The line split in two and their side of the queue headed toward the back of the freshly-emptied boat that had noisily motored up from the unloading dock about fifty feet to their left. The skipper was busy loading two blank bullets into his gun as the guests started to file onboard. Both Kimberly and Lance looked at everything around them with a different type of scrutiny than the other guests who boarded with them. Attention to details and the fear of missing something vital kept both of them alert.
As their boat, the Kissimmee Kate, motored off into the waiting, misty jungle, the guests were encouraged to “wave good-bye to the people left on the dock. You may never see them again. But, since you probably had never seen them before today anyway… Well, that might not be such a bad thing. Now sit back and enjoy the three exciting days and six enchanting nights of our journey on the deepest, most dangerous rivers known to man; you women are safe enough….”
Lance and Kimberly paid little attention as the humorous spiel continued. They were busy looking at both sides of the river. The side off to the right approached the large queue for the Indiana Jones ride and was pretty open to public view. The other side of the river—the long narrow side of the island called Manhattan—held tropical flowers, huge butterflies, and a loud Toucan bird. The skipper was asking everyone if they wanted to see the first sign of danger. He then used his hand-held mike to point to their right at a brown wooden plank with the word “Danger” stenciled over the face.
Lance elbowed Kimberly as they sat cheek to cheek on the wooden seats that lined the gunnels of the boat. “Dangerous,” he whispered in a menacing but mocking tone. “Are you scared, Kimberly?” He had leaned in a little closer, his lips next to her ear.
Kimberly turned from scanning Manhattan’s shoreline, her lips inches from his. “Why, should I be scared?”
“Absolutely.” When he found he was merely staring into her eyes, he mentally shook himself and gave her a playful nudge with his hip. “Hey, pay attention to the ride.”
Kimberly felt her face become warm and was very aware of Lance’s closeness in the tightly-packed Jungle Cruise boat.
The boat slowly made its way past the ruins of an ancient Cambodian temple, “built by ancient Cambodians. And you don’t have to worry about that Bengal tiger. They can jump over forty feet. Since we’re only twenty feet away, he will just sail right over us. Oh, look, it’s Ginger,” as a small crocodile surfaced next to the boat, “keep your fingers inside the boat. Remember: Ginger snaps!”
As they approached the elephant bathing pool—“It’s all right to take pictures. They all have their trunks on.”—Lance and Kimberly paid no attention to the right side of the boat where all the animatronic elephants were happily playing in the water. They were turned in the opposite direction of the other guests, scouring the foliage for anything that might resemble a hidden rock mound in the shape of a wolf. Showing she was still aware of what was going on around her, Kimberly suddenly giggled as the skipper continued his spiel. There was a lone elephant away from the main pool and he was currently squirting water out of his trunk directly in front of the approaching boat. Just as the boat’s bow entered the streaming water and threatened the front passengers, the water stopped and the elephant slowly sank in the green water. Suddenly coming up again, trunk pointed at the boat, the skipper hollered into the microphone, “Oh, no! He’s coming up again! Get down, get down! I’m not kidding! I’m not kidding.” The elephant apparently had forgotten to reload as the boat continued on its way dry. “Okay, I’m kidding,” the skipper told them. When a loud explosion was heard and a huge geyser of water erupted from the middle of the river only a few yards in front of their approaching boat, the skipper let out a happy yell. “Oooh, that looks really dangerous. Let’s get closer!”
There were thick bamboo trunks that lined the opposite side of the river from where the elephants were. Ferns and palms of various sizes filled in much of the space between the vertical shafts of bamboo. The bamboo itself formed a perforated wall that guarded the edge of the river from what lay deeper. A veil of mist enveloped the slow-moving boat, casting the ride in a mysterious, humid pall of vapor.
Just as the boat approached a ruined base camp overrun by chimps who had managed to flip a truck over on its top— “Oh, look, they got the Jeep to turn over” —Kimberly raised her hand just under Lance’s face and pointed. “Look, Lance, quick!” she whispered. Through a narrow gap in the bamboo, a gap that wasn’t completely filled in by other shrubbery and trees, a gray rock formation was just barely visible. Through the dense vegetation, the two could make out a dark gray edifice. Standing maybe ten feet tall, it appeared the rock mound was about twenty feet back into the encroaching jungle. “Do you think that’s our El Lobo?” As she whispered, in the excitement of the find, her hand dropped unconsciously to Lance’s leg.
