The Heat

by Alice Ward

  The jungle thrummed, alive, even louder now that the sun was going down. It smelled thickly of vegetation, of life. Animals chattered and shrieked everywhere around me, as if scolding me for nearly mowing down one of their friends. Other than that, the only sound was the drumbeat of my heart. And…

  Something was hissing.

  Oh, no. A snake? What kind of snakes were around here?

  Big ones, I was sure. Boa constrictors, probably, the kind that wrapped around you, squeezing out your life before swallowing you whole.

  At that moment, I made a decision: I was never setting foot outside this truck again. I couldn’t believe Wyatt and I had screwed outside, in the open like that. Back then, when I was being propelled head-first toward an earth-shattering climax, I’d found the jungle beautiful. I’d found everything beautiful. Him, included.

  He was kind of yummy.

  And I didn’t care if he was a scumbag. I wanted him back.

  Stifling the urge to sob, I looked in the rearview mirror and saw that my goose egg was turning an attractive shade of purple. I blinked away the wave of dizziness and nausea that followed. Keep it together, Atlee.

  Then I realized that damn snake was hissing like a motherfucker. The more I pressed my ear closer to the windshield, the more I realized it didn’t sound much like a snake. After another few seconds, I was pretty sure the sound was coming from the hood of the truck.

  It wasn’t a snake. The damn truck was hissing.

  The driver’s side door was blocked by the tree. With my feet, I pushed open the passenger’s side door and slid out. Then I climbed to the front of the truck and inspected the damage.

  The radiator? I didn’t know. I knew nothing about cars. But whatever it was, the front end of the truck was dented and liquid was dribbling out onto the ground. Smoke or steam wafted into the air in a hot cloud. The air smelled thickly of exhaust.

  Not to mention, the truck was halfway in a ditch, one of the tires bent at an odd angle. Did that mean the axle was broken?

  Fantastic.

  Practicing denial, I climbed back into the truck and tried to start it up again. Maybe I could get it moving and lurch it closer to the road, where I could find someone to help. But as I twisted the key, the truck made a hacking sound like an old emphysemic.

  I jammed the heels of my hands hard on the steering wheel. Even if I could patch the radiator-thingy and fill it with water, it didn’t look like that front wheel was in any condition to carry me anywhere.

  It might have been better if it had been a snake.

  I wasn’t about to panic and make a rash decision. It was acting without thinking that had likely gotten me into this situation in the first place. If I hadn’t freaked out on Roger, I’d still be safely ensconced in my little Manhattan cubicle, the only noises in my ear the sound of Brinkman’s cow-like chewing from the next cubicle over.

  I hated to admit it, but Brinkman’s plumber crack sounded like heaven right now.

  I looked around, trying to assess the situation. I’d read somewhere that the first thing one had to do when in a crisis was take inventory of one’s assets. That sounded like a good plan.

  I dug around in the front of the truck’s cabin.

  Cell phone. I touched the button. Half-charged. No service.

  Of course.

  So was that an asset, or a liability?

  Placing it on the seat, I grabbed Wyatt’s phone out of the cupholder and looked at his. I held it in the air to see if it had service. His was password-protected.

  Of course it was. Wyatt, whose middle name was probably “liability.”

  I placed his phone on top of mine. I looked through my bag. I had some gum. A tiny wallet with twenty ringgits in it, the equivalent of five American bucks. My bottle of water. A lip gloss, you know, so I could look cute while telling Wyatt to shove it. That was it.

  All right, so I hadn’t put much thought into my packing.

  Applying my lip gloss to my dry lips, I picked up Wyatt’s bag, an expensive-looking leather satchel that was meant to look tough and timeworn, like it had been on many adventures, but was probably brand new, since it smelled overwhelmingly of leather.

  I had to admit, Wyatt’s bag was a little better. He had a wallet stocked with ringgits and all his credit cards, a first aid kit, a map, bug spray, sunscreen, and his bottle of water. Okay, so maybe I’d been a little hard on him. He wasn’t that much of a liability.

  Shit.

  It suddenly occurred to me that I’d left him in this oppressive heat, without any water.

