When The Jaguar Sleeps: A jungle adventure (11 page)

Immediately the babble of voices from the dugout ceased soon to be replaced by the rapid drumming of several pairs of feet running heavily up the stone stairs.

Numerous angry voices broke through the air.

‘What is it?’

‘Damn it, I was right, I knew there was someone else here.’

The dark figures of Brian and José illuminated in the beam of a powerful flashlight materialized at the top of the underground stairs.

‘Fuck it! You did not check well enough.’

‘Stop! Do not move!’

‘They mustn’t get away, catch them!’

Didier and Florent leapt for the exit, jumped out of the cave and dived into the surrounding mist-shrouded ocean of green, and were instantly swallowed up. Their hearts raced like crazy; they could not tell whether it was from effort or fear. Charging wildly forward, skirting between stone buildings and lush shrubberies, they paused to take a few deep breaths then immediately resumed their run, darting between the branches and tree trunks while panting like hunted animals.

Their enemies did not waste time either. Even without turning around, Didier and Florent somehow knew their pursuers were close behind. They could hear their angry yells, their feet pounding on the hard ground, the rustling of foliage and the snapping of twigs.

An intense feeling of fear fuelled the pair’s energy. Determined to get away, they pushed ahead, tearing aside with their bare hands branches and tangles of lianas obstructing their path, not caring about the stabs of pain when razor-sharp leaves and spiky thorns cut into their skin.

They just kept running, faster and faster, frenziedly attempting to put as much distance as possible between them and the gang of robbers, ignoring the branches that smacked their faces and arms and pulled wildly at their clothes trying in vain to slow them down.

Imperceptibly they entered a maze of stone walls and thick vegetation. They stopped and paused again, panting, completely out of breath, desperately gasping for air, leaning forward, legs wide apart, mouths wide-open trying to fill their lungs with some oxygen. Eventually, Didier squeezed Florent firmly by the arm, swallowed hard and whispered in his ear.

‘Listen, we should slow down now, move quietly, almost soundlessly. Then they won’t be able to track us. If we run, we reveal our position.’

Eyes swinging left and then right they set off again but this time walking stealthily. Time passed and soon they could hear nobody coming in pursuit. A predatory silence fell. Had they managed to lose their pursuers? Or had the gang decided to give up the wild chase altogether?

The thick milky mist that enveloped the rainforest had now become their ally. It helped to protect and hide them. It was not easy to see anything through it, even at a short distance.

Then suddenly, the uncomfortable silence was shattered by the sound of a bullet whistling through the air, barely missing their heads, followed closely by a muffled crack as the pellet hit a stone wall. Florent and Didier instinctively ducked down. But hardly a minute passed before more bullets were fired. They were coming from different directions as if people were shooting haphazardly in a desperate fit of fury. Both men froze in fear, their ears ringing. They did not know where to go to avoid the random rain of bullets. Florent started to move around nervously, walking in circles.

‘Let’s get out of here. Move… quick…run…they’ll kill us, kill us . . .’ he repeated over and over again, his voice filled with panic.

‘Calm down, pull yourself together. They cannot see us, they’re just shooting randomly. We still have a chance to make it out of here if we stay quiet and if you do not betray where we are,’ Didier said, wanting to quieten his companion while at the same time trying hard to keep calm himself.

But Florent, driven into a frenzy, did not listen. Without warning, in his last desperate attempt to escape, he plunged recklessly into the forest. Every muscle in his body was tensed and aching from the exertion as he frantically kept running, not caring whether branches whipped painfully against his body or if sharp leaves and stinging thorns ruthlessly tore his clothes and cut his skin. After a moment Didier was forced to acknowledge that he had no other choice but to follow in his footsteps. However, his legs felt weak and he couldn’t get enough pace going to catch him up.

It seemed as if their pursuers had only been waiting for them to move. Almost at once Didier could hear heavy footsteps approaching rapidly, right behind his back, and rustling sounds of bodies relentlessly pushing through the brush. They were getting close.

