Uncivilized
Page 91
When I pull back, his eyes are wet with emotion, and he gives a cough. “Yes, well… it’s my pleasure. Truly, and can I finally say, Zach… welcome home, my boy.”
Sam drops me off at my house, and I practically leap past the four short steps that lead up to the porch. I shove the door open, calling out Moira’s name.
I see her immediately sitting at the kitchen table, her laptop open and her cell phone lying beside it. She turns to me, and her face is deathly white. Standing from the chair, she walks toward me, reaching out her hands. I link mine with hers and ask with a sickening feeling in my stomach. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m so sorry, Zach,” she says, her eyes filling with tears. “But Father Gaul called a little bit ago. The Matica raided Caraica two days ago. Father Gaul immediately hiked out to a river town that had satellite phone service to call me.”
“Paraila?” I ask, my throat feeling as if it were filled with sand and my heart galloping away from me.
“Injured. He was shot with an arrow, but Father Gaul thinks he’ll be okay. It went into his shoulder and the wound looks fine.”
“And the others?” I ask in a hoarse whisper.
Moira’s eyes drop to the ground, and she doesn’t answer me right away.
“Moira,” I yell at her. “What about the others?”
“Several are dead… I’m not sure who. Some of the children were taken. The village was burned to the ground.”
My head tilts back, my neck seemingly unable to hold it up. My mouth opens, and I roar in pain, “FUCK!”
Moira’s arms are around me, squeezing me tight… plastering her body as close to mine as she can get. “I’m so sorry, Zach. So, so sorry.”
My arms hang limply at her side, unable to accept her comfort. Fury blazes through me… fury at Paraila for making me leave, rage at Randall for insisting I come, and bitterness toward Moira for enticing me to stay away from my home and those that needed me.
I peel Moira away from me, heading into the bedroom. Rummaging through the closet, I pull out my backpack and throw it on the bed. I quickly find the cargo pants and bush shirts Moira had bought for me to wear in the Amazon, along with some socks and my hiking boots. I stuff it all haphazardly into the pack and then reach into my top drawer to pull out my passport.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Moira walk into the room. My head snaps to hers, and I bark, “I need you to arrange for me to get back to Caraica. Get me in as close as you can, and I’ll hike the rest of the way. I’ll need some of those dehydrated rations and water tablets. Anything else you can think of.”
“Zach… there’s no rush. The raid is done, and Paraila is going to be just fine. If you wait, I’ll go—”
“Just f**king do it,” I yell at her, my fists clenching in rage. “It’s the least you can do for pulling me away from there in the first place.”
Moira’s face blanches, and tears fill her eyes. It feels like an arrow has pierced my heart, so terrible do I feel for what I just said.
But I won’t take it back, because the brackish bitterness is choking any further words out of me.
How could I have been so stupid as to have left? What kind of selfishness must have been living within me… to have caused me to abandon the people that needed me most? Paraila could have died. Others did die, I think, while choking on the pain of those thoughts.
More importantly, how could I have ever let myself get sucked into this world… receiving its pleasures and frivolity? I turned a blind eye to my people all because I got infatuated with a little bit of pu**y.
My heart clenches as I think these vile thoughts about Moira, knowing deep down they are unfair to her. But the guilt and shame is pressing in on me so hard that I have to abandon my love and desire for her. There’s no room… not when I’m filled with black rage, tortured pain, and now an insatiable need for revenge.
“Zach,” Moira pleads with me softly. “Will you just hold up a minute… let’s talk about this first?”
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “There’s nothing to talk about. I’m going back and if you won’t help me get there, I’ll go to Randall. He’ll do it.”
Moira nods in understanding, turning toward the bedroom door. “Of course, I’ll make all the arrangements. I’ll come with you.”
“No,” I say with an icy voice. “I don’t want you to.”
Because there’s no point.
There’s nothing she can do, and her life will only be in danger, because I know as sure as I’m standing here, ready to tear my hair out in frustration, that the tribe is already planning a retaliation.
Moira’s face crumbles before me, and her shoulders slump. Resignation fills her face, and she blinks the tears away. “Okay,” she says softly. “I’ll get it handled for you. You should call Randall and tell him goodbye.”
Yes, that’s a good idea.
I can’t believe just an hour ago, I sat in his office and made grand plans for my future. Now I would be calling him to put those plans to rest and move on with my life.
I’ve gotten myself a little bit under control. I’ve wrapped my head around what has happened, as well as the fact that it will be a full three days of travel before I can get to Caraica, so I’ve decided to stop trying to worry myself into a frenzy. Moira managed to get me on the next flight out to Georgetown, Guyana and, from there, two charter flights to take me directly to the Amazon River in Brazil. From there, I’d have to figure out how to get a dugout canoe to make my way by water to Caraica, but I wasn’t worried about that. I’d steal one if I had to.
