by Lin Oliver
There’s only so long you can listen to chimes, and eventually, I fell asleep and dreamed I was in another world filled with jagged bolts of green lightning. A dark shadowy figure with a knobby cane was stooped over me, trying to get me to walk along the lightning bolts. In my dream, I felt someone coming for me from the waking world. And before I felt his hand touch my shoulder, I opened my eyes.
“No,” I said.
“Yes,” Dmitri whispered, his hand on my shoulder, kneeling on the jungle floor right next to me. “Time to wake up, Leo. You too, Hollis. The others are waiting.”
It was still dark out and I was wet from the heavy mist in the air. The fire had gone out hours before. I rolled across the damp ground and touched Hollis’s shoulder.
“You ready?” I whispered to him. His eyes were closed, but I knew he was awake.
“I’m not going, Leo. No way.”
Quietly, I rose, brushed myself off, and scratched at about forty-three new mosquito bites. I looked across the campsite to Diana and Dr. Reed, still fast asleep.
“Leo, Hollis must get up,” Dmitri said.
“I can hear you, Dmitri,” he said. “And I’m not going. I just want to go home.”
“Ojciec,” Dmitri whispered sharply. “Come carry Hollis.”
Klevko came trotting over.
“Fine, I’ll get up,” Hollis snapped. “No one carries me.”
“Keep it down, chief,” I whispered.
“I’ll talk as loud as I want.”
“Come boys,” Klevko said.
“I know, I know … the boss waits,” I said.
“All of you guys have lost your minds,” Hollis said. “Dmitri, you’re not my friend anymore. And you, Leo, you’re the biggest liar I know. You made it seem like we were going on a fun trip with yachts and stuff. Why’d you bring me all the way down here? I just want to go home.”
“I know, Hollis. We’ll be home in no time. I know you’re pissed at me, but just trust me, everything I’ve done, I’ve done for you.”
“No you didn’t. You did this all for yourself. I’m just your kid brother you dragged along.”
“You boys can argue on the way,” Klevko said. “We have five-hour hike. Come, Crane waits.”
“Five hours?” Hollis sighed.
“Come on, chief. This is what it’s like in the field. Make the best of it.”
We tiptoed across the campsite toward a clearing a few hundred yards inland where Crane and the rest of our shadowy crew would be waiting. We passed within a hundred feet of Diana and Dr. Reed. Their fire was still going.
“Wait,” Hollis said. “I have to say good-bye to them.”
“No time, buddy,” I said, grabbing his arm, just as Klevko did the same. “I have their e-mails, and we can all meet up when they get back from Borneo.”
“In six months?” Hollis said. “We’re just going to sneak off like a bunch of creeps?”
“That’s the plan,” I said.
Klevko took a step in front of him, blocking the fire light with his massive body.
“Fine,” Hollis said. “But I’m not talking to you, and don’t try to talk to me, either.”
In silence, we trekked to the clearing and out of the jungle canopy, where Crane, Mr. Singh, Dr. Haga, and two of the remaining porters were waiting in the starlight. Behind them were the charcoal outlines of a great mountain ridge, the same one my dad had mentioned in the journal. I knew that if Kavi and Cyril were correct, beyond it was the village of Byong Ku. I turned back toward our campsite, just to sneak one last peek at Diana, but I couldn’t even see their fire through the trees.
“Morning, gents,” Crane said. “I feel light as a feather now that we’re free of the deadweight.” He fished into one of the pockets of his khaki adventure suit and pulled out two candy bars, handing one to each of us. “Hollis, I’m sorry about my outburst yesterday. I shouldn’t have destroyed your little instrument. That was uncalled for. When we get back, and if you play along, I plan to book some time for you in a professional recording studio, so you can nurture your considerable gifts.”
Hollis took the candy bar and dug into it.
“Thanks, Crane,” I said. “Hollis isn’t talking, but I’m sure he —”
“I’m talking,” he said. “Just not to you.”
“Ah, the silent treatment,” Crane said. “Just like Kirk and me. Now, silent or not, we must begin. Mr. Singh is not physically a hundred percent, so we must get under way if we hope to arrive in the village before it’s too late.”
