by Scott Bergin
Everything he had was now on the rock. Alex was in disbelief. He owned nothing that would get him out of his predicament. Alex began to frantically pat down all of his pockets. They all went completely flat. Even that did not satisfy him. Alex began feeling deep into all of his pockets, as if he knew of some treasure hiding in the lint. In the last pocket he checked, Alex felt his hand hit something cold and metal. At first, he did not pull it out. He felt it instead. It was small, flat, and round. Suddenly, he realized what it was. It was money. Specifically, the quarter that had almost gotten him caught when he was in Thomas' hotel room. It was as useless as the rest of his junk. Alex pulled the coin out of his pocket, and tossed it onto the rock. As it flew through the air, Alex saw that it was gold. It couldn't be a quarter, because quarters were silver. Alex was sure that he had seen a glimmer of something gold. The coin landed on the rock, it danced around before coming to a rest next to the film. Alex leaned over the rock and examined the coin. It was not a quarter, and it was gold. The coin had landed with its tail side up. A large raised twenty sat in the middle of some words and a branch. The words were not in English, and they were apparently the country's motto. They read, 'Liberte - Egalite - Fraternite -'. Alex had no idea what country had such a motto on its coins. He pictured some rocket scientist on Jeopardy ringing in, and rattling off the phrase's origin. After flipping the coin over, Alex became aware of the country as well. The words on the front were, 'Republique Française'. The coin was from France. Alex flipped the coin over again. This time he noticed the small word under the twenty, it read, 'Centimes'. Alex was certain that this was the coin he had picked up when he was in Thomas' room. Though, he hadn't looked at it then either. The coin was the same exact size as a quarter, and anyone who wasn't blind could confuse the two in the dark. Alex was so amazed that he had confused the two, that he almost didn't come to the obvious conclusion. Thomas was from France. The coin was now void of any fingerprints, so tracking down Thomas would not be easy. Now that Alex had somewhere to start, he knew that it would not be impossible either. All he had to do was get to France before Thomas. Alex didn't think that would be too tall of an order, since Thomas was still heading south. Perhaps he was heading south because the page gave instructions to, or perhaps Thomas needed something to accompany the page. He might be in the process of retrieving it from deep in the jungles of Africa. Whatever the reason, Thomas was still heading south, and Alex knew it gave him an advantage over Thomas. Thomas' fear of flying would be his downfall. Alex figured that Thomas would emerge from the jungle first, since he was the only one who knew where he was going. Alex hoped to break free of the jungle within a week. If he could do that, he told himself, then he could get to France ahead of Thomas. Once out of the jungle Alex knew that he could get to France in just a matter of days, with the help of his emergency credit card. Thomas was a different story. It might take him several weeks to make it back to France, depending on how far south he traveled first. Traveling across Africa could easily take several weeks, even for someone who was in a hurry. If Thomas truly feared flying, as he claimed, he would have trouble getting back to France in less than two weeks. Alex would have his picture plastered in every port and railway station leading into the country. The police would surely be able to track him down. Though, Alex would only be giving them the information if he were unable to track Thomas down first. Alex justified his thoughts. There was really no reason to alert the police if the page ended up revealing a location Thomas would be traveling to. Suddenly, Alex wondered if he might be a ruthless photojournalist at heart. He was willing to give a murderer a chance to escape in order to get the opportunity for a once in a lifetime story. Maybe he was over glorifying it, but that was essentially what he was willing to do. Thomas might get away with the murder anyway. Alex had no idea how extradition from France to Cameroon worked, if it existed at all. Thomas might be getting away with it just by making it out of the country. Alex thought of the possibility that Thomas was not from France, or that he would not be returning there. He cast those thoughts aside. Between the name LaRue, and the French coin, Alex was convinced that Thomas had come from France. Alex guessed that Thomas would be returning there, since he had never mentioned the country. In fact, he had claimed to be American. Thomas had passed for American, but he had a face that could pass for several different ethnic origins, including French. As slim as it was, France was all Alex could hope for.
