Welcome to Manifesto, my fantasy/sci-fi novel. If you’re new here, you can go to the beginning here.
Quick recap: The group wakes up in a hotel in Cusco, ready to start their journey to the Amazon rainforest.
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“Shawn?” Truman shook him by the shoulder, “It’s late.”
Shawn squirmed and muffled, “What, how late is it?” Pressing his face in the pillow. “Quarter past nine, we’re leaving in fift—”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Shawn got up as if electrocuted, pacing through the room, “Brush, toothbrush. No, screw that, I’ll have a gum.”
“Ew?” Truman stood there with a grin, taking it in, the first time seeing this side of Shawn.
“Yes, yes, no time for niceties, all right,” Shawn replied, unphased.
“You got a thing with time huh?”
“How could you tell?” he laughed.
The clock was ticking, but since he didn’t unpack anything, he just whooped out a shirt and rushed to the buffet, where everyone else was finishing their breakfasts.
The group sat there looking at Shawn, Tiff, and Ruby giggling and Pat raising his eyebrows in amusement.
“Seems you slept well?” said Pat and chortled petting his beard. Shawn looked askance at Truman, “What is it?” amused himself, sort of liking the fact he was the center of attention.
“Uhm, your hair, it’s a bit…” Truman made a circular motion with his hands as if casting a spell.
“Shit.”
“Don’t worry, it’ll make for a good nest if we find a lost fledgling or two,” Pat couldn’t help it. Everyone laughed.
Shawn wolfed down his pancakes and before he could let the atmosphere sink in they hopped on the tour bus, which, to Shawn’s surprise, was rather modern and colorful, sporting a bright green with yellow waves, making him feel like he was part of a football team on their way to a match. Instead, he was a scientist on his way to the western part of the Amazon jungle, a national park renowned for its untouched biodiversity, the Madre de Dios—mother of god, which Shawn thought was much cooler. He never got the idea of football, “A bunch o’ people chasing a ball, what’s the point?” he’d often say.
Small update:
The recent silence on my substack was due to the launch of our new non-fiction book, which to my surprise is doing great. I am now back at the drawing board, hence, posts will be scheduled for each Sunday at 12:15 AM (Eastern European Time).
Besides the ongoing story, I will be posting bonus material: Backstories, Worldbuilding, Intentions, etc. This is not so much for you guys, as it is for me, since I would like to get a real good grip on what it is I want to do with all of it.
Thanks for bearing with me.
Truman and Shawn sat together in the back, gawking out the window at the occasional parrots soaring from the treetops. It was a six-hour ride, but it wasn’t long until they got knocked out by the lingering lack of sleep, drooling and snoring away, and although they were rattled awake every few minutes by the numerous bumps and potholes, they adapted presto, falling into an even deeper slumber, like babies entranced by the sways and quivers in a stroller.
They came to it when the engine ceased its low purring, grabbing their aching necks, which strained for many hours to keep their heads from rolling away.
“Are we here?” Shawn stared at Truman, who raised his eyebrows just as puzzled.
“…and, where are we anyways?” he added, wondering why he didn’t know.
Pat, standing in the front, shouted, to the extent his feeble voice allowed him to, “Alright everyone, let’s get moving. Get your gear out of the trunk and form a group outside.”
They stood on a dirt road, in part covered by gravel, probably leading to a village, judging by the roofs, which were somewhat visible through the thick brush and palm foliage, oh, and also the road sign, “Zona Urbana.” Being the slowest, feeling somewhat sluggish, Shawn and Truman retrieved their luggage and walked their way to the group, but what roused Shawn’s curiosity was the stranger that stood among them, with an adventurer’s outfit, a beige shirt with cargo pants, topped off with the typical Indiana Jones hat.
He nudged Truman, “Who is that?”
“No idea,” Truman replied just as clueless. They had to be the perfect duo, for both of them had no sense of being prepared, almost as if all the intel was passed behind their backs, and they were left out on purpose, or that’s how Shawn would have explained it, oblivious to his disinterest.
They joined the group. Standing in a circle, they had a moment to observe the man from proximity. Curly brown hair slithering on his forehead, brush-thick, black eyebrows, a big nose, similar to Pat’s, and a full beard. It was just then that they noticed how tall and imposing the man was. Could have been breastfed by Mother Nature herself.
He inspected both guys with his brown eyes as if molded out of dark roast coffee. When their eyes met, the man’s glare was so intense, Shawn felt as if he trespassed a wild animal’s territory, and it wasn’t that the stare was malicious in any way, rather alive and aware, all his senses honed. Somewhat taken aback, he nodded at the man, who with a slight smile nodded back at him.
“We’re all here,” Pat started, “Alright, let me introduce to you, Ermes Ramundo. A dear friend of mine. When I embarked on my first expeditions to the Amazon, I met Ermes in this village.” Pat pointed toward where Shawn saw the roofs.
“Still a teen, regarded as the local devil, or diablo,” Pat grinned at Ermes, who laughed, his vocal cords vibrating the air, so much so that Shawn could feel them in his chest. Pat chortled, whose laugh couldn’t have been any more feeble and impy. A peculiar combination, the two of them, Shawn thought, somewhat taken aback by the charisma the, at first, imposing character emitted.
“Anyways, Ermes and I spent a good time exploring the surrounding areas, and by the time I was done with my research… he had decided to become a local guide and conservationist.”
Pat turned to Ermes, “I am thrilled to see you again.”
“So good to see you, Prof,” Ermes said, an earnest grin on his face.
“Ermes will be our guide on our journey to the outpost. He suggested we get on the boat as soon as possible before the sun sets.”
Shawn leaned to Tiff, “Uhm, by chance, do you know where we are?”
“Wow, dude, it’s 2025 and you still don’t know how to use Google Maps?”
“Oh… true,” rubbing the back of his head.
She smirked, “Itahuanía, and we are on our way to the park ranger post, Limonal-Manu, or something like that, but if we are too slow, we might not arrive before it gets dark.”
“Got it, thanks,” he said, feeling uneasy.
By the mention of phones, and with Will on his mind, he remembered he should check his messages. No messages yet, so he sent Will a couple of pictures he took on the way, one of which he wanted to take a second look at, all the while, questions and answers, which he probably should have listened to, went over his head.
During the bus ride, Shawn snapped a picture of a wall next to the main road, which had a scene sprayed on its surface, a lady with vines around her head and plants growing out of her neck, a jaguar, deer, and other critters surrounding her, fish swimming in the wide open sea intermingled with mangrove trees and stilt roots where the ocean met terrain. The sun shone in the lady’s face, which made her pupils glow purple, then on the other side of the wall was a similar depiction of a man, also intermingled with natural motives. Shawn brooded as to why he found that painting interesting when Truman dragged him out of his daydream.
“Shawn? You coming?”
“Oh, yeah.”
Away they went.
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