by Carrie Regan
A canopy of branches bowed over the water, and thick vegetation surrounded the bank. Anyone could be watching just three yards away and we’d never know, Troy thought as he dropped his pack. He obsessed, regretting every move and decision that brought him to this point, from the casual lunch in New York where his uncle had asked him about post-graduation plans to the morning he could have followed the porters out. He wanted to laugh when he remembered his fear that morning, and his concern that he wouldn’t be able to make it out of the jungle alone. Looking back, it would have been so simple, unlike their situation now. He felt overwhelmed by the growing certainty that they simply wouldn’t, couldn’t ever make it out. Quickly, he busied himself with the routine of setting up his tent, hoping to hide the storm of tears welling up inside him.
AJ was unpacking his tent when he noticed Liz following suit. “I figured that, maybe, you’d want to save the weight. Leave yours behind,” he whispered with a sly wink.
“I think we should hold off, you know? For the sake of the crew,” she said, forcing herself to keep her own desires in check.
“It’s him, isn’t it?”
“Who, Alex? Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Well, that’s the only thing that’s changed,” he said with a mock pout.
“AJ, Buddy has gone missing. A member of our crew, one of your closest friends, has disappeared, and you say nothing’s changed? I’m sorry, but I think it’s poor taste to be shacking up under the circumstances.”
He suddenly felt like a heel. “I’m sorry. I’m an idiot.” He slunk forward for a conciliatory kiss. She allowed him a quick peck, then slipped out of his grasp before the others noticed.
After AJ finished putting up his tent, he pulled Buddy’s out of his pack and eyed Alex, who was pumping stream water through a filter and filling the team’s empty water bottles.
Why had he even found the guy threatening? Sure, Alex was attractive, and had that appealing Australian accent, but he was the one Liz really wanted. They had a history.
He would show her he wasn’t threatened. After stupidly suggesting he could only think of sex while his best friend was lost in the jungle, it was time for some damage control. He grabbed Buddy’s tent, walked over to Alex, and offered it to him.
Alex shook AJ’s hand, grateful for both the tent and the gesture of acceptance. In turn, AJ thanked him for watching over Liz the previous night, then returned to her casually.
“That was nice of you. He’s been sleeping on the ground for weeks,” she said.
“No choice. I asked him to sleep with me, but he wouldn’t have me either.” She smirked and tried to push him away, but he caught her around the waist this time, and before she knew it, their lips locked in a passionate kiss.
“Uh, ‘scuse me, mates, don’t mean to interrupt. I thought I’d set some traps. Those food rations look mighty thin.”
“Yeah, why don’t you go do that,” AJ said, trying to sound pleasant but failing miserably.
“Right then,” he said cautiously, surprised by the sudden turn in AJ, then retreated into the jungle.
When he was a safe distance away, AJ tried to resume the position, but to no avail.
“I mean it, AJ. Let’s try to be professional from here on out.” Liz had the satellite phone case in her hand. “It’s almost time to make the call. Can you go find Max while I set up the phone?”
AJ surrendered, accepting the fact that he probably wouldn’t be getting any more action until they returned home. “Let me get the camera ready first. I’ll prepare dinner while Max gives his report.” Anything to get back in her good graces.
Liz set up the phone next to the camera on a stretch of beach and dialed the station. So much had happened during the preceding twenty-four hours that she’d completely forgotten her last angry exchange with Bill until the phone rang on the other end.
“Hello?” he responded. Anticipating his anger, she fought the urge to hang up.
“Hi Bill. It’s us.”
“Liz! How are you? Are you safe? Is the team back together again?”
“Yeah…I mean, no,” she stammered, caught off guard by his concern. “Maybe I should let Max explain everything.”
“Don’t be silly. We’re just as concerned about what you have to say. Although I am glad to hear that Max is back.”
She exhaled with relief. She couldn’t quite explain Bill’s change of attitude, but she didn’t care. Maybe she’d been too hard on him. Maybe her words had had an effect. In any case, she’d take the high road.
