2058
It was hot; the air so heavy and thick that it was an exercise to take a breath. The heavy trees blocked the sun, and the paltry breeze that went by every few hours.
It was the Amazon, and it was not for the weak.
It was now completely silent, the few brave birds and other animals quieting as they sensed the danger; the violence taking place.
A young girl, barely sixteen, led the group of twenty seven American tourists towards the river at a dead run, sweating bullets and looking behind them frequently in terrified glances.
“Keep running!” she shouted, hacking at the overgrowth with the old machete, her arm aching from the effort of doing so for a straight fifteen minutes.
“I can’t! I can’t!” came the chorus of a handful or more tourists behind her.
Chest heaving, the girl stopped, and turned around, and the people behind her collided into each other at her abrupt stop.
“Fine. You stop, you die. You run, you live.” She said simply, then turned around and started running again.
They started running again.
About an hour later, after running nearly the entire time, they stopped.
The young girl was exhausted, and the people she lead were nearly unconscious.
“We can’t outrun them,” she panted. “They’re maybe fifteen minutes behind us.” Anyone could have heard the steely determination that backed up her voice; a determination to live, and the ability to it up because she had nothing left to lose.
“Give me that.” She panted, looking at one of the seven children of the group, nodding towards his pair of binoculars, hanging from a strap around his neck as he bent at the knees, struggling to catch his breath.
“What?” he demanded, putting a protective hand over the binoculars automatically as he stepped away from her.
“Give me the damn binoculars.” She snarled, taking them and pulling them from his body, slicing the strap with her blade, now covered with small bits of plants and wetness from humidity, sweat and moisture leaking from the plants.
“There’s no need to be like that.” One of the women drawled from behind her.
“Yeah, there is.” She said quietly as she looked around, then settled her gaze on a nearby cluster of dense trees.
As a plan formed, her heart raced and her mind accepted the inevitable possibility of her death.
“Follow me!” she said, just barely loud enough to be heard by the others.
They followed her as she headed towards the grouping of trees, then stopped.
“They’re right behind us. I need you to go into these trees, and stay right in the middle of the grouping, okay? And stay there. No matter what you hear, you stay. If I don’t get back by tomorrow morning, head towards the river and follow it until you get to the next settlement.” She said quietly as she shoved them into the cluster, one by one.
When they were gone, and out of sight, she pressed back into the sparse trees against the face of the rock cliff, and began to wait. She used the binoculars she had taken from the child to see where they were coming from, but the trees and foliage were too thick, and she soon put the binoculars down in frustration.
She heard them after a few minutes, bumbling through the dense plants and trees, the roots sticking out of the ground seemingly with the sole purpose of tripping hurried feet.
They were an ugly bunch; about twelve men, all thin but muscular, all wearing once white tank tops that were now yellow with sweat and dirt.
There were two or three of them towards the back of the group, lagging behind because of the wounds on their legs and arms, courtesy of the young girl with the wild green eyes and the short brown hair riddled with sticks and leaves.
They were all just as tired, if not more so than the Americans and their leader, and stopped for a break, putting down what little they had carried with them.
There were a few bags that were thrown to the ground, but the one prize that they had was the ten year old little girl they had tied to a stick as they would tie a pig before putting it over the fire.
She was set down carefully by two men; damaged goods were worth less.
In the black market town of Abuloso, a child could be sold for up to seven thousand US, but so much as a bruise and the value was greatly reduced.
She was small for her age, but she was strong, and her blue eyes and blonde hair had caught the eye of the leader of the group of murderers hoping to kill a group of American tourists and sell their children.
Soon, the sun set and the group settled down to sleep at their own little spots here and there around the fire, the little girl hanging from between two trees.
The wild girl waited, biding her time either until the perfect moment presented itself or circumstances forced her hand.
The fire went cold, and the air started to chill; but still, the girl did not move until the last man had fallen asleep.
Or so they thought.
Just as she was about to make her move, a particularly disgusting man stood up, careful not to disturb the others, and make his way towards the girl, whose eyes went round as she began to fear what would happen.
And the circumstances began.
The man walked up the little blonde haired girl and stood there, looking at her for a moment before slipping his hand down his pants.
The girl with the wild eyes watched as the little girl kept her eyes on his face, away from the lower half of his body, her eyes cool and clear.
The elder girl began to silently make her way around the camp, deep enough where they couldn’t see her, but close enough to keep an eye on the sicko near the girl.
The man touched the little girl’s leg, lightly, but she made a sharp twisting motion to escape his touch.