France was only a few thousand miles away, but it might as well be on another planet. Alex was trapped in a jungle that contained things as foreign to him as the surface of Mars. Now, he had to decide how to get out. After packing all his junk back into its proper pockets, he walked over to what had been Thomas' camp sight. The fire was completely out. There weren't even any embers left, probably due to the rain. Alex walked past the ashes, to the creek. It was a small creek, but it didn't seem to have an end in either direction. The most logical way out of the jungle was to follow the creek. Eventually, it would turn into a river. The river would then pass a village, and Alex would be out of the jungle. It was not the fastest way out of the jungle. Walking in one direction would be faster than following the curves of a winding river. Though walking in one direction could be faster, it was only useful if you knew which direction to walk in. It would not be helpful to walk out of the jungle and into an open savannah, where more fierce predators roamed. The creek seemed to head west, away from any grasslands. Even if Alex didn't run into any villages along the way, the worst thing that could happen would be for him to end up at the ocean. Finding civilization on the west coast of Africa would not be too difficult, it was littered with cities and towns. Alex quickly decided that following the creek was the most certain method for getting out of the jungle within a week. With a new sense of hope, he started to walk alongside the creek. He headed into the jungle to the west, not worried about what lay ahead. His smug attitude, about his good fortune with the coin, prevented him from being too concerned with what the jungle might be concealing. Any dangers, which may have been upsetting to him earlier, were now placed in the back of his mind. This creek was the road back to civilization. Alex was certain that he would welcome anything on that road with open arms. He walked on, filled with hope, blinded by ignorance.
Chapter 22
April 13
1:00 p.m.
The Congo
The annoying monkeys continued to shriek, high above Thomas' head. They seemed to be mocking him the entire time. Thomas had been looking forward to these days of solitude in the jungle. These would be the last days that he would have any peace. Once he arrived back at the boat, Hector would be there to aggravate him, constantly. Hector didn't try to annoy him, that would be suicide. Nevertheless, he annoyed the hell out of Thomas. Now, the monkeys were stealing what little peace he had left. All Thomas could think of was Hector. He held a particular vision of him planted firmly in his mind. Hector would be standing on the deck of the small vessel. He would be wearing a white sports jacket over a blue tank top. Both his hands above his head, and he would be spinning around while waving his index fingers through the air. Even worse, he would be singing along with the Monkees. The sunshine would be reflected off his bald head. His jacket and tank top would creep up, revealing his pot belly. Hector thought of himself as being straight out of Miami Vice, but outside his fantasies he couldn't have been further from fitting the part. Thomas was only able to picture Hector that way, because that was how he looked the last time Thomas saw him.
He could not take the constant harassing from the monkeys any longer. Thomas stopped and looked up. He could not see any of the taunting little bastards. They were hiding on him, as if they knew what he was going to do. Thomas pulled out the gun. There was no way these monkeys were going to continually mock him. One of the monkeys came into view, and he shot at it. The shot missed the monkey, but it was close enough. The shot hit the branch the monkey was holding. When the bullet hit, he let go of the branch. The monkey fell almost sixty feet. I
t hit the ground with a dull thud. A few seconds later, the monkey shrieked in horror. Both its legs were mangled, but it was still alive. It tried to scurry away when it saw Thomas approaching. It continued to shriek as it dragged its body along the ground. Thomas saw that it was in unimaginable pain. He smiled, and watched the animal suffer. The monkey stopped shrieking. Its internal injuries must have been severe, because it was spitting up blood when it tried to create sound. The monkey continued to drag itself away, but now it stared at Thomas as it moved.
"What's the matter?" Thomas hollered. "Don't you want a fucking banana?" Then he kicked the wounded monkey in the face. The monkey flopped its head onto the ground. It gave up any hope of escaping, and it gave up its will to live. The monkey just lay waiting to die. Thomas knelt down in front of the animal. He rested the gun on the monkey's nose. The monkey did not resist.