“Bill, I’m sorry about what I said last night. I was just really stressed and-“
“Don’t worry about it. I’d just hate to think that you regret taking part in this incredible journey.”
“Oh, but I don’t! It’s been quite an adventure.”
“I’m glad to hear it. And I’m sure Tanya and the rest of America would be glad to hear it as well.”
So that’s what he was up to! He was probably getting slammed by the press, Liz thought, and needed her to redeem him.
When she didn’t reply, Bill continued. “You’ve built up quite a fan club since yesterday, you know – talk shows calling, wanting to interview you when you get back, little girls e-mailing, saying they want to be like you when they grow up. Hell, you may even get your own action figure out of this!”
“I don’t know what to say,” she stammered modestly.
“Well, think of something quick, because Tanya would like you to introduce Max tonight, and tell America things are going okay. Give those little girls some assurance that you’ll make it home safe and sound.”
“Sure thing, Bill,” she said, surprised.
Max sat down and took the phone from her, ignoring her attempts to explain the game plan. “Bill!” he said with false cheerfulness. He listened to Bill’s response, puzzled, then handed the phone back to Liz. “They want to talk to you first,” he mumbled, obviously surprised to be playing second fiddle.
She took the phone with a smile and let Bill know she was back.
Half a world away in NBC’s studio, Tanya adopted her patented “look of concern” as she introduced the story. Across America, millions of viewers paused between bites of breakfast to catch the latest installment of the continuing drama.
“Yesterday, riveting news from central Africa as Liz, the Adventure crew’s associate producer, reported that she had been separated from the rest of the group after their GPS failed. We’re back live with her today. Liz, what’s the latest?”
“Hi Tanya,” she began, as she’d heard Max do so often. “We’ve had a mix of good and bad news over the past twenty four hours. The men were able to find their way back to camp in the morning. But we’ve had a few surprises.”
“What kind of surprises?”
She could sense Max waiting impatiently for the phone. He didn’t like to share the limelight, and Liz wasn’t about to fight him for it. “Fortunately, Max is back, so I’ll let him explain. I’d just like to say that we’re determined and confident we’ll make it out of this jungle soon, hopefully with a good idea of what happened to Lawrence Julian Thompson.”
“Well, we’re relieved to hear that your situation has improved. Now let’s hear Max’s side of the story.”
Liz passed the phone to Max, who dove into his narrative.
“To be honest, Tanya, it was rough out there last night for all involved. While Liz was sleeping back at camp, we were lost in the jungle, with nothing but a beat-up GPS to guide us. There were times we doubted we’d ever make it back to camp alive.”
“What did you do? Weren’t you afraid?”
“I think we were all too exhausted to be afraid. No, the real fear came in the morning, when we woke up to find that our soundman, Buddy, was missing.”
It suddenly occurred to Liz that perhaps this wasn’t the best way for Buddy’s wife and children to hear the news. She tried to get Max’s attention, but he was on a roll.
“We searched for him and called for h
ours, with no success. We suspect he was nabbed by those cannibals we’ve heard so much about, the Bambada.” Realizing now how alarming this might sound, he quickly added, “We’ll find him, though. We’re hot on their trail.”
“What an amazing development. And might it lead you closer to Lawrence Julian Thompson?”
“That’s the idea. And – I almost forgot – we’ve got a new secret weapon, a strapping young Australian geologist by the name of Alex who wandered into our camp last night. Got lost, like us. He’s been working for a mining company in the area for a few years. Knows a lot about this jungle and the people here. If he can’t lead us to the Bambada, no one can.”
“What a remarkable coincidence.”
Alex appeared, just as Max was wrapping the conversation.
“Well, we appreciate your continued prayers, Tanya. I look forward to talking with you tomorrow night.” The line disconnected and he handed the receiver to Liz.
“Satellite phone, eh? Transmits video?” Alex asked, approaching.
