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Hammond's Dream Ch.8
By Amber
Ramil
Roberto Ramil threw back his shaggy black hair. Beads of sweat dripped down his brow and cooled his cheeks. Standing knee deep in the muddy waterway, he hauled his feeble skiff to the banks of the river. Ramil tied the boat made of reeds to the trunk of a sturdy banana tree, and unloaded his catch.
Thirty-four years old, and fishing a river. This was not the way Ramil pictured his life. Nevertheless the river was his life. Everything he ever had came from it. In his younger days, he would scamper through caves, dive from waterfalls and just wade in its waters. Ramil fished when he was hungry, and even now, the river would support his family and himself. But, with fishing, there were good days and there were bad days.
The fishing wasn’t particularly good this day, it was already noon and his boat was only half full. It was bad enough the birds were pilfering his catch. Ramil loaded the cargo and carted it off to the icebox, a job that usually took a whole hour. Thanks to the birds and remorseless river, he was done in half the time. The covered hut was well ventilated, the fresh breeze, a welcoming sensation.
“Hola Roberto. How was the fishing this morning?” An older man said. The man sat in a chair at the end of a table, his face hidden in darkness.
Ramil recognized the man as one of the elders from the village. “Not to good.”
“I know,” the elder said. “I am sorry about your wife’s brother Lupe, we all are.”
Ramil closed the icebox and locked up his catch. He winced and headed for the door. Even with the incoming clouds it was hot. Extremely hot, and he decided the temperature of the room was pleasing. Ramil pulled up a chair and sat along side the elder.
“It was not his time,” Ramil said. “My wife doesn’t eat, she cries at night, and my son Eladio fears for his life. He’s only three; he shouldn’t have to deal with this.”
The elder looked down and mumbled under his breath. He closed his eyes and seemed to be praying from what Ramil could tell. The mans face was old and weathered. His eyes were deep within there dark sockets. The mans voice came in rasps from tattered lips. “I pray for your son. The child is the prey of the hupia.”
“Foolishness, you don’t still believe in the hupia do you? Those old stories are for children,” Lupe wailed. “I remember. My father told me of the hupia and it’s nothing but stories. So do not mock Lupe‘s death.”
“No,” the elder cried. The man stiffened and grasped Ramil’s wrist with his clammy hand. “The hupia is a monster. It will hunt your family, slaughter your children, and ache for your blood. I have seen the beast. It took my son and my daughter, and it will take yours too.”
Ramil was shaken. He clutched the chair and squeezed. Ramil’s eyes reddened. Could the hupia be real? Lupe was dead. A member of his family was dead.
The elder released Ramil. “I remember its eyes. The eyes of death. Those bright yellow eyes, as my child screamed, and was dragged, and taken from me.” The elder looked away from Ramil and sighed.
Sitting in their chairs beside the bare table, they didn’t notice Jarallys walk in. She slipped in the door and stood there listening, just waiting for her husband to detect her. He sat quietly, staring off into space. The old man alongside Ramil turned back and waved at her. Ramil turned back and smiled.
“I was just leaving,” Ramil explained.
Ramil was usually a pleasant and compassionate man. Nevertheless, the events of his friend’s death infected him. For the last three weeks there was anger, frustration, and suffering. Now, there was one thing on his mind. Revenge.
“Philips radioed again,” Jarallys said. “He sent his condolences, and he made a proposition. Roberto, he offered you work.”
“What? He wants to give me work. What did he say?”
“He said he needs someone who knows the jungle, someone that knows the river, and he’s willing to pay good.” She watched her husband as they walked along the quiet river. Their foot steps silent on the muddy earth, just the resonance of a light drizzle on the waters surface. “We need the money. You know the fishing hasn’t been good all month, and now that Lupe is gone.”
“I know, less fish. The boat felt empty without him,” Ramil said.
“He only needs a guide for a few days. It will be fine, we are safe.”
Ramil felt fire in his side. Philips was after whatever killed Lupe. He knew it from the beginning. Philips came to Oracou for one reason. For months the man everyone called “El Senior” had been visiting Oracou, but only when strange things took place. He was after the hupia, or whatever the damn thing is.
Ramil walked fast in the mud, his wife in hand. The rain poured harder and it was very dark. Two peccary ran across his path into the thicket. Clouds loomed overhead, a harsh storm was approaching. The two dashed towards the protection of home. Lightning illuminated the sky and Ramil stopped. Jarallys glanced back at her husband.
“What is it, why did you stop?” She asked.
“I have to go back,” Ramil yelled. He released his grip on her wrist. “I have to get the boat out of the water,” he yelled.
The boat was half filled with water, which would make it hard to haul out of the river. Finally he managed to drag it up and spill out the rainwater. This was a bad day he thought.
As he headed home past the jungle growth, in the thunderous downpour, Ramil thought he heard screaming. It wasn’t clear, or even human sounding. The unearthly scream was piercing and approaching. Everything became silent. The screams stopped, the rain trickled, and even the birds quieted. Ramil glanced at the trees to his left, then the river to his right. He was no more than thirty yards from his door. Hopefully, he could make it if he ran.
The yellow eyes stared straight at him from the tree limbs to his left. The snarling noise was low. Ramil could feel it in the pit of his stomach. He dared not to move. His breathing shallow and harsh. He waited. The eye was bright, surrounded by a darkness that blended into the dense foliage around it. It did not blink or even twitch.
The two peccaries Ramil glimpsed earlier leapt out of the bushes and rushed towards the river. Limbs snapped from somewhere to his left and the eye was gone. A howl came from the nearby jungle and a scream. It was gone. Ramil watched the spot where the eye once was, only raindrops fell from the tree limbs. Ramil didn’t hesitate. He ran, as fast as he could and thought of one thing. The hupia.
6/22/2003 5:05:13 PM
(Updated: 6/24/2003 11:40:59 AM)
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