A YEAR IN THE LIFE, Chapter 3

Juan swore as the wrench slipped from his grip and clattered to the floor, the hexagonal nut disappearing somewhere down the Evinrude's innards.

Fuck!

Taking a step back, the mechanic scratched the back of his scalp. The old outboard was more trouble than it was worth - but Al had never been one to overlook a freebie.

Maybe I should just dump it in the river...bet he wouldn't even put in an insurance claim for this piece of shit...

The music blaring from the shop radio abruptly cut out.

"Hello?"

Juan spun around. At the workbench stood a striking Asian woman with neatly cropped, shoulder-length black hair.

She withdrew her fingers from the radio's volume knob and smiled apologetically. "Sorry, I didn't think you could hear us."

By 'us', the young woman evidently meant her two companions standing under the overhanging garage door: a pretty blonde sporting a ratty old baseball cap from under which flowed a long, dishevelled mass of flaxen locks, along with an stunning ponytail-rocking brunette who, unlike her Asian companion was eyeing him with rather more reserve.

He gaped at the women: here in the remote backwater of the Amazon basin, they looked starkly out of place — not that he was complaining.

Holy shit...

"Easy, fella," warned the blonde.

Juan quickly snapped his mouth shut.

"Oh, let him look," laughed the Asian. "He's cute!"

"It's not the looking I'm worried about," muttered the blonde, her expression guarded and suspicious.

"Can we get to business please?" voiced said the brunette in a distinct British accent, shifting impatiently. "We're burning daylight."

The Asian sprang forward and extended her hand. "Right. I'm Sam Nishimura, I called to make arrangements a couple of weeks ago?"

Juan shook the proffered hand, immediately kicking himself for not wiping the grease from his palm. "A couple of..."

It suddenly dawned on him: this was the group they were to transport up the Rio Uapés - for as yet reasons unknown. Al had given few details about the mysterious customers.

Juan's attention was diverted to a commotion outside in the gravel lot where a small group of people were unloading cargo from a cube van.

Handling the largest containers was a bear of a man, though the altercation stemmed from a short-haired African-American woman who was in the process of poking a red-haired woman who looked to be the brunette's virtual twin in the shoulder. Though they were a good twenty-five yards away Juan could pick up every word.

" - and don't give me any of that 'wasted on menial tasks' bullcrap! You're gonna do your share or I'll kick your white ass all the way to -"

The altercation didn't go unnoticed by the women in the garage.

"Elsie," voiced the brunette ominously.

But the blonde had already reacted, running outside and waving her hands frantically.

"Oh, no, no, no...Joslin, don't do - JOSLIN!"

Juan looked on as the the girl — Elsie? — quickly ushered the African American away from the redhead.

"Um...everything all right?"

"Oh, sure," replied Sam, waving a dismissive hand. "They'll be fine. They're still getting used to each other, that's all."

"At least they haven't killed each other...yet," added the Englishwoman in a deadpan tone that made Juan wonder if she was serious or not.

Sam turned back to the mechanic. "So, is the owner around? He was supposed to have everything ready for us."

"Uh, yeah," said Juan, thumbing over his shoulder "He's, uh, just wait here..."

Nearly tripping over an open toolbox, the mechanic quickly made his way to the office at the back of the garage.

He rapped briefly and cracked the door open. "Dude! You gotta come check these girls out!"

The outfitter was hunched over in his chair, rummaging through a desk drawer.

"Yeah, some other time...where in Hell are the last fuel invoices?"

"No, really," insisted Juan. "It's like Charlie's Angels out there."

Al's grey-crapped head slowly drew up.

He frowned at the mechanic. "What are you talking about?"

Juan drew further into the cluttered office, closing the door behind him. "The clients you told us about, the ones going upriver...they're here."

"Oh," said the outfitter, brows rising in acknowledgement. "Fine then, take 'em down to the docks. Diego should be there by now."

The mechanic pointed back to the door. "But you gotta come check them out!"

