by Ellie Hall
“You like it here, don’t you?” I say.
He moves forward, brushing a palm frond out of the way. “It’s an adventure.”
“I’ll just call you Shaw of the Jungle instead of George of the Jungle. Is that better?”
“And I’ll call you Cookie.” Even his chuckle is obnoxious.
I snort. “You sure can be a real class-A jerk.”
His hand lands on my shoulder. Once more I feel a jolt. It’s a surprisingly protective gesture and not at all meant to limit or coerce me. But I’m in a mood, hating it here, and thinking about my nice, comfortable life, and exchanging jokes with @PacManWizard. He’s the guy I’m attracted to. Not this big lug.
If it were at all safe and if I didn’t think the guy would pick me up kicking and screaming, I’d sit down right here and refuse to move until Simon sent in a helicopter rescue.
I’m not a snowflake or cupcake or cookie. I’m capable, but this expedition is in another league.
So is this man. Despite my brain arguing against it, I have to admit his touch caused the twitch that turned into a jolt. Come to think of it, that’s not something I’ve felt since Alex Wilder’s hand brushed mine when he borrowed a pencil for the SATs.
I gaze up at the sky, checking for snakes and monkeys, but also wondering in what world it’s fair that I’m attracted to a guy with a terrific, sparkling personality but have never seen...
And attracted to a guy with an obnoxious, dull personality who I cannot help but see as he strides ahead confidently, muscles all ripple-y, and with a mouthful of cocky comebacks.
I growl softly in frustration.
He glances back at me, his eyes smoldering. See? That look alone was a cocky comeback to words I didn’t even speak.
Not fair.
Then again, he’s my ride out of here...and if this is a game of survival of the fittest, I’d better start strategizing.
I’ve sat in offices and boardrooms with males who think they’re better than me based on their anatomy. Geek or not, a lot of the dudes in the tech industry are full of themselves. Sure, Shaw is attractive with his square jaw, a thin layer of stubble, and fascinating eyes, but he’s Mr. Wrong. Irritating, arrogant, and overly self-confident. No way is he better than me just because I’m not wilderness ready.
He can try to win this game, but watch out big boy. I have the power of four strong women, our lifetime of friendship, and knowhow behind me. Even though we’re not married and have to fulfill a pact, we know all about guys like you.
I slow as my mouthful of inner comments catches up. Big boy.
And here I am, right back to thinking about @PacManWizard.
Shaw looks like he could win an Iron Man. More like a man of stone. I feel bad for whatever woman he has in his life. I’m glad it’s not me.
We stop for a moment and Shaw sips water. “Want some?”
“I feel like I’m swimming in so much of my own sweat I might drown.”
He wrinkles his nose. “I take that as a no.”
“If this is a survival of the fittest exercise, for all I know you poisoned the water.”
His eyebrows lift. “If that were the case, wouldn’t I be passing out right now?”
“Maybe you’re immune, built up a resistance to the poison.”
He chuckles and then his face falls. Shaw makes a gagging noise, clutching his throat.
I rush forward and his expression of terror relaxes into cracks of laughter.
“Oh, that was not funny. You’ll pay for that when you’re not looking.”
Shaw’s gaze floats over me. His lips subtly quirk. “Oh, I’m always looking.”
He will not wear me down with his manly wiles. Or his harsh demeanor. The wilderness survival guide schtick won’t work either. His bag of tricks must nearly be empty.
This time I consult the compass, then march forward like the queen of the Amazon Rainforest, resolved not to let him or the jungle get the better of me.
We follow one of several trails. It’s likely that numerous groups have come before us, and professionals laid out each of their tasks. The resort couldn’t risk anyone dying on their dime. Right? They probably planned the whole thing out for clueless city folks like me. The notion gives me confidence and soon, we reached the first checkpoint.
I do a happy dance right there, pumping my arms in the air, spinning around, and cheering loudly.
Shaw is not amused.
How do I know this?
He remains a marble statue—Michelangelo ought to take notes.
