Nat glanced down at her watch. The others were taking forever. She looked at Jamison who had a look of serious frustration on his face. Nat wanted this to go well. She wanted to wow the investors and get them to sign on to the project. After all, Corstine was offering her a slight minuscule stake in the boardwalk if she could successfully get all four of them to invest in the project. So to say that she had fully invested herself in the boardwalk was quite the understatement.
“I’m going back for them,” she said. “Wait here.”
And with that she headed back to Josiah and Downs.
CHAPTER NINE
Ridley Bells had somehow managed to find himself isolated and momentarily separated from the group, having taken a slight detour on the boardwalk a while back while no one was looking. At 5’10” and 220 pounds, his out-of-shape frame was struggling with the humidity and literally bringing him to his knees. It weighed so heavily upon him that he felt as if he was at the bottom of the ocean with the full weight of the water itself bearing down upon him.
He had perspired right through his brown colored Patagonia shirt and paused for a moment to take off his green Augusta National golf hat, wiping his hair with the sleeve of his shirt. However, it was no use. He was absolutely drenched from head to toe. For a moment it felt good, like he might be moving towards his goal of losing weight. Surely as he now found himself bathed in sweat, he had to have lost a few pounds of water weight. Yet that feeling was quickly replaced with one of sheer discomfort.
Pausing for a moment and struggling to regain his breath, for the first time on the trip he felt the sheer isolation of the boardwalk. Ridley knew they were in the middle of nowhere, but it took him being all alone, completely isolated, to truly appreciate just how isolated they were. They may as well have been on an alien planet for all Ridley was concerned, but what was killing him was the sheer brutality of the humidity, which, by the minute, was sapping every last ounce of energy from his body.
Several unidentifiable calls from out in the canopy caught him off guard and put him on high alert.
Just birds, Ridley, he thought to himself. Just birds. Get a grip on yourself.
Life had been going well for him, and had been going well now for quite some time. When his first successful creation and launch of a television channel was sold and bought by a much larger international network, Ridley did what most entrepreneurs do who are suddenly thrust into his position and flush with cash: he went back to the drawing board and started yet another television channel. Armed with cash from his first sale, he set off with his nose to the wind, hell bent on conquering the world of media and television.
The sale of his second television channel put Ridley Bell’s net worth just slightly north of twenty million, and he went from being someone considered well-off to instant multi-millionaire status. It was also around the time of the sale of his second channel that Ridley first encountered John Corstine, and the two hit it off instantly, drinking late into the night and spilling their guts to one another of past, present, and future business endeavors.
Corstine spoke of his initial architectural blueprints for the boardwalk and instantly peaked Ridley’s interest both in the environmental protection of huge swaths of land as well as his passion for all things architectural. This divulging of secrets on Corstine’s part prompted the light bulb in Ridley’s brain to go off, and in the wee hours of the morning both of them conceived the plans for a new and innovative television network.
Ecological Television was hashed out on the back of several napkins that they were able to piece together from the bar top. For several hours they tentatively worked out the mission statement, a multitude of logistical issues, and the suggested amount of capital that they would either need to raise or pump in via their own deep pockets. For Ridley it would be channel number three, but for Corstine Ecological Television would be both scratching and satisfying an itch to plunge himself as well as part of his fortune into the media industry.
The overwhelming urge to urinate brought Ridley back to the boardwalk and away from his thoughts.
Gotta go, he thought. Can’t wait any freaking longer.
He looked behind him, realizing that he was all alone and quite isolated.
It’s now or never.
Ridley headed towards the railing of the boardwalk and unzipped himself, forgoing the idea of peeing and hanging himself out in all its glory smack dab in the center of Corstine’s boardwalk. He looked down for a brief moment, realizing that they had reached somewhat of a clearing. The foliage at this part was not as dense, and he could make out the jungle floor below. Not that he was an adrenaline junkie or a high flying x-game acrobat, but he didn’t mind the heights, actually he was downright enjoying them.
Even though so far they had seen next to nothing in terms of wildlife, and once again his mind roamed to a trip he had taken in his late twenties to Costa Rica in which he and his college buddies rode an aerial tram up into and through the rainforest. The only wildlife they saw was a lone anteater rummaging through the garbage in back of the restaurant where they dined following their day’s outing in the rainforest.
Ridley knew that nature and wildlife were often elusive things, to say the least, being seen only when they wanted to be seen, and heard only when they wanted to be heard. Already Ridley was beginning to address this as an issue of concern for Corstine.
Like having an open zoo full of paying patrons, and all the animals are nowhere to be seen.
Ridley pondered the dilemma for a moment, wondering how Corstine would make sure that patrons got to see and experience all that the rainforest had to offer in terms of wildlife. He shrugged his shoulders. Future Corstine’s problems. But then again he knew if he were to officially invest in the project, those same issues would become his problems as well.
Ridley was just about to relieve himself when something caught his attention from below, ground level to be exact, a streak of something here and there, and then nothing. His eyes wanted more, but nothing was granted. After searching for several more seconds with his eyes he gave up.
