Rumors of Savages

by Carrie Regan

  Maxine shuffled through papers and maintained her forced, weak smile.

  “Uh…yes. I…yes, and…I have some early reports.”

  “Screw the early reports,” Bill barked, pacing in front of her. “Are we fucked? How much damage did she do?”

  Maxine blinked, clearly confused. “You mean Liz? There’s no damage. They loved Liz.”

  “They loved Liz?” Relief cracked through the strain in his voice.

  “They loved Liz,” she confirmed, relaxing slightly.

  Bill collapsed in his chair. “They loved Liz!”

  “Both Ms and Cosmopolitan have called about booking interviews as soon as she returns, as well as two local and three national daytime talk shows. The late night shows are also after her.”

  “You’re kidding! That’s incredible!”

  “Hits to the website have risen thirty percent, and that’s after you take into account the tenfold increase in traffic we’ve experienced since this all began. It seems Liz has helped drive female traffic to our site. We expect it’ll boost the ratings for The Best of Max Carrington tonight, too.”

  Looks like Lee might have been right about a female co-host after all, Bill thought. “Call scheduling and make sure tonight’s episode has a strong, sexy female opposite Max. That manatee piece should work perfectly.”

  “Great idea,” Maxine said, noting it on the top sheet of her pile.

  The story was a public relations gold mine. They could do no wrong. “Is that the Hollywood Tonight clip?” Bill asked, savoring the good news.

  “Oh yes! I almost forgot. Very flattering, I must say.”

  “Let’s have a look,” he said, popping it into his DVD player.

  The handsome blond reporter on screen held up a headshot of Max. Flashing a blinding smile, he announced, “America has gone crazy for Max Carrington!”

  Bill giggled with glee as the reporter conducted random “man on the street” interviews with people who professed their love for his man, Max. A pastry chef in an Italian restaurant showed off a cake she had baked in the likeness of Max. “He’s so brave,” she cooed. “And so handsome!”

  “Max is the man!” a group of teenage boys sporting Adventure! tee shirts called out. The sentiments were echoed by half a dozen other pedestrians, many wearing yellow ribbons as a symbol of support and hope that the team would make it home safely.

  Bill was grinning as the piece ended. He fished for more good news. “How’s the online feature doing?”

  Bill had asked his online team to design a video game in which viewers at home could play the role of the team lost in the central African jungle. The cartoon TV crew began in the center of a map that was dotted with twisting vines and towering trees, its dark recesses alive with the blinking, bloodshot eyes of hidden beasts. The program asked randomly generated questions about Africa’s plants, animals, and geography, and with each correct answer, the crew moved a step closer to a luxury lodge on the edge of the jungle. With each incorrect answer, the team moved further into its darkest corner, where the eyes of the beasts were most menacing. Enough correct answers and the team ended up in a Jacuzzi at the eco-lodge, clinking champagne glasses. Enough wrong answers and the team found itself in a large pot, flames licking its sides, water bubbling around them, as spear-carrying cannibals danced around them.

  “The website is enormously popular, although we have gotten some complaints about the game. People are questioning whether or not it’s appropriate.”

  “Appropriate? What wouldn’t be appropriate?”

  “I’m not sure, but based on the e-mails, some people find the cooking pot in poor taste, since no one is quite sure what has happened to the anthropologist.”

  “Damn liberals. I imagine they defend cannibalism as a lifestyle choice? I mean, there are cannibals in the region, right? We’ve established that there are people in the region who are hunting other people and killing them for their skins?”

  “Well…yes, Max said-“ Maxine stammered.

  “There you go, then.” Bill shifted to a more upbeat topic. “What about Pepsi?” he asked, referring to a promotional contest the soft drink company had launched with Adventure. Inside the caps of specially marked soda bottles were keywords related to the expedition, each equaling a prize. A bottle cap with the word “TENT” won the Pepsi drinker a new expedition-quality tent; “BACKPACK” was worth a new pack. The lucky person who found the one cap reading “ANTHROPOLOGIST” scored an all expense-paid safari vacation for two with Max Carrington as their guide.

