Sean sat at a table near an open archway and watched the people as they walked along the market in Manaus. Slow moving fans attempted to stir the air and provide the patrons with a small break from the heat. A group of backpackers had stopped to look through a vendor’s cart of belts and sashes. Another vendor tugged at one of them, hoping to entice them to his blanket, which was spread on the ground and covered in small wooden carvings. Sean sipped from his glass of chilled juice. In the late 1600’s Manaus had been nothing more than an Indian village built to defend against Dutch invaders. But with inevitable change, it grew and the early 1900’s saw a boom in the economy with the exportation of natural rubber products. In the 60’s Manaus became the largest commercial sector on the equator.
As a man approached the table, Sean could smell the rich native tobacco, Mapacho.
“Are you Sean Watts?”
Sean looked at the man, inspecting his scuffed brown loafers and khaki pants. “Yes.”
“My name is Bill Anders and I’m glad I found you. I was told you wouldn’t return for two more days.”
“My last engagement was cut a little short.” Sean said. He stared at the man for several moments. Bill Anders looked like a local, except for the flashy watch, fake smile, and lack of accent. Sean would never be confused as a local, at nearly six feet, four inches he usually towered over others. More than his height, it was the pale skin and coppery red hair that marked him an estrangeiro, a foreigner.
“Well, nothing troubling I hope.” Bill glanced at his watch.
“No, just a tourist who got more than she wanted… listen, I don’t get many visitors, so what do you want?”
Bill smiled, though his eyes remained cool. “Mr. Watts, I represent The Harkness Institute. We have need of a guide who can take a small group into the rainforest, the Xingu-Tapajos region.”
“Harkness Institute, huh? What exactly does the Harkness Institute do?”
“Our organization is focused on the preservation of endangered species.”
“Right, well, there are a lot of guides that are more familiar with that area. I can give you a name for someone in Porto do Moz.” Sean’s eyes wandered to a young child. Dark limp hair clung to her dirty face.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
“You have quite a history, Mr. Watts. Not many guides here can claim to have won an Eco Challenge.”
“It wasn’t just me. I was part of an excellent team and we won.” Sean shifted in his seat with uneasiness. “Besides, I don’t see how that really compares to tours through the Amazon.”
“The president of the institute I represent has great admiration for adventure racers. We would like to hire you for this particular expedition. We are willing to offer you $10,000 American dollars now and $15,000 when you return.”
Sean raised an eyebrow, “What exactly is this expedition?”
“I’m afraid it’s confidential. I would like to invite you to Altamira where you will be told a little more about the expedition. If you accept, you will be paid and you will leave from there.”
Sean nodded slightly, “I’ll think about it.”
“I leave tomorrow, Mr. Watts. I hope you will join me.” Bill stood up and handed him a small card. “Here is the phone number for my hotel. Call me when you have thought about our offer.”
Sean watched him leave, sliding the card into his front pocket. His gaze returned to the bustling activity outside the café. Manaus, 1,500 kilometers from the Atlantic coast, in the heart of the Amazon was now home to nearly 2 million people. It was perched at the edge of the river and watched over the majestic meeting of blackwater and clearwater rivers. Its growth had forever changed the environment around it. His fingers tapped on the wooden table top. Had the last tour up Rio Negro not gone so badly he wouldn’t have considered accepting the offer from the Harkness Institute.
An American family had come to Manaus for their own jungle adventure. They were excited to fish for the giant pirarucu. They had gasped in awe to see the anaconda. Sean sighed. Their first day off the boat, the family had begun bickering. The wife, angry at the husband, stormed off the trail. Before Sean had been able to find her, she had leaned against a tree, one that bullet ants were foraging in and felt the need to protect. The bullet ant has an extremely painful bite, some say it’s named because its bite feels like a bullet wound. Sean’s ears were still ringing from her shrieks of pain. They had demanded a full refund. Sean grimaced, leave it to a fellow American to find one of the most painful insects in the rainforest.
Money never lasted long, and Sean’s account was already close to empty. He didn’t have any upcoming jobs and this opportunity sounded like easy money. He watched as someone on a bike sped past, the bright yellow shirt a blur of color. His knee tingled, telling him he had sat too long and he stretched out his leg to ease the ache. Easy and “through the Amazon” never went well together. Anything too good to be true was likely a nightmare in disguise. Sean pondered his situation. Hell, why not? I could use some excitement. Resolved with his decision, he leaned back and continued his watching while day turned to dusk.