"Sharp bend ahead—take the wheel for me, I'm going to sort out the ropes…"
In the cockpit, Martin handed the helm to Adrian and stepped out, heading toward the stern.
Saro was sitting on the coil of rope. Martin motioned for him to move. Saro shifted aside a few steps.
"In about an hour, we'll reach the next village. Where do you plan to get off?"
Martin had no fondness for Saro. If it weren't for common decency, he would have tossed the man overboard already.
Saro didn't answer. Martin ignored him and began tidying the ropes—he'd need them soon, and it was best to have them ready in advance.
As he was straightening them, Martin noticed something under the rope: a length of fishing line dangling through a gap in the deck, with something hanging from it. Frowning, he pulled it up—and found the corpse of a monkey.
What the hell?
He knew this carcass. It had been Saro's bait for catching the anaconda earlier. When the snake broke free, it had spit it out. Martin himself had thrown it back into the river. How was it now tied under his boat?
Unease prickled his skin. The thing could attract other anacondas. And if it was here, Saro must have tied it back on—for the same giant snake.
Martin's scowl deepened. He was about to call Saro over when he felt a sharp sting in his arm. Looking down, he saw a spider's fangs in his skin.
A spider?
He recognized it instantly—a Labahbatoo spider. Not deadly, but it caused full-body paralysis for at least an hour. And he remembered: Saro's "pet" was exactly this kind of spider.
Numbness spread fast. Martin twisted violently, managing only a few jerks of his head before his limbs failed. Within seconds, the toxin had robbed him of control.
"I'm sorry," Saro's voice rasped in his ear, cold and devilish, "but since you found out, I have to do this."
Martin's body wouldn't move, but his eyes could still follow Saro as he calmly returned the spider to its transparent vial.
It's him!
Rage flared in Martin's gaze, but it quickly turned to fear when he saw Saro looping the rope around his legs and tossing the free end into the river.
Saro stepped back. Martin grunted frantically, eyes wide, but the engine noise smothered the sound.
The rope slid steadily over the deck, dwindling at his feet—then Martin was yanked overboard.
The splash drew shouts. People rushed aft, spotting Martin floundering in the river.
"Martin's overboard! Stop the boat!"
Monica was the first to see it, calling in alarm. Others scrambled to haul him in. Owen joined them—only Saro stayed apart, watching quietly.
Adrian leaned out of the cockpit, saw what was happening, and cut the engine.
Martin's body was getting closer as they pulled—until the rope jerked tight. From the water rose a massive, ugly snake head. One eye glared coldly; the other was a bloody crater.
The anaconda.
Everyone recoiled in shock. The rope slid back into the green water. Owen understood now—his earlier unease hadn't been paranoia. The snake had been following them all along.
The reptile stared at them like a statue—then, in a sudden whip of motion, lunged at Saro.
But Saro's reaction was not fear—it was satisfaction. His greatest worry had been losing the snake's trail. That was why he had secretly tied the monkey carcass to the stern. And the plan had worked.
As it struck, Saro shoved Adrian into its path. The impact sent Adrian sprawling back into the cockpit, slamming the throttle to full. The boat surged forward, throwing everyone on deck to the floor.
Owen grabbed Monica, shielding her from harm. Nearby, the rifle had been knocked loose. Owen snatched it up, switching instantly into bullet time and sighting the snake.
But then, incredibly, the anaconda began weaving its head side to side—almost as if it knew what the gun meant. In a flash, it dropped into the water.
Owen rushed to the rail. Below, the huge coils wound around Martin's body. His form stiffened—then came the sharp, muffled crackle of bones breaking. An eye burst under the pressure.
Owen swept the gun's aim across the water, but couldn't find the head. He was just about to fire at the body when Adrian's shout rang out: "Jump! Jump now!"
Owen spun around—realizing the boat was going impossibly fast, far beyond what the engine could do.
A deep rumble sounded ahead. "Jump! There's a waterfall!" Adrian's voice was almost lost in the roar.
The bow was already tilting upward. Owen abandoned the hunt, clutching Monica and leaping overboard.
As they hit the water, the stern rose high, and the whole boat plunged over the falls—dragging Martin's corpse and the anaconda with it.
The roar continued. Above the falls, nothing remained but ripples and spray.
Owen and Monica broke the surface, coughing. One by one, the others appeared. Adrian's warning had saved them all.
They swam for shore. On the bank, a headcount showed only Martin—dead—and Saro—missing.
"You okay?"
Monica's belly ached faintly from the jump.
"I'll be fine. Just give me a minute," she said, waving him off.
Owen turned to the survivors. "Check what we've got left."
The tally was grim.
He and Monica still had their waist packs, the MK3 knife, but had lost the machete. Everyone else had fared worse—camera gear gone, drinking water gone. All that remained among them was a few lighters, a length of rope, and a single hunting knife.
______
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