The older girl took a deep breath to steady herself and pulled a knife out of her boot and came up behind him.
She took another breath to steel herself and reached in front of the man, putting her hand on his face, pulling his head back with her left hand, and using her right to hold the knife.
The man was surprised that she was there, and didn’t have time to fight before the stook the knife, jabbed it into behind his left ear and raggedly dragged it all the way to the right ear.
He tried to make a sound, but what little air made it into his mouth escaped through the gaping slice of his throat.
He turned to look at her, and the older girl gave him a powerful kick to the torso, which forced him far back into the trees.
The little girl’s face betrayed no emotion; frozen as she assessed this new player and what it meant to her survival.
“Shhh.” The older girl said softly, putting one finger to her lips and whispering as softly as she could.
Slowly, she began to saw at the bindings of the smaller girl, stopping only when she was free.
“Go hide in those trees. Stay there, do not move. I will come for you. I promise.” She said.
The little girl peered up at her with wide blue eyes, her dirty blonde hair tumbling around her face as she tilted her head, assessing the older girl and her trustworthiness.
She stared at the older girl, who returned her stare.
And then the young girl dashed away, silent as a mouse as she hid herself expertly in the trees.
Silently, she reached down for the gun belt that was secured to the man she had just killed.
After a moment, she unbuckled the belt and yanked at it until it came free, then secured it around her own waist.
She took a deep breath, then took a step back, into the woods. Deep enough where they would not be able to see her, but close enough where she could get a good shot.
Another deep breath.
The first gun was an automatic, and she aimed it at the man closest to her and shot.
One bullet to the head, one jerk of the body, and then he was still.
But the others were not.
As the first shot rang out the others jumped up out of a dead sleep and started yelling.
One by one, the girl emptied each and every bullet out of the two automatics and one revolver into each and every one of the men that had stalked the group of American and killed thirteen.
Once it was over, the girl stood there for what seemed like an eternity, the guns feeling like hundred pound weights in her hands.
She lifted them to look at them, and saw that her hands, along with the rest of her, was spattered with blood, drops large and small, fat and skinny.
She dropped the guns as if they were white hot pokers that would kill her, and stepped away, wiping absently at the blood on her arms as she walked to where the blonde haired, blue eyed fallen angel stood.
She dropped to her knees and looked at her, searching for the hate and contempt and fear and horror that she expected.
“What is your name?” she asked softly, exhaustion, absence of adrenaline and leftover fear lingering in her tone.
“Erin.” She said simply, looking at her. “What’s yours?”
“Roanna,” she choked out, the words clogging her throat like someone had shoved a wad of paper down it. “My name is Roanna.”
SEVEN YEARS LATER
2065
Roanna sighed as she placed her head in her hands, then looked up again in distaste.
The “customer” was a forty-something American with bleached blonde seaweed hair, boobs large enough to use as hot air balloons and a high-pitched nasal tone that made Roanna itch with the urge to jump up and slap her.
“I don’t understand! I’m offering to pay you three thousand dollars to give me and my husband a personal tour of the Amazon wilds.” She screeched.
Roanna looked at her, with her top showing all but her nipples and her shorts riding up so high you had to look away after a moment once the reality set in about just what was showing.
She seemed to look confused as to why Roanna didn’t get on her knees, kiss her feet and obey her every whim, and instead stared at her.
“ERIN!” Roanna shouted out of nowhere, launching out of her chair behind the desk, startling the twtty blonde, who promptly let out a shriek.
Erin patiently came out into the front room, and gave Roanna a long-suffering look before turning around and heading straight back into the back room.
Roanna followed her determinedly, staring at her menacingly.
“Erin! Give this bitch a refund or I’ll kick her ass out myself!” she hissed through clenched teeth.
Erin gave a long suffering sigh, opened a filing cabinent, pulled out a manila envelope with a bulge in the middle, went back into the front room and handed it back to the woman, gently shoved her out the door and closed it behind her.
The blonde, clearly upset, stood there as Erin locked the door and flipped the Open sign to Closed, and gave the blonde a regretful smile and shrug as she walked over to the wall and leaned against it casually.
“How did she know about me?” Roanna demanded as she plopped down in her chair and glared at Erin.
“I don’t know. Our records were expunged, we changed our names, we moved. We did everything right.” She said, pulling a chair up to the desk and sitting in it tiredly; everything about the two of them emenating exhaustion.
Once again, the blonde woman tapped on the windows impatiently, and Roanna winced as she heard her high pitched voice even through the thick, bullet-proof glass they had installed.
