The Jungle’s Secret, Part One

Photo by Chris Abney 

It was a warm mid-December near the Caribbean Sea. My wife Lola and I had walked to Yan Ten, the solitary and beautiful beach a mile from our little community in the tropics, mid-afternoon to catch some sun. After a swim and taking advantage of our solitude with some mindless sex, we needed a nap.

But by the time we roused from that sleepy state and opened our eyes, we saw that dusk was creeping in. Not surprising. It wasn’t yet the solstice to begin the turn of early waning sunlight into growing light each day.

We quickly hopped up, picked up our towels, and carried our shoes up the sand to put them on at the path. We’d have to walk cautiously.

The shaded road could be treacherous even in daylight, if not paying attention to it, because there were protruding mounds of limestone or deeper potholes brought on by travelers in golf carts after a rain. But it would be dark and moonless by the time we got halfway through the dense jungle that bordered the path on both sides if we didn’t hurry. Unfortunately, we didn’t think to bring a flashlight. Not a good thing.

The more dangerous wildlife came out at night to feed, for one thing, and another, we didn’t know what kind of two-legged creatures were lurking about. Rumors had milled around the community that there was some kind of encampment, deeper within the jungle’s density, of men who were less than civilized. Meaning, I had assumed, that they didn’t care what they took or who they hurt when it came to wanting something for themselves. No one had actually seen this camp, so I thought it was a made-up story to keep the masses away from the better swim areas.

Yet, some people had experienced items stolen from their beach bags and coolers while they’d be out frolicking in the water down that lonely stretch of sun and mild sea. But only one person had reported seeing two unkempt, scruffy, and mean-looking men in the road, after returning from a swim to find their food and drinks missing.

Photo by Pedro Monteiro

The swimmer guy said that he’d given chase, running toward the little road to go after them, but when he got there, he couldn’t see them down that straight path anywhere. It was as if they had disappeared into ‘thin air’ or had dived into the wild underbrush.

It didn’t take long to alert the community that there were thieves lurking in the jungle, along that stretch of pleasurable beach. But some people were not as cautious as others.

The policía had been called a time or two, after some of those people’s belongings, including cameras, phones, and blue-tooth speakers — expensive items — had come up missing. But because that section of beach was not in the province of the community, the cops said there was nothing they could do, except to advise caution, go in groups, or not go to that beach at all.

Staying away was not going to happen. It was a beloved place to all who’d discovered its beauty and calm shores. A few chose to go in groups, being extra watchful, and for sure none ventured out too late in the day. But we weren’t too concerned, going by ourselves mid-afternoon. We didn’t take anything worth stealing. Only water and towels, because it was a long walk, and we didn’t want to be burdened down with extra stuff.

Since we had been at that sunny spot for several hours and had nothing happen to us, or our towels, we felt relaxed about being there, until we woke to the rapidly dropping sun. And then edges of panic began setting in as we grabbed towels and shoes and hurried toward the darkening path.

Photo by Isaac Quesada

There were spots where we couldn’t make out the difference between what was the path’s solid ground and what was softer edges and underbrush. Too many times we were slapped in the face with palm fronds and tasted the dustiness of a spider web, having ventured too far into jungle growth. And then we entered ‘the cave’ — the path user’s term for the cave-like walkway that was long and completely encapsulated by greenery, except for its exits and entrance. It was spooky even in the daylight but now was heart-stopping. Imaginations usually kicked in while walking through this burrow of brambles: are we in a dungeon, a mine shaft, or walking toward death or to glory? Many stories were made up about ‘the cave’. And this night it seemed more like a mine shaft where no light could reach. Spooky was not even close to what it felt, and it was more than scary.

When we kept hearing twigs snap not far from us, my wife was trying to hold it together emotionally, I could tell. She held onto me for dear life to keep from stumbling, as well as for moral support, and comfort. But try as I might, I couldn’t help her when I heard a ‘whomp’ and felt her fall from my arm. Before I could react, I felt my own head explode with pain from the hit by a very hard object. All went black.

I had no clue how much later I finally roused and realized I wasn’t dead, since I could move my fingers and feet. I turned to check on Lola. But she wasn’t there. The panic I felt made my head spin and ache worse than it had upon awakening.

“Lola!” I tried to yell, but it came out as more of a croak. I tried harder, “Lola!” which was a bit louder, but I still got no reply, and my head suddenly seemed to burst with fireworks behind my eyeballs. I had to squeeze them closed.

Where could she be? What happened to us? Who had done this? I was getting really scared. And nauseous.

