Temple of shadow, p.1
Temple Of Shadow, page 1
TEMPLE OF SHADOW
Book 1
(An Albright Adventure)
by
Phillip Tomasso
www.severedpress.com
Copyright 2022 by Phillip Tomasso
Novels
Mind Play
Tenth House
Third Ring
Johnny Blade
Adverse Impact
The Molech Prophecy (as Thomas Phillips)
Convicted
Pigeon Drop
Pulse of Evil
Vaccination
Evacuation
Preservation
Sounds of Silence
Treasure Island: A Zombie Novella
Damn the Dead (Forthcoming from Severed Press)
Treasure Island: A Zombie Novella
Blood River
Wizard’s Rise
Wizard’s War
Queens of Osiris
Assassin's Promise
Absolute Zero
Extinction (Novella)
Jay Walker: The Case of the Missing Action Figure
Jay Walker: The Case of the Impractical Prankster
You Choose
Woman in the Woods
Before the Sun Sets
This one is, as always, for my kids
Phillip, Stephanie, Grant, Abby, Raeleigh & Anthony
And for my grandkids Vinny & Arabella
It is also for the dogs in my life
Ziti, Fettuccine, Cannoli, and Vader
I LOVE All Of You So Much!
PART ONE
Every man’s life ends the same way. It is only the details of how he lived and how he died that distinguish one man from another.
Ernest Hemingway
1
Brazil - February - Twenty-five years ago
Travel during the middle of the heavy rain season was more dangerous than any other time of year. By all rights, the Koatinemo region was on par with reaching an average of eight inches of rain per month since December. It felt as if the region should be completely submerged underwater. Rain poured down from the dense, saturated rainforest canopy like a series of waterfalls. The overgrown vegetation spilled the accumulation, creating a series of dangerously swift, and sometimes deep, impromptu creeks. In drier areas, under the foliage, there was thick, gooey mud.
The Xingu River snaked through Brazil, flowing north toward the Amazon River, and passed between twenty-two million acres of virgin rainforest. The body of water was protected by the indigenous Kayapo people, who call the river Butire. Less than ten thousand Kayapo are spread throughout the Brazilian rainforest.
Alexander felt his skin wrinkle, his toes pruning. His army green floppy visor bucket hat, with a drawstring under the chin, kept the rain off his head. The blue waterproof parka kept the rain off his torso. The insistent downpour splashed against his neck and rolled down his back and into the waistband of his pants. His undergarments were soaked by rain and sweat. His chafed thighs made him wince with discomfort after every step taken.
He, his team, and two guides had been cutting a path through dense jungle for hours. If they’d managed more than a few miles, he’d have been surprised. At this pace, it would be days before they reached the treasure, if there was even a treasure to be found.
The lead guide, a former military man, stopped and held up a fist. They loved their hand signals. The guide had given everyone a crash course while on the boat. The most important hand signal was held up first. It meant stop and shut up. There were seven in his party, nine with the two guides. They all walked in a line, stepping where the person in front of them stepped.
“What is it?” Alexander asked. His eyes darted about. He only saw green. Giant fat tree leaves, and green ground cover. The jungle was one giant camouflage portrait. Every direction looked identical. Getting turned around and winding up lost would be easy. There was no clear path, other than the one they cut as they moved forward. When Alexander looked behind, he could not see much of a path. He looked for signs of machete bites in the wood, and slices through giant green leaves. Could the vines and weeds and branches have grown back already?
The jungle seemed alive, as if an entity. The canopy made it feel like eternal darkness below, during the storm. It was midday. It looked more like midnight. He knew by nightfall the forest would be black, unnavigable. If they didn’t find a clearing, they would make camp beneath the giant trees. It was far from ideal, as predators came out at night.
“We’re not alone,” the guide whispered. He unshouldered a rifle, pointing the barrel toward the dense forest, and then opened the action, pulling the bolt handle up and back. He dropped ammunition into the magazine, slid the bolt handle forward and down, locking the cartridge into place.
Not alone? Alexander shifted his weight, regripping his hold on the machete. All of the thoughts that flitted through his mind during the hike were pushed aside. His body went rigid. The beat of his heart and heavy breathing drowned out the sound of rain falling. The sound was cloudy, muffled. He no longer heard the jungle around him at all.
A branch snapped. Alexander could not tell where the crunch came from. In front of them? From behind? He wasn’t sure. “What was that?”
The guide shushed him with the silent gesture, a finger against his lips.
Alexander often found himself in predicaments, it came with explorations into unpopulated territories. The surge of adrenaline racing through his body gave him a high. There was no denying danger created an unparalleled rush. Part of him craved the reaction like a junkie, despite the unpredictability of the outcome. Living on the edge had become his way of life.
Something about this situation felt different, more sinister. What changed everything was Pricilla. They got engaged two months ago. A wedding was in the works. When it was just him, he didn’t worry about his mortality. If he died out here in the jungle, she would kill him. She had told him as much at the airport last week when they hugged and kissed goodbye. He promised her he would return. He had no intention of breaking that promise.