It must have been seven minutes that the two of them sat there, trying to ignore the spurned customer.
Finally, Erin snapped, stood and walked to the front of the door and brushed her shirt to the side, showing the woman the piece she wore on her hip at all times, giving the woman a feral grin as she did so.
She woman let out a cartoon-like squeal and ran away, implants bouncing all the way.
Erin stood for another second, then sat back down and gave a satisfied smirk.
“We can’t do this anymore. That’s all they want, trips to the Amazon.” Erin said after a few minutes of silence.
“What are you saying, Erin? That we move back to the Amazon, run tours where I committed mass murder?” Roanna asked incredulously.
“No. Maybe. No. What I’m saying is that we both have a reputation in the Amazons, and it would be an end to the hiding. No more pretending, no more hiding the past. They all know us there; they all accepted us. We just have to accept it ourselves.” Erin said softly.
They had grown from the two scared girls to two successful business women, running their own tours of the wildest, most isolated places on Earth that people could possibly wish to go.
Erin, once a small, fragile little blonde with huge blue eyes had grown to a seventeen year old with a soul at least ten years older. She had the curves of a teenager blessed with beauty, the clear skin from the humidity they often encountered, large deep blue eyes with curling black lashes that tdusted her eyebrows, and the long blonde waves that went down her back. She may have looked soft, but she was not. She had muscles developed from lugging heavy packs for hours, traveling miles and miles without rest, or food, determined to hold her own.
And Roanna. Roanna, who had killed to save a group of people she didn’t even know, who then condemned her. She had grown even taller than she had been at sixteen, reaching 5’11 at twenty three years old. She was obviously athletic, with the lean, muscular body of a person who worked long hours, and worked hard. She still kept her hair short; all the better for amazon-like conditions and easier maintenance all together. And her eyes, once so wild and dangerous, were now controlled, but they still held something, something she kept on a leash, but something nobody wanted to unleash.
Ever since that night, Erin and Roanna stuck together; they never spoke of it, but they never needed to.
After a few more moments, Roanna let out another huge sigh and got up and leaned against the wall of the spacious room.
“Okay. I’ll have George look at the legal papers tomorrow. We’ve still got a handful of offers from a few big firms.” Roanna said as she picked up her leather jacket and slid it on.
“That’s it? That’s all you’re going to think about it?” Erin asked with a small smile as she shook her head.
Roanna flashed her a grin.
“You know I make decisions quick. I don’t always have the luxury of taking time to think about things.” Roanna said with a shrug as she pulled out the drawer of the desk with a safe in it and punched in the code, pulling out her gun gratefully.
She had long since learned what a difference a gun could make in a dangerous situations; too many times in her life it had meant the difference between life and death.
Roanna shook these thoughts from her head and headed out the door with a wave to Erin.
She made her way down the street absentmindedly; ignoring the stares and disapproving gances she got from random people as she made her way.
At one point, every family with a TV knew her face, her name, and most importantly, her story.
Once that had happened, Roanna had gotten her emancipation papers and had inherited all of her parent’s bank accounts, estates, investments and posessions.
She had gone back to the United States, and stayed with her aunt for a few months.
She had almost gone crazy there, in that stuffy house with her bitter, unmarried spinster aunt who had never had anything but contempt and jealousy for her sister, Roanna’s mother.
And so, after two months, Roanna had taken the little money she had, filed for emancipation and moved out.
Her request was granted almost immediately, with the judge only glancing at her file, not even requesting a hearing.
And once the request was granted, she sold everything belonging to her parents, including the house she had lived in since she was born.
And once she had liquidated everything, she relocated.
To the Amazons.
She stayed in the city of Nianti, and asked around until she found out where the little girl, the orphan, she had found was being kept.
Erin.
Once Roanna found out, she moved temporarily to the settlement of Madua, and bought the little girl off from woman who headed the orphanage.
Roanna stood at the front of the building, and spotted the little girl she had found. Erin.
Quietly, Roanna approached her, Erin’s eyes on her at all times.
“Do you remember me?” Roanna asked softly as she knelt in front of her.
“Yes.” Erin said simply, looking at her.
The child was still just as filthy as she had been in the jungle, and Roanna was pretty sure she was wearing the same clothes as well.
“They told me that you’re an orphan here.” She said softly.
“Obviously.” Erin said, showing the first hint of personality that Roanna had seen.
“I came to ask if you wanted to come with me. I bought a house here, and I have enough moneyfor us both.” Roanna said.