“I apologize for my condition,” Mr. Singh said. “I should stay behind.”
“I’ll hear no more of it, Mr. Singh. If need be, Klevko will be happy to carry you.”
On cue, Klevko puffed out his chest and cracked his neck.
We set off for the dark mountain looming in the distance, bringing only what we’d need for a day and a night. The two porters sprinted out ahead of us. They were taking the lead, going up the path to find the next orange flag marker left by Kavi and Cyril. The land ahead of us was completely barren. My dad had described how he’d hiked over a steep mountain range with steam or smoke rising off it, and into a valley where the village was located.
We hiked single file at a very easy pace. Within twenty minutes, we started walking uphill, and that was when Crane sat down on a rock and began complaining that his new boots were defective.
“These worthless boots. Twenty minutes of hiking and I have a blister the size of a fist. It’s eating my poor foot alive.”
I paused and looked back. Mr. Singh was already trailing far behind, taking slow halting steps and laboring with his cane. From my vantage point, I could see the river and the immense walls of jungle surrounding it. I wondered how this mountain had become so desolate. By our old campsite, I could just make out a faint wisp of smoke rising through the jungle canopy. In front of us, steam was already rising from the brown rocks, obscuring the top of the mountain ridge.
We continued for over an hour, the porters sprinting ahead to the next flag and waiting impatiently while our party followed behind slowly. Crane was a very poor hiker and a pathetic outdoorsman. Hollis and I had no trouble keeping up.
The sun rose behind us as we marched single file up the hill toward the bleak mountain ridge in the clouds. We had spent days surrounded by nothing but green stuff, and I didn’t like the look of the rocky mountain ahead. It seemed out of place, and maybe a little haunted.
Despite our ridiculously slow pace and frequent water stops, the trek gradually grew more taxing. The sun had burned away all the clouds in the sky, and without any trees, the heat was stifling. The trail grew much steeper, too. I was behind Dmitri, and with each step he took, he kicked up dozens of loose rocks and mud clods that tumbled downhill in thick yellow dust. As hot as it was, I had no choice but to cover my face with a bandana, which I sweated through in five minutes.
“Klevko,” Crane said, sitting down on a rock and dabbing his face with his handkerchief. “Run downhill and fetch Mr. Singh. I don’t want anyone following us.”
“You got it, boss,” Klevko said. He ripped off his elastic shirt, his hairy chest gleaming in the morning sun, and sprinted downhill in a cloud of dust. From our vantage point, Mr. Singh, with his cane and stooped posture, resembled some sort of ancient shepherd.
“Almost to the top, boys,” Crane said to us. “After that, it’s all downhill. You must be excited, Leo, to be so close to the mask that will enable your fact-finding mission to —”
“I’m really excited, Crane,” I said, cutting him off. I put my finger to my mouth out of Hollis’s line of sight. “I can’t wait.”
“Oh, I see, Leo,” Crane said, picking up on my signal. “And you, Hollis, still silent as a stone?”
“To Leo, yeah.”
“Mmm-hmm. Has Leo told you anything about the object we seek? Has he mentioned it might be worth millions?”
“Leo hasn’t told me anything. Just that you want some mask. But I just want to go hom
e.”
“As do I, little Hollis. Here’s a trick my mother taught me. When you find yourself in dreadful surroundings, such as this mountain — such as all of Borneo, for that matter — just disconnect your senses, and all will be well. It takes discipline and willpower, but anyone who can play two instruments at the same time surely has those qualities in spades.”
Klevko came sprinting toward us, holding Mr. Singh in his arms like a puppy. It was quite a sight. Klevko, shirtless, hairy chest dripping sweat, huffing and puffing up the hill in a cloud of dust, carrying a tall, skinny man dressed in a fine white suit with Singh’s legs and cane bouncing with each bumpy step.
It was a difficult climb. At times, we had to make our way up the loose brown rocks on all fours. And the rocks were scalding to the touch. But by high noon, we’d made it to the top and paused briefly to survey the terrain on the other side. It was a narrow valley, maybe five miles across to where more brown mountain ridges rose, barricading the far edge. The valley was barren and lifeless, colored mostly brown and yellow. Against such empty, colorless land, and from our vantage point, the next orange flag was easy to spot, as was the next one and the one after that. Our path ran downhill, swerving toward the right, eventually reaching a small pocket of green trees.