One member of his team had had his first child, right before they left for the Amazon. It was all the man talked about on the plane across continents.
Alexander wanted a family one day, as well. It was why getting home safely was so important. “What do we do?”
“Keep moving forward,” the guide said. His eyes scanned the canopy, and narrowed as he attempted to peer through the trees. The man needed a shave. They all did. “I don’t think we’re in any real danger.”
Alexander looked at the rifle, the guide’s finger on the trigger. He nodded at the weapon in the guide’s hands. “You look like we’re actually in real danger.”
“We’re good. We’re safe,” he said. The guide dismissed him, starting forward. The group followed. Alexander shook his head, then fell in line.
Another branch snapped.
They all stopped. They didn’t need the guide to make and raise a fist. Not this time. Something was out there. Following them. Stalking them.
“Hey,” Alexander said. Again he was shushed. The butt of the rifle was nestled against the guide’s shoulder. He held the barrel in the hand of his extended left arm.
The man pointed with the end of the rifle barrel. “Came from over there. The last sound came from that direction.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Same as before. We’re not alone,” he said. The guide never stopped looking all around. “I’m just thinking. At this point, we’re closer to the boat than we are to the X on your map. We’re only a day into the hike. It makes far more sense to head back to the boat. We can wait for the rain to let up and, maybe, look for a better path where an actual route has already been carved through the thick brush.”
“We’re being followed?” Alexander asked. “Is that it?”
“Yeah. We are most definitely being followed. We’re being watched.”
“Natives?”
“Could be,” he said. “Or jaguars.”
Jaguars? Wonderful. Alexander did a slow three-sixty. The only thing moving were the thick leaves under the weight of water. “I don’t see anything. I thought jaguars were solitary? They don’t hunt in packs.”
“They don’t. Unless it’s mating season.”
“When is mating season?” Alexander asked.
“Whenever they are in the mood,” the guide grinned. Alexander did not laugh.
The guide continued, “Look, this is your expedition. You paid me to lead you through the forest and for me to advise you and your team.”
“And your advice?” Alexander said.
The guide held up a finger. He took a long moment and surveyed the area, spinning in a slow and deliberate circle. “Yeah. I’m pretty confident that we’ve been surrounded. If we keep on moving deeper into the forest, they are not going to give up and go away. This is their home, their terrain. We are the intruders. They are going to continue to track us, and when the time is right, like when we are all asleep, that is when they will attack.”
“That’s if it’s a jaguar?”
“That’s if it is anything. Once the sun goes down, we’re going to be forced to make camp wherever we are at that time. We’ll be in the open, vulnerable.” The guide lowered his weapon some. He stood ready, though. His finger resting on the trigger guard.
Alexander exhaled. He removed his plastic-wrapped map. The guide was right. They were countless miles away from where the temple should be, and only a few miles from where they’d left the river boat anchored along the riverbank.
Alexander wanted to press on. As far as they were from the temple, they were the closest he’d ever been to the treasure. The thing was, being surrounded was not good. “Yeah, but you don’t know by what?”
The guide cocked his head to one side, as if suddenly confident. “It’s—”
Something cut a path through the forest, toward them. It was not being quiet about it, either. Branches snapped, leaves rustled, and low growls and snarls came from all around them. It could not have been a single jaguar, or even two. Whatever charged in their direction, it came at them fast. Determined.
“Retreat!” the guide shouted.
Retreat? Alexander thought. What in the hell could they do? There was but one path cut through the trees leading back to the river. “Everyone, back to the boat!”
They did an about-face, and ran. The going was tough, the footing muddy. The ground sucked at Alexander’s shoes. It was as if they attempted a sprint through molasses while batting giant leaves and springing branches out of the way. It was no surprise when someone tripped, fell. Alexander grabbed Jeremy by the shoulders and tried pulling him back up to his feet. “Get up! Get up!”
The guide ran past them.
Once Jeremy was standing, Alexander pushed him forward. “Go, go.”
Alexander had no idea what they were running from. He hadn’t seen a single animal, or person, for that matter. He’d, unmistakably, heard the growling and snarling, though.
All he knew for sure was if his guide was turning-tail in an attempt at escaping, then so was he. There would be time for questions later. Hopefully.
Once again, only the sound of his heart slamming in his chest and his breathing filled his ears. Tunnel vision obscured his view. He saw only what was in front of him. Ducking from swinging branches, jumping over fallen trees, and trying not to get tripped up by the snaking vines became the objective. The obstacle course held potentially deadly consequences.
Alexander stumbled. He realized he was the last in the pack. If he went down, there was no one behind him to pick him up. He had lost sight of both Nicholas and Jeremy. He prayed they’d make it safely to the river, regardless.
As if he’d jinxed himself, Alexander toppled over a raised root. It grew from the mud like a noose for his foot. He went down fast and hard, burying his face in mushy mud. He struggled getting up onto his elbows, and struggled more as he wiped muck from his eyes.
Once on his feet again, Alexander could only see the blur of a path ahead. He blinked hard, and shook his head. The mud was in his eyes.