  “The bottles will ship to stores early next week.”

  “Excellent,” Bill said, anticipating the ratings boost once Adventure was promoted on millions of soft drink bottles around the country.

  But Maxine wasn’t sharing his enthusiasm. Instead, she shuffled through her papers once again. She retrieved one, started to say something, and hesitated.

  “What is it?”

  “Well, I hate to mention it, because an overwhelming percentage of the e-mails have been positive, but we’ve received a few from people who are questioning whether or not we’ve acted…well, responsibly,” she said, flinching in anticipation of Bill’s reaction.

  “Responsibly? What do they mean, responsibly?”

  “Well, I have some examples here. Yes, here we go. ’You cocksuckers,’” she read in a monotone. “’How dare you profit from this tragedy. If your crew dies, their blood will be on your hands.’”

  She looked up, checking Bill’s reaction. He remained focused on a spot on the carpet, which she took as an indication to continue. She flipped through the pages and pulled out another.

  “Here’s one, from someone who describes himself as an ‘adventure guide.’ ‘How could you let your team continue with no guides or reliable GPS? You’re risking their lives for ratings. It’s unforgivable.’”

  Again, Maxine checked Bill’s reaction. He was still staring at the carpet, so she shuffled through her papers for another.

  “Here’s one-“

  “That’s enough,” Bill said calmly, finally looking up. “How many are there like that?”

  “Not a lot. Very few. Like I said, the reports we’re getting are overwhelmingly positive,” Maxine said nervously, organizing the papers, as though she could hide the negative e-mails at the bottom of the pile.

  “Good. When Max calls in tomorrow, we’ll have Liz introduce him, say what a challenging yet rewarding experience this has been for her so far, etcetera, etcetera. That should keep the wolves at bay.”

  CHAPTER 29

  Liz was paralyzed, afraid to even breathe, as the light in the jungle slowly approached. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, she thought, slowly sliding lower to the ground, hoping her body would blend in with the log, praying that the glow cast by the dying fire wouldn’t give her away.

  She risked a sideways glance at the walkie-talkie. Even if she whispered into the radio, the crackle of the response would sound like a bullhorn in the silence of the jungle. And if she got a hold of AJ, what could he do? He couldn’t even find the camp, much less race to defend her.

  If the source of the light turned out to be unfriendly, she prayed that he – because it was surely a he, right? – would go to the tents first. Once he crawled into one and became absorbed with looting its contents, she could make a break for the jungle and hide out until he left.

  Images of skin-hunting savages flashed through her mind as she lay practically flat against the ground, her head propped against the log. Then another thought suddenly struck her: Maybe it was Lawrence Julian Thompson. Maybe their search and suffering hadn’t been in vain after all; maybe, against great odds, they’d managed to find him (or he them) after all, and they could at last begin their triumphant journey home. Her spirits soared at the thought — then just as swiftly tumbled back down to earth as the mysterious figure drew closer.

  She squinted through the fire, trying to discern who or what was approaching. At the fringes of the clearing, she could see a human
silhouetted in the moon’s glow. Then, unexpectedly:

  “Hallo? Is anybody there?” The disembodied voice was male, and distinctly Australian.

  Liz sat up instantly. Maybe it was the disarmingly friendly accent, maybe it was the confirmation that the creature was, indeed, human. Either way, the arrival of a person who wasn’t a member of her crew, wasn’t Thompson, and wasn’t African caught her off guard.

  “Hello?” she chanced.

  The figure cast his light in her direction and began moving toward her. Unsure of what to expect, she stood up tentatively. Patting her pockets, she realized she had nothing with which to defend herself, should it come to that. She snatched a stick from the ground and quickly concealed it behind her back.

  When the man came into full view, Liz suddenly felt ridiculous, and dropped the useless stick. He was attractive, very attractive, even in his disheveled state. In the dim light, Liz could make out cool blue eyes and dark, slightly curly hair beneath a worn outback-style hat. Dusty clothes hung off his wiry, muscular frame, and his chin sported several weeks’ growth.

