‘Nah, she would have been back by now. I mean, how far do you need to go to get breakfast around here?’
Joe looked around him. ‘Pretty far, I would imagine,’ he said and peered into the jungle.
The professor sat down on his bed. ‘I think we wait,’ he said. ‘I think the most likely scenario is that she is lost and will find her way back to us eventually.’
‘But if she’s lost,’ said Joe, ‘She might never come back. I mean, do you know how big this damn place is? I say we take a look, find the trail, see if we can track her.’
Fraser looked doubtful but Joe was insistent.
‘I know,’ Joe said, ‘We could split up. Professor, you and Fraser stay here and I’ll see if I can track Lisa.’
Fraser was incredulous. ‘Won’t you get lost?’
Joe tapped the badge on his cap. ‘US air force. I won’t get lost.’
An hour later Joe was lost deep in the heart of the Filipino jungle. He had left camp with an idea in mind. It was an old trick his uncle had taught him many years before: look for a path and if it looks like someone else has been there you can’t go far wrong. Unfortunately, he had never experienced terrain like this before; each clearing looked like a path, each new turning in the jungle looked like it had been created by a host of trekkers walking through but he knew it was just the trick of Nature, encouraging trees to grow their branch width apart, the light causing gaps in the undergrowth.
When there were not deceptive looking ‘paths’ there was thick jungle that could barely be hacked through. He pushed at it but it seemed as if it just closed around him again, touching him, pulling at his clothes, scratching his skin and making him feel as though he were being torn apart.
All the time he felt, deep in the jungle, as though eyes were upon him, as though the trees were watching him. Occasionally he stopped and looked around, convinced he was being followed but when he looked there was no one there; the jungle, he thought to himself, plays strange tricks on the mind.
Joe trekked for what seemed like hours. It was no good, he said to himself, he was most certainly lost. He thought what a good idea it would have been to leave a trail behind, to carve signposts into the trees to remind himself of where he had been or even to make a mental map of the terrain as he passed through it; that would have been what his father would have done. That would have been the first thing on his father’s mind, but Joe, Joe was too busy thinking about Lisa, the same as he was always too busy thinking about the girl in the bar, or the woman in the club or some other minor distraction from the real business of trying not to get himself killed.
He pushed through some thick undergrowth and fell on to the jungle floor. It was warm here; the sun beat down on to this area and as he lay down he could hear the river a little distance away gently ripple. Suddenly his eye was caught by something. Usually you would not see such a thing, it would melt into the background, become just another one of the many insignificant finds of the world but here, here in the jungle, it was like a beacon. He turned himself over and stared at it – a small piece of dark blue cloth. He picked it up. It looked like the same material that Lisa’s shirt was made out of – same colour, same feel, same weave. He had gazed upon it for long enough – he would know it anywhere.
Quickly he picked himself up and followed what looked like a trail made in the undergrowth. He guessed that Lisa, if she had been here, would have left some time ago but he forged ahead. Somehow, the connection he already felt to her made him sure that he was heading in the right direction and he knew that he would find her if he just followed his instincts, so he pushed through the dense foliage and made his way deep into the heart of the jungle.
Chapter Thirteen
The day was getting on and the jungle was becoming even denser as Joe pushed his way through. Occasionally he would stop and examine the path, more out of a sense of procedure than anything else. The jungle floor was thick with moss, dead and decaying vegetation and insects. Ever since he had been a little kid he had had no time for small things that moved of their own accord; he hated their legs, the way they scuttled, how they felt on his skin and, most of all, he hated the way that they died, crushed under a foot, helpless and unmindful. Here, though, he was in the insects’ kingdom, he knew that and that given time they could crush him just as easily as he crushed them, so he moved onward as best he could, trying to not kill too many as he walked lest they return to haunt him one day. He stopped to listen to the jungle. He had no idea what he was listening for, just that something seemed out of place here. Something on the wind made him suspicious and wary. He craned his neck and stood on a fallen tree. He heard voices somewhere; they were far off but they were human. He couldn’t be sure but he thought there were two voices, one was high and harsh, the other low and soft, but they were too far away for him to make out what they were saying. Joe climbed down from the tree and tried to follow the voices that were so distinctive amongst the animal noises that surrounded them.
In a clearing Kono and Tanaka had stopped. Sweat poured from their bodies and stained their clothes a musty brown. On his back Kono carried a pack that contained everything they would need for a two-day trek on their search to find Joe, Lisa and the others. He dropped it on the ground with relief. Tanaka sat on it. ‘You hear something?’ he said.
Kono craned his ear. ‘Birds, the wind, nothing else.’ ‘I thought I heard footsteps.’
Kono looked around, surveying the area. ‘You think they’re here somewhere?’ Tanaka pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and began to mop his brow with it. ‘I think we would have heard them. Besides, they should be miles away over the other side of the island. I’m sure I heard footsteps though.’ It was Tanaka’s turn to begin to look around him. He peered into the dense foliage but it was too thick, too dark to see anything. ‘Do you think we’ll find them?’ Kono asked, rummaging in the bag for a rice cake.