"You know," Thomas began. "I hate to have to kill my relatives, even if you are just a distant cousin." With that, he pulled the trigger. The monkey's entire body slid about a foot as the bullet passed through it. Its brains, and a large chunk of its skull, continued to travel beyond that. Eventually they came to rest across fifteen feet, and the base of a large tree. Thomas put the gun away, and pulled out his knife. He quickly cut all four of the monkey's limbs off. As he continued to walk south, he carried them by the hands and feet. The blood dripped out from the limbs at a steady pace. Thomas thought of himself as a mobile slaughterhouse. Though, he killed not only for profit, but for pleasure and necessity as well. Thomas realized that he was leaving a trail of blood that any idiot in the world could probably follow, but he didn't care. The trail would die out soon enough. Besides, what idiot would be dumb enough to follow a trail of blood that originated at a shooting. The real reason Thomas wasn't worried about leaving a trail of blood was that he knew there were no cannibal tribes in this part of the Congo. Anyone who followed the trail would pose no threat Thomas, and could therefore be killed very easily. All of the cannibal tribes lived far to the west. Thomas doubted if they were even within hearing range, but he knew that they did not travel this far east.
After several minutes of walking, blood ceased to flow from the severed limbs. Thomas took the monkey's left arm and slit it down the middle. He used the knife to peel off all the skin, and he tossed the hairy layer aside. Thomas picked up a dried branch from the forest floor. He brushed it off and examined it. It would make a torch at least as good as the one he made the night before. He tucked the remaining limbs into the waist of his pants, and he put the knife away. The dead limbs slapped against his leg as he walked, but they didn't bleed much onto his pants. Thomas took out the lighter and started burning the torch. After only a minute, the torch was burning brilliantly. Holding the torch in his right hand, and shaking hands with the dead monkey's left, Thomas roasted the limb over the fire. He was hungry, and didn't bother waiting for it to cook fully. He sank his teeth into the half raw monkey flesh, and enjoyed its exotic flavor. The monkeys overhead were silent. They had not made a noise since the first gunshot. Thomas wondered if they knew what it smelled like when one of them was being cooked. He assumed that they did, or they were smart enough to figure it out now. The silence was as enjoyable as the taste of the arm. Thomas took another bite, and the monkey squeezed his hand tightly. At first, Thomas was startled, then he realized that he must have bitten a tendon. Thomas started to laugh. He had actually been frightened by a dead monkey paw. He roasted the arm as he chewed the meat. Then he sank his teeth back into the flesh. This time he sank them deeper than before. He felt the monkey's hand clench his own. Savagely, he shook his head. The tendons in the arm pulled taut, then snapped. Thomas pulled his head back, filled with delight. He spat the stringy pieces onto the ground. They would be far too difficult to chew, and probably not worth the effort. Thomas continued to devour the monkey's arm, unabated. He chewed it down to the bone, then tossed it aside. Removing the second arm, he repeated the process. Though, this time he held the torch in his left hand, enabling him to shake the monkey's right hand while he ate. When he had gnawed that one to the bone as well, he promptly discarded it. Thomas removed the monkey's left leg, and examined it. The limb was totally destroyed from the fall. Pieces of bone were sticking out in several places. Most of the bones were probably shattered. He decided that it would be unsafe to eat. A shard of bone was liable to be swallowed. Once that happened, it could wreak havoc on his system. A sharp piece of bone could cut his stomach, or become lodged in his intestines. It was simply not worth the risk. Thomas threw the limb aside, without even skinning it. He took the last of the monkey's limbs out of his waistband. To his dismay, it was in nearly the same condition as the other leg. This one was contorted into a position that was painful just to look at. Thomas wondered how it would feel to have his knee bent backward, then to have his lower leg spun a hundred eighty degrees. Though, the twist was not at the knee, but at the break half way between the knee and the ankle. The upper portion looked no better. The bone had been compacted until the pressure caused the bone to crush. Not a normal break, but a grinding of bone on bone while under a tremendous force. That was the reason Thomas could not eat this limb either. Thomas threw the leg off into the jungle.