He grimaces like the challenge has only just begun.
Then he shushes me.
Oh, I don’t think so, buddy. But before I can tell him off, Shaw pulls a machete from a duffel bag labeled with our group name. I bite my tongue. You never can be too sure about cannibals. Maybe we should’ve brought protection. I have pepper spray back home...and internet access, a well-appointed kitchen, friends...
I drop onto a fallen log and down some water. I’m perspiring, and the mosquito spray made my skin prickly. I flick at another insect. My clothing clings to me in a hot, sticky mess of what feels like plastic wrap.
“We should get moving,” Shaw says.
“Yeah. It seems I’ve attracted some bugs.” The bugs being YOU, mister. I give him the side-eye and start to get up.
In a low voice, Shaw commands, “Stop.”
I flinch, ready to grab that machete and show him just how skilled I am at chopping onions, but something about his tone forces me to obey.
His focus narrows. He lifts the machete.
Maybe I misread the situation and am trapped in the jungle with a psycho killer.
“Shaw?” My voice rises an octave in fear. “I was joking about the bug thing. Really.”
“Do. Not. Move,” he hisses.
The machete glints in the low light shining through the rainforest canopy.
Something at my eye-level shifts. Was it wind in the palm fronds or something deadly? A jaguar or caiman hunting me? A frog?
I glance to my right at the same time the machete comes down hard onto a branch at about shoulder height and cleaving the biggest spider I’ve ever seen in two. The crunch causes a full-body shudder in me. My shriek echoes through the rainforest, scattering the birds.
“Brazilian Wandering Spider. Most venomous arachnid in the world. It actively hunts and had it bit you, there wouldn’t be much I could do.” Shaw’s voice is grave.
I can’t even squeak a, Thank you for saving my life or bear to look at the creepy dead thing. With Shaw as my de facto wilderness guide, I feel vulnerable and protected at the same time.
On shaky legs, I get up and hurry ahead, but then let him go in front, slashing at anything that might resemble a spider web. I practically cling to his back, not wanting another close encounter with something with more than two legs.
Hours pass and at the various stops, we collect rope, a tarp, and a knot-tying guide. I can’t seem to shake the encounter with the spider. I flinch at the slightest movement.
As though sensing this, Shaw extends his free hand.
I take it hesitantly as though I’m making a bargain with the enemy. Why would he offer to help me if we’re in this cut-throat situation?
Then again, he didn’t cut my throat. Could a machete do that? I’d better not think too hard about the ten-thousand ways I could die in the rainforest.
His hand remains open. Bear paw is right. He could’ve crushed the spider under his palm. I imagine his big fingers trying to type. I imagine it’s more of a pounding of keys than a hunt and peck situation.
I take a deep breath, not feeling entirely good about this hand holding thing, especially because of @PacManWizard, but I’m shaking and need something to steady me. “Thanks. It’s better I don’t get lost.”
Unfortunately, my smaller hand fits perfectly in his. Although I don’t like Shaw one bit, his touch is comforting.
The sun lowers in the sky, piercing the thick branches above with shafts o
f light. I swat at the vicious bugs. Sweat creates a second skin. I chug my bottle of water. This situation is hopeless.
“Take it easy on that,” Shaw says, pointing to the bottle. “We’ll probably have to find our own when it’s gone.”
I swallow thickly. “We should probably head back to camp.”
“Yeah, we’ll need to build our shelter.”
I turn slowly in a circle. “Which way is back though? I’m completely turned around. I guess we have to retrace our steps.”
Shaw scratches his head. “I think Carlos said we’d be meeting somewhere else.”
“You mean, you don’t remember?”
“It was a lot of information. You should have been paying attention too instead of being on your phone. We’re a team.”
I huff. “I thought we were opponents.”
“It’s not like I’m going to leave you out here. Can’t have that on my conscience.”
“How reassuring.”
After a bit of arguing and turning the lamented card over and upside down, it turns out we have to go back the way we came. Using the coordinates on the card as a guide, we retrace our steps. The sun dips even lower.
