They scream over one another, and creatures in the canopy overhead cry in return, anxious at what is happening below them. The chimps are gaining on me. Of course they are. They’ve lived in this jungle all their lives.
Thorns tear into my clothing as I race. I have no idea what they’ll do if they overtake me, and I cry thinking about it. Wiping the tears from my eyes, I run faster. Madox is still at my feet when the foliage begins to clear. The plants that were thigh-high thin and shorten, but I’m not sure this will help. I need to move quicker, but I also need the jungle’s natural cover. Balling my hands into fists, I push even harder, and for a few seconds, I am filled with triumph as I gain a solid lead on the chimps.
The black hole comes out of nowhere.
One moment, I’m whipping past trees and overgrown vines, and the next, I’m throwing myself back to keep from tumbling to my death. Madox stops just in time and comes to rest nearby. The chimps are growing louder again. I know it won’t be long before they find me. I can’t run forever. I can hardly catch my breath as it is, and fear is making it hard to think.
I glance down into the enormous pit, maybe forty feet down, noting the thick vines along the sides. If I’m careful, and if the vines can hold my weight, I can scale down into the cave and wait until the chimps pass. I’ll have to be quick, though. If they see me, they’ll follow. I’m certain of it.
“Come on,” I whisper, scooping Madox into my arms. Stuffing the bottom of my shirt into my pants, I tuck Madox in between my shirt and chest. Then I grab on to the thickest vine I see, tug it twice to ensure it’ll hold, and step over the side. My brain screams that this is not the alternative I want, that there’s no telling what lurks inside this cave. But I have no choice, so I push those thoughts aside and descend into darkness.
For having never climbed anything before, I think I’m doing pretty well. I use my legs to balance my weight against the rock wall, and test my footing before I step. I’m halfway down when I hear the chimps closing in. I have to hurry. Glancing beneath me, I note there are still ten feet left before I reach the cavern floor. In a panic, I try sliding down the vine. My feet slip out from under me and before I can regain my balance — I’m free-falling.
The breath is knocked from my lungs when I hit the ground. Instantly, I check Madox. He pulls himself out from my shirt, and when I realize he’s okay, I lie back and cringe against the shooting pain in my lower body. I know I have to check for broken bones, but right now I’m still more afraid of the chimpanzees. Grabbing Madox, I pull him onto my chest and press my head into his damp fur.
Please don’t let them find us.
I pray for several seconds before I’m brave enough to glance up. The chimps’ cries are directly above the cave, and I know they’re standing dangerously close to the edge. Sucking my bottom lip, I lift my head from Madox’s warm body and peer upward.
A chimpanzee stares down at me.
I start to scream, but cover my mouth to stop myself. My body shakes with fear, and I forget all about the pain in my back and legs. The chimp raises its hands and intertwines its fingers over its forehead like it’s worried. A sharp call nearby steals its attention, and it looks away. It glances back at me once more, then turns and flees.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
For a long time, I don’t move. I can’t. Each time I consider sitting up, I imagine hearing the chimps’ calls. But when Madox starts licking my face, I know I have to keep going. This is a race, and I can’t stay down here forever.
As I pull myself up, I feel wetness on my back. For a fleeting moment, I’m terrified it’s blood. But when I search further, I realize it’s only water. Madox scurries beneath me and drinks from the narrow stream. I suddenly realize I’m incredibly thirsty, and before I can wonder what kinds of terrible things call this stream home, I get down on my hands and knees and drink. The water is cool and tastes like nothing I’ve experienced before. I’ve never had water this pure, untouched by humans. It’s almost too much, and I close my eyes against the euphoric feeling of meeting such a basic human need.
There are moments in the jungle where I can’t help but laugh at how my life has changed in these last four days. Drinking from a stream, in the belly of a cave, is one of those moments. Yesterday, if this had happened, I would have daydreamed about my leopard-print house slippers and my grandmother’s crocheted blanket that I’ve kept at the end of my bed since forever. But today, I just glance at Madox drinking beside me (downstream, thank God), and I’m thankful for his presence. I was afraid that after he hatched — if he hatched — he would leave me. But so far, Madox has been faithful, and I feel another stab of affection for my little Pandora.
Using the stream, I bathe like a New World pioneer, splashing water over my skin and hair. Then I do my best to rub my teeth clean with a finger and some more water.
When I finish, I inspect the cave, searching for other hidden secrets that’ll help me win the race. It’s dark down here, darker than the jungle itself. But I can still see the lichen growing along the bottom of the cave, and now that I’m paying attention, I can hear the slight gurgle of the stream. Mostly, though, there is mud and rocks. It seems this might be a good place to sleep and stay hidden from larger animals like the ones I escaped less than an hour ago. But surprisingly, I’m fairly well rested, and I know I need to keep moving if I want to find base camp.
Hitching Madox inside my shirt again, I scale up the side of the cave. Going up is way harder than going down, but I manage it after several failed attempts. Before I crawl up onto the jungle floor, I peer over the lip of the cave to ensure the chimpanzees are gone. When I don’t spot them, I release a shaky breath. Then I pull myself over and stand up.
Today, I need to find a flag. I spent my first day in the jungle panicking. After that, I spent two days and one night following the Green Beret. Now it’s just me and Madox. The fourth day. That means I have ten days left to reach base camp. I’m not sure if there’s a certain hour we have to arrive, so I cut it to nine days to play it safe. The flags will be hard to find. I know because I haven’t seen one yet. But then, I’m not sure I was ever looking that hard. Not until now.
“Want to find a flag, Madox?”
My Pandora barks in response, and I wonder if maybe he can understand me after all.
I narrow my eyes and kneel down. “Madox, roll over.” He stares at me. I try something else. “KD-8, roll over.” He sits down on his haunches and glances away, like he’s bored with the nonsense spewing from my mouth.
“All right, guess you don’t speak human,” I say. “We still need to find flags.” Briefly, I wonder why the crazy guy’s lion seems to understand English and Madox doesn’t. I guess it’s just not one of his capabilities. No biggie.
As Madox and I make our way through the jungle, my stomach growling, I make a game out of my Pandora’s inability to understand me. “Madox, climb a tree,” I say. “Madox, fetch us lunch.” “Madox, give me a hot-stone massage and serve me green tea. Iced, not hot.”
My Pandora barks every time I make a request, like he’s participating in the conversation. In reality, I wonder if it’s his polite way of telling me to shut the hell up. As the sun begins to set — and I still haven’t spotted a blue flag — my spirits plummet. I was certain if I focused on where I was going and used my gut as a guide, I’d find a flag. Now I have to decide whether to keep looking for one tomorrow, when the sun rises, or resume the perimeter plan and hope I find base camp without the flags.