Túlio woke up with a start. His dreams had been populated by jaguars, cannibal indians, fire-spitting demons with their feet turned backwards and all that running after him, who was trying desperately to get to the train station. If he weren't shaking in fear, maybe he'd even laugh.

The mechanical clock still showed five-fifty, so he had enough time to calm down and take a good shower before calling a taxi.

He thought that maybe the previous day had also been a dream, a delusion, one of those that don't have a reliable limit with reality. He tried to hold on to that hope, but the packed bags on the floor left him no doubt.

“Yeah, let's go.”

He passed by the Colonel's bedroom and peeked through the open door. The bedsheet and the pillowcase weren't undone — he hadn't slept there, as per usual. Did he even sleep at all?

Still drowsy under the hot water, he remembered the indian — Maria de Fátima. Maria de Fátima of Almond Eyes. And, anyway, why had the Professor called her “Airu?” He didn't know, but he was glad he hadn't had his nose broken.

He got dressed, put on an Imperial Military Academy T-shirt, took his bags (where he had stored the mosquito repellant) and called a taxi. Still with the phone in hand, he thought of how curious it was that such a small equipment, that shouldn't weight more than two kilos, costed the equivalent of a Gurgel BR1600. Despite the Colonel's rank, it had been necessary to choose between the device and the car. “I can use the Army's trucks when I need to, it's better to pick the telephone — I can call the base whenever I want.”

The taxi didn't take long and the trip to the station was fast — fifteen coroas. He had barely jumped off when Professor José Antônio waved at him. The man was unmistakable with his white straw hat and a checkered overcoat. He was now carrying a huge trunk, of those with wheels and a handle. Right behind him came Maria de Fátima, in khaki pants and a long-sleeve shirt. She seemed to be cold.

“What a beautiful day, huh, Túlio? I almost thought you had given up on my invitation.”

“Good morning. I don't…”

He was interrupted by the train whistle, which was coming quickly. He looked at the station's clock — ten past six.

“It's early,” Túlio said to the Professor.

“No, it isn't. This is the military train.”

He remembered that weekly a trainset left fifteen minutes earlier, intended only for the transportation of military officers and war material. Looking at the train, he could see nine passenger and two freight wagons, carrying “Urutu-II” trucks. Judging by the shape of the two locomotives, that should be one of the new high-speed trains that could reach up to two hundred kilometers per hour. There was a rumor that the rails hadn't been designed to handle such a speed, and while they weren't changed, the limit would remain at a little above half that, but the Advertising Secretary of the Province of Minas Gerais guaranteed that those were only falsehoods spread by Republicans.

“Is that for the expedition?”

“No, no, of course not,” the Professor replied, amused.

The three got on the first wagon. Túlio let them in before him and could smell a mild perfume coming from Maria de Fátima, who was shivering. “The jungle mustn't be cool like Ouro Preto,” he thought.

They settled in the cabin and before they could start talking, an Imperial Army corporal knocked on the door. “Professor Doctor José Antônio, good morning. Is everything alright? May we depart?” The professor nodded and the corporal disappeared in the corridor. Soon the train whistled again and began its march.

“You are quiet, Airu…” he said in a forcibly affable tone, winking at Túlio.

“You know how much I hate this cursed mountain climate,” Maria de Fátima replied, grumpy, earning a chortle from the Professor.

“Relax, Airu, soon we will be drenched in sweat.”

“Anhê,” she replied with a tut.

Túlio took his chance: “Anyway, where does that nickname come from — Airu?”

“It's not a nickname, cari. It's my name: Airumã.”

“What a funny name.”

“As if ‘Túlio Admeto Lobato’ were gorgeous.”

He had a start — how could she know his full name? And what else did she know? Some things were a little… inconvenient.

“Come on, Airu, quit mocking him. And Túlio — we have a full record of every student who signs up for Project Rondon.”

“But I didn't sign up…”

The Professor grimaced and shrugged. “Well, well. Anyway, you must be curious to know exactly what we're going to do in the Amazon Forest Area, no?”

The boy settled in his seat, staring at the Professor, while Airu tried to find a more comfortable position for a nap.