Chapter 2 prelude

At noon, the dense clouds over the Cerro Gordo Mountains finally dispersed.Through the foliage at the top of the forest canopy high up, Whitsey could see streaks of golden sunlight.There were animals thumping and clamoring overhead, probably spider monkeys; a macaw swooped low and made a nasty rattling sound. Whitsey paused in front of a fallen jacaranda tree and watched field assistant Carlos catch up, dripping with sweat. "Take a break," he said in Spanish, "Baja la caja. Put down the box." Whitsey sat down on the tree trunk, took off his right boot and sock, lit a cigarette, and burned the dense lice on his calf and ankle with the cigarette butt.

Carlos unhooked the old military rucksack from his shoulders, to which a wooden box was strapped crookedly. "Open the box, thanks," Whitsey said. Carlos untied the rope, released a series of small brass buckles, and lifted the top cover. The box was packed tightly with the fibers of some native plant.Whitsey pulled apart the fibers, revealing several artifacts, a small wooden herbarium holder, and a stained leather-bound notebook.He hesitated for a moment, and then took out an extremely finely carved small beast statue from the breast pocket of the jacket.He weighed it a few times, marveling again at the lifelike technique and extraordinary weight.Reluctantly, he put the statue into the wooden box, wrapped everything in fiber, and put the top cover back on.

Whitsey dug out a folded piece of white paper from his knapsack, opened it on his knees, took a battered gold pen from his breast pocket, and began to write: Whitsey shook her head, recalling yesterday's dramatic scene.Maxwell, the stupid bastard, was only concerned with getting the specimen that happened to be found back to the museum unscathed.Whitsey laughed secretly.How many ancient eggs?No matter how you look at it, it is just a worthless pod.It is true that Maxwell should not have studied physical anthropology, but should have studied more paleontology.Ironically, the place where they packed up and where Whitsey found the evidence was only a thousand yards away.

Maxwell was gone anyway, and so was everyone else.Only Carlos, Korok and the two guides remained.And now only Carlos is left.Whitsey continued to write. Whitsey paused.He did not describe the discovery of the statuette in his field notes.Even now, his consciousness is still rejecting that memory. Korok had turned away from the common path to look at a flycatcher; but for that, they would not have found the hidden path, which fell steeply between moss-covered stone walls.Walking into the damp valley where the sun rarely shines, they saw the rough thatched hut, half-hidden among a few towering old trees... The two Botokudo guides are always chatting in Tupi. Stop, suddenly quiet down at this moment.Carlos asked what was wrong with them, and one of them muttered that the huts had guardians and that anyone who disturbed the secret place would be cursed.Then, for the first time, Whitsey heard them utter the word: Kosogar, the shadow people.

Whitsey was dubious.He is no stranger to cursing, and it is often followed by guides asking for a raise.But when he came out of the hut, the two guides had disappeared. ...the old woman, stumbled out of the forest.Mostly Yanomamo, obviously not Kosoga.But she knew Kosogar, had seen them.She hinted that there was a curse, and at last she blended silently into the forest, moving more like a leopard cub than an octogenarian. They turned their attention to the hut. The hut, Whitsey carefully unplugs the memories.There is a stone slab on the left and right sides of the hut, and the carved images are exactly the same, both of which are squatting monsters.The monster's claws were pressing against something, but years of wind and rain had made it difficult to discern its shape.Behind the hut is a garden with clusters of leaves. In the lush tropical rainforest, this bright color is particularly eye-catching.

The floor of the hut was several feet lower than outside, and Korok nearly broke his neck.Whitsey, who followed in, was more cautious, while Carlos simply knelt at the door.The hut was dark, chilly, and smelled of humus.Whitsue turned on the flashlight and saw a mound of earth in the middle of the hut, on which stood the statuette, surrounded by a ring of oddly chiseled discs around the pedestal.Then, the light of the flashlight hit the wall. The walls are neatly lined with human skulls.Whitsey took a closer look at some of them, and found that they were deeply scratched, and he did not immediately distinguish what they were.All skulls had several holes with jagged edges at the top.Most of the occipital bone at the base of the neck was crushed and severed, and the thick squamous bone was completely missing.

His hands trembled and he accidentally extinguished the flashlight.Before turning on the flashlight again, he saw dim beams of light emerging from thousands of eye sockets, and dust drifted slowly in the heavy air. Coming out of the hut, Korok said he needed to go for a walk—to be alone, he told Whitsey.But never came back. He stuffed the letter under the lid of the crate. "Carlos," he said, "take this crate back to Port Moz and wait for me there. If I haven't returned in two weeks, then go to Colonel Soto. Ask him to take this crate together with the The others will be airlifted back to the museum according to the negotiated conditions. He will settle the salary with you."

Carlos looked at him. "I don't understand," he said, "you want to stay alone?" Whitsey smiled and lit a second cigarette and continued slaughtering the lice. "Someone has to get the crate out. You should be able to catch up to Maxwell before you reach the river. I want to stay a few days longer and continue looking for Korok." Carlos slapped him hard on the knee. "Es Loco! I can't leave you alone. Si tedejo atras, te moririas. You will die in the forest, sir, and the howler monkeys will eat you from every bone. We must go back together. That's the wise choice."

