by Jeff Strand
Roger and I were still holding the same branch. I reached out, hoping to catch Henrietta’s outstretched hand.
I caught it!
Then I pulled Henrietta off her feet and the three of us kept going down the river.
We hit a shallow spot filled with lots of small, sharp, uncomfortable rocks and it slowed us down enough for me to brace my feet against the bottom of the river. Staying hand-in-hand, we each sat up, then just rested for a bit, not speaking, trying to catch our breath.
“Everybody okay?” I finally asked.
Roger coughed. “Where’s Ignacio?”
“He didn’t make it.”
Roger looked like he wanted to punch something, but instead he just softly cursed and nodded his understanding.
“How about we get out of the river?” Henrietta asked.
We waded out of the river with no mishaps, then sat on the shore to rest some more.
Roger patted his pockets. “I lost my phone.”
“I’m sure mine’s toast,” I said, taking my phone out of my pocket. The waterproof case had shattered, as had the screen of the phone itself. I pressed the button to turn it on and nothing happened.
“Okay,” said Henrietta. “That doesn’t mess up our plan too badly. It just means that instead of a cell phone signal, we need to find actual people. I’m sure there are some who will help us instead of eating us.”
“Did we lose the boat?” Roger asked.
“Nah, it’s just up ahead,” I said.
“So you came back for me?”
“Yeah, we came back for you. What the hell did you think? That I was just going to say ‘Oh well’ and leave you behind?”
“I meant that in a grateful way, not a surprised way.”
“Oh. Anyway, I’m glad you’re alive. If we have to die a slow, lingering death from starvation and heat stroke, I’m glad we get to do it together.”
“Me too,” said Roger.
“You guys are fuckin’ morbid,” said Henrietta. “I get that it’s a defense mechanism, but Jesus Christ.”
We walked along the edge of the river until we saw the boat.
It was moving. It should not be moving.
As we broke into a full sprint, the boat got fully caught up in the current and was carried away from us. The three of us shouted a combined forty-six expletives.
“It was secure!” said Henrietta. “It should’ve taken two of us to get it moving again! How did this happen?”
“Welcome to our life,” I said.
“Mr. Longshore was right about you!” said Henrietta. “You’re cursed! You’ve brought your dark curse here and it’s infected me as well!”
“To be fair, it’s not like we tied the boat down or anything.”
“It was secure! We both agreed that it was secure! At least one of you is cursed!”
“Fine,” I said. “We’re totally cursed.”
“I should walk away from you right now. I won’t, because it would surely mean your deaths, but I should.”
“So what’s our plan?” I asked. “Do you know how to build a raft?”
“Yes. But without a machete, rope, or competent help, it will take a long time and it won’t last on these rapids. We’ll have to walk until the river settles down. Or maybe we’ll get lucky and find that the boat has washed ashore.”
“What if nobody lives along the river?” Roger asked.
“Then we made the wrong decision and we’ll all die,” said Henrietta.
We decided to walk. Nobody was in a good mood, for obvious reasons, and we walked in a sullen silence for about half an hour. I assumed that we were all going to die, but I didn’t see any reason to spend our finals days, hours, or minutes talking about what a bummer it was.
“Do you hear that?” Roger asked.
We all stopped walking and listened.
“Crows?” Henrietta asked.
“No, like a motor.”
He was right. It did indeed sound like a motor. Were we saved? Was it actually possible that we were saved?
The motor was getting closer. It sounded very much like the motor that would drive a boat that would rescue us. I tried not to get too excited. This might all be a shared aural hallucination. We might still be completely screwed.
“I think that’s a boat,” said Henrietta.
I wanted to shush her, to tell her not to say it out loud, but I was a practical person who didn’t believe in jinxes.
“It’s definitely a boat,” said Roger.
A couple of minutes later, the motorboat came around the bend. It was about the same size as Henrietta’s boat. Three men were inside.
