Downpour (4): The River

4. The River

     Nick awoke once more to rain falling on his face. The lumps down his arms and legs burned furiously, and his entire body was drenched. Just another wonderful day stuck in the jungle he thought. He opened his eyes and looked up at the dangling parachute, swinging gently in the trees. The snake was not there, and Nick found himself nervous about where it had gone off to.

     Breakfast was more of the same. Cold rations, soaked in rain water that tasted like stale oatmeal. Nick found himself wishing desperately for a cup of coffee, and a couple of shots to throw in it. He swallowed the rations as quickly as he could and packed the shredded tarp back in his bag.

     Setting out into the forest was difficult, as his legs were stiff and sore, both from the bug bites and exertion. It also did not help that he had spent the night on the forest floor. I bet the bandit king had a nice room laid out for us and everything. Nick’s sourness had returned as he reflected on the night he could have had. Even a drop of whiskey would be enough to get me through this wretched jungle.

Resigned to another day of what was likely to be fruitless trekking, Nick pulled out the compass and followed the needle west. The buzz of flies and mosquitos around his face was unpleasant, and the good mood that had come from escaping death was long gone. However, with the confusion of the Madremonte being lifted, Nick felt like he was making progress. Rather than seeing what appeared to be the same tree over and over again, he saw slightly different trees. That one is a little greener than the last one, he told himself, trying to be convincing that he wasn’t heading in circles again.

     The forest remained loud and vibrant through his journey, and it was only an hour or so before he heard rushing water. Oh thank Christ, he thought and rushed toward the noise. Birds yammered at the sudden intrusion, and his disregard for the forest, but Nick was not trying to be sneaky. Any idea of getting out of the jungle was an enticing one.

     He crashed through the underbrush, slicing at the thick foliage with his machete, and trampling roots beneath his feet. With caution thrown to the wind, he burst through the jungle at the edge of the river and found himself at the edge of a long, sloping hill leading down to a turbulent section of river. He skidded to a halt, just barely catching himself before toppling over the edge.

     Letting out a sigh of relief; he allowed himself a moment to survey the surrounding area. The river moved swiftly, as the gap between the banks was narrow. Pockets of white water dotted the murky green surface, and a little farther down the bank, Nick saw the beginnings of true rapids. Large boulders stuck out of the water, shrouded in mist as the roil hit them. The sound of the rushing water was almost calming. Had it not been for the omnipresent buzzing of mosquitos next to his ears; Nick might have felt relaxed.

Both sides of the river were covered by thickets of trees and dense underbrush., It was impossible to see more than fifteen feet in, making the identification of landmarks impossible. Nick pulled out the map once again. The Amazon river flows from East to West. It was impossible to place himself on the map. There were many sections of rapids in the amazon, and the tall trees surrounding him blocked out any identifiable geographic features.

     I guess I might as well stick to the plan and follow it to the source. Nick shoved the map back in his bag and resigned to do his best and follow the river toward its source. Nick looked back at the forest, to ensure nothing was following him and froze. There was a flash of green in the underbrush, and the soft sound of rustling. Not this again. “Look, I’m just going to keep insulting you if you keep coming back,” the last words caught on his tongue.

     Sliding across the forest floor, was a large, neon-green snake. “Not you again,” he said quietly. The snake moved toward him slowly, flicking the air with its tongue. The bastard is tasting my fear. “Go on, get out of here,” he yelled, but the snake continued to move forward unabated. Its eyes were black pits, staring straight through him.

     Nick took a step back, forgetting the hill behind him. His right foot caught on a root, and sent him sprawling backward over the edge. There was a moment of weightlessness, followed by the thud of his head hitting the ground. If I didn’t have head trauma from the fall, I do now. He felt dazed, as the world spun around him. It felt like he was trapped in a washing machine as the brown and green swirled around him. Flailing his arms, Nick tried to reach for anything that would slow his descent. The hill was loose and muddy. Each root he tried to grab hold of slipped from his grasp, and he continued to roll unabated.