  I let out a shaky breath and looked through the dirt-crusted back windshield, the way I’d come, wishing I’d see him walking up the path behind me, in that slow, easy lope that made it look like he had absolutely no troubles in the world. But that would’ve taken a miracle. I’d driven many miles since ditching him. How many? I didn’t know.

  I reached behind the seat and pulled out the cooler. I opened it, and the mouthwatering smell of cooked vegetables greeted me.

  The food he’d brought, all neatly packed in cartons. One of them, as promised, had my name on it.

  Not to mention a whole stash of bottled water. And it was all ice-cold.

  He really had thought of everything. Except, of course, the possibility of bringing along a blockhead with a penchant for impulsive behavior.

  I wanted to cry.

  I leaned back against the headrest, thinking.

  If I left a man alone in the jungle, I’d be a way bigger scumbag than Wyatt Watts ever was.

  Since it was clearly the better of the two, I threw some of my things into his bag and hefted it onto my shoulder. Then I grabbed the cooler and set out walking along the road, back the way I’d come.

  He was going to maim me. And he’d have every reason to. I left him. Destroyed the truck. We’d now have to find another way to get back to the plantation and find a way home, and it was all my fault.

  Of course, I wouldn’t have even been in this stifling hot country if it wasn’t for his company destroying the rain forests.

  So, it was partly his fault too. I told myself that as I tried to force myself into a brisk pace. All I could manage was a slow trot. Weighed down, it was like trekking through waist-high mud.

  Every few paces, I had to stop to suck down water. Damn, it was like a sauna. I’d just uncapped the bottle for a swig when I heard an almost human shriek.

  I jumped.

  I looked around. It sounded like a woman screaming in pain.

  But then it came again. And again.

  I listened closer. Not a woman. An animal. A wild, jungle animal.

  I forced myself to breathe. This was the jungle, after all.

  I had the sudden urge to google the sound on my phone to find out what animal it belonged to, and if it would eat me. And if it so, whether my death would be fast or torturously slow.

  I didn’t care about Wyatt’s little Yoda saying about googling meaning weakness in the user. Life without Google really sucked.

  I picked up the pace, wishing I’d paid more attention in grade school when we’d gone over rain forest animals and their habitats. Because being eaten by a giant tiger would probably not be fun. Or… running into that previously mentioned boa constrictor. The only animals I could remember seemed to be characters from The Jungle Book.

  My best bet was probably making friends with a nice, hapless bear.

  Shadows were beginning to envelop the landscape, making it harder to see. I scanned the quickly darkening jungle and saw a dark shape behind a tree, moving closer to me.

  Oh, god.

  I glanced back, hoping my eyes were playing tricks on me.

  But no. Behind a palm tree, there was definitely some living thing. It was hiding behind a palm tree, but I could see one eye, trained on me. Was it hunting me?

  I shoved my bottle of water into my sack, wrapped my fingers around the cooler, and broke into a jog.

  But between the explosion of greens — olive, peat, emerald
— I saw another shape. This one was faintly orange. And it wasn’t hiding behind a tree. It was probably smart and realized it didn’t have to stalk me. All it had to do was come right up and take a bite. I wasn’t exactly a challenge.

  It came up closer, to the very edge of the path. Instead of lunging, it just tilted its head, regarding me with a couple of beady, button eyes.

  An orangutan.

  “Oh, hi!” I said, relaxing, fear turning to absolute awe as I stared at the creature. It was one thing to see an animal in a zoo, but a real, live, wild animal, the very thing I’d been working so hard to protect? It felt like serendipity. “You’re a cute little guy, aren’t you?”

  He didn’t answer, as he’d started digging in the ground at his feet. I’d have liked to stare at him all day, but duty called. I continued on my walk, scanning back to where I’d seen the first animal. It was gone now. Maybe I’d been seeing things.

  I let out a breath and looked back at the orangutan. He was staring at me curiously. “And… how are you?”

  The monkey didn’t respond. But he did climb closer to the road and start to follow me. He had a reddish-orange coat and looked a little peeved that I was invading his home.

