Don't Read in the Closet: Volume Four (44 page)

at as if he was a specimen or a trophy. He wondered if there was a

local practice of capturing stray tourists and selling them into slavery.

Matt said, “What do you want?” But still the man did not speak.

Matt tried to remember his Portuguese. Somewhere in his backpack

was a Portuguese phrase book. But he didn’t think he was going to get

an opportunity to fish it out.

Just then, the stranger’s eyes twitched. He suddenly jerked

backwards. There was a muffled sound in the back of the man’s

throat. Matt was confused. Then he saw the reason. Just in front of

him, an emerald green snake had coiled around a branch inches from

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Matt’s left leg. The snake was bright green with zigzag white

lightning bolts along its back. Its head arched out from its coiled body.

Its eyes stared at Matt, wide and transfixed. It flicked its tongue in

rapid thrusts.

The stranger turned his machete on its side. He moved it up and

down slightly, as if he was tamping down the air. He held a finger to

his lips to signal quiet. Then he stuck his hand palm out to say, “Don’t

move.” Matt didn’t move. He didn’t breathe. The man slowly raised

his right arm, the one that held the machete. Matt hoped—Matt

prayed—that the man was about to cut off the snake’s head.

A small lizard scurried behind Matt and ran into the bush.

Instantly, the snake lunged toward the lizard. But what the snake hit

was Matt’s thigh. Matt felt the slap of the snake’s head strike his

thigh. And in the same instant, he felt the sharp pinch of a bite. Matt

stood absolutely still. He was stunned. He peered down at his leg. He

stared at it in disbelief. A small trickle of blood appeared on his thigh.

The stranger crouched down quickly to inspect the bite. Alarm

showed in his eyes. Matt felt his head going light. He tried to say

something, but instead he began to swoon. In a single arc, he fell faint

onto his hammock. And everything went black.

Matt wasn’t sure how long he was out. When he opened his eyes

again, he was lying in a normal position in the hammock. The bottom

half of his body felt different. When he looked down, he saw his

sandals and cargo shorts were gone. The man must have taken them

off. The man had tied something around the top of his thigh. It was the

yellow t-shirt from the canoe. Once again, the man was staring at

Matt. But now he sat with one leg slung over a nearby log, as if he’d

been sitting on it for a while. The machete was still at his side. Matt

looked around for the snake—but it was gone.

“What happened?” Matt asked.

The man stood, and came to the hammock. He studied Matt’s leg.

He untied the t-shirt from around Matt’s upper thigh and pulled it off.

“You got bit by a snake,” the man said. “An emerald tree boa.”

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“You speak English?”

The man nodded. He put his fingers on Matt’s thigh. “See.” He

pointed at the two small punctures in the skin. “A shallow bite. I

cleaned it.”

“I don’t feel anything now,” Matt said. “It doesn’t hurt.”

The man shook his head. “You’re too big. The emerald boa

usually bites a lizard to grab it and pull it close enough so he can wrap

himself around it and crush it. The snake was aiming for a lizard but

he hit you instead. Kind of clumsy for a snake. They’re usually

accurate when they strike.”

“Did you suck the stuff out of me?” Matt’s voice quavered.

Now the man looked like he didn’t understand Matt’s words. “Did

I suck what?”

“The poison. The venom. I don’t feel it.”

The man shook his head. “There wasn’t any poison. Emerald tree

boas aren’t venomous. Like I said, they bite so they can pull their prey

in and strangle them. But the snake didn’t try that with you. You’re

too big.”

Matt was breathing hard. His voice had been trembling when he

asked about the poison. Now he thought about what had happened,

trying to make sense of it. He slowed his breathing down. “So I’m

OK?”

“You passed out. You were out cold for twenty minutes.”

“I feel OK now.”

“Then you’re OK.”

Matt looked down at his leg. “How come you tied a t-shirt around

my leg?”

“Insurance. The emerald boa has no venom, but he doesn’t brush

his teeth each morning. I had to be sure there was no infection. If you

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got infected and couldn’t walk, it would be a problem for me. But

there is no swelling, so I took the t-shirt off your leg.”

Matt looked down again at his thigh. “What happened to my

shorts?”

“When you passed out, I took those off. I had to tie the tourniquet

above the bite. Your shorts were in the way.”

Matt suddenly felt sheepish. There he was lying in his underwear.

The briefs were hardly the most modest pair he could have chosen.

They were briefs he’d bought from the “Undergear” catalog. They

were turquoise. They were designed to show off the male anatomy.

He hadn’t planned on anyone seeing them. But what did it matter?

The situation had been a crisis. And now he was safe. “Thank you,”

he said to the stranger.

The man stepped back a foot. He continued to look at Matt in

silence. His expression was still wary.

“I’m Matt Philips,” Matt said. He stuck out his hand, but the man

did not reach to take it.

“What are you doing here?” the man asked.

“I was on a canoe expedition. I got separated from the group.

Then I got lost.”

The man digested this. He nodded. He said, “OK.” He closed his

eyes. After a moment, he opened them, and raised an eyebrow. “So

you were not looking for me Matt Philips?”

“Looking for you? I had no idea anyone was out here. Who’s

looking for you?”