     What had been the distant roar of the river grew louder. Before he knew it, the ground beneath him was gone, and he was tumbling over the lip of the bank and into the river. He hit the water with a warm splash, and thought that it felt quite pleasant. The momentary relief was short lived, as he was dragged beneath the water by the undercurrent.

     He held his breath through the crushing pressure, and tried to swim back to the surface. Opening his eyes, he could see nothing but murky green water, and the bubbles rising from the rapids. Pain wracked his leg as it was caught briefly between two rocks and wedged at an odd angle. He worried for a moment that it was broken, and then realized that it wouldn’t matter much if he drowned. Kicking his legs and pumping his arms in the water, he pulled himself to the surface.  

     He breached long enough to catch a breath, and see two large, grey rocks looming before him. The water grew faster as he passed between them and he was sucked down once more. The roaring of the river filled his head until he could hear nothing else. His limbs burned from exhaustion, but he continued to fight against the river’s current. Each time he opened his eyes, he saw the shadows of jagged rocks in the river below him, and tried to avoid them.

     The water moved in a cycle, pushing him briefly to the surface where he could catch a breath, and then dragging him down so far that his ears would pop. Well at least I’m not going to die of dehydration any more, he thought, and nearly laughed underwater, losing some of the precious air in his lungs. As he passed through the murky green water, he found himself thinking back to the snake at the top of the hill, and hating the creature with everything he had.

After a particularly long period under the water, he felt the river begin to calm. With tired limbs, he pushed himself to the surface. The humid jungle air had never tasted so sweet. Nick paddled his way to the water’s edge, and flopped onto the muddy bank. Jungle, never again. Never again am I coming to the god damned jungle.

He closed his eyes, and for the hundredth time in his short morning, wished that he could be anywhere else. It was then that he felt the press of cold steel upon his chest. Groaning, he opened his eyes to see a man, dressed in what appeared to be the shredded remains of a business suit, pointing a spear at his chest. What had no doubt once been a very expensive tie was wrapped loosely around a braid of long black hair, hanging down the man’s back. An odd assortment of metal pieces hung from the man’s earlobes, and his skin looked as if it had been darkened by years of sun drenching.

“Hi there,” said Nick, doing nothing to hide his exhaustion. “Who might you be, and how have I offended you?”

The man’s eyes widened. There was a split second where Nick thought he was going to kill him, but a grin spread over his face. The pressure from the spear lessened, and he moved it to the side. “You,” he paused, “speak English?” He spoke with a heavy Scottish accent, and a gruff tone.

“And you’re not from around here, are you?” asked Nick, in equal measure of surprise.

The man laughed heartily, set the spear down and grabbed Nick around the shoulders with callused hands. With a mighty jerk, he lifted him to his feet. Pain wracked Nick’s entire body from the many injuries he had received in the preceding day.

The man took no notice. Like a jeweler appraising a stone, he circled Nick, looking him up and down. “Nah, this must be my imagination playing tricks on me. I’ve been here too long.” As he said it, the excitement on his face began to fade. Nick’s knees buckled slightly and the man caught him.

“I assure you, I’m very real, and in a great deal of pain,” said Nick, feeling his leg throb where it had caught between the rocks. It didn’t feel broken, but it still made standing a bit difficult.

“Oh I’m so sorry,” said the man, putting a hand across Nick’s shoulders to support him. “I didn’t realize you were injured. Forgive my excitement, I just, never thought I’d see another outsider again.”

Nick winced in pain. “No problem. Don’t suppose you have any water or food?” Nick’s bag had washed away in the river. He felt a slight pang of guilt for the tome that Henry had so painstakingly protected. It had been swallowed whole by the river, likely never to be seen again.

“I can do you one better,” the man said, hoisting Nick’s arm over his shoulder. “Follow me laddie, and I’ll show you one of the best parts about this cursed jungle.”