Al's frown returned. "In a bit...why so excited?"

Juan chuckled. "They ain't exactly your average everyday customers. Come on, just trust me on this."

The outfitter sighed and slammed the drawer shut. Pushing off from his chair, he rounded his desk.

"This better be good," grumbled the owner as he shot Juan a sideways glance.

The two men made their way to the shop garage. To Juan's surprise, Al gave no undue reaction to the two stunning young women near the workbench.

"Ladies," said the owner as he extended his hand in greeting. "Al Sanchez."

"Sam Nishimura," echoed the Asian, smiling. "I hate to cut to the chase like this, but any chance of our getting underway before dark?"

"That's not a problem," replied the outfitter smoothly. "With the amount of money you're throwing at this we'll be on the river within the hour...Hell, we'll even help bring your gear down to the docks."

Juan noticed the brunette give a subtle look to her companion, one that the Asian seemed careful not to meet.

"That'd be terrific, thanks!"

With that, the Asian turned and hurried outside towards the cube van, the brunette on her heels.

"Sam...a word, please."

Al turned and gave Juan a wry smile.

"Well, they're not poachers, that's for sure," said the outfitter before disappearing to the office.

~ oOo ~

Lara gazed up at the azure and slowly turned to all points of the compass — there was still no sign of her nemesis.

No helicopters. No planes. Not even their ubiquitous drones.

Might she have actually given Trinity the slip? She hardly dared to hope.

Turning on her heel, the archaeologist took in the island of civilization that was their base camp.

Three small sleeping tents surrounded a dug-out circle of stones, which had already been prepared with firewood for the coming night. Beyond were several tables shielded from the elements by overhanging tarpaulins. They were already cluttered with laptops, communications equipment, med kits, maps and the general accoutrements of an organized expedition.

Set further away from the camp was a wheeled generator supplied by twin 45 gallon petrol drums, which were in turn flanked by a communications antenna pointing thirty feet into the sky, its stabilizing cables anchored into the ground.

Supplies were stacked all about the camp, ensuring they could survive without outside assistance for at least a fortnight. Sam had even organized resupply by helicopter should it be required.

Of course, Lara was well aware every day they remained they ran the risk of discovery by the Brazilian authorities — or worse.

The brunette twisted her fingers through her ponytail and sighed.

If I came across this in the jungle I'd probably think it was a Trinity job...

It would take getting used to.

Of course, such preparation undoubtedly came at a price: she shuddered to see the final financial outlay.

It wasn't that she couldn't afford it; given the full, unfettered resources of the Estate behind her, it was but a pinprick to her finances. But throwing out large sums of money was still anathema to the Englishwoman.

It was why she'd settled on a Prius rather than a car more typical of the English landed gentry — but even that comparatively sensible purchase had produced a twang of guilt in the brunette the moment she'd signed the contract.

"Stop torturing yourself," Sam had laughed, sensing her friend's torment. "Damn girl, good thing you didn't get a Rolls!"

Lara was grateful Sam had handled the minutiae of organizing the expedition; she had quite enough on her mind without having to worry about such trivialities as budgets, flight costs and boat rentals.

Sam...

The Englishwoman rubbed her forearm. It hadn't been so long ago that she thought hers and Sam's life paths had diverged permanently.

It had felt like half her soul had been unceremoniously ripped from her.

What had she been thinking?

But so much had changed.

Nothing else matters.

Lara swallowed at the rawness of the Asian-American's words.

She'd been such a fool. Sam had once more reached through the murky depths to pull Lara from the gloom.

And in truth, she should've seen it coming.

I'm not leaving without you.

Lara smiled to herself. There was no question, now — they were on this journey together.

The brunette was suddenly drawn from her reminiscence by rustling to her left.

Turning towards the sound, her eyes fell on a kneeling Elsie, her back to the brunette — she seemed preoccupied with rummaging through a clump of vegetation.

Lara caught a glimpse bright green and took a step closer.