They pulled up right beside us and shut off the engine. One of the men tossed an anchor over the side. They were all white guys, and they had a very distinct air of menace about them. That didn’t include the fact that all three of them were holding pistols, including the guy who’d tossed the anchor and the driver of the boat, who should’ve had both hands on the wheel. They weren’t actually pointing the guns at us, but they were making no effort to hide them, even though we had to look like a pretty pathetic, harmless trio at the moment.
Under normal circumstances, I would’ve backed away and suggested that we find another ride. But these were not normal circumstances.
“Hi,” I said. “You can’t imagine how happy we are to see you!”
None of the men looked happy to see us.
“You’re not Percival Longshore,” the man who wasn’t the driver or the anchor-tosser said to me. He looked about thirty, with his black hair pulled back and a widow’s peak that made him look like Dracula without the smoldering sexuality.
“No,” I said.
“You’re Andrew Mayhem.”
“Yes.”
“Where’s Percival Longshore?”
“He’s not with us anymore.”
“Well, no shit. I can see that. Is he dead?”
It felt like a lie was the correct response here, but I honestly couldn’t tell if these gentlemen were friends of Percival’s or his enemies. If I said that Percival was still alive, how would I explain him not being here with us?
“Yeah,” I said.
“How’d it happen?”
“He...uh, he got...a village of cannibals captured us and ate him.”
The three men exchanged a look. “You didn’t stop by the skinned bodies, did you?”
“Yeah, we did.”
“Why would you do that? It was a clear warning. We sure as hell didn’t stop.”
“Mistakes were made.”
“Yeah, it sounds like it. We’ve been waiting for you to get here. Imagine our surprise when Ignacio’s corpse floated right past us. The cannibals didn’t get a chance to sink their teeth into him, huh?”
“No. May I ask who you guys are?”
“Well, since Percival and Ignacio are dead, and on our way here we saw your boat upside-down and stuck in some tree limbs, I’d say that we’re your saviors, don’t you think?”
The other two men on the boat chuckled.
Though there’s some editorializing, I strive to keep my retelling of these adventures as accurate as possible. You probably assumed that by all of the self-ineptitude that I describe in such great detail. But for the sake of clarity going forward, the next three lines of dialogue are completely made up.
“My name is Steve,” said the man with the widow’s peak.
“I’m Connor,” said the driver of the boat.
“And I’m Ernest,” said the man who’d thrown the anchor.
Okay. Back to truthful reporting.
Steve pointed his gun at me. “Get on the boat.”
“You didn’t have to threaten me,” I said. “We would’ve asked you for a ride. Why reveal that you’re assholes before it’s absolutely necessary?”
“I’m not a big fan of games. If you have no choice but to come with us, why pretend otherwise? Now are you going to get on the boat, or do I have to shoot the girl?”
“We’
ll get on the boat,” I said.
Chapter Thirteen
The men weren’t considerate enough to bring the boat to shore, so we had to wade out into the river and climb aboard. They pulled up the anchor, started the motor again, and drove back down the river.
The rapids subsided less than a minute later. If we could’ve made it just a bit longer without Henrietta’s boat capsizing, we would’ve been perfectly fine. Ah, irony, you bitch.
We didn’t try to talk over the engine, and I doubted the men would offer any useful insight until we arrived at our destination anyway. I wasn’t good at calculating distance travelled while on a motorboat on the river, but five miles sounded about right when we got there. Connor pulled onto the riverside, where another man stood waiting for us.
This guy wasn’t holding a gun. He had a machete. It’s not fair to judge somebody on a first impression before you’ve exchanged a single word, but he looked most unpleasant indeed. He was a tall, fit-looking guy with very long, straight hair—black with streaks of gray. He wore sunglasses and had an unevenly trimmed goatee.
“Get out of the boat,” Steve told me. Again, I’m not sure why he thought he needed to give this order at gunpoint, but this time I didn’t say anything. Roger, Henrietta and I got out of the boat. The other men got out behind us, and dragged the boat up onto the shore.