  “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. Please tell me you’re actually here, and that I haven’t gone mad and dreamt you up,” he said with a broad grin. He pulled a weathered leather backpack off his shoulders and casually let it fall to the ground.

  It took Liz a moment to get over her surprise. “Never mind me – what are you doing here, and are there more of you?”

  “I’m afraid I’m it. Been wandering the jungle for days, sure I was a dead man. Don’t mean to be rude, but have you got any food? I could eat an entire wild bore, tusks and all!”

  “Of course.” Still startled by the sight of him, she was certain she was either dreaming or had lost her mind. Nevertheless, she removed two energy bars from her pack and offered them to him. “I’m Liz, by the way.”

  “Forgive the bad manners. Name’s Alex.” He offered a handshake before taking the bars. “Thanks, mate. You’ve just saved my life,” he said, ripping into both bars at once.

  “You want water with that?” Liz asked, holding out a bottle.

  With his mouth full, he nodded vigorously and took it. “I think this is the best meal I’ve ever had.”

  Liz motioned for him to have a seat around the fire, eager to find out what had drawn yet another Westerner into this inhospitable jungle. While remarkable, it wasn’t the first time they’d run across another foreigner in such an out-of-the-way spot. Each time it happened, it seemed to confirm that there were no truly wild, unexplored places left on the planet.

  He polished off the last of the bars, took a long gulp of water, and exhaled in satisfaction.

  “Well isn’t this something? I’d started to think I’d never see another living soul again.”

  “I was beginning to have doubts myself. I saw your light and didn’t know what to expect. There are five of us, by the way, but the other four, the men, are lost.” Flooded with relief and the instant camaraderie that develops in such extreme situations, she found herself babbling on about Lawrence Julian Thompson’s disappearance and their expedition to find him.

  “You don’t say! I just love those nature documentaries. Can’t get enough of ‘em,” he said. “How long have you been stuck out here alone?”

  “Just today. I came back to cover the tents. It looked like it was going to rain.”

  “And they sent you alone? Don’t they know the characters that roam this jungle?”

  “You mean the Bambada?”

  “So you’ve heard of them.”

  “Heard of them, and may have seen their handiwork. You think they’re real?”

  “They’re real alright. And believe me, this is the last place you want to be wandering around alone.”

  “Then what are you doing out here?” she asked.

  “Mum asks me the same thing each time I call! Seriously, I’m a geologist, working with an Australian mining company. We’ve been scouting out this area for a while, hoping to get a project going.”

  Liz remembered Philip’s criticism of the mining company during their stay at the research station. He’d made it sound as though dozens of vehicles were storming the jungle, mercilessly tearing down trees, laying down roads, and burrowing into the earth. If Philip only knew that this one lost, desperate geologist was the extent of their assault, he’d probably sleep a lot easier.

  Alex took another swig of water and continued. “Geological maps of the area, test pits we’ve dug on the outskirts of the jungle, gemstones some locals have brought to our camp to sell – all the evidence is there that there are some pretty significant deposits of precious metals and gems in the area. But we’ve never been able to round up a group of local guys to help us get in and explore. Don’t know what I was thinking, but I decided to head into the jungle myself for a couple days and scout it out, prove to the gang there was nothing to be afraid of. A wrong turn somewhere turned two days into ten, and here I am.”

  “Ten days! How have you survived?”

  “Good ‘ole Aussie know-how. Can’t say I would have had the will to last much longer, though. Finding you here, finding out I’m not alone, is the biggest gift a man could get.”

  “I know what you mean,” she said, stoking the fire.

  “Let me help you with that.” Alex pulled a knife from a sheath strapped to his leg, hacked some branches off a nearby dead tree, and tossed them onto the fire.

  “So you’re supposed to just wait here until the blokes find their way home?” he asked, settling down next to her.

  “I can handle myself pretty well.”

