Downpour(5): Modern Day Castaway

About 13,000 words in to this years NanoWriMo. It's been a lot of fun so far!

5. Modern Day Castaway

     “A Scotsman? In the middle of the jungle. Now I know you’re a liar. Do us all a favor and let the lady go, she doesn’t need to hear your tripe.” Albert had waddled over to sit next to Nick. Marcus was still half asleep, but was leaning up against the back of Nick’s chair. It was the closest he ever got to showing interest.

     “Even I couldn’t make this up,” said Nick, looking around to notice that the only person in the bar who seemed uninterested by his story was the woman he was telling it to. Somewhere in between the plane crash and the river, she had pulled out her phone and begun to text. You’re losing her Nick. He tried to think of ways to exaggerate his story to make it more interesting, but they only seemed to make it even less probable.

     “Oh now don’t sell yourself short Nick,” said Jimmy from behind the bar. “I seem to remember you and your apprentice telling some pretty tall tales. What was that about the lake monster and a boat full of chocolate?”

     The blonde woman sighed and continued to stare at her phone, completely uninterested in the proceedings.

     Nick on the other hand was more worried about his reputation. “I’ve got a photograph of the bloody mess we made after killing that beast. If James were here, he’d back up my story too,” Nick was shouting.

     “I’ve seen better photoshop from a second grader,” said Jimmy as he began to polish glasses.

     “It was a polaroid picture!”

     Jimmy mumbled something about bullshit, and continued his work.

     No matter how much evidence you show them, they still question it. Nick had always found Monster hunters to be skeptical bunch. When Albert had told a story about staking a vampire on the London Underground, Nick had been quick to criticize and try to poke holes. Suppose it comes with the territory. Once you’ve seen behind the world’s curtain, everything is believable, but you realize most people are just full of shit.

     “Alright, if you’re all so convinced that I’m spinning a yarn, maybe I should stop telling the story.” Nick looked hopefully to the blonde woman across the table. Even a pithy comment would have sufficed, but she only looked up briefly to make it seem as though she was paying attention.  

     Marcus on the other hand perked out of his stupor. “Oh don’t be an idjut.” The words blended together as if he hadn’t put any real effort into forming them. “Of course we want to hear the story. It might be a load of horse crap,” he paused to stifle a burp, “but it’s better than listening to Jimmy talk about my outstanding tab.”

     Jimmy glared from behind the counter and wrote something down on a notepad.

     He’s especially dour tonight, thought Nick, and returned his gaze to his audience. More and more he was thinking that he had lost the woman’s attention altogether. Come on, bring her back in. “So there I was, surrounded by cannibals, watching them peel the flesh from my leg,” he said loudly, being sure to watch

her face.

     She gave a brief nod as if this was to be expected.

     “What the bloody hell are you talking about?” roared Albert, startling both Nick and the woman. She jumped and put her phone down. “I thought you were with the Scotsman after surviving the rapids.” He cocked an eye at Nick, looking confused.

     “Yeah, come to think of it, I don’t remember you mentioning cannibals,” murmured Marcus.

     The two men made an odd sight, hobbling through the jungle. The Scotsman wearing his shredded business suit, and Nick, dressed as if he were on his way to a modern party, but also looking like he had been recently drowned. Their progress was slow, but luckily, the inhabitants had carved a small path through the roots and shrubs. It made walking in the jungle more manageable. In addition, Nick felt a headache coming on, prodded by the growing lump on the back of his head from when he had fallen.

     “I don’t believe I caught your name,” said the man conversationally as they walked through the jungle.

     “It’s Nick. And yours?”

     “It’s Callum, pleasure to meet you Nick. I’d shake your hand, but I’m a bit afraid I’d drop you.” He looked Nick up and down again. “And you’re looking a little worse for wear. Best we be careful with you.” He laughed, and continued to help Nick along the path.

     The pain Nick felt was almost too much. He tried to distract himself with conversation. “How long have you been out here?”

“Oh let’s see.” The man looked up at the canopy, calculating. “Probably coming somewhere on ten years now, but you really lose track of the time out in the bush.”

“Ten years?” Nick said, unable to hide his shock. “How have you been able to survive out for here for ten years?”

“Well, as it turns out, I’m a very lucky man.” He made a cross across his chest with his free hand. “You know, when I first crash landed here, I thought it was a curse.” He gestured to the vines and trees around them. “It’s hot, it’s humid, and just about everything hiding beyond that tree line is aiming to kill ya.”