The longhaired man pointed his machete at each of us in turn. “Okay, you’re Andrew Mayhem, and you’re Roger Tanglen, but I don’t know who you are.”
“Henrietta.”
“Hmmm. Why are they hanging out with a crone like you, Henrietta?”
“I was driving the boat.”
“Looks like you did a shit job.”
Henrietta didn’t respond.
“Where’s Percival?”
“Cannibals ate him,” said Steve.
“Good. I hope he was alive most of the time and that it hurt. Anyway, I’m Jasper. You all know what this is about, right? No gasps of shock? Nobody’s jaw is going to drop when I do the big reveal?”
“We have a pretty good idea,” I said.
“So where’s the map?”
“Ignacio had it.”
Jasper nodded. “Of course he did. That’s pretty disappointing. Did you know his corpse just floated right by us? I kid you not. Floated right on by where we’re standing at this very moment. Lucky thing Connor happened to be looking at the river when it happened. We hopped in the boat and went after it, but there was nothing in his pockets. I suppose that map is long gone by now.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“You don’t mind if we search you, do you? Just to make sure you’re not a goddamned liar.”
“Knock yourself out.”
Though I thought Henrietta might protest, she allowed Ernest to search her. Some blood was trickling down her lower lip, presumably from the tooth that got knocked out. I kept expecting her to spit in Ernest’s face, but she behaved herself. Jasper just stood there, watching silently as they searched us. Finally, each of the men shook their heads at him to indicate that we weren’t hiding the map, at least not where an external search could locate it.
Jasper closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He slowly exhaled. He repeated the process twice more, then he turned around and walked to the edge of the trees. He screamed “Shit!” and began to slam the machete against one of the larger trees, over and over again, shouting a different curse word with each strike. I was surprised he didn’t break the machete blade.
Steve, Connor, and Ernest watched without any particular reaction. Apparently they were used to this sort of outburst.
Jasper walked back over to us. He slammed the machete into the ground so that it stood up straight. “That didn’t make me feel any better. Trees don’t bleed. Who wants to make me feel better? Huh? Who here volunteers to make me feel better? One of you is willing to volunteer, right? Raise your hand.”
None of us raised our hands.
“Without the map, you guys are worthless to me. You understand that, right? Worthless. As in, having no value. You were supposed to sail right up here, and I was going to chop off Percival’s arms and legs. We’d all stand over him together and watch his torso bleed out. Bonding experience. Then we’d go get rich. I had it all planned out.”
Jasper was wearing a nondescript silver necklace, but when he tugged the front of it out from under his shirt, I saw that it was actually very descript. There were a couple of human fingers dangling from it.
“Like it?” Jasper asked me. “They aren’t yours, obviously. They aren’t even real. They look real, though. Amazing what you can do with plastic. I thought you’d get a kick out of it.” He looked over at Roger. “Sorry I couldn’t do the same for you. I’m not aware of you missing any body parts. Am I wrong about that? Do you have a dick?”
“I do indeed,” Roger informed him.
“Glad to hear it. And what about you?” he asked Henrietta. “I guess I should’ve had some charms made out of teeth, huh? Is it hard for you to eat? Do you pretty much just have to stick to soup and yogurt?”
“Bring your arm over here,” said Henrietta. “I’ll show you how well my teeth work.”
Jasper glared at her. “Was that a threat? Was that a fuckin’ threat?”
“Just keeping up the tone of the conversation.”
“Well, you got the tone wrong. You think it’s smart to threaten me?” He yanked the machete out of the dirt. “I could start chopping off parts of you right now. Or if I didn’t feel like it, I could ask one of my men to shoot you. Didn’t you think of that before you threatened me? Why would you say something like that when we’ve got guns and machetes? Are you stupid? Is that the problem? Do you not think before you speak? Do I come off as the kind of person who wouldn’t hurt a woman? A young woman, sure, I’d be nice to her. A beautiful woman. But you? Some nasty looking hag? You barely even count as a woman.”
