Page 13 of Explorer’s Revenge

TWELVE

MAEVE

M ost of the jungle looks the same. It would be easy to get lost if I didn’t keep checking my compass. I don’t want to leave many markings behind if I can help it, wanting to preserve as much of the island as possible.

Unfortunately, I don’t find a waterfall today, so I’m dripping with sweat. The heat is almost unbearable, and it also means I have to make more stops than I would like to hydrate and rest, but I don’t want to make myself sick or get heat stroke simply to get there a day quicker.

I’m sitting on a log when a little lizard scrambles across my leg and freezes.

I know from its coloring its venomous, but I gently lift it into the air.

He doesn’t bite, just stares at me. “You’re beautiful,” I tell him honestly as I look around.

“You might get squished here though.” Standing, I head over to a boulder a little bit away and lay him on it.

“There you go. You should be safe up there.” I watch him scurry away with a smile before packing up and carrying on.

I’m deep in the jungle at this point. I can’t hear the ocean anymore, and I’m at what we call the danger point. If anything were to happen, I’m too far to make it back and not deep enough to make it through to the other side, so I’m being extra careful.

I might be an adrenaline junkie, but I’m not dumb, not like those Adreno fuckers.

Just after dinner, I find an entrance to a cave in the middle of the jungle floor. It’s overgrown around the edges, but when I peer inside, I notice it stretches deep into the earth. It’s a pit stop I don’t need, but who is to say there isn’t an entrance or clues down there?

Besides, exploring a cave no one else has sounds like a good time.

I make a quick plan, crack some lights, then toss them inside so I can take a look around.

It’s about seventy feet deep and looks pretty big from what I can see.

Pulling out my gear, I secure my rope to two trees, testing it first, then I pull on my helmet, grab my flashlight, and sling my bag over my shoulder just in case.

With a grin at the camera, I take a running jump and leap into the hole, spinning as I go.

The momentum takes me about halfway, so I use the ropes and my legs to swing myself down the rest of the distance.

When my boots hit the slightly wet rock below, I untie myself from the rope and swing my flashlight around.

It’s not a huge cavern despite what I initially thought, maybe around a hundred feet wide. It’s jagged and uneven, the rock is slick down here, and foliage grows from cracks in the walls and floor.

I can’t see any other holes or entrances and exits, which means there isn’t much in terms of the lost city down here, but it doesn’t mean it isn’t cool to explore.

I investigate the area under the entrance first, finding some cool, old markings along the floor, and then I head farther into the shadows, spinning my light over the walls. The lights I threw down glow red, and maybe it’s that, but something here makes me shiver.

I’m scanning the back wall when something makes me still.

Narrowing my eyes, I shine my flashlight on what caught my attention, and I silently tread across the slick cavern, walking past my rope and into the shadows.

On the black rock are gray furrows. Five of them drag down, the jagged marks deep enough to scar the surface. Tilting my head, I eye them. Is it an animal mark? Did it fall and get trapped?

Something protrudes from one of the furrows, and I pluck it free, my blood running cold when I realize it’s a broken, bloody fingernail.

Holding out my hand, I press it to the marks and slide it down, realization settling in.

These are from a human hand.

Spinning, I scan the cavern with new eyes.

Did someone fall down here? Did they get trapped and try to claw their way out? Staying quiet, I walk the perimeter, knowing what I will find.

At the very back, huddled, as if trying to hide or avoid death, is a body.

The skeleton is positioned with one hand out, its head turned away. I don’t know how long ago they fell down here, but it’s clear nature has eaten away at the flesh. Crouching, I eye it sadly.

How horrible it must have been to starve, alone and terrified, while trapped down here when the exit is just above.

I could try to haul the body out and bury it, but that seems more disrespectful than just leaving it.

I don’t want to disturb their resting place.

Instead, I bow my head and close my eyes, offering my condolences and hopes for a peaceful afterlife for them, and I make a note to delete any camera footage from down here.

Heading back to my rope, I tie myself in it, and with one last glance around, I push off and start to climb up, ignoring all the other scratches and marks of desperation.

Once I’m in the sunshine, I lie back, my heart aching for that person.

My legs dangle into the hole when I swear something passes under them.

Yanking them up, I peer inside, but there’s nothing there, so I let out a bitter laugh.

“Imagination, my girl,” I mutter as I untie my rope, wind it up, and tug my pack on.

Shaking off the clinging feeling of dread, I grab a piece of wood and use my blade to carve it into a cross, then I place it before the hole for when I come back.

Hopefully once I find the city, someone can collect the body.

Just in case, I send my wishes down again and head off into the jungle.

My heart is heavy, my excitement gone at the reminder of the brutality of nature and how easy it would be to perish in my line of work with no one the wiser.

Would I just be forgotten, left to rot and die alone?

Would anyone care?