     “Yeah, that I’ve noticed,” said Nick, with a laugh that caused him great pain.

     “Aye, it looks as though you have.” He paused for a moment, thinking back. “My first few nights were rough, no doubts there. I spent the night in the busted hull of my airplane with naught but the dead for company. Lost my co-pilot, and the rich bastard who paid me to fly out here in the first place.” He spat on the ground. “He deserved what he got, but the others, that’s an unfortunate turn.

     “Now, I was a damned good pilot, but the storm that we flew into came out of nowhere. Clear skies on takeoff, but then, in the middle of the night, winds kicked up to the highest I had ever seen them. I lost one engine, and tried my best to bring us down safe. Last thing I remember was trying to descend through the clouds, and then WHAM!” The thought seemed to jolt him as if it had just happened. “We were in the trees, and the plane was pooched beyond repair.”

     “It seems we’ve got more in common than I thought,” said Nick, remembering the storm that had brought them down.

     “I’d say we do. I saw the storm a few nights back, and I could have sworn there was a fireball in the sky. Were you a pilot as well?” He seemed hopeful, trying to find anything they had in common.

     “Passenger.”

     “Ah, take it the pilot didn’t make it then?”

     “He had me ditch before we landed, but he’s a good pilot, and he’s survived worse than a plane crash before.” Talking up Lopsang’s piloting abilities seemed to be easier than explaining his immortality and position as a demi-god.

     Nick’s answer seemed to satisfy Callum. “I’m sure he is.” He mumbled a short prayer under his breath and he continued. “Well, like I said, at first glance, this might’ve seemed like a curse, but I’ve actually done quite well for myself out here.”

     “A few days after I crashed, a group of natives found me. At first they were downright hostile, but they came around shortly after I let them strip my plane bare. Managed to keep a few things to myself.” He motioned to the scraps of metal hanging from his ears, which Nick now recognized as pieces of an airplane control board. “And after a while they just sort of accepted me. We’ve built quite a home here, and most of them have even learned a bit of English.” He smiled, proud of his accomplishment.

     Nick could not help but be skeptical of what the man called ‘alright’. As far as he was concerned, any type of living in the jungle was about as close to hell as a man could get. Through the trees, Nick began to see pieces of metal. “What’s that?” Nick asked, pointing through the trees.

     “That my friend, is my plane.”

     As they walked closer, Nick could make out pieces of the fuselage and cabin. They had been ripped apart and bound together into what loosely resembled huts. As they further approached, Nick could see an entire village that looked like it had been constructed from scrap metal. “Wow,” said Nick, struck by how modern some of the shelters looked.

     “Not all of it is my plane of course. Over the years there have been quite a few to go down out here. We always check for survivors, but you’re the first one I’ve seen since I landed here myself.” A native child bustled out in front of them wearing large khakis and a pith helmet. Callum laughed. “You’d be surprised what they find out there in the jungle.”

     A group of men dressed in various pieces of what appeared to be tourist’s clothing approached. Each carried a spear, and had assortments of metal hanging as decoration from their ears and around their neck. They pointed their spears at Nick, and shook them violently.

     “Woah, easy there boys. This man is a friend.” He let go of Nick for a second and step forward.

The men refused to move their spears.

“Oh come on now, don’t be a bunch of sods will ye? He’s not going to hurt you.”

The villagers remained still.

Turning to nick, he said quietly: “I uh, don’t suppose you’ve got anything metal on you that you could give them do ya? They’re really not keen on outsiders. If the chief were here, he’d understand, but he doesn’t look to be around at the moment.”

Nick rummaged through his pockets and found nothing but a few pieces of change. He pulled them out and looked at them in his palm. “This is all I’ve got; the river took everything else.”

     One of the villagers spotted the coins and dropped his spear in the dirt. His attitude changed immediately. The man walked up to Nick to examine the coins. “Can I have this gift sod?” the man said, in broken English.

     “Don’ call him a sod. Thas’ not for friends, I’ve told ye. Sorry Nick, they haven’t quite learned yet.”

     Nick, not wanting to face another life-threatening situation, nodded to the villager. “Sure, any one you like.”

     The villager grinned big, took a quarter, clapped Nick on the shoulder and then went skipping off to one of the huts. The other villagers noticed the short supply in Nick’s palm and ran up to meet him. Each called him a sod in turn, took the coin and then left smiling.

     “Well, I can’t say they’re very polite, but they seem to like you.” He laughed and extended a hand out to shake Nick’s. “Welcome Nick, to New Glasgow…”