legs as the awkward and inconsistent narrow trail unnaturally contorted their walking styles. More than once, Francis quietly grumbled to himself how they wished they were out of the forest. Fortunately, none could hear these as the gusting wind bent and pushed the trees as they cracked and crashed together in a swirling, perpetual cacophony.  

The layers of trees above surprisingly provided them little protection from the torrent of rain being thrown down upon the forest.  As the rainfall forced its way downwards, it fell from leaf to leaf, which succumbed to the growing accumulated weight and all bent downwards, now allowing the water to fall freely onto its neighbour beneath it. The weather was worsening as Giles thought of Anna, and her ship, battling through the storm southwards towards the Cape. He reached into his trouser pocket and withdrew the ancient compass she had given him back on the ship. He opened it up and gazed at the moving bronze arrow, which settled towards the north. The trail led on to the left of the arrow, truly due west.

The sun seemed to them to have risen now, even though they could not see it from the thick canopy and even thicker black clouds that hovered closely above the forest. The trail was clear to sight now, and they could now see some metres on either side of them. After some minutes, they repacked their bags after another break and quietly moved along the trail, ever westwards.  After another hour’s march, they rested once more beneath the shelter of a large monster of a tree that sprouted from the trail upwards towards the canopy. Its roots were large and provided a snug hole to rest in like an armchair. After some more water, they spoke quietly together about their progress.

‘So how far do you think we’ve travelled so far, Vasily?’ asked Michael as he cleaned away the fog from his glasses again.

‘Roughly four, maybe five kilometres, I think. Satisfactory progress so far. Some twenty, possibly twenty-two more until the lagoons North of Porto Alegre. Very good so far, my boys. But zhe worst is yet to come, so stay alert! This monsoon must be terrible. But that is good for us, it seems. I have seen nothing move except the branches above. May that continue! I think that within two, perhaps three kilometres if the map I saw was accurate, the first river is coming.  What awaits us? I do not know. The rain will no doubt have swollen the river. If there is no bridge of some sort, I don’t know how we can cross. But let us... how you English say, cross that bridge when we get to it! Hahaha... get it, cross that bridge... and ve need a bridge! Hahaha, very good humour from me! Very good!’ Vasily was once again proud of his droll humour, but the others looked ironically at each other and shook their heads with cynical and unimpressed expressions. ‘Horrible,’ uttered Francis as he wiped his brow and scratched his grown beard. Michael made a face as though he had smelt something horrible; Giles simply shook his head. They finished drinking and finally packed up their wet belongings and once more followed Vasily up the trail. Before they left their resting area, Vasily taught them the skill of harvesting falling rainwater, from the tiered levels of leaves on trees and bushes, into their waiting water bottles. This amused them and provided a pleasant distraction. Vasily was even more impressed with himself. He was on a roll, he thought.  

They finally filed out and continued to progress up the trail; up the trail is, in fact, correct, as they hadn’t quite noticed until this particular point that the group had been travelling, marginally yet steadily, upwards towards higher ground. Any helpful markers, horizons, or far-off geographical features whose sights could establish a concrete and relative perspective were concealed from them due to the density of the forest. However, the greater strain and burning of the legs, as well as the growing acuteness of the angle of growth on the trees, revealed clearly to them now that they were indeed travelling up higher ground.

After several more breaks (which were growing in frequency), the trail began to be water-soaked, and the going was even slower. The mud became deeper and deeper than streams of water flowed down it like an aqueduct. Their feet were drenched with mud and water with every step taken, and they could feel the squish and squirm of water in their boots from the downward pressure. Soon the incline of the land sharpened even more, and the water ceased to be a simple downward trickle. Instead, a forest floor torrent now flowed over the trail underneath their failing legs. Their footing was being lost due to the thick and slick mudflow. They finally resorted to using their hands to aid their ascent up the now muddy forest stream. Often Giles and Michael would slip and lose their grip, only to be caught at the last moment by Francis in the rear. On one occasion, even his mighty limbs nearly failed them all when both Giles and Michael simultaneously slipped uncontrollably downwards, straight into the arms of Francis.

