by Bear Grylls
As the path approached the edge, Beck could just make out the sheer rock face on the opposite side of the gorge. Where the remains of the path reached the cliff, a series of thick vines hung down from the branches of the trees to where a bridge had been suspended across the canyon. It sagged alarmingly over the abyss. Moving carefully closer, they stared down. Far below them, the waterfall pounded onto the rocks, sending jets of spray high into the air.
'Mama Kojek's people must have built this,' shouted Beck above the roar of the torrent. 'But it can't have been used for years.'
He was interrupted by a raucous bellow and a hideous screeching in the trees above them. Christina grimaced and put her hands over her ears. Beck did a double-take. A row of red bell pulls seemed to be dangling from the branches of the trees above them. The bellow came again. Then the branches began to shake violently and suddenly dozens of eyes were staring down at them.
'It's a troop of red howler monkeys,' he shouted. 'Best to get over the river as soon as we can. They could be dangerous if they start hurling branches down at us. Those tails of theirs are like having a third arm. And the other two could knock out the world heavyweight champ. In the first round.'
He turned away and looked down into the canyon. 'There's no way that bridge is strong enough to take all of us at once. We'll have to cross one at a time.'
Marco looked up to see a huge gaping mouth and a pair of flaring nostrils above him as another ear-splitting shriek rose above the roar of the river. The creature was covered in a thick mat of flame-red hair and crouched menacingly in the branches above.
The light was beginning to fade now and there was no time to lose. 'The moment I'm safe on the other side, follow me,' Beck shouted back at the twins. 'But don't start until I'm well clear.'
He started to edge out over the abyss. The bridge was slippery and treacherous and his hands clung tightly to the vines on either side as he made his way slowly forward. Through the lattice of vines beneath his feet, he could see the water thundering onto the rocks far below.
By the time he had reached the lowest point of the bridge and begun hauling himself back up again towards the cliff face on the far side, the bridge was swaying alarmingly. But the edge of the cliff was now almost within reach.
Then, without warning, the largest of the howler monkeys swung himself out by his tail from the trees above where the twins were crouching. For a moment he seemed to hang in mid-air above the gorge before he threw out a lanky arm and grabbed the side of the bridge behind Beck.
Clinging to the vines, he began leaping up and down in a frenzy, screeching and barking. He was followed by another monkey, and then another, until the whole troop were swinging from the bridge. As it shook violently beneath him, Beck clung grimly to the sides to stop himself being catapulted into the chasm below. Behind him, he could hear the twins screaming in vain at the howler monkeys.
But it was already too late.
The bridge was collapsing under his feet.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Beck was plunging into the abyss. Adrenalin surged through his veins as the blurred walls of the canyon rushed up beside him and he hurtled towards the rocks below. Then, as the bridge swung down beneath him, he made one last, desperate lunge.
The jolt punched the air clean out of his lungs. His arm had hooked itself around the final step of the bridge, which was still attached to the cliff edge, and his body shuddered to a halt. Now just one thin length of vine was all that lay between him and certain death on the rocks below.
Beck clung on for dear life. The howler monkeys were clambering up the remains of the bridge above him, screeching and barking as they dragged themselves onto the edge of the cliff. Beck scrabbled desperately for a foothold on the canyon wall as the remains of the bridge swung back and forth above the abyss and the spray thundered around him.
But his head was clearing now. Somewhere, deep inside him, he could hear his father's voice calling him from far off. That same calm voice that had given him courage when he first learned to climb as a boy. He closed his eyes as his mind shut out the thunder of the water crashing on the rocks beneath. 'For you, Dad,' Beck whispered. 'For you, I promise I will survive.'
Slowly he began the long strength-sapping task of pulling himself upwards, hand over hand. All other thoughts were gone now. Survival was all that mattered. The next vine, the next handhold, step by painful step he dragged himself upwards. At last the cliff edge was getting nearer and the overhanging undergrowth was nearly within reach. But Beck's last remaining ounce of strength was draining out of his exhausted body. The screaming of the howler monkeys above him had reached fever pitch. How puny, they mocked, were the efforts of this hairless ape clinging so desperately to life.