Florent had kept accelerating and was completely out of sight. Was he going to lose him? A stab of worry struck him. Not wanting to attract attention Didier resisted the urge to call out to him.

But then a terrible heartbreaking cry, like the howl of a wounded beast, pierced his ears. It was unmistakably Florent’s voice. Following the direction of the sound Didier soon came upon him.

Florent stood with his back pressed hard against a tree trunk, legs apart, swaying slightly; his hands were tightly clutching his chest, just below the right shoulder where a random bullet had penetrated his body. Thick rivulets of deep crimson blood were dripping steadily down his hand and shirt, falling to the ground. Bewildered, as if he could not quite believe what had happened, he stared, his eyes bloodshot, wide-open yet unseeing, his mouth twisted in a grimace of indescribable agony. He felt as if someone had wrapped an iron band around his lungs and kept squeezing it tightly, not letting him take a deeper breath. Thick, pearly beads of cold sweat were clinging to his pale forehead, and innumerable scarlet and black spots started to dance wildly in front of his eyes. He tried to say something but only choking gurgles came out of his throat. Finally he sank slowly to his knees and slumped inertly to the ground, losing consciousness.

In one sudden movement Didier grabbed him by his shoulders and, using all his remaining strength, dragged the limp body behind a huge, thick tree trunk, its gigantic mass of tangled roots protruding high above the ground.

Instinctively he knew he must not lose a minute now. He removed Florent’s clenched fist from the spot where the bullet had entered his body and gently eased away his blood-soaked shirt; he washed the wound that kept bleeding profusely and then tried to stop the flow with a hastily made dressing. But it became right away soaked with blood. In the silence only a heavy laborious wheezing sound escaping from Florent’s throat could be heard. Didier felt at a loss. There was nothing else he could do. He waited. Each tension-filled minute seemed like an hour. And then, to his enormous relief, he saw his injured companion start to move his arms and legs, tentatively at first; then he half opened his eyes, still cloudy and bloodshot, and seemed to be trying to say something. Finally he regained consciousness. Didier leant over, listening carefully, but all he could hear was muffled unintelligible gibberish.

He stiffened. He thought he detected a faint noise coming from a cluster of trees just a few feet behind his back. Was that footsteps? He held his breath, turned towards the sound and looked quickly around but could see nobody. Again something moved. Dry twigs cracked. Foliage rustled. Their enemies were getting closer and would be here any second. There was no time to lose. They had to move on. He had better look around for another place to hide. He took firm hold of Florent’s half-limp body and helped him to his feet. At first he wobbled and staggered like a drunken man, but managed to maintain an upright position. Slowly, they began to walk. Didier supported his companion and held him tight. Fortunately, there was neither sight nor sound of the pursuers.

After a while another sound intruded upon the usual jungle noises and instantly caught their attention: the sound of rushing water. It was faint at first but the further they walked the louder it grew. A few yards on they came to a waterfall, a powerful cascade flowing steeply over a high vertical cliff. They summoned up every last ounce of whatever feeble resources of energy they had left and managed to climb to the ledge separating the water curtain from the rock wall. Moving very slowly in this unusual tunnel they placed each foot carefully, trying not to slip on the wet stones. They were about halfway along the ledge when Didier saw a fracture in the granite block forming a natural cave entrance. He peered inside but it was so dark that he could not see much at first glance. Bending down he entered, guiding in Florent’s shaky body too. Everything had required so much effort that the injured young man now sank to the ground and seemed to again lose consciousness.

Not much could be heard in the cave save for the monotonous noise of the cascade. Water was also oozing from the rock inside the cavern, slowly dripping into a small pool. Some weak sunlight seeped through the entrance. A mist of millions of tiny water droplets hung in the air making breathing easier, coating his skin, cool and soothing. Although he did not feel any pain, Didier noticed that his hands and arms were stained with blood from the pricks, rips and scratches he had sustained during their frantic dash through the undergrowth.