Exhausted and parched of thirst, they mercifully reached the top of what they had discovered to be a ridge they had been ascending all along. The wind was fierce above, but refreshed the spent group, as they were now free of the humidity of the forest below. The trees around them bent and swayed violently as the rain and wind pounded the crown of the ridge unforgivingly. The group stopped for a breather under a group of palm trees where, for the first time, they looked back from where they had come. Stretched out in front of them was a thick green carpet that led to a broad dark line just out of clear sight due to the curtain of rain sweeping across the land. It was the sea, and they quickly gauged the distance to be some five to six kilometres. They were disappointed as they thought that they had travelled farther. The prospect of another nineteen kilometres through more perilous regions of the forest almost crushed their spirits. Heads were bowed low, and the mood was dark and grim between them.

The top of the ridge seemed unconnected and distant from the forest below. The windswept through, and the pelting rain smote them on their faces. Michael, exhausted and physically spent, turned his face downwards as raindrops piled one on top of each other, blurring his vision through his glasses. He slumped down on his side beside a great waving palm tree when the weight of his backpack seemed too great to carry any longer. Francis strode over to him and loosened the burden off him.

‘I’ll take this now, Mikey. Don’t worry. Catch your breath.’ Michael made no protestation and welcomed its removal. Giles lay beside him and took from his backpack a black rubbish bin liner that he placed over Michael. It was all he had, but was used to ward off the rain and wind.

They sat together and said little. The environmental change soon began to feel worse for them than the forest below. With little protection now from the assaulting storm, cold and chills supplanted the hot sweat and near heat strokes to which they almost each succumbed. They all began to shiver, and as though reading the thoughts of the others, Vasily addressed them in a shout to be heard over the wail of the wind over the ridge top.

’Ve must get off this ridge. It vill be the death of us. Down. Down we must go now. Ve can’t linger here!’ The other three knew and felt that he was correct. But they loathed moving their exceedingly heavy limbs as a result of their long, exhausting hike. ‘Just a couple of minutes.’ Murmured Michael, who felt the lids of his eyes grow heavy. Giles didn’t like the look of him and knew then that they had to muster what energy they had left and descend into the relative shelter of the forest.

‘He’s right, Mikey. We have to go down, down the hill. I’m frozen up here. Vasily, do you think we are near the first river?’

‘Da. This slope down here must lead to a sharp valley vhere I think the river must sit.  Ve are not far, some half kilometre or so I hope, to the river. Ve cannot take the trail, though. We must pass through the forest itself.’

‘Why not the trail!’ queried Francis, who was puzzled at the comment as he adjusted Michael’s pack to the front of himself and slung his pack over his shoulder.

‘Did you not see zhe look of the trail coming up here? That is the way it will look going down; It vill be a water slide for us. We'll have no footing, and we’ll shoot into the river. Plus...’ Vasily paused to help Michael off the ground and gave him two large slaps on the shoulders, which hurt, but woke Michael up, ‘... now that the first river crossing is upon us, ze trail vill be watched. For sure, it will be. I expect these smugglers will even hold the passage of the river against us in some fashion. Von river, or both, ve cannot be certain. It is their trail, after all. Zey controls it, and zey will not just let strangers pass. Ve must angle our vay down and see vhat awaits us. Come on now, follow me, keep a grip on something and stay low. Ve vill rest in fifteen minutes. Come on, English! You live in ze rain all year round! Zis must be nothing to you! HAHAHA, poor English! Poor English!’ The typical obtuse humour of Vasily washed off the other three like the rain now hitting them from above. They, by now, have long ceased to notice both unwelcomed deluges.