Whitsey shook her head impatiently. "Give me the red potion and the quinine, and the beef jerky in your knapsack," he said, putting on his dirty socks again, and beginning to tie his bootlaces. Carlos protested as he opened his backpack.Whitsey ignored him, absently scratching the back of his neck where the bug had bitten him, and looked toward the Cerro Gordo Mountains. "They'll suspect me, sir. They'll think I've abandoned you. It's not good for me," Carlos said quickly, putting the few things into Whitsey's knapsack. "Flesh flies will eat you alive," he went on, walking over to the crate and retying the rope. "You'll have another bout of malaria, and you'll die this time. Let me stay."

Whitsey looked at Carlos, his white hair plastered against his sweaty brow.Before Carlos looked into the hut yesterday, he still had black hair.Carlos stared at him for a moment, then lowered his eyes. Whitsey stood up. "Good-bye," he said, and walked into the thicket. In the evening, Whitsey noticed that low-hanging clouds were again surrounding the Cerro Gordo Mountains.In the past few miles, he had been walking on an ancient road of unknown origin. Lie in front.Whitsey felt that the trail embodies human logic and has a clear purpose, whereas animal trails tend to be haphazard.As the platform drew nearer, the trail led into a steep gorge on the shoulder.Korok definitely went in that direction.

He stopped to think, and involuntarily touched the amulet, a golden arrow stacked on a silver arrow, which had hung around his neck since childhood.During the itinerary in the past few days, apart from a small shanty village that has long been abandoned, the only thatched hut can prove that there are human beings living here.Only Kosogar could have stepped out of the path. When he got close to the platform, he saw several waterfalls on the steep rock wall.You can camp at the foot of the mountain tonight, and you will climb the thousand-meter slope tomorrow morning.The terrain is estimated to be steep and muddy, and most likely dangerous.If you meet Kosoga—well, there's nowhere to go. But he had no reason to think that the Kosoga tribe was a bunch of savages.In local mythology, another creature is responsible for the killing and brutality: the Mbawang.Strange to say, this unknown monster is said to be controlled by this tribe that no one has ever seen.Does Mbawang really exist?He secretly figured it out.Given the vastness of the rainforest, it is not surprising that a small group of hominids lived in an area that biologists have not yet explored carefully.Whitsey's resentment rose again: Korok should have taken his Manlysher .30 06 with him when he left camp. It was clear to Whitsey that the first priority was to find Korok, and then search for signs of the Kosoga, proving that they hadn't gone extinct centuries ago.In the depths of the Amazon, as described by Arthur Conan Doyle in the novel "The Lost World", on a flat-topped mountain high above the jungle, there lived a group of primitive people, living a primitive life in the Stone Age-this The discovery would make him famous all over the world. There is no reason to fear the Kosoga.However, that thatched hut... Suddenly, a strong and unpleasant smell hit his nostrils, making him stop.No mistake, the smell must have come from some kind of animal carcass, and it was a large animal.After walking another ten steps, the stench became more and more pungent.Hope welled up in my chest, and my heart began to beat faster: the Corsoga people might have slaughtered animals nearby.Their artifacts may have been left at the site—tools, weapons, even objects of religious value. He moved forward slowly.The sweet stench was getting stronger and sicker.He could see sunlight illuminating a forest canopy high above, suggesting that there must be a clearing nearby.He stopped and fastened the straps of his rucksack so he wouldn't get in the way when he needed to run. The narrow path surrounded by trees gradually leveled off, and after a sharp turn, the glade appeared ahead.The animal remains were just across the clearing, clinging to a large tree with the ritual spiral symbol carved into it.The open chest cavity of the corpse had turned a greasy brown, and on it lay a tuft of bright green parrot feathers.As Whitsey got closer to the dead animal, he suddenly noticed that the body was wearing a khaki shirt. Fat flies gathered around the open chest cavity like a dark cloud, and the buzzing sound came and went like a tide.Whitsey noticed that the left arm of the corpse was tied to the tree trunk with a twine rope, and that the arm had been badly injured, with a large gash cut in the palm.Surrounding the body were several spent cartridge casings.Then he saw the head of the corpse—face up, thrown just below the armpits of the corpse, the back of the head torn away, cloudy eyes looking up, cheeks bulging. Whitsey tracked down Korok. Instinctively, Whitsey began to stagger back.Several paw prints on the corpse lifted the flesh, and the power was beyond human, terrifyingly large.The body appeared to have stiffened.The Kosoga were probably gone—God forbid, he hoped. Provided they were indeed Kosoga. He found that the tropical rain forest, which was always full of vitality, suddenly became quiet.He turned sharply, facing the forest.Something moved among the towering trees at the edge of the clearing, and two eyes appeared between the branches and leaves: the color of fire, the thinness of a slit.He took a deep breath, cursed, wiped his face with his sleeve, and stared intently—the eyes disappeared. There is no second to lose, he must escape this place as quickly as possible along the path.The way back to the forest lay ahead, and he ran. At this moment, he saw something on the ground that he hadn't noticed before, the sound of footsteps coming from the woods ahead, heavy but frighteningly secretive, coming towards him.

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