He sat huddled, trembling slightly, feeling at a loss, and involuntarily his eyes filled with tears. He could not tell whether these were tears of despair, or more of helplessness and rage at the injustice of fate. They had narrowly escaped death in a plane crash, and then for many days struggled hard to survive, only to come across cruel, ruthless robbers and to find themselves now again in mortal danger.

When was this nightmare going to be over?

His shoulders slumped in resignation. He closed his eyes, clenched his fists and leaned with his back against the cool wall, listening to the steady flow of the waterfall.

Trapped in the merciless heart of the jungle.

Powerless.

Didier leaned his head back and let the tears flow freely down his cheeks. A strange, blissful feeling of unreality overwhelmed him accompanied by an odd hollowness as if something in him had died and nothing mattered anymore. Rambling, fragmented images of the past flashed in his mind’s eye. Nothing important, just trivial details that he had not even realised were recorded in his memory. Startlingly, he remembered when once as a little boy he had been walking with his father, holding his hand, and he started to feel again the warmth and the power that had emanated from it, the roughness of the skin. He could see once more the rays of the sun playing gaily on his father’s dark hair, turning it golden-brown, the dust covering his shoes, the colour of his shirt and the creases on the sleeves. A moment later an intoxicating, sensual fragrance of jasmine and honeysuckle blossoms enveloped him. It was the same sweet smell that had entered through an open window on a warm summer evening long ago when he had been holidaying at his grandparents’ house in the countryside. Then suddenly the sensation was replaced by the taste and smell of a cake baked by his mother. He heard her soft voice.

It’s hard to say how long he stayed motionless, dreaming. Briefly he had almost forgotten where he was.

All at once he was jolted back to reality by the sound of someone’s ear-splitting yells, louder even than the constant roar of the waterfall. His deep-seated instinct of self-preservation took over and he huddled closer to the wall, hiding deeper behind a large boulder as he listened to approaching voices. Once more he felt for a moment like a trapped animal. However, he was determined not to give up his struggle for survival. He would not surrender to them easily and was prepared to fight to the death. Then after a moment his mood shifted and an enormous feeling of anger and a desire for revenge on the brutal assailants overwhelmed him.

The voices outside started to move away and finally receded. If it was the gang of robbers they had not suspected that anyone could be hiding behind the waterfall.

The cooler air in the cavern helped Florent regain consciousness. The wound in his chest had finally dried up, the blood forming a hard crust. He raised his head, straining his eyes, opening them wide, trying to see in the prevalent twilight.

‘Where are we?’ he asked in a weak but quite clear voice. ‘Have they come after us yet?’

‘We’ve escaped them for now. We’re safe, inside a cavern hidden behind a waterfall. You should rest, try not to move too much. Don’t waste your energy. You lost a lot of blood.’

‘That’s why I feel so weak… and it hurts like hell even if I don’t move. Are there any painkillers left? I think I need one or two and some water to drink. I’m terribly thirsty,’ said Florent and then grabbed Didier’s arm pulling it hard, fixing his imploring eyes on him.

‘How bad is it? Don’t bullshit me. Tell me the truth. Am I going to die? I don’t want to. Don’t leave me here alone to die. Promise, you won’t!’

‘Don’t worry. You are not going to die. And I won’t leave you alone, I promise. I won’t lie to you, the bullet did quite a bit of damage. As you can see the dressing is soaked with blood but it has already dried to a hard crust. So it means the wound doesn’t bleed anymore. I did what I could, I cleaned it and bandaged. Later I will clean it one more time and change the dressing. You survived the blood loss and it’s surely a good sign.’

‘Maybe there are internal injuries or internal bleeding. And what if it gets infected?’

‘Well, there is always the risk… I think the bullet is still inside. But we can’t do anything about it right now. So just forget it’s there. Anyway, it shouldn’t cause too much trouble if it stays inside for a few days. First of all, you need rest. Save your strength. Don’t talk too much. And you’d better eat something. I will check the map. Maybe it will guide us through this bloody forest. The river must not be far. If only we could reach it, then it shouldn’t be too long before we get out of the jungle. You’ll go to the hospital, have surgery and you will be fine.’