Lance leaned toward the middle of the boat, squinting, in an attempt to see through the mist and through sporadic shafts of sunlight that found a few openings in the canopy of foliage above. Unaware of their dilemma, The Kissimmee Kate continued to follow the curve of the river, heading toward Schweitzer Falls— “named after that famous African explorer Dr. Falls. Don’t worry. We’ll go over that later.” —For a single moment, a larger opening revealed a structure. “I couldn’t tell for sure.” Lance’s hushed voice revealed his excitement. “What do you think? Do we need to ride again?”
“Rats!” The glimpse they had of ‘something’ disappeared from their view. “I should have brought a camera. Why didn’t you remind me?”
“Didn’t think of it,” Lance shrugged. “Well, let’s just ride this one out, and go again.”
The boat continued past the jungle veldt scene—“Oh, look! That pride of lions is guarding that sleeping zebra. How sweet. Aww, the poor zebra must be dead tired.”—Lance was very aware of her hand that now rested in her own lap. “So,” he started with a slight resignation in his voice, “if that was our El Lobo, how do we get over there?”
The skipper’s voice drowned out what Kimberly was going to reply. “Now we are entering a pool of hippopotami. They are only dangerous if they wiggle their ears, submerge under water, and blow bubbles…which is what all of them seem to be doing.” Their boat began to menacingly rock back and forth as it wound its way through the hippo pool. Just then, when they were almost safe, the skipper fired two shots at a charging hippo—“Don’t worry. I wasn’t aiming at him. I got the one in the trees…”—the boat turned another wide curve in the river. “We are now entering headhunter country. It’s a terrible place to beheaded….” Everyone’s attention in the boat was turned to the clearing of thatched huts and native dancers who were chanting as some of them danced in a tribal circle. “I know their language. Let’s see if I can translate for you….” The skipper brought the boat to a complete stop as he leaned forward, intently listening to the chanting. “Uh huh,” he muttered, nodding, “uh huh.… Okay, I see…uh huh…. Nope, can’t understand a word.” With a push of the throttle, the Kissimmee Kate surged forward and the passengers were warned of a possible ambush on the right side of the boat. Within seconds, natives armed with spears rose up and threatened them from the left side of the boat.
As Kimberly smiled at the spear-throwing noises the skipper was making into the microphone, Lance excitedly tapped her leg. “Look to the right of the spear guys.… See that hut? Look just behind it. Look at that rocky thing. Quick!”
Turning fast in her seat, Kimberly almost knocked Lance in the face with her elbow.
“Is that what you meant by ‘getting even’?” he kidded, leaning back away from her.
Kimberly ignored his question. “I think I saw something!” When she turned back around to sit normally, her eyes were shining with excitement. “I think there was something else back there. It was too thick to see clearly. Could it be another El Lobo? Do you think there are two of them? Doesn’t that huge bull elephant stand behind those bamboo trees?”
Lance wasn’t sure which question to
answer first, so he counted off on his fingers: “I don’t know. Maybe. And, yes, I think so.”
Kimberly laughed at his reply. The skipper then announced that they were seeing a sight seldom seen by man: “The Backside of Water, or, as we like to call it—O2H.” The boat slid underneath Schweitzer Falls to head up the Amazon River. Soon the launch was surrounded by churning water and mechanical piranhas went whirling past the boat. The Kissimmee Kate made a brief stop next to Trader Sam, the Head Salesman of the Jungle, who hopefully held out a display of shrunken heads toward the boatload of people. The skipper told the guests that he had gone to Sam’s for dinner the other night. He remarked to Sam that his wife made a wonderful stew. Sam replied sadly, “Yes, and I’m going to miss her.”
Realizing they were getting close to the end of the ride, Lance again voiced his concern about being able to check out either of the possible El Lobos.