‘Of course,’ Tanaka snapped back. ‘You have the tracking device?’
Kono pulled a black box out of the backpack and held it up to his face as it flashed out its message.
‘Right,’ Tanaka said. ‘All we have to do is find their plane and that will lead us directly to them, and the gold.’
Kono smiled and reached for the bag. ‘We’d better get on then,’ he said, and left Tanaka desperately trying to keep up.
A brief moment after they had left Joe pushed through the trees. He examined the ground and observed that someone had been there. Some of the vegetation had been disturbed, a sure sign – he remembered that from his two weeks’ basic training. He assumed he must be on the trail of Lisa and guessed that he was pretty close; he looked around the clearing for an exit point. A gap in the branches assured him of the way to go and he headed for it. Soon,’ he thought to himself, ‘Soon I will be with her.’
Lisa held onto the little girl’s hand tightly as the two made their way through the jungle. To Lisa’s relief, the girl was not as lost as she had first thought but walked, with sure and steady feet, through the thick trees and over the small rivers that seemed constantly to block their path. Suddenly Lisa felt afraid; she was being led but she had no idea where or for what reason. The girl pushed ahead of her and their two hands strained at times; the one eager to make ground, the other reticent and wanting to slow down. Every now and then, a branch would flick back into Lisa’s face, scratching her or catching her eye. The little girl strode ahead with a determination that grew stronger by the minute. Occasionally she would glance backwards to make sure Lisa was still following her but mostly she strode onward and onward with purpose. This carried on for about half an hour and Lisa felt her head swimming with the running and the lack of water. She stopped and the little girl pulled on her arm.
‘I can’t go on,’ she said. ‘I have to rest.’ The little girl looked at her and pointed through the trees, then motioned to Lisa to move forward. Lisa shook her head as she breathed harder than she had ever breathed before. She thought her heart was bursting from her
chest and she could feel the sweat running down her forehead and into her eyes. She had to make this girl understand; she had to make her understand that she could not go on any further – there was nothing left. The jungle had won and all she wanted to do was sit and rest. The girl, however, had other ideas; she grabbed Lisa’s arm and pulled for all she was worth but Lisa slumped to the ground and would not budge. The girl then spoke in a language that Lisa had never heard before, sounding excited and enthusiastic. Her voice was lighter and higher than Lisa could ever have imagined. It seemed strange to hear it in this jungle, a little girl’s voice, when it seemed that they were so far away from anyone.
Lisa shook her head again. ‘Please,’ she implored. ‘No more.’ She felt tears welling up in her eyes as she laid her head on her knees, forlorn, afraid, tired and wanting to see home. The little girl walked up to her and placed an arm around her shoulder. She flicked a strand of hair out of Lisa’s eyes and gently wiped a tear from her cheek. Then she sat down next to Lisa and rested her head on her knee. The older girl placed an arm round the younger and they sat for a while just listening to the sound of the jungle.
Suddenly Lisa heard a voice; it sounded like a call. It was obviously an older woman’s voice and by the reaction of the little girl she guessed it was her mother. She was surprised as for some reason she had believed the little girl was on her own. The voice sounded high and shrill against the background of the jungle and the little girl shot up and made to go. Remembering, she stopped and turned towards Lisa. She held out her hand and Lisa took it. The two walked through the trees and the sight that greeted Lisa as she did so took her breath away.
Behind the trees, in a large clearing, Lisa was confronted by a village. All around her she saw huts and people milling about and children playing. There were women carrying water and women making bread; there were fires dotted here and there outside some of the huts, and cockerels scratching in the dry earth. Lisa thought she had stepped into another world.
The little girl was spotted by her mother, who ran towards her. Without thinking Lisa held out her hand but the mother was suspicious; she just held onto her daughter and stared with half closed eyes. Lisa realised that this was the place the little girl had been heading to all along; she had known exactly where she was. She had run away from home. Like so many other children in the world, she had been chastised by her mother and to teach her a lesson had run away. The mother held on to her daughter as if she might float away – again, the same as any other mother in her position.
Lisa smiled at this thought. For some reason, in the middle of the jungle she had assumed people’s lives might be unimaginably different but here she was confronted by a scene of such everyday tenderness that she could barely believe it. She inched forward to the woman and the girl who, again, merely stood and stared back at her. Lisa held out her hand and the mother looked into it as the girl had done an hour or so before. Lisa smiled and laughed a little. The mother smiled too and Lisa felt that a barrier had been crossed.
The little girl was the first to break the silence. She said something to her mother; Lisa didn’t understand her language but she understood its meaning as the mother first looked at Lisa, then the girl, then smiled at Lisa, walked forward and took her hand. She led her into the village.