Sam drops me off at my house, and I practically leap past the four short steps that lead up to the porch. I shove the door open, calling out Moira’s name.
I see her immediately sitting at the kitchen table, her laptop open and her cell phone lying beside it. She turns to me, and her face is deathly white. Standing from the chair, she walks toward me, reaching out her hands. I link mine with hers and ask with a sickening feeling in my stomach. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m so sorry, Zach,” she says, her eyes filling with tears. “But Father Gaul called a little bit ago. The Matica raided Caraica two days ago. Father Gaul immediately hiked out to a river town that had satellite phone service to call me.”
“Paraila?” I ask, my throat feeling as if it were filled with sand and my heart galloping away from me.
“Injured. He was shot with an arrow, but Father Gaul thinks he’ll be okay. It went into his shoulder and the wound looks fine.”
“And the others?” I ask in a hoarse whisper.
Moira’s eyes drop to the ground, and she doesn’t answer me right away.
“Moira,” I yell at her. “What about the others?”
“Several are dead… I’m not sure who. Some of the children were taken. The village was burned to the ground.”
My head tilts back, my neck seemingly unable to hold it up. My mouth opens, and I roar in pain, “FUCK!”
Moira’s arms are around me, squeezing me tight… plastering her body as close to mine as she can get. “I’m so sorry, Zach. So, so sorry.”
My arms hang limply at her side, unable to accept her comfort. Fury blazes through me… fury at Paraila for making me leave, rage at Randall for insisting I come, and bitterness toward Moira for enticing me to stay away from my home and those that needed me.
I peel Moira away from me, heading into the bedroom. Rummaging through the closet, I pull out my backpack and throw it on the bed. I quickly find the cargo pants and bush shirts Moira had bought for me to wear in the Amazon, along with some socks and my hiking boots. I stuff it all haphazardly into the pack and then reach into my top drawer to pull out my passport.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Moira walk into the room. My head snaps to hers, and I bark, “I need you to arrange for me to get back to Caraica. Get me in as close as you can, and I’ll hike the rest of the way. I’ll need some of those dehydrated rations and water tablets. Anything else you can think of.”
“Zach… there’s no rush. The raid is done, and Paraila is going to be just fine. If you wait, I’ll go—”
“Just f**king do it,” I yell at her, my fists clenching in rage. “It’s the least you can do for pulling me away from there in the first place.”
Moira’s face blanches, and tears fill her eyes. It feels like an arrow has pierced my heart, so terrible do I feel for what I just said.
But I won’t take it back, because the brackish bitterness is choking any further words out of me.
How could I have been so stupid as to have left? What kind of selfishness must have been living within me… to have caused me to abandon the people that needed me most? Paraila could have died. Others did die, I think, while choking on the pain of those thoughts.
More importantly, how could I have ever let myself get sucked into this world… receiving its pleasures and frivolity? I turned a blind eye to my people all because I got infatuated with a little bit of pu**y.
My heart clenches as I think these vile thoughts about Moira, knowing deep down they are unfair to her. But the guilt and shame is pressing in on me so hard that I have to abandon my love and desire for her. There’s no room… not when I’m filled with black rage, tortured pain, and now an insatiable need for revenge.
“Zach,” Moira pleads with me softly. “Will you just hold up a minute… let’s talk about this first?”
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “There’s nothing to talk about. I’m going back and if you won’t help me get there, I’ll go to Randall. He’ll do it.”
Moira nods in understanding, turning toward the bedroom door. “Of course, I’ll make all the arrangements. I’ll come with you.”
“No,” I say with an icy voice. “I don’t want you to.”
Because there’s no point.
There’s nothing she can do, and her life will only be in danger, because I know as sure as I’m standing here, ready to tear my hair out in frustration, that the tribe is already planning a retaliation.
Moira’s face crumbles before me, and her shoulders slump. Resignation fills her face, and she blinks the tears away. “Okay,” she says softly. “I’ll get it handled for you. You should call Randall and tell him goodbye.”
Yes, that’s a good idea.
I can’t believe just an hour ago, I sat in his office and made grand plans for my future. Now I would be calling him to put those plans to rest and move on with my life.
I’ve gotten myself a little bit under control. I’ve wrapped my head around what has happened, as well as the fact that it will be a full three days of travel before I can get to Caraica, so I’ve decided to stop trying to worry myself into a frenzy. Moira managed to get me on the next flight out to Georgetown, Guyana and, from there, two charter flights to take me directly to the Amazon River in Brazil. From there, I’d have to figure out how to get a dugout canoe to make my way by water to Caraica, but I wasn’t worried about that. I’d steal one if I had to.