I had no idea how long I had lain in the middle of the path, not having a watch to tell the time, and not being able to make a guess in my mind. It could have been minutes or possibly hours. The dark was still as dark. I just knew I couldn’t continue to lay there any longer; I had to get help. So, I began crawling. I thought that might be the safest thing for me since I would be really wobbly and dizzy standing and trying to walk. I crawled, and I crawled then stopped to rest. Crawled and crawled then more rest. This went on for what seemed like hours, it was hard to tell the time that had gone by.

I finally noticed I was beginning to see signs of brightening because I could almost distinguish the space of the cleared path from that of the denseness of the foliage that I kept banging into for most of my crawl. I hoped I would be coming into civilization soon. My knees were bleeding from the unseen rocks I would jam them into, and they, along with my head and the palms of my hands, hurt like hell.

I had to take a break.

I must have dozed off because the next thing I knew I was being rousted by voices.

Photo by zhan zhang

“Hey, Ben!”

“Ben?”

“Are you okay?”

“What happened? Ben?” It seemed like a drone of robots calling out to me.

I eased my eyes open.

There, gathered around me in the morning sunlight glittering through palm fronds were familiar faces. Friends Michael and Rose, Keith and Vero, regular walkers of the path each morning, were welcomed sights. I felt much relief until I thought about Lola.

“Have you seen Lola?” I implored.

“Lola? No! Was she with you? Where would she be?”

“What happened to you?”

“Lola was with me. And I don’t know what happened.” I struggled to sit up. The two men gave me a hand to help me sit.

The women were aghast at my bleeding wounds and announced the obvious, “Ben needs help. We’ve got to get a golf cart to get him back so that someone can take him to the doctor.”

“I’ll run and find a cart and call for an ambulance,” Keith announced without hesitation.

“No! No ambulance,” I spewed. “I need to find Lola! But a cart would be helpful and more people to help search.”

“Got it,” Keith said and was off running before anyone else could react.

“Thank you for your concerns,” I told them. “I don’t want to go to the hospital without knowing about Lola. She wouldn’t be at home and leave me behind, so we need more help to look for her.” I paused in my thoughts. “Maybe, if she’s feeling as bad as I feel, she simply wandered into the jungle and got lost, not knowing where she was or where she needed to go. Or…,” I hesitated, “…or, maybe she was taken.”

I really wanted to throw up.

I told them the story as much as I could remember of our afternoon, leaving out the sex part, our need to hurry home before dark, and then being hit on the head.

Photo by Alain

“Lola was hit first, and before I could react, I was hit. When I came to, Lola was gone. I had to crawl this far, because I didn’t think I could walk without killing myself by running into eye-poking branches, or tripping over holes or obstacles in the road, or just keeling over from dizziness. My head is killing me.”

“This is horrible,” Rose said emphatically. “Who could have done this to you?”

“Likely those fuckers who’ve been stealing things from people who are on the beach, don’t you think?” Michael retorted.

“Possibly,” Vero said with some uncertainty, “but why the violence? I thought those thieves were just stealing things they could use or sell because they haven’t been violent.”

“Good point,” Michael agreed, “Yet, who else could it have been?”

“I don’t know, Michael.” I chimed in. “I have been trying to puzzle this out all night, or at least the part of the night I’ve been conscious.”

I shut my eyes. My head was throbbing.

Seeing the anguish on my face, Vero said, “You probably have a concussion. You need sleep.”

“I need an aspirin,” I stated.

”No, you shouldn’t have anything that may cause excess bleeding, so you’ll just have to wait it out, or better yet, sleep it off.”

“I can’t! I have to find Lola!”

“We can start looking, but you need to sleep, or you’ll just feel worse,” Vero insisted.

“She’s right,” Keith chimed in. “When Mike gets here, Rose can take you back home to make sure you’re ok, and then come back to help us look. Do you remember where you were when you were ambushed?” he asked.

“Yes. We had just entered the cave.”

“The cave?” Rose queried as if disbelieving.

“You should have run through the cave. I would have, even if I would have tripped.” She looked at me with what seemed like fear, but maybe it was my own feelings of guilt and fear that made me see that look.

“I have to try and find her,” I said. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep.”

Michael pulled me to a stand and with the ladies on each side of me helping hold me up, Michael led the way as we began walking toward where it all had started.

We hadn’t gone too far when Keith arrived with a borrowed golf cart. We all piled in, and Michael said, “We’re going to the cave. We need to find Lola.”

“I told the guards to find help,” Keith stated, “so others will arrive soon.” And off we went.

The exact place was easily found because of the trail of blood leading toward an unattached bush, easily moved.

“A trail!” Michael stated. “Let’s leave the cart and the bush aside for others to see and go find Lola!”

Click HERE to read Part Two and find out what happens next in the search for Lola!