  “Hey. I’m just as upset as you are,” I muttered. “Believe me. If it were up to me, I’d be back at my hotel right now.”

  Actually, not back at my hotel. My hotel was a dive. Wyatt’s had been nice. In fact, he’d invited me to stay there with him, and what had I done? Oh, right. I’d stolen his truck and left him in my dust.

  If I hadn’t, I could’ve been sharing his cushy king bed, maybe. I had a vision of us sitting together in an organic bubble bath, toasting with flutes of champagne, living the high life.

  Just then, a mosquito clamped its little sucker down on my forearm, and the fantasy burst in my head. Flicking it away, I cursed myself.

  I was such a dumbass.

  I looked at my orange friend. “You wouldn’t know how to fix a radiator, would you?”

  He loped along behind me, stopping when I stopped. He scratched at his head, either contemplating my question or me, having the stupidity to actually try to converse with him.

  “Thanks, anyway.”

  I frowned as I looked at the road. It stretched on into the dense foliage, and there was no sign of Wyatt anywhere. It also went steadily upward, which meant I’d have to climb at an incline. I’d barely trudged a mile, and already my calves hurt. My head throbbed. I was weak, my knees shaking, and it wasn’t just because of the lack of water.

  I hadn’t eaten anything since the eggplant the night before, and now it was well into the afternoon. If I didn’t get some food in me soon, I was liable to pass out.

  No. I’d wait until I found Wyatt. This was his food. It wasn’t fair to sit down and eat unless he was here with me.

  Taking a deep breath, I began the ascent. The monkey followed along now, falling in line about ten paces behind me.

  “Maybe you can be my guide? Keep me out of trouble? Are there any tigers in this jungle? Boa constrictors? Quicksand?” I thought for a moment. “Please tell me you’re not following me hoping I’m going to give you the secret of fire. That would be very irresponsible of me.”

  He paused and looked around. I thought I was boring him.

  “Hey. Have you ever had nasi kerabu?” I asked the monkey as I walked. “No? Wyatt got it for me. Says it’s supposed to be good. That was a very nice thing to do, wasn’t it?”

  The monkey let out a shrill cry that surprised me. He probably thought I was a dumbass.

  “Well, I’ll let you sample some if I ever make it up this hill.” One foot in front of the other. I willed myself, but my legs felt like they were made of lead. “Alternatively, if I die here, you can just take it from this cooler.”

  He made a clicking noise, deep in the back of his throat. I took that as my encouragement to keep moving on. Not just for me. For Wyatt. I couldn’t let him down. Not after what I did.

  “Who’s Wyatt? Well, that’s a good question, my little friend,” I said to the monkey, only half-aware that I was having a made-up conversation with a freaking monkey. “He was the guy who took me out here. That was his truck I smashed up back there, and this is his food. So I kind of owe him… to get my ass… up this hill.”

  I looked back and could’ve sworn I saw that monkey nodding.

  “Yeah, right, I know. I’m a total bitch. I took his truck and his food. I suck.”

  I was well out of breath now. I stopped to catch it, and as I looked up at the sky, I felt the sweat slipping in streams down my neck. I put the cooler down in the dirt to take a breather, cracking my knuckles.

  “Yep. Exactly. I expected too much of him. No one’s perfect, right?” I muttered, standing in the middle of the road with my hands on my hips. I looked down to see that my legs were streaked with road grime, but it wasn’t dust. It was black, gritty dirt mixing with my own sweat. I could’ve really gone for a shower… and it would’ve been nice to have slept in Wyatt’s big, air-conditioned room instead of my rat trap.

  I’d just been too stubborn.

  To emotional.

  I hated myself.

  “That’s what I do. I snap. I decide I can’t take it anymore, and then I always… always end up worse than before.”

  I wiped at my face. It was like a pool of sweat. I reached for the bottom hem of my tank and swabbed my face with it. It came back brown with dirt. I was beyond filthy.

  The orangutan regarded this, then made a face like he’d smelled something bad. It reminded me of the face Roger made right before I quit.

