I've been looking forward to this expedition for months now. Sam says I have an itch that needs to be scratched and she's not entirely wrong. But for her sake and my own sanity I think we let the itch go unscratched longer than we should have. I'd expected about six weeks before heading to Peru, but it turned into six months and if I am honest with myself I don't really mind it. There isn't any sense of urgency, and there's now a big world map with two dozen pins in it of sites that we need to investigate. So it hasn't been unproductive on a professional level at least. That's something I tell myself when I lay awake at night wondering why I'm still in civilization.
On a personal level I'm probably the most awkward date imaginable, but Sam puts up with me. We've made it into a weekly thing, to actually go out to dinner, though most nights are either spent in or at parties and clubs depending on which of us wins the debate. Which is usually me. It is all refreshingly normal.
But the clock is ticking and when Sam finds me obsessively studying that damned skull, she announces she's going to buy plane tickets to Lima, Peru and we'll be leaving in two days. Leave it to Sam to give short notice.
The flight is uneventful right up until the point she lures me into the lavatory to have her way with me. I thought I could resist her but she has this way of touching me that makes it hard to argue with her. The walk of shame back to our seats is particularly grating, but I can't keep the purr out of my voice when I tell her it had been worth it. It is always worth it with Sam.
It takes me three days to get the guide and equipment for our flight to the rainforest. It would have taken less time except Sam has other ideas. She's very, very convincing and I only put up token resistance. I think this is the honeymoon stage. I'm not sure I want it to end, really. The only difference in our behaviour that I've noticed is the sex. We've always been close and touchy. Now there's a romantic aspect to the touching that I can't get enough of when we're alone. I'm sure we positively look sappy to outsiders, but it's important to me, and her I'm sure, that our relationship remains the same comfortable it's always been.
When we approach the helicopter I have some doubts as to it's safety. It's a little older than I expected, but I reason that a lot of these vehicles have been designed to last a long time, and the pilot inspects it, right? Sam doesn't notice so I don't voice my fears. The ride seems smooth and I'm in the middle of explaining our destination to Sam when everything goes horribly wrong.
Alarms are going off, the craft is spinning out of control and then I'm tumbling through the air and into the trees. This is not one of the experiences I ever wanted to relive again, and I think I only survive out of sheer stubborn luck. I lay dazed for quite some time, passing in and out of consciousness. I dream, but I can't recall about what.
When I'm able to drag myself to my feet, I can tell by the sun that it hasn't been too long. Maybe an hour. I don't know where the helicopter crashed, and the canopy is too thick to find any smoke. There's a pain in my chest that has nothing to do with any injuries as I think of Sam. I'm not really a believer in god, not in the religious sense but I still say a prayer as I start to move through the underbrush. Nothing seems broken, but I've got some cuts and lacerations and I think at least one rib is bruised.
The only thing I have on me is my utility knife, and it's a piss poor replacement for a machete. Add to that I'm a little hobbled from the crash landing and a less stubborn person might have given up. I have a radio on me, clipped to my belt. I try several frequencies. No answer. I have a very good reason to keep moving, and her name is Sam. She could be hurt or worse, and I don't really want to think about the worse part. At least there's no mad cultists around to get in the way. Just snakes and spiders and other creepy things. Depending on who you ask that probably isn't an improvement. Not Sam, though. Sam isn't as squeamish as most people think she is. She once wanted a pet tarantula. That argument lasted for hours.
It's really easy to get turned around in the rainforest, and you don't really realize that until you're in the thick of things. Everywhere looks the same, there are sounds and noises and smells and it's really easy to become confused and lost. On top of that I'm trying not to panic or have flashbacks, and I'm only partially succeeding. I force myself to shake off the fear, and move uphill. If I can get an idea of where I am, or see the crash site, I'll feel a hell of a lot better.
It takes me hours just to get up far enough out of the valley to see over the canopy, and it's hard going. While it's not quite the hottest month around here it's so humid that I sometimes have trouble breathing. It's grossly uncomfortable. I just have to put that out of my mind. But at the top of the valley, what I see makes my heart sink - there's a trail of smoke to the east. That's where the heli went down and that's where Sam is. The only problem is they're several kilometers away, and I've been traveling at a ninety-degree angle to them. It will take me hours to get there, with no guarantee they'll have stayed put.
I give myself five minutes to have a panic attack, pacing around in circles and trying to calm myself down. When that time is up, I gird myself and start to make a path to the east. To the helicopter. To Sam.
I try the radio again, knowing I need to rest or stop. I can't get to Sam if my legs drop out from under me but there's nothing nearby, no safe place to really sleep. The sun is sinking lower, and I change my strategy to one of survival. Shelter, fire and water. There's a chocolate bar in one pocket and I break off a piece to chew on while I work. I start with fire first, for warmth and to ward off bugs and other wildlife. Everything is so wet but I get a fire going, and start to clear the underbrush. I eventually feel confident enough to sit next to my fire, but I don't think I'm going to sleep very well. I don't trust the water nearby, so I'm going to have to find another source in the morning. I wish I had a container to boil it. I'm parched.
