Page 9 of Wild Temple (Tyson Wild Thriller #84)

I t was hard to tell where the sound originated from. The terrified screech echoed off the chasm walls, muted by the pounding flow of water against the rocks.

I raced across the basin, splashing through the ankle-deep water, avoiding the deep pool. I reached the chasm on the other side, not far from one of the Sisters. I dashed between the sheer cliffs.

A trickle of light spilled from above. This was the beginning of the path that many thought led to Pura Jiva.

The narrow passage snaked through the rock. I followed it along, looking for the origin of the scream.

Footsteps and heavy breaths bounced off the stone, echoing through the narrow canyon.

As I followed the trail, a young girl rounded a corner ahead. She froze in her tracks when she saw me, her eyes wide with fear. She didn’t know who I was, but the threat from behind propelled her forward.

I flashed my badge for good measure.

She sprinted toward me.

“Oh, thank God!” she said when she reached me, taking cover behind me as her pursuer rounded the corner ahead. “They took my friend,” she cried in a panicked breath. “You’ve got to help me!”

The perp hovered at the end of the passage. His eyes flicked from me to the girl, then back again.

I kept my badge held high and drew my pistol. “Freeze! Down on the ground. Now!”

I had no authority in this part of the world, but it was worth a shot.

He took off running the other way.

“Stay here,” I said to the girl as I took off sprinting after the perp.

I raced through the narrow chasm, held up at the corner, and rounded with caution.

The perp’s footsteps bounced off the stone walls.

I kept winding my way through the narrow gap in the rock until I came to a fork in the path.

The sheer walls of the chasm narrowed. They rose to the heavens, and shafts of light filtered down from above. Vines and foliage hung down and infiltrated cracks and crevices in the otherwise smooth surface .

I paused at the fork, listening.

The footsteps faded in the distance.

I chose the left passage and sprinted after the scumbag.

After a few more twists and turns, the valley ended in a sheer drop-off.

The side of the mountain sloped down about 100 feet to another canopy of thick jungle.

A small ledge ran along the cliff face, wide enough to get a foothold.

But only a surefooted goat would dare traverse something like that—or a crazy person.

I glanced down the sheer cliff but didn't see the perp anywhere. I must have taken the wrong passage. Sometimes, the echo can be deceiving.

I hustled back through the chasm. I didn’t know who else was in the area, and I wanted to get back to the blonde girl.

She waited where I’d left her. Terrified and frazzled, tears streamed from her pretty blue eyes. She was a gorgeous young girl in her early 20s with a petite, athletic frame. I recognized her from the hotel.

“Tell me what happened,” I said.

“This is all my fault,” she sobbed.

“Your name’s Brooke, right?”

Her face wrinkled with confusion. Then a flash of recognition filled her eyes.

“You’re staying at the Bamboo Lofts, right?”

She nodded.

“We spoke yesterday. ”

Brooke wiped the tears from her eyes. “That’s right. About your friend.”

“Your friend’s name is Hannah, right?”

Brooke nodded.

“Tell me how many assailants.”

“Two.”

The guy I chased was a slim, wiry guy with dark hair, brown eyes, and a deep tan. Brooke told me the other guy had a similar build, just a little shorter.

I kept a watchful eye on our surroundings as we talked.

Brooke sniffled. “We hired these guides to take us into the jungle. I should have known something was shady. I just got bad vibes right away. I should have listened to that little voice in my head.”

“Sometimes that voice is hard to hear,” I said.

“Where did you meet these guides ?”

“At a bar on Sunset Row.” Her face tightened.

“He bought Hannah and me a drink. We got to talking. I should have kept my dumb mouth shut. I told him about Pura Jiva and the map. But he seemed like such a nice guy. He said the water they sold on the street was fake and not to drink it. No shit, Sherlock . He told me he could take us to the real Pura Jiva. He said his uncle had found the temple, and he knew the way. But he swore us to secrecy. I should have known it was a scam.” Brooke shook her head, frustrated with herself.

“We bought it, hook, line, and sinker. I just wanted to find it so bad. ”

“Why?”

“You’ll think it’s silly.”

“I won’t,” I assured. “But right now, let’s focus on your friend and the guys who took her. Do you know their names?”

“Bayu. I can’t remember the other guy’s name.” She thought for a minute. “Pete. Well, Putu, but he said we could call him Pete.”

“What, exactly, happened?”

“We met them here, in the parking lot. They took us down to the falls and led us through the chasm. Then I saw Putu, Pete, whatever, stab Hannah in the thigh with a syringe. I freaked out. Bayu came after me. I kicked him in the balls, dropped my pack, and ran.” Tears spilled from her eyes again.

“I’m such a coward. I should have stayed and fought for my friend. ” Her chest heaved with jerking sobs.

“And you’d be abducted, too. No one would know you two were missing. You did the right thing.”

I told her to follow and led her back down the chasm. With my weapon drawn, I advanced with caution, but I knew these guys were long gone. We returned to the fork, and I veered to the right, following the passage. The chasm narrowed, and the overgrowth above blocked out most of the sun.

It was at the darkest part of the passage where we stumbled across both of their backpacks. The footprints in the dirt indicated a scuffle. It looked like things played out, just as Brooke had described .

I told her to leave the backpack where it was for now, then we continued on.

The chasm split again, offering two different paths. There were so many hikers that had traveled the area in recent days there were fresh footprints in all directions.

The path to the left was brighter. More sunlight spilled through. The path to the right was dark and dim.

Brooke followed as I advanced through the fissure to the right. I clicked on a small tactical flashlight. The beam slashed the darkness. After twenty yards, the passage grew uncomfortably narrow.

I squeezed through the rock.

Brooke hesitated.

I got the impression she didn’t like tight spaces. In her current state, she didn’t have much tolerance for discomfort.

She sucked it up and followed anyway. After a few paces, the formation opened up again. This part of the passageway wasn’t nearly as claustrophobic. It was another 10 or 15 yards before the chasm narrowed further to a small tunnel.

I dropped to my knees and shined the flashlight into the abyss of the small cave that led underneath the river above.

I asked Brooke, “How do you feel about caves?”