Kimberly nodded when she recognized the difficulty of their situation. The first formation they spotted appeared to be on an inside section of the island. However, this lower Manhattan Island was itself directly across from the loading and unloading docks. The upper, smaller Catalina Island with the second possible El Lobo held the African bull elephant and the attacking natives and was out of sight from the mainland. The two islands were separated by a narrow stretch of land and a shallow stream that moved water from one side of the ride to the other. Lance had been told that this was a means to keep the river flowing in the direction that the boats travel, thus cutting down on the amount of fuel used to motor each launch.
The boat finished its trip by pulling up alongside the unloading dock. “Those of you on the dock side will be helped out by the front of the boat. Those of you on the water side will be helped out by the rear…..of the boat….the rear of the boat. Sorry. Unfortunate pause.… Be sure to mind your head and watch your step. But, if you miss your step and hit your head, watch your language…. There are children everywhere.”
“Think they would just let us ride around again and not have to wait in line?”
Kimberly gave a laugh. “That hasn’t happened since I was six! Come on, let’s get back in line.”
Lance looked longingly over at the Bengal Barbecue. The tangy aroma of barbecued ribs wafted on the slight breeze. “Lunch?” he asked hopefully.
“Don’t make me hurt you!” Kimberly gave him a playful push him between the shoulder blades and aimed him toward the tall, boathouse entrance of the ride and away from the tempting diversion of food.
A gray-colored statue sat on the left bank of the river depicting a huge elephant, his trunk held in his hand. “And on your left is Ganesha, the Elephant God, Honorary Preserver of the Sacred Bathing Pool of the Elephants, Guider of all Mystical Beings. And on your right,” pointing at an equally large statue of a seated, smiling monkey god holding out a glistening ruby to the passing boat, “is Bob.”
Their skipper continued her spiel. “And now I will point out all the various types of trees and plants for you.” The mike went silent as she did just what she promised: she simply pointed at each of them. As they neared the overrun camp, Lance and Kimberly both turned to scan the opposite bank of the river.
This time, knowing exactly where to look, Kimberly could see what might be described as the ‘mouth’ of the formation. It was a rock shape that resembled what Lance had described to her as El Lobo: a wolf-like head with an open mouth that jutted out to the side with smaller, jagged rocks forming what looked like fangs.
“That has to be it.” Kimberly gave Lance’s leg a light slap in confirmation. Once their angle of observation changed, the rock shape was again swallowed up by the foliage around it.
Lance agreed with her. “Yeah, it was a little easier to spot when we knew where to look. Did you see the way the head seemed to be looking right at us? The one in Columbia was just like that. Amazing!”
“So, do you think they’ll just take us back to the dock now?” she kidded as the boat swept past Schweitzer Falls.
Lance laughed and leaned back in his seat as he put his arm behind her on the railing. “Probably not directly, but that’s okay. We saw what we needed to see.”
Indicating the animal standing close to the left bank, they were informed, “This is the gigantic African Bull Elephant. You can tell by his sloping forehead, huge tusks, and large ears,” as the boat glided past the huge animal. “And for those of you with a short-attention span,” the skipper now pointed to the right side of the boat, “this is the gigantic African Bull Elephant. You can tell by his sloping forehead, huge tusks, and large ears.” The identical twin of the first elephant nodded his head and shook his ears as they went by.
“Now we are in the African Veldt. Our zebras are so old they are still in black and white! There are some gazelles, some giraffes, some lions. Hmm, I don’t know what those are. They must be gnu.”
As their launch approached the native village, a large, painted canoe bobbed in the water. It was filled with grinning, sun-bleached skulls. “And here we see an example of native Arts and Crafts. That’s Art on top, and that’s the Craft family below.”
Near the attacking natives again, Lance and Kimberly became alert, trying to make sure of what they spotted the first time. Zeroed in now, they could make out another open mouth that pointed up toward the riverbank through a narrow opening in the trees.
When they pulled up to the unloading dock they were told, “I’d like all of you to exit the boat the same way you came on—pushing, shoving, screaming, scratching, shouting, biting. For those of you who enjoyed the trip, my name is Suzi. For those of you who didn’t enjoy the trip, well, names really aren’t important, are they?”