Erin turned her head, assessing what Roanna could possibly stand to benefit from this.
“Why?” Erin asked softly.
Roanna looked at her and struggled to find the words.
“Because you’re the only one who didn’t treat me like I was a monster.” She said softly.
Erin looked at her for a moment longer, then stepped forward and gave her a brief, but warm, hug, then stepped back and nodded.
“I’ll go with you. Because we don’t have anyone else, do we?” she asked, giving her an adult look.
“No. I guess we don’t.” Roanna said after a moment.
Roanna stood and headed towards the Madame of the house, with Erin behind her the whole time.
“I’ll take her. No questions asked.” Roanna said, slipping the woman a wad of cash.
The woman gave her a nod and looked the other way as ROanna left, Erin’s hand in her own.
Eventually, Roanna made it to one of the bars she preferred in the city, sat at the bar and mulled over her thoughts.
“What’ll you have, hun?” the kind old man asked as he wiped at the bar.
He knew her from the numerous times she and Erin had come in, ranging from dinner outings to break-up parties.
“Just a Coke, Ron, thanks.” She said softly.
“Comin’ right up.” He said cheerfully with a smile.
“Excuse me, Ms. Davencourt?” a cultured voice purred from behind her.
Roanna turned around unhurriedly to look at the voice.
“Yes.” She said flatly.
“I have a proposition for you and your business partner.”
......................................................................................................................................................................
Erin sighed as she watched Roanna walk down the street, always purposeful, always unwavering in her vision.
Erin looked up to Roanna, she was the one person who had ever given a shit about her.
She was the one who had saved her.
Erin was the child of a tour guide in one of the larger cities in the Brazillian part of the Amazon. She had been part of the group, helping her mother when she needed it as they moved from the stem of the Amazon river further into Brazil.
And she was the one who had caught the eye of the thugs that had killed those ten people that night.
Erin shook her head slightly as she skipped over those memories, to the shining one of two months later, when Roanna had come for her.
She remembered it as clear as if it had been only yesterday instead of seven years ago.
She was in that godawful place, with the other children who were orphaned, whether by murder, suicide or accidental; they were all there by way of another’s death.
They were awful to her; picking on her because of her face, telling her that she wasn’t her mother’s child, wasn’t a Brazillian, because of her fair coloring.
One of the boys had tried to touch her the night before, touching himself the way that man had that night when Roanna had rescued her. Erin had kicked him between the legs and run away. The day that Roanna had come for her she was huddled in the corner, hoping to hide from the boy and whatever he might want to do to her.
She stood in that doorway the way she had stood in front of Erin while she hung upside-down from a tree limb.
Erin could hardly breathe at the time, so filled with hope that it physically hurt her to be so near her savior and so far from the chance of being saved.
But as Roanna came closer and closer to her, she began to swell with hope a bit more, and when Roanna knelt in front of her, she couldn’t breathe.
And that day, she was saved.
Roanna took her back to a hotel in one of the larger cities, away from the people who hated her, the people who called her an albino, a ghost, because she was ony half Brazillian, her father one of her mother’s American tourists, long gone.
She pushed these melancholy thoughts aside as she stood up and dialed an armored car service, requesting a pickup in ten minutes.
Once that was done, she emptied the guns and money out of the safe into a duffel bag and waited for the car to get there and take her to the bank to deposit the money; all of the papers and such would go to the new owners of Travels.
Erin trusted that Roanna would take care of selling Travels, the way she had taken care of so much since she was ten.
She sighed, thinking of Roanna. She hardly ever dated; too many people thought she was cold on the outside, unfeeling.
Erin still attributed that to how the tour group treated her after that night.
The air was cold, almost frigid as Roanna held Erin’s hand, leading her to where the tour group was hiding. They passed the dead thugs, and stepped over pools of blood. Roanna was filthy, her entire face splattered with blood, her arms smeared with it. But it didn’t scare Erin. It comforted her, it was as if Roanna had proven her trustworthiness not only by killing those men, but by wearing their blood. When they finally reached the group, Erin looked at them differently. They were the usual American crowd of tourists, so in awe of the jungle, so cocky in thinking that they could survive the Amazon; that a tour guide and her kid were just formalities. Erin watched their faces as it dawned on them what Roanna had done. She saw the shock, horror, fear.
“It’s done. They’re gone.” Roanna said, sounding tired.
There was a moment of silence.
“You’re a monster!” one of the older women screeched, stepping towards her and yanking Erin away from her.
Erin struggled against the woman, hoping to get free but unable to.
