After lunch, bidding farewell to the giant otters, the three of them resumed their journey.
With a few deft maneuvers, Adrian steered the boat away from the main channel and into a tributary. Along the way, Monica took plenty of footage, flipping through the shots one by one, while Owen idly scanned the riverbanks.
The boat went deeper and deeper along the tributary, and since entering it, they hadn't seen a single other vessel. Owen felt a sort of solitary freedom, as if the world belonged to him alone.
This was the Kam River, a tributary of the Amazon. The name "Amazon River" was really a general term—there were countless tributaries here. Many locals had their own names for them, but plenty of rivers had no names at all.
By the afternoon, it started raining. The downpour was heavy, but didn't last long—before long the sun was back out. Adrian's deck had a layer of netting that could block both sun and rain, so they were sheltered either way.
According to Adrian, such sudden rainstorms were common here. The Amazon rainforest was called a rainforest for a reason—it rained often. Because of the earlier storm, the river rose rapidly, and in some places the current quickened, making Adrian steer with extra caution.
Still, bad luck struck.
They came to a rapid, and Adrian barely managed to guide the boat through it, only to strike a submerged rock. Normally, this rock stuck out of the water and was easy to avoid, but the sudden rise in water had just covered it. Adrian didn't see it, and the propeller struck the rock and stopped working.
Owen and Monica watched as Adrian tried in vain to restart the engine, but the propeller wouldn't turn. With no other choice, he put on a diving mask and went into the water, only to find the propeller had bent and jammed.
"What do we do now?"
"No choice. The propeller's broken. The boat won't move—we'll have to get someone to help…"
Adrian's face was full of frustration. He'd landed a big client this time, easy work and good money, but after only a day, the boat was busted.
"Should we call the police?"
"No. I'll try calling any nearby boats, see if someone can help."
Adrian started hailing over the radio. At first, no one replied, and Owen and Monica were about to suggest calling the police when a voice finally came through.
"Oh, Adrian, sounds like you're having some bad luck."
Hearing the voice, Adrian broke into a smile. "Martin, I'm near the mangrove treehouses on the Kam River. Can you come lend a hand?"
"I'm nearby, but I have to check with my employer first…"
The line went quiet for a bit, and then the voice came back. "Adrian, my employer's a good person—they said yes. I'm on my way now, about an hour or so…"
Adrian signaled the other two to be patient, then went into the cabin to pack things. Owen and Monica exchanged a resigned shrug.
A little over an hour later, the sound of an engine came from the distance, and a boat rounded the bend, approaching from downstream.
This boat was slightly larger than Adrian's. As it got closer, a bearded man waved to Adrian. Owen and Monica's eyes lit up—they recognized familiar faces aboard. It was Kroll and the others they'd met on the plane earlier.
"Hey, Monica, Owen…"
"Kroll! I didn't expect it to be you…"
"Yeah, small world, huh? Hahaha…"
"How's the documentary shooting going?"
"Not too smoothly."
…
The fact that Owen and Monica knew Kroll—and were friends—made Martin and Adrian a lot less worried. Martin had already negotiated a price; he wasn't helping for free. Still, he was a bit sour—his boat was bigger than Adrian's, and he was hosting an entire film crew, but he wasn't making as much as Adrian. All he could do was envy Adrian's luck in finding wealthy clients.
Everyone transferred onto Martin's boat and left Adrian's behind—it would have to be dealt with later. Martin didn't have the right parts or tools to fix it here.
"Darling, can we stick with Kroll and them for now? I want to see how a documentary's filmed. I've already talked to Kroll, and she's fine with it…"
"Of course."
Owen had no objections—traveling with Kroll's group might even make the trip more interesting.
The boat headed toward the Dodo River, an area where the Shuar tribe was said to often appear. They had lost some time earlier in the rescue, so it was already about 5 p.m. when they arrived.
From the moment they entered the Dodo River, the crew got busy. Every so often, they would pass stone statues of snake-headed, human-bodied figures, or see murals of pythons on the rock walls. Adrian explained these were Shuar totems—the Shuar worshipped the python as their god.
Nick carried a camera, filming under Kroll's direction. The murals and statues made great footage for post-production.
Evening came quickly, and the surroundings darkened. Martin stopped the boat in the river, and Adrian helped drop anchor.
Dinner was nothing fancy—the crew had brought simple ingredients. Owen and Monica joined in, and during the meal, Martin and Adrian shared local stories, like tourists who had vanished here or been attacked by wild animals.
The small talk made dinner lively. Afterward, Owen and Nick sat on the deck drinking beer—Owen liked the easygoing young man. Monica sliced some fruit to share.
Night on the river was quiet and dark, except for the occasional reflection of animal eyes and strange sounds in the distance. But they weren't worried about safety—the boat was in the middle of the river, and the water would keep land predators away.
"Me? I've worked on films before. I was the police consultant for a movie called 'Die Hard,' and I even helped with some of the scriptwriting…"
"Wow, really? I wouldn't have guessed—"
Nick's sentence was cut off by a sudden splash from the riverbank. Owen and Nick exchanged a look; the easy atmosphere vanished as both stared toward the dark shoreline.
They couldn't see anything, but loud splashing continued, as if something was struggling in the water, mixed with strange calls and heavy breathing.
The fact they couldn't see anything made it all the more unsettling. The others came over, and Adrian called out toward the cockpit: "Martin, turn on the spotlights."
Martin responded, and two high-powered beams lit up the riverbank. But they were too late—nothing was there anymore. Only a swirling eddy on the surface hinted at what had just happened.
Kroll glanced at Adrian, who explained, "Could've been a black caiman, or maybe a green anaconda. Both like hunting at night."
Owen knew both names well—anyone coming to the Amazon did. They were among the top predators of the rainforest, at the very top of the food chain.
Black caimans could reach six meters in length, with a skeleton heavier and larger than the Nile crocodile's. With such size, calling them the apex predators of the Amazon River was no exaggeration. They weren't picky eaters—anything edible that came within reach, from piranhas and giant snakes to monkeys, and even humans, could end up as food. Their usual method was to drag prey underwater to drown it before eating the flesh.
The green anaconda was even more famous. Female anacondas were typically larger than males, with the biggest reaching up to 250 kilograms, nine meters in length, and 30 centimeters in diameter—an intimidating set of numbers for a snake, even if it wasn't venomous.
Their hunting method was constriction—wrapping around prey until it suffocated. Victims often had bones broken in the process. Caimans, birds, mammals—all could be on the menu. A green anaconda's jaws could open up to around 180 degrees, with four rows of teeth that could move independently. Without a chin bone, the two middle rows on the upper jaw could move up and down, helping to swallow prey. Its skin could stretch enough to allow it to consume animals bigger than itself.
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