Then, with one final superhuman effort, Beck pulled himself up over the overhang and onto the top of the cliff. Lungs heaving, he crawled into the safety of the undergrowth. The roar of the water was muffled now and his heart was thumping like an express train. On the far side of the canyon, through the billowing spray, he could just make out the crouched figures of the twins. Marco was shouting something, but his voice was swallowed up by the barrage of noise.
Then, as if someone else were guiding him, Beck felt his hand moving to his chest. Hands shaking, he pulled the amulet of the toad from under his shirt and held it up to where the last rays of the sun were breaking through the spray. Its eyes glinted across the canyon, flashing at the twins.
He prayed that the twins had understood. There was no option but for him to go on. It was up to him alone now. Somehow he would reach the Lost City and find Uncle Al and Mayor Rafael. And somehow he would outwit the gang and release them. If he could survive this, he could survive anything. Marco and Christina would have to use all the knowledge he had taught them and wait to be rescued. Somehow, they too would survive.
Beck tucked the amulet under his shirt again and took a last fleeting look back across the canyon. The twins were waving back at him now. Marco had a broad smile on his face and was pumping both hands above his head with fists clenched, as if urging an exhausted marathon runner across the line. Christina had put her fingers to her lips and was blowing him a kiss across the gorge.
After one more glance back, Beck dragged himself away from the cliff edge. Summoning all his willpower, he hacked a trail through the dense foliage. He was thankful that he'd been carrying the machete – though he worried how the twins would manage without it. He could still just make out the route of the Kogi path where it led away from the bridge into the jungle. In the trees above him, the bellows of the howler monkeys grew ever louder as the roar of the waterfall dwindled behind him. By now, the last remaining daylight was beginning to fade and the tropical night was closing in once more.
His mind began to wander as he dragged his exhausted body onwards. Just a few short weeks ago he had been the captain of his victorious school rugby team, looking forward to an exotic trip with Uncle Al. Back home, spring would be in the air and his friends preparing for the cricket season. The thought tugged at his heartstrings. He could smell the aroma of linseed oil and hear the sound of cricket spikes on the steps of the pavilion as he made his way out to bat. The crowd were shouting his name and—
His reverie was rudely interrupted. The gruff voice of his sergeant major on cadet training in the Highlands of Scotland was booming inside his head. 'Any fool can be uncomfortable, Granger,' it bellowed. 'Easiest thing in the world. Just lie down in a ditch and feel sorry for yourself. Forget your shelter. No water, no fire, no food. Just close your eyes. And you'll never wake up again . . .'
Suddenly Beck was wide awake. The sergeant major's voice had dissolved into the bark of the howler monkeys in the trees above him. Their howls were becoming ever more threatening and they bared their teeth, as if they blamed him for having ended up stranded on the wrong side of the canyon.
But Beck's head was clearing again now. He knew only too well the tricks the mind could play in the final stages of exhaustion. If he le
t himself sleep now, the warm blanket of death would soon wash over him. He would be back home again in whatever happy scene his mind could conjure. Everyone would be smiling. The howler monkeys and the jaguar would be gone, dogs nuzzling his face, cats purring, the smell of cooking in the air and the scent of new-mown grass drifting through the window . . .
Beck groaned. Deep inside he knew that unless he could shake himself free of his stupor now, he was done for. He had no choice but to make camp exactly where he was. He needed to get warm fast if he were to survive the night. He felt for the familiar shape of the fire steel on the lace around his neck and quickly went to work.