“Yeah. It’s a new model we’re testing for the manufacturer,” Liz said, placing the elements of the phone system back in its case.
“Sending pictures from the middle of the jungle! What’ll they think of next? So who were you talking to?”
“The media,” Max said, getting up with a pained expression. “A morning show in the US has been following the story. Anything for ratings, you know.”
Alex nodded, watching Liz as she snapped the phone’s case shut. AJ called to the group from across the camp.
“Water’s boiling. Anyone for a little freeze dried food?” The team responded with a collective moan.
“Cheer up, mates. With the traps I’ve set up we’ll be eating wild rabbit this time tomorrow, I promise you that.”
CHAPTER 32
Back at NBC, Ned James watched Max Carrington on the television set above his cubicle intently. He was captivated by the story, a welcome change from the usual routine pieces about celebrity drug busts, kidnapped rich white kids, and fad diets.
Months into his post-college stint at NBC, Ned had proven himself the dutiful intern. Working under the morning show’s director of research, he’d become a skilled locator of the experts and information used to create a story, information that was then fed to Tanya. Of course, Tanya, luscious Tanya, object of Ned and every other pimply-faced interns’ desire, never knew it was Ned who made her look so knowledgeable. He could care less. When she asked one of his questions, or tossed out a statistic he’d uncovered, it forged an invisible bond between them that would one day, he was certain, manifest itself in the physical universe.
For this story, he’d talked to countless experts about the jungles of central Africa, dug through dusty accounts of early European explorers, and assembled the facts in a neat stack of memos, which, unbeknownst to him, Tanya scarcely skimmed. Armed with the details from Max’s latest dispatch, he’d really shine. First, he’d track down any living relatives of this soundman, Buddy, and try to get them to commit to an interview. It wouldn’t be hard. Adventure had already supplied bios of the team, and he seemed to recall that Buddy had a wife and kids. There was always a certain glory, he’d learned, in being the first network to land the “grieving widow” interview. If she cried, all the better. Next, he’d work over the backgrounds of the rest of the crew. If tragedy should befall any of them, he’d be ready. Then he’d work on this Alex character and see where that led. There couldn’t be too many Australian geologists named Alex working for mining companies in the country, and he was confident he could dig up more on the man. The key was to be one step ahead of both fate and the competition, to nab the scoop before they scooped you.
Adrenaline surged through him. It’d be a late night, but it’d be worth it. This was his chance to break out from the pack of anonymous interns; he could feel it. He’d show Tanya and the rest of them what he was really made of.
He turned to his computer and set to work.
CHAPTER 33
Grimacing, Troy stirred his dinner – a sloppy mix of scrambled eggs and bacon. “Just add hot water for a delicious meal!” the outside of the package promised. Delicious it was not. In fact, he would gamble that neither eggs nor bacon were actually involved in the production of the meal. While some of their freeze-dried concoctions weren’t half bad, others were barely edible and swiftly relegated to the bottom of the feedbag. Scrambled eggs and bacon was the least popular dish, but with food supplies growing scarce, it was all they had left.
“Tasty,” Alex said, tipping his head back to drain the dregs from his own pouch into his mouth.
Troy considered offering him the rest of his meal, then thought better of it. As bad as the food was, his hunger pangs weren’t going to be quelled any other way. Plus he’d need his strength if he was ever going to get out of this damn jungle. The others, equally unimpressed with the meal and distracted by thoughts of their missing teammate, ate silently.
“Don’t worry. Tomorrow we’ll be dining on rabbit stew,” Alex reminded them.
“I prefer mine grilled,” Troy said, pouring a watery spoonful back into the foil bag.
“As you like. If we’re lucky, we may even get a wild boar for the barbie.”
Troy’s stomach growled as he shoveled the egg mixture into his mouth, willing his mind to believe that it was a juicy slab of roasted pork.