  “You know. You do look a little like my old boss,” I said to him. “Mind if I call you Roger?”

  He just stared. I took that as a no, go right ahead.

  “I know, Roger. I stink. In every sense of the word. I just need to get hold of my emotions. My impulsiveness,” I muttered. “But I think… I don’t know. Do you think he did that… with me… to distract me? Stripped me and screwed me so I wouldn’t see the way they were stripping and screwing the land?”

  The orangutan let out another shriek. I thought I saw another nod in there.

  “That’s what I thought. But I mean, he didn’t have to take me up here. He volunteered for that. He really did seem like he wanted to help me. Like his heart was in the right place.”

  I was about halfway up the hill. I was used to hiking and running, and thought I was fairly athletic, but I’d never been this exhausted. Every muscle in my legs screamed.

  “Or maybe he had just wanted to have sex with me. And fine, so we had sex. Not a big deal, right? It’s not like I didn’t get anything out of it.” I thought of all I did get out of it, and a small smile threatened to break out on my face. I squelched it. “It was good. But that’s all it was. A quick roll in the jungle.”

  I looked at my palms. The little lines in them were brimming with dirt. Up ahead, I’d seen a small stream. Maybe I could clean up in there. I started to climb again, just as something buzzed like a chainsaw at my hip.

  My monkey friend shrieked and ran away. I let out a shout, too, sure I’d see a mosquito the size of my palm attaching its long, needle-shaped sucker to my body.

  Then I realized that I’d placed my phone there, in my pocket.

  It was working?

  I lifted it out and saw a text from Emily. I fumbled to open it. Have you told WW to kongkek his mak kau yet, killer?

  My phone was working! And I had a bar. Mother of god, I had a bar.

  I jabbed in a text: 9-1-1. I need help.

  It came back a minute later with a red exclamation point. Undeliverable.

  I practically raced to the top of the hill, holding the phone up in the air as my bar kept drifting in and out. When I got over the hill, I scanned down the other side, as far as I could. If Wyatt was there, I knew what I’d do. I’d run to him and kiss the shit out of him.

  Which I probably would’ve wound up regretting, just as much as I’d regretted the way he’d
looked at me after we’d had sex. Like he’d gotten the best of me with this quick roll on that blue blanket.

  But I didn’t have to worry about my reaction.

  There was no Wyatt.

  My hopes flattened. I turned my attention back to the phone. I jogged back and forth, waving the phone in the air until I found a small circle of area that had service. I quickly called Emily, but the call failed. Damn. I called again, and this time it started ringing. I held my breath.

  “Hello?”

  Being careful not to move or else lose the tiny signal, I shouted into the phone. “Em, I’m in trouble. I need you to call emergency services.”

  “W… at. At… ee. Wh… do… can’t… you.”

  Crap. I couldn’t understand anything she said. I tried again. “Can you hear me now?”

  “He… you… wh—”

  The call dropped, and tears pricked at my eyes.

  I started jabbing with my thumbs. If I couldn’t call, maybe a text would go through.

  I jumped in the air and fist-pumped when I saw the little delivered notification. I stared at the screen. It buzzed in my hand. What are you doing calling me at three in the morning?

  I frowned, and my thumbs flew over the screen. Wyatt Watts and I went to a plantation… in a place called Chiku, I think. I lost him, and our truck got totaled, and now I’m roaming the jungle by myself with only an orangutan as company.”

  There was a pause, then, You’re joking.

  I sighed and typed, I wish I was.

  My phone buzzed. Oh, my god. Where are you?

  It’s this place called Chiku, in Northern Malaysia. I think. I can’t remember. It’s a palm oil plantation. It’s starting to get dark.

  I could almost see Emily’s face. Right now, if we were actually speaking, her voice would be shrill in the way it was whenever she got worried about something, talking a mile a minute, asking about a thousand questions.

  I continued to type. Listen. I might lose service soon. I need you to please contact Wyatt Watts’s company and tell them what happened. Can you do that? Or call anyone who can help?

  Yes! Of course. Another message appeared. Oh, my god, I’m freaking out. Do you have food? Water? Clean underwear?