He shrugged his shoulders once more and began to pee, immediately relieved of the growing burden that had been bothering him since they embarked on their tour of the boardwalk. As he finished and began to tuck himself in, another overwhelming feeling suddenly came over him. But this time instead of his annoying bladder it was the unmistakable feeling of being watched. It was as if he felt eyes on him.
He peered out with his eyes, but saw nothing. And then he felt it from behind and immediately shot around, turning himself to face the other direction, as several distant birds called out, seemingly almost mocking him. Beads of sweat continued to pour down his face, but he just let them run, his senses on factory overload telling him that he was indeed being watched. But from where and what was watching him remained the great unknown? He spun around again and could swear that he heard something breathing, way out in the vegetation, a deep and low resonating sound. He listened closer with his ears, and there it was again, the sound of breathing mixed with a chewing and grinding sound.
That was all it took. He had heard, felt, and experienced enough. With his fly still down, Ridley Bells took off running back towards the others.
CHAPTER TEN
Downs bent over to tie his shoe lace and thought he noticed just the tiniest of vibrations coming from the boardwalk. As if checking for an oncoming train, he crouched low to the ground and listened with his ear. He wasn’t certain if he had imagined it or not, but he continued to listen, touching his ear to the surface ever so gently.
Meanwhile Josiah was still busy checking the leaves of the branches as Downs resurrected to his feet.
“What are you two doing?” the voice of Nat rang out from behind. Her panting breath evident she had been running. “I’ve been calling you over the radio for quite some time. And you shouldn’t have fallen back in the first place. With all that said, good to see the two of you.”
“We got sidetracked
by something. Plain and simple,” Downs said, realizing that his and Josiah’s headsets were both not where they should have been.
Nat looked at him for a moment, as if trying to decipher his words. She then fixed her glance on Josiah.
“We found something,” Josiah said. “You should come have a look.”
The three made their way towards the branches that Josiah had originally spotted.
“Is that…?” Nat asked, already noticing it from a dozen or so feet away.
Josiah had managed to break off a slender branch and sniffed at it. “It is. Blood, and by the looks of it rather fresh.”
Nat moved in for a closer look. “Well, this is a living, breathing rainforest, and living breathing rainforests bleed from time to time. All part of the live, breathe, bleed, and die cycle.”
Downs looked over at Josiah, who didn’t seem to be buying it; the paleontologist shook his head and sniffed the blood once more from the branch, before finally discarding it and tossing it over the side. Josiah moved away from the two, peeking out and over the railing to see if he could see any more of the trail of blood.
“Well,” Nat said, “We really should get back to the others. Like I said earlier and I’ll say again, our forty-eight hours up here is ticking.”
Noise could be heard once again as Downs’ ears registered the familiar yet cocky voice of William Jamison, with Frederick and Max close behind. “This better be worth it. We have a forty-eight hour window, and time is money to everyone on this boardwalk in the sky, especially to me.”
None of the group replied as Jamison crept up from behind and peered in at what the three of them were concentrating their efforts on.
“This is what all the fuss is about,” Jamison said.
Downs looked at Jamison, and over his shoulder he could see Frederick coming as well. The two of them looked as if they had just run a marathon, but they had arrived back nonetheless.
“Where’s Ridley?” Downs asked Jamison.
Jamison chuckled. “His out-a-shape ass was far too heavy even for someone in superior shape such as I to carry him. The poor mofo took one of those damn detours that we passed by. I believe he took the first, or it might have been the second detour. Hell, he took a detour and that’s all I know.”
Nat silently cursed herself for being so stupid as to not notice he was gone in the first place. “You saw him wander off and you said nothing?”
Jamison shrugged his shoulders and flashed her one of his trademark cocky ass innocent smiles, all smile mixed with some teeth. “He took that detour a ways back, the part where the boardwalk momentarily split in two. Figured he was doing some due diligence so I just let him be.”
Nat let out a sigh. Her disappointment in herself was evident, but realized that getting into a full fledged argument with Jamison was a useless effort, and an absolutely futile one at that. As the tour’s official guide, she was breaking John Corstine’s first rule on this weekend excursion, which was to never leave anyone alone. Her mind instantly began running rabid with worst case scenarios, and she knew instantly that she was at fault, and they needed to get back to him immediately.
Downs felt Nat’s hand on the back of his shoulder as she began to try and pull them away from the dried blood. “We must be going.”
“Cool by me,” Jamison said. “Never been into the dried blood thing anyway. You know how it is.”
Josiah immediately pulled back from the vegetation, made eye contact with Jamison, and continued on passed the towering big man, the tension between the two already seeming to be as thick as the humidity itself. With each encounter Jamison appeared to be egging on the paleontologist, and oddly enough there seemed to be a bit of racial tension mixed in with it as well.
The group left the bloody vegetation behind and began where Jamison said Ridley had rather quietly and unassumingly split off from the tour. Downs had decided to give Josiah some space, knowing full well that the former NBA player was wearing on his last paleontological nerve, so he decided it best to let his friend air out some steam at the back of the group.
