Chapter 39
The Creek
The gurgling water trickled over the back of his head, slowly causing his billowing hair to dance backwards and forwards lazily in the current, caressing his scalp. The coolness of the water was refreshing and pleasant, a stark contrast from the tropical heat which surrounded him, but it was now starting to make the back of his body go numb with cold. His body felt battered and weak, the parts of his body that were not submerged were covered with a mixture of grime and sweat. He felt a sharp pain in his right arm, just below the elbow, like somebody was jabbing him with a sharp stick.
A bird twittered in the trees above, followed by a small rustle of leaves. An answering bird called a moment later, a pleasant chirping sound…
Was it a bird?
Dodgson opened his eyes a fraction, and stared at the jungle canopy above him. The front portion of his vision was taken up by a stark cliff face, covered in bright green moss. A thick growth of vines stretched down towards him like great green fingers from a large overhanging tree. The vine that had caught him was still tied around his ankle; he could feel the pressure of the knot. Against the bright blue sky he caught a glimpse of the silhouette of one of the tiny beaked dinosaurs that he seen earlier flying through the air between two branches. A moment later it crashed down into the branches of one of the trees and disappeared.
Groaning, he turned over onto his stomach, and struggled onto all fours, his head down. Water dripped from his back and ran in rivulets down the side of his neck and behind his ears. The current now tickled the end of his nose, and he screwed his face up as pain shot through his right arm. Turning his head sideways, he saw a long scraping abrasion running from his wrist up to his elbow. Frowning, he looked down at the creek bed, and saw a sharp, craggy rock sticking up into the air. A dark red stain covered the very tip, glistening in contrast to the otherwise uniform blank color. He focused
his attention further downstream, and studied the darkness of the creek of which he lay. It was laced with the shadows of the tree canopy high above, and the underbrush seemed to have been cleared away, and the bare dark earth lay bare.
The Tyrannosaur was gone now, and he couldn't shake off the feeling of being watched, like a thousand staring eyes were studying his every movement, as if the jungle itself would rise up and take him any moment.
He had to get back to the boat; it wouldn't wait much longer for him. In fact, he'd be lucky if it was still there. He now highly doubted that he'd be able to make it back up to the car; short of climbing the cliff he didn't see a way to get back up to the road.
But he was sure that if he just headed north-east he'd find the dock and he could go home. But which way was north-east?
He stood up unsteadily, his feet becoming submerged in the water, sinking down into the gritty creek bed.
His stomach rumbled, and he clutched at his abdomen with his left hand, keeping his injured arm at his side. He was hungry, and it was making him weaker by the second. In this climate the heat seemed to sap his strength.
Turning in a wide circle, he tried to build a mental picture of where the car was. He pointed with his left hand at where he thought it was, and then traced the route he had taken with his mind, retracing where the Tyrannosaur had traced him. He now had his eyes closed, concentrating on his memory, but still moving his finger in accordance to his directions. Now he retraced the long main road, and then the dirt track, all the way to the dock.
He had turned slightly to the left, and was now pointing diagonally away from the cliff face, into the jungle upstream. He could follow the creek for a few hundred meters, and then he'd have to enter the trees. He estimated that he was around four miles from the dock, and that it'd take him three hours to get there if he stopped as little as possible.
Coughing, he walked on wobbly legs to the side of the creek, and held onto a low hanging branch for support. His ribs were burning with each breath as the muscles were stretched, and on the left side of his back a sharp pain made him wince; his
fall had been much less jarring than he had predicted, but he suspected that he might have cracked a rib.
He hoped to god that he didn't run into anything else, because he didn't want to run again, the pain as it was made him want to pass out on the spot.
Gripping the branch with his right arm, he brought his left arm up and formed a fist, smashing it down near where it joined the trunk of the tree of which it belonged. It broke free with a snap, and he held it in his left hand like a walking stick. He tested it, putting his weight on it.
Nodding with satisfaction, he propped it up against the trunk of the tree, and looked down at himself. He shook off his outer jacket, and grabbed the hem of his shirt, tearing off blood stained strip. Pulling his jacket back on, but leaving his right arm out of the sleeve, he tied the two loose ends together in a tight knot, and looped it around his head. He put his right arm into it, and formed a sling, sighing with relief.
And then he grabbed his walking stick, and set off down the creek, heading north-east.