Richard and Max took the lead today. The two forging a path forward.
Pingo hung back with John Kestrel during the morning showing him how to handle a spear, and teaching him a couple of hand gestures as well. Along the way John managed to spear a big greasy jungle rat.
There is a coughing scream from farther west of your position. It's a shocking for a moment, only because out of all the over-laying sounds of chirping, screeching, buzzing... this sound was new.
When someone in the group asked what it belonged to, Pingo responded with the gesture for "Monster Hands" with a smirk.
"It's a Jaguar." Bones answered.
"Pingo. That joke is getting played out. Give us a day at least. Alright?"Richard announced that the village was close. The group stepped out of the wall of foliage, and out onto a muddy road. The same road that you would have been on had you followed it from Santa Boca.
No Nazis in sight. But three sets of tire tracks led to around the bend back towards the coast. The tracks were deep ruts and indistinct in the mud. The muddy of the road smelled just awful.
A tall, narrow-chested mutt had come trotting quickly up the muddy road towards the group, tail aggressively raised. It stopped just short of stone-throwing range and paced back and forth for a few minutes, barking and growling. The sun was too hot for this sort of behavior, though, and eventually it fell quiet, then lost interest altogether and drifted back towards the village, collapsing into the shade beside on of the shacks.
The walk to the village outskirts was brief. It was just after 11:37 AM that Monday morning.
"The Mystery of Orino Perro"
Orino Perro river village
Guatemala
The village consisted of perhaps thirty flimsy-looking buildings, nearly identical in size and appearance. One- and two-room shacks, most with thatch roofs. Approximately 20' x 20' each.
There were a couple of goats about, some chickens, but no sign of any mechanical equipment; no tractors or tillers. No cars or trucks. No power lines could be seen anywhere.
Also absent was the presence of people.
The dog reappeared, the one that had been barking at the group earlier. He emerged again but with an entirely different demeanor. Tail wagging, tongue hanging; a friend. The tail wagging intensified, the entire rear of the mutt swinging back and forth. The dog was covered in ticks. Dozens of them, like so many raisins hanging of its belly; fat, blood-engorged. Others could be seen through its pelt.
The road widened as it entered the village, becoming something more road-like. The shacks lined either side of it. Brightly colored blankets hung over some of the doorways; others were open but equally unrevealing, their interiors lost in shadow. The chickens scampered, clucking. Another dog appeared joining the first, the two of them nipping at each other. The second dog was grey, wolf-like. He had one blue eye and one brown, which gave his gaze an ominous intensity, though by its body language it was a friendly as the first.
Still no one. Save for the live stock and the dogs, the village seemed to be empty.
"Well, this doesn't look good." Bones says. It was a sarcastic comment, but sincerity rang in his voice.
"Pingo, come with me. Kid, stay with the group. Max, you've been here that one time we came here drinking. Not too much has changed. There's the 'Grateful Goat' tavern down past the town's well. To the south of that is the river and the dock. To the north of the Goat is the chief's house and the church. See if you can find anyone and find out what happened.
"Pingo and I are going to go get my riverboat The 'Halcon' from where we left it moored. We'll bring it back to the dock, and we'll come looking for you.""Okey-dokey!" The Kid says agreeably. The duo disappear between a couple of shack-like homes, and are gone.
Paco and Esteban hold tight the reigns of their animals, and look extremely nervous.
Paco asks,