Thomas realized that he was no longer hungry. If he had still been starving, he would have risked eating one leg. He regretted taking the monkey's legs. Cutting them of had just been a waste of time, and time something that he could not afford. The more time he wasted the longer he would have to spend in the jungle eating raw monkeys. Though, that seemed like a pleasing alternative to dealing with Hector. For a moment, Thomas regretted not taking the monkey's heart. To eat the raw heart of the monkey, that would have been a real treat. Especially while it was still warm with the monkey's blood. Thomas quickly put the thought out of his mind. He could not walk out of the jungle, and into civilization, covered from head to toe in blood. He would stick out in everyone's mind who saw him, and many would ask what had happened to him. That was not the kind of blending in that he was hoping for. Thomas told himself that the heart would be too tough to eat, worse than the stringy parts of the arm. Besides, he believed that the monkey's blood couldn't be very good for him. So, it stood to reason that the heart had to be unhealthy as well. Thomas tried to forget about the parts of his meal that he had left behind. It was like someone asking him why he didn't get croutons. His only response would be that he missed them, and that he could not go back, because it was a one trip salad bar.
Thomas stopped only momentarily. He bent over and jammed the torch into the mud at his feet. The flames died instantly. Thomas picked up the muddy branch, examined it, then tossed it aside. He patted his belly, and continued to walk. For the moment he was satisfied, though, he wished he had something to wash the meat down with. None of the water was safe to drink, so he hoped for rain. He doubted whether that was too safe either. Something in the canopy probably infested the drops before they ever reached his lips, but it was still a lot safer than any water on the ground. Thomas pressed south again, and his thoughts drifted to the candy bar he had found in one of his pockets. He could almost taste the melting chocolate again, though, the thought was corrupted by the distinct flavor of monkey flesh. Still, Thomas wished he could find another chocolate bar hidden in one of his pockets. He checked them all, but found nothing.
Chapter 23
April 13
1:00 p.m.
The Congo
Continuing to follow the creek, Alex convinced himself that he was doing the right thing. He was sure that this was the most sensible way to get out of the jungle. His only concern was if he ended up in another country, with no passport. His emergency credit card couldn't handle that problem. Alex walked on. The jungle seemed to have an eerie silence to it. There were no monkeys moving around, nothing but silence. At first, Alex thought that he was imagining it, but when he stopped to listen he heard no sound. He tried to pass it off as paranoia, but he still believed it to be a calm before the storm. He knew that
these next few days would allow him more than enough time to worry himself silly.
Suddenly, a distant gunshot broke the silence of the jungle. Alex looked around, as if the shot might have come from closer. Nothing around him moved. To Alex, that was more strange than the gunshot. A few seconds later, a second shot rang out. Alex realized that the shots had come from far off in the jungle. They were more than likely being fired by Thomas. Well, Alex thought, he does only have two shots left, and a knife. Though, he knew that trying to find Thomas again in the jungle would be impossible, and stupid. Then Alex thought of the other side of the story. Thomas had to be shooting at something, but what? He had to be shooting at either an animal, or a person. If Thomas were shooting at a person, that meant he was closer to exiting the jungle. It also meant that Alex was only heading deeper into the jungle. For a moment, Alex believed that this was the case, because it explained the unbearable silence that now surrounded him. Alex wondered if he should head the other way, even without the creek to guide him. He decided against it, favoring his original decision. There was still the possibility that Thomas had been shooting at an animal. Thomas might already be out of the jungle, but not near civilization. Alex was sure that following the creek would get him out of the jungle, and into civilization. He continued to walk alongside the creek. The water was joined by several other sources up ahead. There were two other streams that flowed into this one. The water slowed even more, almost to the point of pooling. A horrible thought crossed Alex's mind. What if this brook didn't turn into a river? It could lead to a lake, and there would not necessarily be anyone living near it. Up until Alex had seen the water pooling, he had been thinking that it would constantly be moving water. Now, he was not so sure. Nevertheless, he kept walking beside the stream. If it became a lake, he would decide what to do then. The thought that Thomas might not be out of the jungle frightened Alex. It meant that he had been shooting at a predator that lived in the jungle. Perhaps the noise overhead ceased for a reason. The animals in the canopy might be wise to the presence of a predator, and they might be silent until it passed. Alex could only hope that his fear was unwarranted, but he could not be certain. Looking up to the canopy, Alex could see no animals. He could not see the sun either. Still, he believed that he was heading west.