Night had fallen by the time the fire was at last ablaze. Frightened by the flames, the howler moneys had melted away and the familiar calls of the jungle had returned. For the first time since the bridge collapsed, Beck had stopped shivering. By the light of the flames, he cut himself another stick with the machete and quickly cleared the debris from the jungle floor. With his last remaining strength, he built a simple sleeping platform of bare branches laid together to keep himself clear of the stinging, biting creatures on the ground beneath. It was hardly the comfort the sergeant major had in mind, but it would have to do.
As the flames burned lower, Beck at last allowed himself to sink into sleep. His dreams were troubled from the start. Uncle Al appeared, riding a golden toad whose croak sounded like the hideous bark of the howler monkeys. They were being chased by the sleek, dark shape of a huge cat skulking in the shadows, its eyes shining bright as diamonds. Beck felt the eyes boring into him, but when he raised his eyes to meet them, he was back in the square in Cartagena once more. The face of Mama Kojek hung over him.
He woke with a start. There was a commotion above his head and the sound of sticks smashing into the ground beside him. In the watery gloom of morning his tormentors had returned and he could see the faces of the howler monkeys peering down at him from the trees. Beck cursed. Barking and howling too, he hurled whatever missiles he could find back up at them. Within minutes he was exhausted.
But in the cold light of morning, Beck's mind was clearer. During the night he had woken several times to hear the snarl of the jaguar stalking in the jungle somewhere nearby. Each time, the heart-numbing growl came from a different direction. And each time, it seemed to come closer. Now he lay still. His mind was working fast. This was no time for mistakes or wrong decisions. If the howler monkeys followed him for much longer, they would surely attract the attention of the jaguar.
There was only one chance. Playing dead was not a survival strategy Beck would normally use. Especially with a bumptious group of young howler monkeys. Once, in the African bush, he had been thrown from a horse when his party disturbed a lion sleeping in the undergrowth. Playing dead that day had saved his life. When he felt the lion's hot breath on his neck, his heart almost stopped beating. Finally it had stalked off.
Beck did the same now. Hoping against hope that the jaguar had feasted well during the night and was now sleeping off his meal, he lay still as the monkeys screeched and cried above him. Surely they would grow tired and leave this hairless ape alone. During the night Mama Kojek had been talking to him once more. Now he clutched at Gonzalo's amulet, the eyes of the Indian burning inside his head.
Finally, just as Beck was giving up hope that the monkeys would ever leave, their howls began to fade. The shaking and squealing in the branches above his head had stopped and the hail of missiles had dwindled to a trickle. As their calls slowly receded into the distance, Beck let out a long, low sigh of relief.
Then, hardly knowing what he was doing, he felt his fingers groping for the amulet from under his shirt. And for the first time since that night in the hut with the Kogi Mamas, he put the toad to his lips.
And blew.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Beck guessed it was around midday. After leaving his camp he had quickly found the Kogi path and followed it through the jungle once more. The howler monkeys were nowhere to be seen and the undergrowth had become less dense. Above him the trees were getting taller, and as the day wore on, he caught glimpses of blue through the clouds high above him. The carved stones of the path were growing easier to make out under the lichen and moss.
By now, Beck's instinct for survival was on auto-pilot. In front of him he moved his stick from side to side like a zombie with a metal detector. As long as the Kogi path lay under his feet, he knew that sooner or later he would find the Lost City. But his mind was starting to wander once more.
His thoughts returned to the twins. Where were they now? Had they managed to make a camp? He knew Marco still had the embers in the fire sleeve. With any luck, they would have been able to make a fire to keep themselves warm during the night. He thought of Christina and the look in her eyes when she had blown that kiss across the river. He wondered whether—
He stopped suddenly. His stick had hit something hard on the floor of the jungle. Immediately all thoughts of the twins were gone. The path seemed to have suddenly run into a brick wall. For a moment he stood rooted to the spot, unable to believe what his senses were telling him. Then he remembered: the words and numbers that had made no sense the day they discovered Gonzalo's map at the hacienda. Beck spread out the map in front of him. Next to the scrawled figure of a toad were the words Escalera con mil pasos. A staircase with a thousand steps.