“And now, everyone, follow me down,” Crane said, “as we go to seek our fortune.”
With much fanfare, he lifted one foot regally, and with great aplomb, put it down on the brown sloping rocks. His boot sunk into the ground and slid a few inches before he caught himself. Hollis couldn’t stop himself from chuckling. Embarrassed, Crane tried again, taking an even more exaggerated step down the mountain. But this time his foot completely slid out from under him, and he skidded downhill, dust rising, doing a very painful-looking version of the splits. He flailed his arms wildly but that didn’t help. In a flurry of desperate grunts, he fell flat on his stomach and slid down the hill feetfirst, his white hands in front of him trying to grasp on to anything solid.
Our whole party stared dumbly at him, too amused and stupefied to do anything.
“Help, you fools!” he croaked.
“I’m coming, boss,” Klevko called, and ran downhill at full speed, until he also tumbled and followed Crane down in a cloud of dust, hollering, “Olga!” When the dust settled, Klevko was sitting almost directly on Crane’s chest. The porters looked at each other and shrugged.
“And now, everyone, follow me,” I said, imitating Crane’s pompous first step down the ridge. Hollis cracked up. And at his laughter, I intentionally flailed my arms, did the splits, then threw myself down the hill, screaming, “Help me, Mama, help me, Mama.”
“Wait up,” I heard Hollis scream, as he flung himself down after me, followed shortly by Dmitri.
Hollis, Dmitri, and I made it down the mountain in no time. We mostly tumbled down, rolling in the loose rocks, or running and skidding, and sometimes tackling one another. When we reached level ground, we were covered in yellow dust, wheezing, and laughing.
“No girls is much better,” Dmitri said. “You can play much more fun games without them. When the girls are around, Leo just wants to make kissy faces.”
“Knock it off, Dmitri,” I said, and pushed him.
“Yeah, is Diana your new girlfriend, bro?” Hollis asked.
“No,” I said, turning red. Not after what I did to her, I thought. I had been a real jerk. Oh well, I thought, keep your eyes on the prize, Leo.
But before we could start for the prize, we had to wait for the laggers, who barely seemed to be moving. Every few minutes, Crane would yell at someone, either to ask for help or to berate them, and his voice would echo down the mountain, hollow and disembodied. While Dmitri and Hollis played a rock-throwing game, I just watched them with my hands on my hips, tapping my foot.
I was getting nervous. I wanted to do what I needed to do, see my powers work when they were supposed to, and get the heck out of Borneo. I felt like I was waiting to take a final exam and I hadn’t studied for the test.
When they finally made it downhill, Mr. Singh seemed to be in considerable pain. After a very quick standing lunch, we got back to hiking, single file and in silence. I glanced back at the mountain, covered in steam or possibly smoke. It towered over us and was so foreboding it almost seemed volcanic.
Within forty-five minutes, we spotted two small figures approaching us.
“Are those the villagers?” Hollis asked, looking back at Crane nervously.
“Ah, my scout team,” Crane said. “Wonderful, wonderful. I see no reason to meet them halfway. Let’s wait for them here. Klevko, my chair.”
Klevko snapped his fingers at one of the porters, who produced a canvas bag from the load he carried on his back. Klevko unzipped it, pulled out a little collapsible stool, and set it out for Crane.
“Any more chairs in there?” Hollis asked.
“Just the one, Hollis,” Crane said.
With a satisfied grin, he sat down, cracked open a fresh water bottle, and took a long sip. Beside him, Mr. Singh leaned heavily on his cane.
Although Kavi and Cyril were out of breath as they scurried up the steep hill to meet us, Crane did allow them a few minutes to rest while they relayed the story of their contact with the villagers of Byong Ku. Dr. Haga translated.