The man frowned. “My father.” He picked up the machete and

pointed at the trees. “My father has men looking for me. I thought you

might be one of them.”

Matt shook his head. “I’m not looking for anyone. I’m just lost,

man. Totally lost. Where are we?”

“We’re in a remote spot,” the man said. “That’s why I’m here.”

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“You’re in hiding?”

He nodded.

“How come?”

“I had a disagreement with my father. My father’s a mean

motherfucker. He runs a drug cartel.”

“You’re kidding.”

The man smirked. “You think I’d joke about a thing like that?

He’s an evil bastard. If he finds me, he’ll kill me.”

“Why? Did you steal drugs from him or something?”

The man stuck the tip of the machete into the ground. “He doesn’t

approve of me.”

“So you’re hiding out here in the jungle?” Matt glanced at the

wilderness around him. “How do you survive?”

“I get by. I have help. That tour group you’re with, Amazon

Backpackers…they have a lodge here in the Juma Reserve. I know a

guy who works in the kitchen there. We have an arrangement. He

leaves food out for me, behind the lodge. I pick it up before dawn

every day.” The man sat down on the log again.

“Can’t you hide out somewhere less dangerous?”

The man shook his head. “Not possible. Anywhere less dangerous,

his men would find me.”

“Why don’t you just leave the country? Go away somewhere.”

The man nodded. “Maybe.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I

thought about it.” He looked around the clearing. “But I don’t have

money. If I went where I could get money, I’d get caught. So I stay

here.”

“Jesus, man, that sucks.” Matt wondered what the man must have

done that his father hated him so much. He pointed at the machete. “Is

that thing necessary?”

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“When I saw how scared you were,” the man snickered. “That’s

when I knew you weren’t one of my father’s men. His men are vicious

brutes.”

“What made you think I was one of those guys in the first place?”

The man shrugged his shoulders. “You’re a big strong guy. My

father’s men are all brawny. And you came right up to the spot where

I’m hiding—like you were coming here on purpose.”

“It was just chance,” said Matt. “The tour folks are probably out

looking for me.”

The man frowned. “I know.” He pointed out toward the river. “For

that reason, I pulled your canoe out of the water.”

“How come?”

“I don’t want anyone to find this spot.”

“Why not?”

“I have a camp set up near here. It was a lot of work to set it up. I

don’t want to have to set it up again somewhere else. No one knows

about this place…except you.”

The man would have to trust him to keep his secret. “Don’t

worry,” he said. “There’s no way I’d tell anyone about you being

here. You saved my life.”

The man cocked his head. “You mean from that little snake?”

“No, I mean, if you get me out of this jungle you will have saved

my life. I don’t know how I’d get out of here otherwise.”

The man nodded, but he looked at Matt to size him up again. “I

can’t get you out tonight. It’s getting too dark. I can travel in the dark,

but it would be impossible for you. You’ll have to stay at my camp.”

Matt got out of the hammock. “OK. Sure.” He forced himself to

smile. “I understand.” He looked around the clearing. “I guess I’d

better gather up my stuff.” He looked toward the river. “Where did

you put the canoe?”

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“I hid it.”

Matt untied his hammock. He gathered up his things and stuffed

them in his backpack. He slung the backpack on his back and stood

up. He had no idea where the man’s camp might be. “Lead the way,”

he said.

The man stared at him. It was an odd kind of stare. Like he wanted

to say something, but he wasn’t sure if he should. There was a

calculating look in his eyes. He pointed at Matt’s crotch. “You are

forgetting something.”

Matt blushed. “Oh right.” He quickly took off his backpack. He

dug into it to find his cargo shorts and sandals. He’d been so

distracted by the rapidly changing events; he’d forgotten he was half-

naked. He turned around, embarrassed, facing away from the man. He

hurriedly pulled on his cargo shorts and sandals. The damn turquoise

briefs mortified him. He couldn’t imagine what this man must think

about them. Then he remembered that the back of the briefs were as

bad as the front. They were cut to show off his butt. He quickly spun

around. The man stood watching him quietly—with no discernible

expression on his face.

Then the man turned and pushed through an 18-inch gap between

two trees. He immediately disappeared from view. Matt quickly

followed him. Once inside the forest, Matt saw there was no clear path

to anything. There were spiny ferns and buriti palms, creepers and

myrtles—all in an endless jumble of branches, trunks and vines. The

man stepped right, then left, then right—zigzagging his way through

the bush like it was a labyrinth whose secret he knew. After they’d

gone five yards, Matt was completely disoriented. Then, after twenty

minutes of navigating through the jungle, the man stepped through a

curtain of vines and disappeared again. A moment later, Matt parted

the vines and stepped through behind him—and into a clearing.

Matt was amazed. The clearing was as big as the one by the river.

But here the clearing was like a walled courtyard. At the far end of the

space was a hut with a thatched roof. Near the entrance to the hut sat a

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chair made entirely from branches and twigs. In the middle of the

space, a pit showed the charred remains of a fire. On the right side of

the clearing was a depression—a channel that ran along the right

perimeter. When Matt walked over to inspect it, he saw that it was a

creek. Water trickled gently across its bed. Next to the creek sat a