  “I don’t doubt it. Still, you never know what could happen out here. What if you hurt yourself?”

  “I can radio them,” she said, flashing him the walkie-talkie. “In fact, I’m sure AJ would be really relieved to know I have company, if you don’t mind.”

  “Be my guest. Give them my regards.”

  “AJ, AJ, you there?” She said into the receiver. There was no response.

  She pressed the transmission button once again and slowly repeated the call. They waited in silence as the words gently crackled in a camp across the jungle and the oblivious men slept on.

  Alex raised an eyebrow. “Impressive team you’ve got there.”

  “AJ?” she said sharply, one last time, before giving up. “Maybe their batteries died.” She examined her walkie-talkie for signs of malfunction.

  “Or maybe they fell asleep,” Alex said, leaning over and placing a tentative hand on her arm. “This jungle is hard travelin’. They’ve gotta be exhausted.”

  Liz shook her head. “How could he fall asleep? He knows I’m here alone. What if something happened?”

  “But nothing has,” Alex said. “Listen, why don’t you go ahead and grab some shuteye? I’ll watch camp. By the time you wake up, the boys will probably be back here and I’ll give them a stern lesson in how to treat a lady.”

  Liz forced a smile. Maybe I’m just tired, she thought. But how could AJ do such a thing? A lump caught in her throat, and her eyes burned.

  “Are you sure?” she asked quietly, not wanting Alex to see her cry.

  “Sure, no worries. I’ve got this radio to protect me,” he said, waving the walkie-talkie at her, trying to raise a smile.

  “Thanks. I think I will go to bed.” The arrival of the charming stranger was a sign, she told herself. From here on out, things were only going to get better.

  “Atta girl. Everything’ll be just fine tomorrow, you’ll see.”

  CHAPTER 30

  Buddy awoke at sunrise with the sudden, familiar twitch in his sphincter that signaled if he didn’t get his pants down soon, he’d regret it, as would everyone in camp. He leapt to his feet, relieved that the sky had brightened enough to ease his fears about heading into the jungle alone. When he was a safe distance away, he dropped trou and squatted with barely a moment to spare.

  His stomach churned and intestinal tract erupted as though some internal pipe had burst. Moment
s later, certain that his bowels simply couldn’t contain any more, he risked standing. He wasn’t halfway up when the violent urge suddenly returned, and he quickly squatted once again to finish the filthy task.

  His legs trembled as he tried to stand, weak from effort and illness. Tugging his shorts up, he noticed that they nearly fell back down from the inches he’d lost around his waist. The days in the wild with meager food rations had taken a toll on his midsection, and the current bout of whatever was living in his gut would only speed his steady weight loss.

  He reached up out of habit to tug at his lucky cap and grasped nothing but air, then remembered, with a curse: it was lost. He’d had enough – the threat of skin-hunters, the sleepless nights, the shortage of food, sickness, and now, his lucky cap gone, probably forever. No wonder he was sick. It was a bad omen, probably just the first sign of what was to come if he risked continuing on without his lucky hat.

  He had no choice: he had to find it. AJ wouldn’t understand, he knew, and wouldn’t want to take time to look for it, especially with Liz waiting alone at camp. But Buddy figured it couldn’t be far, since he never went more than a few minutes without touching or adjusting it. It had to be somewhere nearby.

  He cast a glance through the jungle at the clearing where the men still slept. He’d take five minutes, check the immediate area, and be back at camp before anyone noticed.

  Walking on, he recognized a hint of path – broken branches indicating what must have been their route into last night’s camp. He carefully scanned the ground, looking up every so often in case the cap was caught on a thorny vine or branch. He must have lost track of time, because when he stopped to glance back at the camp, it was nowhere in sight. But the path was still clear enough, with freshly hacked vegetation pointing the way. He’d give it just a few more minutes.

  He forged on, reminding himself to stay calm, when in the distance he spied a swatch of orange. His cap! He dashed for it, eyes fixed on the target, feet stumbling on overgrown roots and shrubs.