I was beginning to believe that Jasper might be unstable.
“Bring my arm over there,” he muttered. “Yeah, I’ll bring my arm over there, to punch you in the face. Make you uglier than you already are. See what kind of man will want you when your face is all swollen and disfigured. Tear out your hair. What do you think of that, huh? I’ll bring my arm over there and tear out your hair.”
He stuck the machete back in the ground.
Walked away.
Walked back.
Pulled the machete out of the ground.
“Put your arm out,” he told Henrietta. He extended his arm that wasn’t holding the weapon. “Just like this. Put your arm out just like this. Do it.”
“Not a chance,” said Henrietta.
“Not a chance? Not a chance? Your arm or your head. How about that, huh? Now, are you so stupid that you’d have me lop off your head instead of your arm?”
“If you cut off my arm, I’d bleed to death. Might as well get it over quickly.”
“I guess you’ve got a point,” said Jasper. “It’s not like we’re going to take time out of our busy day to make a tourniquet for you. It’s your head, then. Think I can take it all the way off in one swing? How many chops do you think it would take if I used the dull side? Twenty? Thirty? Thirty-five?”
“If you’re doing it?” asked Henrietta. “I’d say about four hundred. Maybe four-fifty.”
“Get down on your knees,” Jasper told her. He spat when he talked.
“She’s sorry,” I said. “She didn’t mean it. Henrietta, tell him you’re sorry.”
“I have to die sometime,” said Henrietta. “When it happens, it’s not going to be while I’m cowering.”
“We’ve had a terrible couple of days,” I told Jasper. “None of us are in our right mind. I’m sure that if we all take a moment to calm down and focus, we can talk this out.”
“I don’t want to calm down. If I wanted to calm down, I would. I can calm down anytime I want.” Jasper pointed the machete blade at Henrietta. “Down on your knees. I’m not going to ask again.”
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“I’m not going to let you kill her,” I said.
“Then I’ll kill you, and then her, and then maybe if Roger behaves I’ll let him live, or maybe I’ll see how well he can swim without arms and legs. Maybe I’ll go fishing and use him as a bobber.”
“You know that I got to study the map, right?” I asked.
Jasper lowered the machete. “I did not know that.”
“It had an actual ‘X marks the spot’ on it. We were planning to go after the treasure when you kidnapped us. I can take us to it, but you have to stop with all the death and dismemberment threats.”
“And why should I trust you?”
“Why shouldn’t you trust me? What are you going to do, spend months wandering around the rainforest hoping that you stumble upon it? You had a temper tantrum when you found out that the map was gone. I’m the next best thing.”
“Describe it,” said Jasper.
“I’m not going to tell you where the treasure is.”
“I’ve seen a picture of the map with most of it blocked out. It was on the eBay listing where that son of a bitch Longshore sniped me at the last second!”
“How much did the map go for?” Roger asked.
“Twenty-nine bucks. Nobody believed that it was real. I’m not sure Longshore even believed it was real; I think he may have just thought it would be a fun adventure for his dumb-ass YouTube channel.”
“I’m pretty sure he believed it was real,” I said.
“What makes you say that? Never mind. It doesn’t matter. He’s dead and in the bellies of cannibals. Wish I could’ve been there to see that. Did he scream?”
“Yes. A lot.”
“Good. So convince me that you’ve seen the map. Right now. Make me believe that inside your hollow little head there’s an image of the map bouncing around.”
“It looks like a little kid drew it. And there are lots of skulls.”
Jasper slammed the machete back into the ground and took a step back. His mouth dropped open in an expression of pure delight. Then he ran forward and grabbed me in a bear hug.
“Yes! That’s the map I saw! We’re back in business!”