La Sola Muerte

Chapter Four

Rooted at the edge of the jungle, a few of us remain in position. A lot of the younger crew have retreated. Only Jenny, Pierre and I are close to the bush. One of the cameramen, a young guy named Carlos, is right beside me. After a while, he breaks the silence and asks what we are all thinking

"We are not going in after that noise, are we?"

"Well... we need to camp somewhere. We can't do it here," Jenny chimes authoritatively. "Plus, we haven't filmed anything since the weather turned," she adds disappointed.

Yeah don't worry, the boat sank, we're stranded, and two people have died. But yes, lets worry about the damn filming...

The younger members join us up front. It's been a while since movement is heard ahead. It's like the wind stopped. There is no rustling of leaves or atmosphere around us. The hairs on my arms stand up on end as I realise, deaf silence descends upon us. Not a single chirp from birds or crickets, although I don't remember hearing those, to begin with.

Not sure what to do, Pierre takes charge. Turning, he walks towards the boat. Instinctively we also turn and face him, interested in his plans. Leaning into the lifeboat, he stands holding two large camo-coloured bags. Without making eye contact, he walks past us and heads to the upper edge of the beach. I can make out a low rambling from the Frenchmen.

"Je vais le faire moi-meme."

I'll be damned if I understand what he says. Whatever it is, doesn't sound repeatable.

"Well, I am following him." I point towards Pierre whilst staring at the group. Walking off, I try to catch up with him. I made it this far because of him I won't be hanging around.

Reaching Pierre, we walk further in complete silence. The north edge of the beach is vastly different. The rocks having grown grass on top, and weeds are as tall as trees reaching for the sky in desperation. To the right, a wall of shrubs leads into a clearing.

The greenery is like nothing I have seen before. The grass is thick, and dense almost like a carpet. The flowers, with red and purple spikes, run up the stalk in a defensive pattern. Between each layer of spikes, which run from the base to the top of the stalk, there are leaves the size of lily pads spreading outwards. Still no sign of life. It's as though the earlier roar scared more than just us.

Knowing something is lurking in this jungle, I am uneasy. Involuntary shudders raise through my body from my toes, raising the hairs on my body on their ends. Whether it is the cold or fear, it is an all-encompassing feeling.

Stepping out into the clearing, I can see why Pierre picked it. As far as camping goes, it is the ideal location. Perfect shelter from most elements. The clearing is surrounded all around, aside from the gap we came in through. A dense tree line frames it casting imposing shadows across it. Wasting no time, Pierre strides forward, dumping the two camo bags on the ground.

"Allez-vous simplement rester lå?" Staring at me blankly, he gestures throwing his arms up in the air.

The pressure of leading the group is affecting his language skills, he needs to remember I don't speak French.

"Sorry...?" I respond with an equal blank expression.

"Are you going to help me then?" He then asks in English.

"What exactly am I helping with?" Not knowing what I am letting myself in for, I want to confirm before I commit.

"You don't want to sleep under the stars do you, Mr. Hot Shot?" the sniping comment hurts, but it is fair. Despite the failing career, people still see me as a Hollywood superstar. My diva like attitude, at times, doesn't help.