The Englishwoman's breath caught in her throat.

The blonde had fished out a long, slender snake from the vegetation — she was grasping the serpent by the tail with one hand while supporting its head with a forked stick.

The emerald green scales and distinctive dark cleft between eye and nostril sent alarm bells ringing in the archaeologist's head.

Pit viper!

Lara resisted the urge to lunge forward lest the sudden movement cause the serpent to strike out in reflex.

"Elsie!"

The blonde gave no reaction, slowly turning the forked stick as the snake slowly ambled along its length: she seemed utterly oblivious to the danger the creature represented.

"For God's sake, get away from that thing!" hissed the archaeologist.

"Geez, relax," returned the blonde with unnerving calmness, her eyes not moving from the reptile in her grasp. "This isn't the first snake I've wrangled."

Lara balled her fists, struggling to contain her anxiousness. "And just how many venomous snake species are there in Maine?"

"I'd have to Google that."

"You know the answer!" exclaimed the Englishwoman. "Blast it, Elsie, let it go!"

The blonde frowned. "Don't be a nag, will ya? We only just got here."

Lara stomped her foot for emphasis. "ELSIE -"

The brunette stopped herself. Blowing out her cheeks, she took a deep breath before continuing in a deliberately measured tone.

"What did we say about taking unnecessary risks?" asked the archaeologist. "Would you rather I leave you behind next time?"

For several moments the blonde gave no reaction. But finally Lara detected the slightest sagging of her friend's shoulders.

The veiled threat had struck home.

"Fine," sighed Elsie. She slowly lowered the snake to the ground and watched at it slithered silently into the brush.

"Off you go, little fella."

"Thank you," said Lara, her heart rate subsiding to a slightly less frantic rhythm.

Elsie pushed off from the ground and swept the dirt from her trousers.

"You didn't have to hold that over me, you know," muttered the blonde.

"You left me no choice," countered Lara firmly. "If that thing had so much as nipped you — "

Lara's paused her riposte at Sam and Jonah's approach. The filmmaker pressed a satellite phone into the Englishwoman's palm.

"We're set," said Sam. "Kaz set the encryption, so no worries about eavesdropping. And it's GPS-enabled so we can track you on a secure frequency."

Jonah in turn produced a steel case and held it up at chest level, handle facing the archaeologist. Lara flipped the double latches and pushed the lid up against the Samoan's chest.

The base of the case sported six molded foam recesses, two of which were occupied by Remington Model 1911 pistols.

Lara snatched up one of the handguns and held it up for inspection. She tested the slide action for smooth operation. It glided effortlessly.

Jonah produced a handful of ammunition clips.

Slipping the firearm into the holster strapped to her hip, Lara took the proffered ammunition.

She glanced at the remaining pistol.

"Why's there still —"

She spied Elsie furtively edging back.

"Oh no you don't," voiced the archaeologist, instantly fitting the pieces together. Snatching the remaining Remington from its case, she moved for the blonde.

Elsie's palms immediately shot up.

"Don't even think about it," stated the blonde firmly.

Lara thrust the weapon grip-first towards her friend. "Take it. This is not a discussion."

Elsie made a duck face. "Sheesh, who made you Queen of the Amazon?"

"In the field, I'm in charge," stated the archaeologist. "We can debate this when we're back in Surrey...take it."

The blonde eyed the weapon with undisguised revulsion. "Give it to somebody else. Or keep it as a spare...just don't give it to me, all right?"

"We talked about this," said the brunette impatiently. "Don't pretend —"

"More like you talked about it," countered the blonde hotly. "I'm not blowing anybody's brains out, okay?"

Lara huffed. "Bugger, Elsie! This is for your own protection! You agreed!"

The blonde balled her fists. "Only because you wouldn't drop it!"

The Englishwoman dropped her arm to her side.

"Oh, you witch!" hissed Lara, glaring at the blonde. "You deceitful little —"

"Okay, you two," interrupted Sam, interposing herself between the two friends. "That's enough. Elsie, the girls could use a hand setting up the command tent."