Sam, please be allright. For God's sake stay put!
I doze off at some point, but I keep getting woken up. Sounds of animals shuffling around, feeling something crawl up my arm, and my innards gnawed at by both hunger and worry. The worry is the worst part, just like on Yamatai. Not knowing if she's even alive. Knowing if she is she's probably scared, and worried just as much as I am.
It's not a secret I'll move heaven and earth to get to Sam. What's less known is how terrified the whole experience makes me. The difference between survival and death is that I simply put that fear aside and let my instincts guide me. I just hate when they tell me to stay put until daylight. I whittle away the time trying to make spears out of sticks, and wishing I had a bow. I could try to fashion one, but I don't know how effective it would be. If I'm stuck here much longer, I know I'll have to try if only to feel better. One of the keys to surviving in the wilderness is motivation and keeping yourself positive.
When the sun rises, I'm relieved. I've had maybe two hours of sleep at this point, plus some assorted cat naps filled with dreams of black, soulless eyes. The last one has me so awake that I've given up on sleep entirely. I put out my fire and try to restore my little nest back to nature as best as I can, then try the radio again.
"Sam? Come in Sam. Can you read?" One of the heavy spear-sticks works better than my knife for hacking through the brush, and will certainly be better for defense. The radio crackles and there's only static. I fall into a routine, the sounds of hacking interspersed with static, and my own voice saying Sam's name. I don't want to wear out the battery, so I try 15 minute intervals, than thirty minute as the day progresses.
I wager I've made it about half way when I spot a stone wall. It's old and weather-worn, but it's definitely man made. There's not enough for me to be able to tell by what culture, and I don't think it's where we wanted to be, but I cross over it and take a look around. At the very least this might make a good place to come back to and set up shelter, and it might prove archaeologically interesting.
Regardless of it's merit, I need to rest, so I find a sheltered spot and sketch what I see to study later. I've gotten used to the rainforest by now so I think I can find it again, but it won't be easy. It's getting close to noon when I start moving again. I find a stream. It's fast moving, so probably safe, but just in case, I take the moss on some of the rocks and squeeze the water out of that. It's a natural filter, and the moss can be useful to make a fire or as bandaging. It tastes terrible, but it's better than being dehydrated.
The radio crackles and I grab for it. "Sam?!"
"Lara? Thank god!"
The sound of her voice fills me with so much relief that my knees threaten to buckle. "Oh thank god. Where are you? Tell me you're somewhere near the crash."
"I'm kind of right in the middle of it!" I can hear the quiver in her voice, despite the faux cheer. It worries me.
"Are you okay? What happened after the crash?" I try to put as much confidence in my voice as I can. I don't want her to worry or know that I was in pain or anything of the sort.
"I thought you were dead! You were… you just got ripped out of the cabin like nothing!" She is starting to sound hysterical.
"Take a breath. Breathe. I'm okay Sam. I'm okay now. You found me. Well you found the radio. What happened to you?" My voice is much calmer than I am. I'm hacking my way through the undergrowth to get to her, and wishing I could move even a little bit faster. I'm getting caught and tangled up and cut by thorns and it's so frustrating! And I'm really starting to notice those injuries from the crash. I'm not going to tell her about them if I can help it.
I must have made a sound, because she's silent for a moment. "Sam?"
"I'm here." I expect her to ask me if I'm okay, but she doesn't. I think she's decided to try to be brave. I work to keep my breathing even, and let her voice soothe me.
"After you fell out, we crashed. I think I was thrown out too. I came to really far from the helicopter. It took me forever to get here."
If she is at the crash site, then she might not be alone. "What about the others? Are they okay?"
There's a long pause before Sam answers. "No. The pilot is … she didn't make it. I don't know where Victor is."
I don't ask her to elaborate, because I want her to focus on something else entirely. "What about the supplies? Food? Water? Our tools?" We need to focus on the positive and not the negative. I can probably go all day blaming myself for leading more people to their deaths but that will get us nowhere. I'll save that for after.
"Uhm." Sam's voice crackles again. "I think the water supplies are okay. Food might be a problem. Oh! My camera! It works!"
I force a smile. "That's great, Sam. You can document it as we starve to death."
"Well I do need to lose some weight, sweetie."
"No, you do not!"
For a moment I forget we're stuck in the forest. "I'm going to go silent for a bit, Sam. I want to conserve power on these. I think I'm still a few hours off."
"I'll try to pull everything I can salvage together so we can sort through it when we get here." There's another pause on her end, and this one lasts several minutes. I'm about ready to check on her when she talks again. "Okay I'm going to put the radio down too. It'll be nearby but some of these things are heavy!"
I smile. Maybe we can't save the trip but at least I know she's safe. ""I'll see you soon, Sam. I love you."