Demons in the Jungle

Chapter 13

  My hand was dipping into something wet. That was the first sensation I remembered.

My eyes opened slowly, my vision blurry and shaky. I saw my hands, saw the way they were kept together. I was tied up by the wrists. Every few seconds, the world tilted to one side, and my left hand dipped briefly into water below, running through it and then rising back up. The water was cool, clean, fresh. It was a momentary sensation of pleasure that rippled out of a horrible world filled with pain and darkness.

My eyes closed. I couldn't think, couldn't hear. My head was throbbing hard, and it was difficult to even stay conscious. The world kept trying to slip into blackness, my head falling back every few seconds against my will. I tried with all my might, forcing myself to wake up. I had to wake up. I had to know where I was. I had to know what was happening. God, what had happened to me?

My eyes opened again, and now I was looking at the sky. The clouds rolled by restlessly above, low and dark, threatening rain. For a moment, I thought I heard the dull boom of thunder, but it might have been my imagination. The world didn't sound right, as though my ears had become misshapen somehow. I struggled, and my head moved, just a little, tilting forward slightly. I glimpsed two shapes in front of me, but my head fell back again, my strength gone from me. I prepared myself slowly, summoning every bit of energy I could, and compressed my chest, lifting myself just slightly to look ahead of me.

There, I could see two people. Two men. Two Kokowai men, their bodies adorned with animal hide and hand-made jewelry. One of them was slowly and methodically rowing an oar he held in both hands, facing away from me. The other sat closer, facing me, one of his hands holding a long spear that pointed up to the sky. When I moved forward, the closer man shifted slightly, leaning to look at me. At least, I thought he was. It was difficult to tell, as his face was covered by that strange dark veil, the white circles staring me down blankly. The man spoke, the sound strangely muffled through the black fabric, the language curiously bouncing. I couldn't begin to understand him. My eyes closed again.

Oh God, what had I done? What would happen now? Was I dead? Was I dead?

My eyes opened once more, and this time I managed to assess my situation a little. I was laying in a boat, piloted by two of the tribal warriors I had glimpsed on the beach. My feet were bound, as were my hands. I couldn't tell if I was wounded, beyond the blow to my head. As I observed my surroundings, the two Kokowai men spoke to one another in their strange tongue and gestured to me. I couldn't discern anything about the conversation, not even a mood. The one who was closest to me leaned forward, poking at my arm with his hand curiously as he spoke. They seemed to be arguing for a moment, and then one of them held out his hand and placed the palm over my mouth and nose. I moved weakly, struggling to get my breath back, and the man let me go, shouting at the one who rowed the boat, as though he had just proven a point. After a few minutes, they went silent, and one of the men stared at me for several minutes, never once lifting the fabric over his face. It was unnerving.

Some time later, there was a bump in the boat. We had reached land. Very casually, one of the warriors reached back toward me and hauled me up, pulling me onto his back. I was too weak to do anything about it, and as he began to walk, I saw the second warrior pull the boat onto the shore and then gather several things into his hands. One of those things was his spear, and he hefted it now, keeping it vaguely pointed at my face as he followed. They weren't taking any chances.

We walked into the jungle, the sounds of crickets and birds surrounding us. The men continued to speak calmly to one another, and I couldn't begin to understand anything about it. They didn't sound angry, surprised, excited...they had taken me down and were hauling me back to their home like I was an animal. This was just another day for them. They didn't fear white people. I wasn't some sort of anomaly. I was just another animal.