“Do you hear that?” I ask.
He nods. “Trickling water?”
Relief washes through me. It isn’t quite civilization, but being in the jungle all day and without my phone makes me feel more and more closed off.
Ahead of me, but still holding Shaw’s hand, his dark hair is almost black in the low light. He’s tall and muscular like he spends a lot of time at the gym. But not bulky. Solid. Capable. I can’t help but admire his confidence.
@PacManWizard comes to mind. Apart from wanting to survive the ordeal for practical reasons, I resolve to make it through this so we can meet in person. No more hiding behind the safety of the screen. I took it slow with @PacManWizard because of a previous bad relationship. I can practically hear Mila and my girls reminding me that it was six years ago.
When we arrive at the clearing, it’s deserted. Only one canoe remains, and we hop in. Shaw expertly brings us to the shore where we started.
As we get out, the rev of an engine comes from the road carved through the woods.
My thoughts and words start slow and then accelerate as I point toward the rough road. “That was the last Jeep...and it’s leaving. What’s going on?”
Shaw’s eyebrow lifts and I get distinct Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson vibes.
I flash a panicked expression at my calm companion.
But before we can speculate, we both run after the Jeep, calling for it to stop.
It’s too late. The vehicle disappears in a cloud of exhaust.
10
Shaw
Forget the happy dance from reaching the checkpoint earlier, Cora practically throws a tantrum. She stomps her feet and punches the air. Then screams at the sky, “Why!?”
I’ll come up with a calculated plan to express just how unhappy I am with Simon and Rick later. Right now, we need to survive...and she needs to stop screaming.
With my hand thoughtfully on my chin, I watch her move through the stages of her melt down...watching her carefully. She’s not bad to watch. Kind of amusing really. A bit cute. But I shouldn’t think about that.
As if sensing my attention on her, Cora goes still, straightens, and smooths her hair then clears her throat as if she was just caught doing something naughty. “Now what?” she asks innocently.
I pull out my cell phone and check the reception bars. Zilch. I should’ve brought a satellite phone. My useless device hangs at my side.
“Oh, now Mr. Bigshot is using his fancy, precious phone. Newsflash, it’s not going to save you out here.”
“Good to know.” My tone is dry and I’m thirsty but know it’s best to preserve what water we have.
“What are we going to do?” Cora clasps her hands on top of head, elbows jutting wide, and turns in a slow circle.
I didn’t realize Rick was so serious about the wilderness survival retreat. I figured it would be a tour with a guide leading the group over well-trod ground, pointing out colorful macaws and scenic vistas where everyone would take selfies. Maybe we’d go white water rafting. The Selva Survival Camp is hardcore.
Cora trembles as though panic seizes her. “We’re stranded here. Abandoned. Left behind. In the middle of nowhere.” Her voice is clipped.
Instead of one hand on her shoulder, this time, I plant two. It’s to anchor her as much as me. “There has to be an explanation. We’ll figure something out. We have to be smart.” Adrenaline builds. I’m in my element. I love the outdoors and problem-solving. My drive to survive has saved my life in the past. “We’ll make it.”
Yet, Cora seems small and scared beneath my palms as she trembles. I want to wrap her in a reassuring hug, but we’ve hardly gotten along all day and imagine that type of familiarity won’t be welcomed. And I’ve kept track of the machete because of the glint in her eye. I wouldn’t put it beyond her to want to chop me up and feed the piranhas the pieces, survival of the fittest style.
“Let me think for a minute.” I pace a short track in front of her, observing our surroundings and trying to come up with a plan. “Look. The dirt over there is scuffed up like there was activity. Look at the underbrush. Something happened. Maybe they had to leave in a rush.”
“Oh, you’re a real Boy Scout. Of course, something happened.” She presses her hands against her face.
“Actually, the Boy Scouts of America saved my life.”
Tears spring to Cora’s eyes. “Where are they when we need them? I don’t have my phone. The Jeeps are gone. This is hopeless.”