He launched himself forward. One foot after the other, he ran as fast as the insufferable terrain allowed.
He realized he’d lost his machete. Probably dropped it when he fell. He only recognized the loss because he uselessly fought cutting his own path through the jungle. Alexander did the next best thing: he shielded himself with an arm, tucked in his head, and pushed through the dense, dark green growth. The distance he traveled without the long, sharp blade hadn’t been easy. He wasn’t sure how he’d strayed off the initial path in the first place.
While the rain kept most of the insects and creatures at bay, whatever still chased him through the trees wasn’t put off by the downpour.
He wished he knew what he was running from. Would it make any difference? He supposed not. If something chased him, he ran. Simple.
It was then that he heard something growl. He couldn’t escape the horrid thoughts filling his mind. He envisioned claws latching onto his back, raking through flesh and ripping him open. He imagined the weight of a beast driving him into the mud, face-first, and tearing him apart while trying to sink giant fangs into the back of his neck.
Somewhere in front of him was the rest of his team. Had they scattered? Would any of them make it safely back to the boat?
A snapshot of Pricilla filled Alexander’s thoughts. A solid image of her smiling face. When she looked up at him, he saw the love in her eyes, and the way she smiled. It was as if she couldn’t not smile at him. He only hoped she saw the same in him when he was looking at her.
He was not going to die on this continent. He would make it back to the boat. He would make it back home.
Something jumped into the path in front of him. A large black blur. Where did it come from? Up in the trees?
The sight of the jaguar stopped him dead in his tracks: the black spots on almost shiny, yellow fur, shining green eyes, and large canine teeth in its jawline. He stood up straight.
This was it. The end.
And then he heard the gunshot. The sound of the rifle firing didn’t echo in the jungle the way he thought it might. The humidity, the rain, captured the sound and made it reverberate flat.
The beast leapt out of Alexander’s path and back into the brush. He had no idea if it was gone. He had no idea how many other jaguars were in pursuit. He did not feel as if he had survived anything, yet, other than one potential stroke with death.
He saw Jeremy ten yards ahead of him. “Come on, Alexander! This way!”
One of his friends had come back for him, God love him! “I’m right behind you!”
Jeremy turned, darting forward, and disappeared. Alexander waited one precious heartbeat to regain his bearings, then followed. He picked up speed. Ducking and jumping as best he could. He saw the back of their guide. He was catching up.
Running as fast as he could, Alexander did his best to ignore the urge to look behind him. He had to trust he wasn’t being followed because, in truth, if something was about to get him, it would get him. He couldn’t outrun a predator in normal circumstances. Serpentining through an overgrown forest was slow going at best. Trying not to trip over a root, or vines, was near impossible. Oh yeah, he thought, if something was about to get him, it would get him!
The muscles in his legs burned. He felt pain in his gut. He was pushing his body. There were limits. He was reaching his. Just when he was sure he could not continue, he saw it. A break in the trees. The clearing was ahead of them. Ahead of him.
Soon, he could see the boat. Their boat.
At the edge of the clearing, the first guide stopped, turned, and waved everyone on in encouragement. They had made it.
They had almost made it.
From the top of a tree, leaping off a branch, was another jaguar. Its body extended as it flew through the air, front claws extended. Jeremy had enough time to face his attacker.
The beast crashed into the man, knocking him to the wet ground. Alexander saw the silky leopard pattern, bright green eyes. Sleek muscles moved and tensed under tight skin as the animal’s ears laid back against its head. It let out a high-pitched snarl before the jaguar buried sharp teeth into the man’s throat.
One of the guides screamed, raised his rifle, and waved it like a flag. “To the boat! To the boat!”
Killing the jaguar was too little, too late. Jeremy was dead.
They raced around the bloody carnage and onto the boat.
On land, beyond the clearing, Alexander saw something. He squinted to peer through the downfall.
The boat engine started. The guide spun the galver. As they moved away from the bank, Alexander saw people.
A row of people with dark skin, faces painted, and holding spears. The spears were aimed at Alexander. Their arms were pulled back, as if they were about to throw the spears like javelins, and Alexander and the others were their target!
2
Rochester, NY - June 3 - Present day
“You are going to need money, Mr. Albright. There is no other polite way of putting this. I am not one to beat around the bush. I hope you can appreciate what I am telling you?”
Michael Albright pulled the cell phone away from his ear and looked at the screen, wrinkling his facial expression. “Yes. This, I know.”
He shook his head, rolled his eyes but, in truth, he didn’t know.
How much money would he need? It was too late for clarification. He’d already made himself sound cocksure. Just over twenty-one years old, and the last thing he wanted was to sound like a dumb kid when discussing plans with this guy. Michael was contracting the man as an employee. If Gregory Hanson didn’t have confidence in his employer, the trip could wind up bust.
“I am talking about some serious cash. And it has to be cash. We’ll be crossing borders. There will be road and water patrols. Guerrillas. That kind of thing. Easiest way through these, let’s call them barriers, is with cash. Are we on the same page, Mr. Albright?” Hanson reiterated.