Thus, dejected and despondently, the travellers peeled themselves from their resting spot and began marching straight westwards again, keeping the trail on their right as a straightforward guide towards the direction they should be following.  The storming winds now smote them directly in their faces as they traversed the narrow width of the ridge top and began to descend into the forested valley side of the ridge. Combat with the forest was recommenced. Once again, Vasily leads, with Giles and Michael following closely behind. Francis once again trailed at the end as they cut their way through the thick undergrowth, ever mindful of keeping the trail to the right and in eyeshot. Without the trail, their going was slower than before, as the densely vegetated areas obstructed their every movement and resisted their penetration at every step. Bushes and branches would part and snap backwards violently from the movement of one person and hit the man behind in the face. Francis received the worst of this, being in the rear, as his curses grew more numerous.

The more they ventured downwards, the thicker the vegetation began to form around and above them. The immediate temperature around them grew warmer once more, and the wind was shielded more and more from them. The cold and shivers soon disappeared as heat and copious sweating took their place. The ground grew steeper, which began to concern them as they banked more towards the right, closer to the trail, so that they would not get lost or come to some sudden cliff that was shrouded from their view. Repeatedly, the black, fertile, and wet soil would give way, and each man would slide uncontrollably, either into the one ahead or into some tree or thick bush, thus, thankfully, arresting their slide. It was a cumbersome journey downwards that made the group long for the seemingly more gentile upwards ascent that they had already completed.

Their knees began to ache from the bombardment of weight and movement.

‘I hate this forest!’ shouted Giles as his frustration grew to a boiling fever as a branch from Vasily’s movement smacked him across the face. ‘Shhh!’ whispered Vasily as he crouched and turned around.  Giles kicked the bush and followed obediently but miserably.

After another fifteen minutes like this, their combined strength failed them, and they all sat next to a tall standing tree nearby the trail. They were still well concealed, but adequately sheltered from the continued rainstorm.  They breathed heavily and drank from their water bottles. Michael’s spectacles had steamed up again, but he had no energy to wipe them clean. He simply took them off and rested them on his thigh.

‘I know it’s tough, but we are close to the river. I can smell it,’ declared Vasily.

‘How can you differentiate all this water from a nearby river?’ asked Francis, who was sceptical.

‘Just use your nose. I can smell it. Wisps of wet rock rather than wet soil. It is carried in the wind. Soon, ve shall be hearing the rush of water.’

‘Well, you were right about the trail, Vasily. So, we should trust your senses.’ Mumbled a tired Michael. ‘Had we followed the trail, we would have long slid down to the bottom. Just look at the water and mud flowing down it!’ he raised just one finger towards the direction of the trail on their right, which was now partially visible through a break in the bushes. His arm seemed too heavy to raise. Giles nodded sluggishly in agreement, but Francis silently disagreed and wondered if they would be better off on the trail. Vasily quickly took off his backpack, and to everyone’s surprise, he scooped up some wet black soil from the ground and smeared it all over his face. ‘What are you doing?’ asked a surprised Giles.

‘Having a look ahead. You stay here.’ Responded Vasily as though he was surprised by the question.

‘But why are you soiling your face?’

‘Don’t you think English? Vhat, part some bushes and stick my white Russian face through for any sniper to see. Camouflage! Camouflage!’ The three friends didn’t think about this and felt silly, but they were indeed getting a real education from Vasily.

‘You three stay here. Rest. This now is zhe situation. I vill move ahead to see vhat awaits us on ze valley floor. Ze real danger is before us. Not behind. Ze river vill be the smugglers' border, and if there is a bridge, I suspect it vill be held against us in some fashion. I doubt ve vill be able to use it, and I vill see if there is another crossing. Ve are getting into ze heart of their realm. If ve can cross and hide through ze night, ve can press on and strike south by early morning.’ The three nodded and understood the situation. Michael realised once more how lucky there were to have Vasily with them. ‘Be careful.’ He wished Vasily as he slipped ahead into the bushes and disappeared.

After the rumour and even the sound of Vasily’s movement disappeared, Francis saw that it was time to discuss something that was