As Lance stood to follow Kimberly off the boat, he paused for a moment. Over the top of the loading dock was where Tarzan’s Treehouse stood and branched out over part of the Indiana Jones ride queue. He finally moved toward the exit where Kimberly waited for him under the “Escaping Passengers” sign, near the kiosk that sold jungle-themed merchandise and fresh fruit.
“Well, at least we know we have two possible locations. That’s good, isn’t it?” Kimberly wondered why it had taken him a few moments to come to her side. Lance apparently was thinking about something else. “Lance? What is it?” She was a little surprised when he silently moved toward the souvenir stand behind her.
Lance’s attention had been captured by a toy-filled game machine with a crane inside. It was currently being manipulated by a young boy who hoped to capture a stuffed monkey from the dozens in the bottom of the glassed-in enclosure. Lance watched as the crane was deftly positioned over monkey, the steel tips of the claw suddenly dropped and closed over the head and ears of the bright red animal.
“I think I have a plan.”
“Kimberly, it is too dangerous. The answer is no!” Lance remained firm. When she didn’t reply, he took a sip of iced tea from the tall glass he was holding. They were sitting across from each other at the large hardwood table in the expansive kitchen of Kimberly’s house. On the table between them was a large, unfolded souvenir map of Disneyland.
Kimberly frowned as she looked up from the map. She seemed to be mentally counting to ten. “Lance, I’m involved in this as much as you…if not more!” When she finished with her reply, her eyes didn’t have a pleading look in them any longer, but more of a determined glare. “I am going with you.”
“But this could get us fired.” Lance felt he had to be blunt with her and sincerely hoped that the possible—probable—outcome of what he proposed to do would deter her. To drive the point home more clearly, he fired one more missile. “It could get YOU fired. You love your job.”
“It doesn’t matter. I have an intimate relationship with this…this…” Kimberly paused, trying to think of the best word to describe what had been her life. “Situation,” she ended, shaking her head at the inadequacy of the word. “My father may not have lived long enough to make the decision about your…umm, qualifications for this quest and all the ramificat
ions that go along with it,” she explained, then, putting her hands on the table, she leaned over the map to bring her face closer to Lance’s, she added resolutely, “But I have.”
Lance looked into her eyes, searching for more to her answer. He broke eye contact first to look down, unseeing, at the map. There was something else he needed to ask, something he had hoped would have come up by now. “Why didn’t your father tell you more about what was going on?” Lance finally asked. It was a question he had wanted to ask her many times since her father died. However, each time the question had come to his mind, it had never seemed appropriate to ask something that might be too personal.
“Honestly, Lance, I don’t know.” As she retook her seat, the fire in her eyes slowly died. Her head slowly shook back and forth as she thought back. “He had his reasons, certainly. We did discuss my future. Argued, really. My feeling was that he didn’t want me burdened with the same lifetime commitment that he had chosen…or that had chosen him, I guess.” Kimberly turned her head slightly to the side, her eyes far away. Lance could tell she was likely thinking about moments in her life with her father. He knew now that her mother had passed away when she was a baby, so Kimberly’s only memories were with him. As she got older, she had thought it peculiar that he had never tried to date again, or settle down with another woman. She certainly had seen the interested glances that had been thrown his way by numerous ladies over the years. When she was a teenager, she began to see her father as secretive, elusive, and, at times, simply gone. One minute he would be in the house, and the next minute she couldn’t find him anywhere. She laughingly came to call it his ‘vanishing act,’ and he passed off his infrequent vanishings as simply being in a different part of the large mansion they shared. It wasn’t until her twentieth birthday that her father began to reveal to her his lot in life; how they had managed to secure such a lavish house; how they never seemed to be short of money; and, tragically, how his heart was failing him day by day. And yet, she had never seen her father work a day in his life. While it didn’t seem to be such an unfortunate or arduous lot in life, there always seemed to be a heavy weight on her father. He had seemed very frugal and resourceful, literally teaching his only child through his actions—and very few words—that everything worth having was worth working hard to obtain. “How you get it is up to you.”
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