In order to find the village, they had traveled to many of the surrounding villages, asking questions and doing detective work, which had also produced a good deal of folklore about the village. Dr. Haga explained that Byong Ku was spoken of only in whispers among the villages in the area. It was said to be cursed, filled with fierce warriors. Those who dared to enter their sacred valley were swiftly killed. It was thought that the villagers still practiced head-hunting.
After hearing these tales, Kavi and Cyril had approached Byong Ku quite gingerly, playing a daylong game of cat and mouse. First, they stood in a clearing in the valley, making themselves highly visible to the villagers, and then placed three metal pots and pans in the spot, before leaving and hiding out. When they returned to the clearing an hour later, the pots and pans had been taken, and in return, the villagers had left a parcel of dried rice and a spear tip. That was the go-ahead for the scouts to approach the village. They were brought to the chief, where they offered him more western goods: candy bars, jugs, and beef jerky. Kavi had grown up in the neighboring village of Tryong Loa, so he shared some words with the villagers and, using those words and many signs and gestures, he thought he had gotten permission for Crane and us to enter the village. Upon further questioning by Dr. Haga, it appeared that he wasn’t entirely certain that he and the chief had actually come to that understanding at all.
“That’s good enough for me,” Crane said. “Let’s get going. At the very least, we’ll get out of this midday sun.”
“Mr. Rathbone,” Dr. Haga said meekly. “I hate to bring up such a delicate matter, but since Kavi and Cyril went beyond their call of duty and helped you to locate the village, they feel they deserve a bonus.”
“Tell them they’ll get a substantial bonus, Dr. Haga, once my stolen luggage is recovered,” Crane said, putting on his sun hat and heading toward the village.
“Dr. Haga,” Hollis said, “do you think the villagers are watching us, right now?”
“Of course,” he said, glaring at Crane. I thought Dr. Haga deserved a substantial bonus as well.
“Oh,” Hollis said, furrowing his brow. “I think I’m going to stay here, if that’s okay.”
“Nonsense, Hollis,” Crane said. “I’ve been in this position countless times. There’s nothing to fear from a bunch of tribal hocus-pocus, not after I show them real magic.”
“I will also be staying here,” Mr. Singh said, sitting down stiffly on a boulder and stretching out his gimpy leg. “I will watch the boy. Would you like to examine my cane, Hollis? It does many surprising things.”
“You bet,” Hollis said.
“Watch yourself, chief,” I whispered to Hollis. “Mr. Singh is very crafty.”
>
The rest of our party walked for another hour toward the patch of green in the distance. As we approached, the scouts had us walk in zigzags. This was a sign of peace to the villagers, to show them that we weren’t trying to hide anyone or obscure our numbers, so they wouldn’t mistake us for a war party. I couldn’t escape the feeling that we were being watched.
Eventually, the barren brown earth gave way to grasslands, and in the distance I saw a small, stagnant-looking river. Across the river, there were more trees and a thicker jungle. That’s when I saw the first signs of human construction. Spanning the narrow river was a thin suspension bridge, made entirely of bamboo. It was a complicated contraption, with hundreds of bamboo poles woven in an elaborate lattice. Even the walkway was bamboo, just two bamboo poles pressed together, its width no more than six inches.
The sight of it got my blood pumping. At the entrance to the bridge, there were two poles, and about twenty-five skulls were suspended across them, stitched with twine and yellowed palm leaves. I was glad Hollis hadn’t come to see that. I jumped ahead of the rest of the group to cross the bridge first, but Dr. Haga stopped me.
“Let the porters go first, Leo,” he said. “You are unfamiliar to the villagers.”
“Okay, but do you think we should make some noise or rustle some branches, so we don’t catch them off guard?”
“No need, Leo. They are well aware of us.”
I didn’t see or hear anyone. Kavi crossed the bridge first, and when he’d made it to the other side, Cyril started. Crane decided that Klevko and Dmitri would remain behind, so as not to overwhelm the villagers with too many people. Klevko shoved his backpack at me to carry. It was heavy and cumbersome and seemed to be filled almost entirely by small items with jagged edges.
After Cyril made it across, I started. The bridge was surprisingly steady, especially since I had two handrails to balance myself on either side. When Dr. Haga had made it across, we all turned to watch Crane.
