"This is as far as I go. Good luck, and may your gods go with you. You'll need them."
With that, he dumped Nick's goods on the ground and left.
Nick looked around. The road seemed to continue just as before. The map says the road goes completely through the gap. He didn't know how safe it would be to stay on this road. It would be the same road the gangs would use. He figured he would have to walk at least forty miles to get to the first valley. It would be up in the Andes Mountains to his left. He could cover ten miles a day when training for this trip. However, that was on good terrain. It was mostly level. He was hoping to cover five miles a day in this terrain. That means eight days to get there. Three or more days to investigate, and eight days out. Twenty days, three weeks. He had enough hard rations to last a month, and he had studied the plants and fruits in the gap. He was confident that he could tell the good fruit from the poison ones.
The first day was easy. The road was still in good condition, and he saw no people or animals. His pedometer says he covered nine miles that day. Before dark, he found a small clearing above the road and put his tent in a secluded area where he could see the road and the clearing. He figured he could see anything or anyone before they got there. He even braved a small fire to heat up the regular food he had brought.
He figured by the map he would hit one of the villages on the road the next day. He found a trail that went up the side of the mountain halfway. He didn't want to encounter any of the five tribes already known. He was looking for unknown people. The path was more difficult than the road, of course. He traveled much slower than the first day. When he stopped at the end of the day, he had only covered five miles. He found a covered ledge on the side of the mountain to sleep in. In the dark, he heard the sounds of the jungle. Night animals. He had trouble sleeping that night. As the sun rose, he began his third day. So far, he has not seen a single person. Which was good for him.
He was past the first village, and the next one was not for nine or ten miles, so he decided to go back to the road and chance it. He found some safe fruit to eat, and it refreshed him. This was when he finally heard civilization coming. He moved back up the mountain to the path and hid in the jungle. Ten minutes later he saw who was coming up the road. It was a caravan of a gang. They were transporting refugees toward Mexico. There must have been nearly fifty of them. They had a jeep in front and one in the back. There were guns everywhere. The people were just putting one foot in front of the other, like zombies. Nick immediately hated the gangs for doing this to people who were desperate, just for money, just because they could.
He waited an hour for them to be gone. He decided to stay on the path for the rest of the day. He was probably traveling faster than them, and he didn't want to catch up with them and their guns.
Just before dark, as he was looking for a place to bed down, he heard a little rustle in a tree ahead of him. He stopped and waited. After several minutes, he saw a jaguar sitting on a tree branch. The jaguar was looking at him, and he pulled his gun. If he had to fire his gun, it would reverberate through this entire area. He decided to wait it out. After several minutes, the jaguar jumped down, looked back at him, and headed up the path. Nick figured he wanted to be home for some reason. He didn't care. He wasn't going to sleep that night anyway. His pedometer said he had covered another six miles. He was now halfway there.
The morning of the fourth day finally broke. He hadn't slept much that night, but he was glad to see the sun. Even though this was the drier time of the year, it still rained during the night. He huddled under the poncho he had brought. It was much slower going in the mud. By noon, he had only gone a couple of miles. He stopped and ate some fruit and a little of his hard tack. That afternoon he passed the second village on his journey. Those were the only two on this road. He should not see any more of the tribes on this trip. By the end of the day, the ground had dried out and he was able to make a better time. He was able to cover a total of five miles that day. That's twenty-five miles. He found a large tree that had a split trunk. He decided to sleep off the ground that night. The jaguar sitting on a tree branch had unnerved him. The next morning, he decided to call in on his satellite phone. His professor answered after a couple of rings.
"Good morning, Christopher Columbus. How's the new world this morning?"
"Very funny. Wet, muddy, and dangerous. I had to stare down one jaguar and one spider monkey so far."
"How's the trip so far?"
"I'm twenty-five miles in so far. I have another fifteen to go to where the first valley should be. I will call in when I get there."
"Okay, good luck, and good hunting."
It felt GOOD to talk to another human being, especially a friend. He had been feeling cut off from the world for the last couple of days. It rejuvenated his mission, and he headed off to find his Shangri-la. He decided to go back to the road now, even though the "road" was nothing but ruts in the jungle floor. He didn't know how those jeeps had made it through there. He found out a couple of hours later when he heard them ahead of him. He climbed back up to the path and carefully moved forward until he could see them. They were trying to get one of the jeeps out of the mud, and not succeeding very well. He quietly slipped past them and moved on. In an hour, he didn't hear them any longer. He covered another four miles that day. It was nearly thirty miles now. He fell asleep. He was too tired to care about the jaguars, pumas, or bears.
On the morning of the fifth day, he decided to stay on the path. He didn't want to have to try and shoot it out with the gangs. Besides, he was ahead of his schedule. Four days, thirty miles, that was amazing. The fifth day was uneventful. He sloshed along dragging himself and his seventy-pound backpack toward his destination. He was tired, and not moving very fast any longer. The next two days, he only covered a combined five miles. On the morning of the sixth day, he checked his GPS and found he was where he thought he was on the map. That day he only covered three miles. He was very tired and stumbled more than he had before. He was glad he was almost there. He didn't think he could carry this pack much further.
On the eighth day, he knew it was almost forty miles. The path had gotten steeper, and he stumbled more as he climbed with the backpack. By midafternoon, he was dragging the pack up a steep incline. He could see the top of the incline ahead of him. While looking ahead, he did not see a loose rock in front of him. He stepped on it and the rock went down the hill, taking him with it. He frantically tried to grab whatever he could, and succeeded in grabbing a tree root at the last minute. His pack went down the mountain. It was at least three hundred feet down. He couldn't see it from where he was. That didn't matter at the moment. He was hanging by a tree root three hundred feet off the side of a cliff.
He caught his breath and tried to calm down. Panic is the worst thing for trying to think clearly. He had to stay where he was until he could think clearly. After a couple of minutes, he began pulling himself up the root to the path above. The root held, and he was able to reach the rocks on the side of the path. They stayed in place long enough for him to haul himself back up on the path. He lay there for several minutes catching his breath. When he finally could think clearly, he realized he was fucked. Everything he had went over the edge. All his food, his satellite phone, his GPS. Everything he would need to survive.
After sitting up and thinking for a while, he decided it would be best for him to get to the top of the incline and look and see where he was. Maybe he could find a way down to get his stuff. He began climbing until he was at the top. He couldn't see anything down below. He decided to begin down the incline on the other side to see if he could find a way down the side of the mountain. After nearly an hour, he was at the bottom of the path. It moved back up ahead of him. He looked out over the side but could not see the way down.
Just as he was deciding to go down in front of him. He heard what he thought was a girl scream. It couldn't be, but he heard it again. It was coming from his left. It looked like there was nothing there, but when he pushed through the jungle, he found a small opening between the rocks. He squeezed through to find it widened quickly until he was in a small clearing. In front of him were two speckled bears. Speckled bears are the only bears in South America. They are brown or black and only are two to three feet high walking on all fours. They have a white snout that bends down in a curve. They normally only eat fruit or some leaves, but they have been known to attack small cattle when they are very hungry.
One of the bears had a small girl pinned down and was breathing on her hard. She was screaming. Without thinking, Nick pulled his pistol out of his pocket and shot the bear. The bear looked at him with a shocked expression, like, where the hell did you come from and then he rolled over dead. The other bear disappeared into the forest. At that moment, a band of barely dressed natives cleared the jungle and entered the clearing. They stopped when they saw the white man standing over the dead bear.
Nick knew two things immediately. First, he found his lost tribe. Secondly, it might be the last thing he ever finds.
