engine of the truck drowned out any proper conversation. If there were guerrilla fighters out there, they were getting good warning of their arrival. Ollie found himself peering into the gloom for the glint of a machine gun. But the shadows might have been palms or ferns as easily as men dressed in camouflage.
They rumbled and growled on and on, up rough tracks more winding than a boa constrictor. Finally they dropped into a deep gorge where the air was clammy with heat and moisture. He breathed in the damp, earthy, slightly rotting smell. Somewhere down at the bottom of the gorge, a motorboat was waiting to take them deeper into the forest.
He hoped that was all that was waiting for them.
4
Tarantulas
The motorboat was there. But it looked as if it hadn’t been used in years. It was tied to a tree stump and covered in leaves and debris that had been lying there so long that birds had nested in it and fingers of creepers looked as if they were trying to claw it back into the forest.
Ollie glanced at Zinzi. “Forget finding your city of gold. If a boat can disappear so quickly, imagine what the forest can do to a city over a few hundred years.”
Rodrigo’s brother-in-law, who was the owner of the boat, was nowhere to be seen. Rodrigo shrugged. “Está bien. Está bien.”
Oliver’s father stood with his hands on his hips and shook his head. “It’s not okay. We paid money to hire this boat. How are we going to get anywhere in it? And we don’t even have fuel.”
Rodrigo flashed him a smile and indicated the large plastic bottle he was carrying. “Sí. Sí. Fuel.”
His father shrugged and looked around at everyone. “Let’s see if we can locate the engine.”
The professor nodded, “Bueno.”
Oliver’s father handed out some gloves. “You never know what’s under all that. A golden dart frog would be a terrific find but it might just kill us all in the process. Never mind about tarantulas. At least their bite’s not fatal. ”
“Tarantulas …?” Ollie realised his voice had come out strange. He hoped no one had noticed.
Zinzi grinned. “Great! I love tarantulas. The hairier, the better. If we find any, can we keep them?”
Ollie shuddered. Perhaps he’d just stick to collecting golden dart frogs, even if they were the deadliest of creatures on the planet.
When the boat was finally cleared of the mess, they found the engine, covered by a piece of woven matting that was starting to rot but had given it some protection. A troop of monkeys watched from the trees above as they loaded up their equipment.
“All our special stuff, like the recorders and the solar battery charger for the iPad and my Nikon D3X with its Garmin eTrex unit for tracking GPS, must go under the cabin roof, even though they’re in plastic zipper bags. In an emergency we need to know exactly where they are so we can grab them in a hurry.”
Ollie shot a look at his father. What sort of an emergency? But before he could open his mouth, Zinzi chipped in, “For one thing, the boat might have holes. It could sink.”
His father smiled. “Thanks Zinzi. Glad I brought you along!”
Rodrigo decanted the fuel into the tank. Great plumes of smoke and fumes rose up as he tried to start the engine. The noise sent the monkeys jabbering and fleeing off through the trees. Finally it took, and they all squashed in between the equipment and sat on upturned tins or whatever they could find. There were no seats.
Rodrigo was wild at steering a truck, and even wilder at steering a boat. He accelerated, then overcorrected his turn. The boat went careering across the water straight into the opposite bank. It shook up the overhanging branches so violently that dark shapes started to rain down like leaves falling from a tree … except they weren’t leaves … they were tarantulas! The thick, dark, gingery kind! They went scurrying in all directions over the boat in a panic.
Rodrigo attempted to correct his steering. Oliver’s father tried to get his attention. “Slow down while we get rid of these spiders. At least they are not the bird-eating whoppers.”
Ollie had read about those. As big as dinner plates. These were whoppers enough!
“They won’t harm you. They’re probably terrified.” Zinzi said as she cupped her hand and tried to scoop one off the back of Ollie’s leg. “Just keep still.” She held it in the palm of her hand. Its front legs were up as if it might attack at any moment.
“Watch out, Zinzi! You’re about to be bitten.”
“Tarantulas are like elephants flapping their ears at you. It’s only a warning. They want you to see their fangs. Here, have a closer look.”
She passed her cupped hand under Ollie’s nose. He pushed it away. “I’ve seen. Now get rid of it.”
Zinzi grabbed an overhanging reed and transferred the spider onto it. “Some tarantulas shoot hairs that give you a rash like you get from nettles. But not this kind.”
There were some spiders drifting about on the water with their legs spread out, like strange ginger water lilies.
“It’s okay. They won’t drown. They can swim. The air pockets between their hairs keep them afloat like millions of tiny armbands.”
Even the idea of spiders with armbands didn’t cheer Ollie. He didn’t care if they all drowned.
Zinzi pointed to Oliver’s father. “You’ve one on your shoulder, Dr Strange. It looks if you’re wearing a buttonhole at a wedding.”
His father gave it a few light flicks so that the tarantula went running down his arm and fell into the water.
Rodrigo flashed his sunglasses at them. “Okay? Everyone ready?”
Oliver’s dad nodded. “Just keep to the middle. And go slowly. Lentamente. Lentamente. Do you understand? Slowly!”
Rodrigo’s idea of slow was to zigzag from bank to bank. He seemed incapable of going straight down the middle of the stream.
Ollie thought of Grandma’s list. Tarantulas hadn’t been on it. So he couldn’t tick them off. So what next? Alligators, piranhas and jaguars? And what about guerrilla fighters and drug dealers? He was keeping a lookout for men in camouflage. He was already slightly suspicious of Rodrigo in his camouflage and mirror glasses and always fidgeting with his gun.
Zinzi was trailing her fingers in the water as they went.
Ollie grabbed her hand. “Don’t do that. There could be another anaconda.”
She gave him a sidelong look. “You don’t find anacondas in moving water. They stick to pools. Everyone knows that.”
“Well, piranhas then. They’ll clean your fingers to the bone in seconds.”
He began to think his grandma had been right. This place was far