The first thing Lisa noticed was the amount of activity. It was a busy place, obviously getting ready for the main evening meal. Everywhere she looked there was bread being prepared or placed into large dishes ready to be cooked and the smell of roasting meat from open fires permeated the air. Every step she took she tripped over a child or a cockerel or chicken until she gave up trying to avoid them and instead kicked them out of the way with as little fuss as possible.
The mother took her to what Lisa assumed was her own hut. It was smaller than the rest and was no taller than Lisa herself. Bending down almost to the ground Lisa followed the woman in and the little girl followed them both. Once inside, Lisa saw that it was as small as it had seemed outside but had the kind of cosy closeness that she associated with tents. It was obvious that this was a place for sleeping in and very little more. There was a small fire to the left of the door and the smoke blew in from outside, filling the small space with an acrid smell when the wind changed.
The woman sat down and Lisa did the same. Suddenly there was a noise outside and an old woman walked in. She stared at Lisa, then crossed the floor of the hut and sat next to the mother of the little girl. The two talked briefly for a moment and then stared again at Lisa. Lisa smiled, trying hard not to look too scared or too perturbed. There was a shaft of light as the flap to the hut was opened again and two more women walked in. They too stared at Lisa for a while, then crossed and squeezed themselves next to the women who were already seated. As soon as they had sat down another woman walked in and so it continued until the tiny hut was filled with at least fifteen women, all squashed in together and all staring intently at Lisa, who was by now beginning to feel a little nervous despite trying her best not to.
The voices of the women built into a dull hum as they obviously began discussing what they would do with Lisa. There was clearly an argument breaking out between two of the women over what they should do. Every now and then the mother of the little girl would intervene and say something that would cause everyone else to strongly disagree. One of the women started to shout above the others and pushed her back against the wall of the hut that bowed and strained with her weight. Lisa thought that it was all getting a little too overheated for her and she wondered how she might be able to make a bolt for the door.
Suddenly the old woman raised her hand and said something that made the other women stop. They all looked at the old woman who, as far as Lisa was concerned, had said only three syllables but they must have been the most important, most profound three syllables in the world because all of the women agreed. They started nodding their heads and congratulating the old woman, who looked as pleased as punch with her idea.
The little girl extricated herself from the mêlée and crossed over to where Lisa sat. She took Lisa by the hand and squeezed it. Lisa found it disturbing rather than comforting. It was the kind of squeeze one might give a condemned man just before he was hanged; the kind of squeeze that said ‘Be brave, you know this has to be done’.
The old woman shuffled forward and started examining Lisa. She looked in her hair – perhaps for lice, Lisa thought – then in her mouth. She felt Lisa’s arms then cupped her breasts as if she were weighing fruit. Lisa felt a little aggrieved at this but she thought it was perhaps best to go along with whatever it was they were thinking, at least until she knew what that was. The old woman continued to examine her, pushing her fingers into Lisa’s sides, peering into her eyes. Eventually she slapped Lisa’s side and went back to the group, evidently pleased with what she had seen.
The mother of the little girl then got up and stepped forward. She handed Lisa a bowl that was full of water. Lisa drank thirstily. It tasted bitter but it was cold as it ran down her chin and it had been hours since her last drink. She handed the cup back and asked for more but the woman only smiled and returned to the group.
The room began to spin and there was a curious ringing in her ears, and it began to feel as though she were standing on the bow of a ship. Lisa realised that she had been drugged. Suddenly her head felt as if it was going to explode and her eyes began to itch. She squeezed her eyelids together and rubbed them. The cup fell to the ground. Lisa could barely make out the women in the hut now, it was spinning so much. She could just hear them chattering and chanting. Suddenly it all become too much to bear. Lisa stumbled out of the door, pushing her way past some of the women who were blocking it.
Out in the sunlight her head felt a little clearer but it still stung and her eyes were still blurred and useless. She veered this way and that, not knowing where she was going or where she had come from. She tripped over something and fell to the ground, where slowly she lost consciousness and dreamed about strange shape
s and weird faces that loomed at her out of the darkness.
The first thing she saw when she awoke was the fire. It was night and it sent sparks of bright orange up into the black sky. Someone was flicking water on her face; someone was trying to wake her up. Lisa moved to rub her eyes but found that her hands had been tied behind her back. She was lying on the ground in a cage made of thick branches lashed together with vines and there was a bowl of water on the floor in front of her; she craned her neck and licked a few drops from it.
She had no idea where she was; the drugs had hit her pretty hard and she was not sure if this was even the same day. Slowly she became aware of breathing next to her. It was slow and sonorous, it wheezed in and out, occasionally there would be a small insignificant cough that sounded as though given time and enough damp weather it would build into something more serious. The breathing became quicker and more excited as Lisa began to wake up and open her eyes. Without making a sound, Lisa moved her head and came face to face with a pair of the bluest eyes she had ever seen.
The Mystery of Yamashita's Map Page 17