“Cookie, being a Boy Scout and then an Eagle Scout truly saved my life. Taught me how to save others.”
“You’re a nerd, not a hero,” she says.
I stand up straighter, more determined than ever to get us out of here. “And proud of it and I’ll prove you wrong, Cookie.”
“And I’ll show you that I’m not Cookie. So you know your way around the wilderness? Great. But this is the rainforest, not your backyard.” Her hands fly to her hips.
“You’re right, it’s nothing like my backyard.” I spit the words with disdain. I’d escaped it well enough. I can make it out of here too.
“What do we do?”
“You said this is like a mashup of Survivor and Running Wild. I take it you’ve watched those shows.”
“I went on a brief kick, but I never wanted to sign up to be on one.”
I gaze in the direction the Jeep had gone. “Rule number one of surviving the wilderness.” My deep voice seems to pull her from her thoughts and she looks at me intently.
I place a gentle hand on her arm, sensing this could be the calm before a storm.
“I know, I know. Rule number one, don’t panic.” She takes a deep breath.
“It’s going to be okay. We’ll follow the road. Find a resort. There has to be one around here somewhere. A hotel. A house. A cabin. A shack. Something. Let’s assess what we have.”
We review the supplies, including what we found in the jungle plus the compass. “I have bottled water, purification tablets, bug spray, sunblock, and a knife.” At the bottom of my bag, is also a flashlight and toilet paper. I brought my first aid kit, personal items like a toothbrush, and protein bars too.
“If we follow the road, we’ll eventually reach civilization.” The hope in my voice doesn’t quite match reality. I have no idea which turns to take—on the way in, the Jeeps had wound through the jungle, making more than a few passengers carsick.
“No, we should stay here. They’ll realize we’re not at the resort and come back for us,” Cora says with a plea in her voice.
“This isn’t a kindergarten field trip where they take a headcount when we get back on the bus.”
“No, you’re right. This is a nightmare.” She covers her eyes with her hands.
“This is business, babe. It’s a jungle”
She grimaces. “Simon sa
ys that. Anyway, I thought I was Cookie. And you’re Indiana Grouch.” A note of hysteria enters her voice.
“No, he calls the love interest sweetheart.”
“Love interest?” She scoffs.
There is no denying that Cora is attractive. Being next to her and even touching her shoulder made my pulse increase, but that’s probably because I’ve been single for so long. My thoughts drift elsewhere…to @CookClickChick
“Seriously, we can’t survive a night in the jungle.” Real panic fills her eyes.
My hand finds its way to her shoulder again. Well, lower this time. More like her upper arm. There is something about her that is vaguely familiar. Maybe it’s just the name Cookie, reminding me of @CookClickChick.
How would she respond to this situation? Would she be cool under pressure? Or nervous and fly into a panic like Cora?
My stomach rumbles...and so does thunder in the distance.
“Was that—?”
My voice is lower when I reply, “It’s unlikely they’ll come back for us right away, especially not if what I just heard is a storm on its way.”
“I was guessing it was a tyrannosaurus rex. I’m getting serious Jurassic Park vibes. You know that part when—”
We start walking while she recaps a scene from the movie and I engage her, thankful she’s distracted. Funny, that franchise is one of @CookClickChick’s favorites. She loves all the Marvel movies, Pirates of the Caribbean, and those big-budget blockbusters. I have to take command and ensure our survival so I can move past the email stage with her.
When we get to a crossroads—if you could call it that, I pause.
“The tracks look deeper on this side.” Cookie points toward our left.
“Yeah, but the mud is dry. I’d imagine it would still be wet.”
“Okay, Indie. Lead the way.”
“I’m not sure how much farther we’ll be able to go before nightfall. We have to assess threats, figure out shelter, and stay warm.”
Cora pinches the neckline of her drenched shirt. “It’s plenty warm. Sweltering, actually.”
“Eventually, it’ll get dark. I say we follow this road for as far as we can then make camp if we don’t find a place to spend the night.”