Meanwhile, Max discreetly transferred a spoonful of his own meal – Polynesian chicken – from his bag to his mouth, careful to make sure that no one noticed. He’d spotted the last coveted package of this freeze-dried favorite and nabbed it before anyone noticed. It was, after all, the closest thing to star treatment he’d be getting out here.
Liz had passed on the evening meal. Distraught by Buddy’s disappearance, she couldn’t bring herself to eat. Her thoughts turned to Buddy’s wife and children, and she wondered how they were dealing with the news. His disappearance made her distinctly aware of how truly vulnerable she’d been in the jungle alone as well. They could just as easily have taken me, she realized. From here on out, none of them were safe, she thought, clutching AJ’s hand.
AJ gave Liz’s hand a squeeze and peered out into the jungle. Somewhere, out there, among the shadows and trees, lay the secret to Buddy’s disappearance, and hopefully Buddy himself. And if they never found him? He couldn’t even go there.
CHAPTER 34
Bill Warner was beaming as he pranced into Adventure’s offices, thrilled by the performance of his crew in Africa. Each day they seemed to turn another dramatic corner that made their story even more compelling. He made a mental note to ask the board to approve bonuses for each and every one.
Like every day that week, he pulled out the ratings sheet first, read it, and grinned. Just when he thought they couldn’t do any better – that they’d peaked, and that viewership would start to tumble – the numbers would take another dramatic leap up. He could barely wait for that evening’s ratings, given the publicity the latest developments would generate.
He casually flipped through his messages. A half dozen were from reporters and entertainment magazines, journalists whom, in the past, he’d had to beg for even the slightest mention in their columns. Now they expected some sort of special privileges and exclusive interviews with the man behind the story of the moment. Screw ‘em, he thought, crumpling the messages and tossing them in the bin. Let them do the chasing this time.
“Mr. Warner?” Peggy’s voice called on the intercom, interrupting his thoughts.
“What is it?”
“Brenda Billings is on the phone, calling again. Did you see her urgent message?”
“Yeah, I saw it. Now tell me, Peggy, who the hell is Brenda Billings and why would I need to call her back urgently?”
“Mr. Warner, she’s Buddy’s wife. You know, the missing soundman?”
The color drained from Bill’s face as his brain connected the dots. Without another word, he grabbed the receiver and punched the blinking button indicating t
he line on hold.
“Mrs. Billings,” he began, voice hushed, respectful. “I’m so sorry I haven’t been able to reach you until now.”
“Where’s my Buddy?” He could tell that she was trying to sound calm and controlled, but her voice trembled. Before he could respond, she unleashed the full force of her rage and confusion, desperately pleading, “Where is he?!”
Bill should have known better. He should have called her before the broadcast. But how could he have known what Max was going to say? NBC forbade any pre-interviews. Their viewers, they insisted, had to be the first to hear the latest from the field, with no exceptions for wives…or widows.
“Mrs. Billings, I’m so sorry. It’s entirely inappropriate that you heard the news about Buddy before we had a chance to discuss it with you, and the person responsible will pay. But I assure you, things aren’t what they seem.” His mind raced, fabricating an excuse on the fly.
“Wh- What do you mean?” she asked, sniffling.
“I mean, Mrs. Billings, that in television things are often over-dramatized to make a point. You were watching yesterday, I assume?”
“Of course. But I don’t see what that has to do with-“
“It has everything to do with what we’re talking about,” he interrupted. “We have a team of professionals out there. To be frank, their job is to make good television, television that will generate ratings. I spoke with the team personally and the men were never lost in the jungle,” he said, crafting the elaborate lie on the fly. Shit, the woman was in tears. He had to do something.
“They weren’t?”
“Hell, no! In fact, I’m surprised you believed it. The reason we didn’t call earlier is that we simply assumed, being the spouse of a media professional, that you’d recognize a stunt when you saw it.” He was on a roll, gaining momentum. No stopping him now.
“A stunt?” she asked. She’d stopped crying, Bill noted with relief.