Downs pulled into the middle of the line, with Nat and Max once again up towards the front. This time, with every hundred yards or so that passed, Nat Kingsworth would look back to ensure that her tour, and Corstine’s potential investors, were all accounted for. She wanted to give proper space while still maintaining a sense of order. It was a delicate balance to say the least.
About a quarter of a mile or so after spotting the blood on the hanging vegetation, the group happened upon a still-moving Ridley Bells, but the out-of-shape television entrepreneur looked as though his goose had been cooked.
“Ridley,” Nat shouted. “Thank God you’re okay. We were worried. Please don’t ever do anything like that again.”
“Oh, I’m alive,” Ridley joked, sucking on the water straw that was hooked up to his backpack, and pausing to catch his breath. “Just got sidetracked on a little detour. One thing led to another and before I knew it, I was out on my own.”
“Well, you’re not the only one,” Nat said, looking back in the direction of Josiah and Downs. “Let’s get going. We need to retrace our steps quickly. Time to continue the tour.”
“Oh and one more thing, Ridley,” Nat said jokingly while covering her mouth. “Your fly is down.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The group was officially back in unison, single file as Downs made his way behind Josiah and occupied his usual position at the end, with Max just a little bit up ahead of Josiah. The three men had put a small distance in between them and Jamison, Frederick, and Ridley, essentially breaking the rainforest tour up into two small groupings. This time, however, Nat, the leader in the front, was keeping a tighter watch on the group. Already she was feeling the pressure mounting. She saw it as a tight balance whereas she wanted to give the investors space to spread out and talk amongst themselves. Yet she still needed to point out little tidbits of information here and there, and how much space was too much? She certainly didn’t want another Ridley Bells’ incident making its way back to Corstine or his personal assistant Collin.
Nat sighed quietly to herself, not fully knowing the answer to the very questions swirling and circulating in her head.
“You all need to hurry up and see this,” Max pinged in over the radio.
Quickly the group made their way to where Max was standing and looking out into the canopy.
“What’s up?” Downs asked patting Max on the back playfully.
“Interesting grouping of birds out yonder,” he said. “Thought everyone might be interested.”
Max began to explain just exactly what they were looking at. “Um before we begin with the wildlife, if you all look out in that direction, you can see a tree called a dipterocarp. Dipterocarps top off at about 120 feet and this one looks like it has a combination of vines, lianas, and strangler figs growing up it. Make a ninety degree turn with your eyes and you can see a tualang tree, and these guys can grow to a staggering height of 280 feet, making it the third tallest trees species in the world. Lucky for the rainforest it is almost never cut down as a result of its hard wood and massive buttresses down on the forest floor. If you folks also take a look out there, you can clearly see a small gathering of punai, whose more common name is the ‘green wood pigeon.’”
The bird that Max was pointing out had green feathers, and a forest green breast to match. Its tail was spotted red, blue, and black. The head itself was a light purple in coloration.
“These birds,” Max continued, “are close relatives of the pigeon.”
“Rats with wings in the jungle,” Frederick joked. “If there was a parking structure up here, they most likely would be in it.”
“Yeah and if there was a parking structure up on this here boardwalk, they’d be shittin’ on your car,” Jamison fired back with a smile.
Nat shook her head ever so slightly. She knew the investor type. After all, her ex-boyfriend had been an investment banker. But more importantly
she also knew that if there was a parking structure way out here in the jungle, they’d be hell bent on monetizing it to the fullest.
Jamison looked back to Josiah who was no more than a few feet from the ex-athlete. “Relax there, big fella. I heard these birds stay clear of brotha’s cars. Then again on second thought in your case.”
Josiah had enough and moved away from the group, as Jamison’s comments had reached a very personal level once again. Downs glared over at Jamison and decided it was about time to speak up and say something. “Hey man, what’s your problem?”
Jamison seemed startled by the harshness of Downs’ tone, but the big man said nothing as Downs made his way past him and headed out towards Josiah. Josiah was moving quickly, but Downs was moving quicker and immediately caught up to him.
“Forget about Jamison,” Downs said as he finally caught up to Josiah. “The guy is out of his mind, and he’s obviously trying to get you all riled up. Probably been doing it his entire life to those around him. He was a bully in the NBA, and most likely a bully in his schooling days. And now he’s just some shit-talking multi-millionaire in his retired days.”
Josiah shook his head and looked off into the distance. “How can I when that guy’s bustin’ my chops every chance he gets.”
Downs nodded. “I know. The guy is a jackass who has a bigger ego than Corstine’s boardwalk spans.”
The look of frustration on Josiah’s face turned into a grin as he smiled at the comment. “Damn right,” he said. “Never in all my life have I met such an egotistical you know what.”
Downs grabbed Josiah by the shoulders. “Look, we all know that Jamison is a real piece of art, one of those pieces of crap that is highly valued by society, but I need you to stay with me mentally. And just know that I greatly appreciate you being here.”
“I know,” Josiah said. “Been way too long since we’ve seen each other man.
“Now, do me a favor. Don’t pay any attention to a word that jackass says from here on out,” Downs said.
Prehistoric: (A Prehistoric Thriller) (Bick Downs Book 1) Page 4