Beck slowly raised his eyes and looked up. Ahead, disappearing into the distance, was a stone staircase that seemed to be leading up the side of a huge mountain into the clouds. It was covered in a carpet of green – in places the roots of trees wrapped around the steps like gnarled fingers.
Beck took a deep breath and began to climb.
1, 2, 3 . . .
He felt as if he were climbing the steps of a great cathedral. In the eerie light of the forest, the atmosphere was overpowering. Huge vines, bigger than any Beck had yet seen, hung down around him. Above, the branches of giant trees arched over the ceremonial steps like the swords of a guard of honour.
148, 149, 150 . . .
As he climbed higher, peering into the gloom on either side of the giant staircase, he could make out the remains of ancient terraces and stone fireplaces where the houses of the ancient Kogis had once stood.
373, 374, 375 . . .
Pausing for a moment to rest, Beck wiped the sweat from his brow. Suddenly the sun burst through the trees high above and the shadow of a giant cat towered over him. He cowered helplessly, waiting for the giant talons to rip into his flesh. But it was frozen in mid-pounce, its shadow etched on the steps in front of him. Slowly Beck raised his head. Choked by the vegetation, the jaguar had been turned into stone. As the shock gradually drained from his body, Beck could make out statues in the undergrowth all around him. The wings of a giant condor. The fangs of a snake. The tail of a monkey. The city felt as if it had been frozen in time; as if some demon of the mountains had turned all the creatures of the jungle to stone.
488, 489, 500 . . .
Beck stopped. And listened. He was halfway to the top now, and doubting voices inside his head were crowding in on him like the dark shadows of the jungle itself. Now that he had come so far, would all his efforts be in vain? What would he do if he came face to face with the kidnappers? How would he rescue Uncle Al and Mayor Rafael? He put his right hand across his body and felt for the handle of the machete. From now on, he would need to be as quiet as the grave.
748, 749, 750 . . .
Beck was climbing slowly now, crouching down among the statues in the shadows beside the staircase. His eyes flicked nervously from side to side, scanning the jungle. High above him he could see the outlines of curving stone walls buried in the undergrowth. Centuries ago, ancient Kogi craftsmen must have built these ceremonial platforms. But since the city had been deserted, huge trees had smothered them with their roots like the tentacles of a giant squid.
973, 974, 975 . . .
The steps were narrowing now and the ground was beginning to level out. Beck
peered into a narrow passage between two huge walls that towered above him. Ahead, a stone archway linked two ceremonial platforms standing on either side of the staircase. Thick tangles of foliage hung down from the crumbling stone arch like a curtain.
988, 989, 990 . . .
A sudden screech made Beck jump out of his skin. A blur of coloured feathers swooped from the branches of an overhanging tree. It was Ringo. The parakeet was soon flapping his wings and squawking at Beck for all he was worth from his perch on top of the archway.
Beck froze. The back of his neck felt cold and goose pimples ran down his spine. Then he heard a sound like a boot scraping against stone and the faint pop of a twig snapping. It was followed by another outburst from Ringo. Beck tightened his grip on the handle of his machete and continued up towards the archway.
997, 998, 999 . . .
Beck stopped again and listened. He could feel his heart thumping in his chest and blood pounding at his temples. He put his foot on the final step of the staircase. Slowly he raised the machete towards the curtain of vines that hung from the arch and gently parted them with the tip of the blade.
There, under the archway, in a stone chair like the throne of a medieval king, sat a hooded figure shrouded in darkness. Two glittering eyes stared out at Beck. His heart leaped. He was safe at last. Mama Kojek had heard the call of the amulet and had been following them all along. The twins had been rescued. Uncle Al and the mayor were free. The golden toad would soon be returned to its rightful home.
1,000 . . .
As Beck moved forward under the arch to greet Mama Kojek, two burly figures leaped out of the shadows beside him and grabbed him, pinning his arms roughly behind his back.