Lara turned her frustration to the Asian-American. "Sam, we discussed this! Out here everyone keeps a sidearm at all times."

"I know, but..."

But Elsie was already flouncing off without a word, her stride angry and purposeful.

Lara could feel her cheeks flush — it was all she could do not to throw the pistol after the blonde.

"Oh, that...that..."

Sam drew close and filled Lara's field of vision, blocking her view of the retreating blonde.

"Oh sweetie, don't be upset," voiced the filmmaker softly, brushing back her companion's fringe. "You have enough on your plate as it is. Let me handle this, okay?"

Lara sighed.

"Talk to her, Sam," pleaded the brunette as she handed off the pistol. "Explain to her just how reckless she's being."

A hint of amusement crossed the Asian-American's features.

Lara arched an eyebrow. "What?"

Sam's serious expression quickly returned: "Right...of course I'll talk to her."

"Thank you."

The filmmaker leaned closer. "Please be careful."

Pressing her lips to the brunette's, Sam's kiss managed to at least partly dissipate her companion's lingering frustration. The Englishwoman closed her eyes and allowed herself a few moments of bliss.

Oh Sam...

Her lips lingering for a few precious seconds, the filmmaker finally drew back. Lara opened her eyes in time to catch one last worried look from the Asian-American before she headed off after the blonde.

"Keep an eye on them, Jonah," said the Englishwoman after several moments. She kicked the dirt idly and took a deep breath. "I swear, Elsie can drive a girl to drink..."

The Samoan drew near, the now empty pistol case dangling from his fingers.

"Try not to hold it against her," said Jonah in the familiar geniality that Lara knew so well. "I'm guessing she hates guns."

"To put it mildly," returned Lara, turning to face the Samoan. "But I hate it when she lies to me."

The Samoan appeared thoughtful. "Well, if she'd told you the truth, how would you have reacted?"

"I would've left her behind, of course," replied the archaeologist without hesitation. "Why do you think I insisted on everyone being able to defend themselves...why, what are you getting at?"

Jonah inclined his head slightly. "So...she'd be at the Manor, then."

Lara shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "That's right."

"For the next couple of weeks."

"...yes..."

"By herself."

"Don't be daft," countered the Englishwoman quickly, jamming a fist into her hip. "I would've left Doppie with her of course."

"Just in case."

"That's right."

There was a twinkle in Jonah's eye.

"I see," postulated the Samoan as he rubbed his chin between thumb and forefinger.

Lara sighed.

"Just what are you trying not to say, Jonah?"

The Samoan shrugged. "You know her better than I do. Anyway..."

Jonah dropped the pistol case to the ground before wrapping his bear-like arms around the brunette.

"Take care of yourself, Little Bird."

Lara returned the hug. She was profoundly grateful for the Samoan, both as a source of sober second thought and a reassuring presence. Her friends were in good hands.

Slowly breaking the embrace, Lara smiled at Jonah one last time before making off for the outcrop northeast of camp.

As she approached the solitary figure standing watch, Lara experienced a terrifying flashback from her Tibetan expedition — and thanked the stars that the being up ahead now fought at her side.

"Anything?" asked the archaeologist as she drew up alongside her doppelgänger. From this vantage point the jungle's green canopy was visible for miles in all directions.

Doppie shook her head, her golden-yellow eyes continuing their slow scan of the horizon.

"Good," said Lara, giving her gear one final check. "With any luck, we may have given them the slip for once."

The Englishwoman flicked her wrist.

10:14 AM

She turned to face her doppelgänger. "Listen to me. We're in the middle of nowhere here. If anyone should show up...take no chances."

The redhead slowly nodded.

Lara turned back to the seemingly endless expanse of greenery and took in a deep breath.

'Right then..."

Setting off down the slope, Lara's excitement at the prospect of a new adventure gave fresh energy to her stride.