PROLOGUE
AMAZON BASIN
BRAZIL
FEBRUARY 2011
THE ATTACK CAME FROM A HIGH-POWERED ASSAULT WEAPON. Small caliber, high velocity bullets rained all around them, splintering banyan trees, tearing through palm fronds and digging holes in the forest floor. It was no surprise to Garon Denilson.
“Down!” He grabbed Vicki Abbott and threw her to the ground. “We need to stay low and get out of here.”
She swept auburn hair out of her face, got up, kept her knees bent and her head down, as she tore into the rainforest with him. The vast canopy above shaded and sheltered them. In the dim light filtering through two hundred-foot trees, they pushed into brush so dense they had to pry branches apart to squeeze through. A baby wimba tree with crooked limbs almost ensnared them. They kept running.
“A minute, I need a minute to catch my breath.” Vicki gasped. What have I gotten myself into? she wondered. This is what it’s going to be like helping the indigenous population? I’m sure going to need to toughen up.
“We don’t have a minute,” Garon said. He reached around and placed a helping hand under her elbow. They raced on.
A hummingbird bolted from a Monkey Brush vine, and several blue and yellow toucans soared into the sky as their territory was invaded. When her t-shirt caught on a creeping plant clinging to a giant kapok tree, she yanked it off and kept going. Spiky brambles scratched and gashed their arms, but they ignored that and threaded their way through narrow gaps between massive rubber trees. The green iguana perched on a tree branch hopped onto another branch farther away. A howler monkey lived up to its reputation as it scrambled onto a higher limb and screeched its annoyance.
When Garon tripped over the root of a banyan tree and twisted his ankle, Vicki grabbed his hand and helped him up. They plunged on. She barely managed to stay a good distance away from a giant anteater. Flee or perish. It wasn’t the first time Garon had been attacked, and it wouldn’t be the last.
“We can rest now for a minute,” he said finally. “I think we’ve lost them.”
Vicki stopped, took a deep breath and released it slowly. She used a broad fern leaf to wipe blood off the scratches on her face and arms. “The ones who want to build cattle ranches?”
“Right. Gangs, security guards, police, landowners, cattle ranchers, any one of them. They’ve killed four land activists in the past month. Brazil is one of the most dangerous countries in the world for us.” He took his shirt off, lowered it over her head and helped her insert her arms in the sleeves. There were purple passion fruit flowers hanging on a vine next to them. He picked one and tucked it behind her right ear.
She removed the flower and handed it back to him. “You’ll find I don’t do the damsel in distress thing.”
He smiled. “That could save your life. I can tell you’re going to be a formidable activist. Welcome to the Amazon.”