“Let me go!” Erin yelled at the woman. “I want to go with ROanna!” she shouted louder with each word as the woman pulled her further and further away from Roanna, the other adults standing in front of them like a shield.
“No, you don’t, child. That girl is a killer!” the woman hissed.
Erin struggled against her, and a man picked her up and held her close to his chest.
She could see Roanna’s face; heartbroken at their reaction.
Erin let her leg fly, kicking the man in the crotch. He dropped her in shock at the pain, and she squeezed her way through the packed bodies to stand by Roanna.
“She killed them to save us! TO save me!” Erin yelled out, her voice strong and clear.
She could feel Roanna staring at her; shock taking over her face.
Erin looked up at her, and slid her hand in hers. Another moment passed, and Roanna gave a fleeting smile, and nodded.
And when Roanna looked back at the crowd, even though they feared and hated her, they listened.
“Tonight we sleep. Tomorrow we keep going.” She said, the slim core of steel showing in her voice.
A loud knock on the door shook Erin out of her reverie, and she saw that the armored car service was there.
“Just a minute.” She mouthed as she slid her coat on and hauled the duffel bag onto her shoulder.
“Hey, Shawn.” She greeted the guard as she closed the door behind her, pulling down the screen bars and locking it.
She recognized him from the many times she used their service to bring the deposits of her and Roanna’s various businesses to the bank.
“Hey, Erin.” He said, flashing her a grin.
Erin suppressed a sigh.
She had no illusions about her looks; she knew she was attractive, and she hated what it did to her life. People saw her and thought “Uh oh, little blonde. She’s gonna be useless.” And automatically dismiss her as someone who cannot do what a tour guide of dangerous places.
She and Roanna had been doing tour guides for five years; since she was twelve, and she had a lifetime’s worth of experience in areas such as the Amazon, and other dense, jungled areas.
Erin ignored Shawn’s advances for the ride to the bank, where she told them that she was fine, and to put it on their tab.
She walked into the bank and stood in line for a few moments, allowing her gaze to wander over the people.
She loved to watch people. She loved seeing their fashion sense, their relationships with the people they were with, how they treated others.
She loved watching the mothers.
The mothers who would watch their child so protectively, hug their chid lovingly.
She had lost her mother; she would never forget that, and the greatest thing for Erin would to see a child who loved their parents as much as their parents loved them.
She tried to focus, concentrate as she saw a man further down the line, watching her the way she was watching others.
Normally she would shrug it off as some sort of creep, but something at the back of her mind she recognized him from somewhere.
She put it aside for a moment as she was called up to the teller.
“Hello, welcome to First Trust. How may I help you?” the older woman asked.
“I’d like to make a deposit into my business fund.” Erin gave her the information as the woman looked her up in the computer, and opened the duffel bag to give her the money.
The guns, unfortunately, were in there as well, and the teller must have gotten a look at them, because the next thing she knew, the security guard was coming towards her, yelling.
“Step away from the bag!”
Erin mentally swore as people started screaming and crying, and put her hands behind her head and stepped away; everyone behind her now pressed against the wall.
“Sir, I have the licenses in there. And the forty five thousand dollars I was trying to deposit.” Erin flashed the teller a nasty look.
Two other guards kept their guns trained on Erin as the other went through the bag, taking out the money, guns, and the pouch containing the permits.
“These guns are licensed to your tour guide business, Travels?” the guard asked, confused as he signaled the others that she wasn’t a threat.
“Yes, sir. We go to a lot of dangerous places, and we find it necessary to protect ourselves.” She said frostily.
She showed them her ID, and prepared herself.
“Ma’am, this says that you’re only seventeen years of age.” The first man said.
“I was legally emancipated when I was fifteen. Before that I was adopted from a woman who was illegally emancipated. She’s now my business partner.” She explained; no love lost in her voice as they stepped back and allowed her to put everything back in the bag, and giving the forty five thousand to the sheepish teller.
Once that was done, Erin collected her receipt and left the bank; her head held high against all of the stares as she walked through the door.
She felt more than saw the man following behind her; she felt the feeling that she should watch what she was doing; the hair prickling on her neck and arms.
On a whim, Erin walked into a small book store, and pressed herself against the wall where she could see whomever came into the store.
After a moment, the man from the bank came in, his head swiveling around quickly as he searched.
Quick as a snake, Erin walked up behind him, grabbed the back of his neck like a vice and dragged him behind a bookshelf, slamming his face into a wall.
“Why the fuck are you following me?” she hissed in a deadly, quiet voice.
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