BACK Part 2: Into the Jungle
Peter Alan Lloyd
PAL Publishing
BACK Part 2
©2013 Peter Alan Lloyd
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-9575921-3-1
Publisher: PAL Publishing
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher.
This copy must not be recirculated in any format.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter 1: Fugged-Up
Chapter 2: Dead End
Chapter 3: First Night
Chapter 4: More Victims of Agent Orange
Chapter 5: Confessions
Chapter 6: A Dot in the Distance
Chapter 7: How to Blow Yourself Up
Chapter 8: Snakes and Scorpions
Chapter 9: Outwitted
Chapter 10: A Misunderstanding
Chapter 11: Revelations
Chapter 12: The Trees Have Eyes
Chapter 13: Traps for the Unwary
Chapter 14: A Black Bear
Chapter 15: Don't Do Drugs
Chapter 16: Theft
Chapter 17: The Deserted Village
Chapter 18: Semper Fi
Chapter 19: Attack
Chapter 20: Firefight
Chapter 21: Bound
Chapter 22: The Red Menace
Chapter 23: We Come in Peace
Chapter 24: A Talk
Chapter 25: Catch and Release
Chapter 26: The Temple
Chapter 27: Lightning Strike
Chapter 28: Crash Landing
Chapter 29: The Camp
Chapter 30: The Cave Prison
Chapter 31: The VIP Prison
Chapter 32: Brad's Interview
Chapter 33: Cassius
Chapter 34: Resolve
Chapter 35: Mr. Lao
Chapter 36: Sheldon
Chapter 37: Cassius Re-interviewed
Chapter 38: Final Offer
Chapter 39: Distressing Sounds
Chapter 40: The Bone Pit
Chapter 41: The Sugar Palms
Chapter 42: Death by Rib
Chapter 43: Alarm
Chapter 44: Danger, Mines.
Chapter 45: Anger Management
Chapter 46: Stars
Chapter 47: Questions
Chapter 48: Trapped
Chapter 49: The General
Chapter 50: The Jungle Highway
Chapter 51: Spike Again
Chapter 52: Nightfall
Chapter 53: Psalm 107
Chapter 54: An Unexpected Promotion
Chapter 55: Clare on the Cam
Chapter 56: Very Unreliable
Chapter 57: White Water
Chapter 58: A Surprise Encounter
Chapter 59: The Falls
Chapter 60: The Chase
Chapter 61: Due Diligence
Chapter 62: Good News and Bad News
Chapter 63: Now What?
Chapter 64: Our American Friends
Chapter 65: A Night on the River
Chapter 66: Home Comforts
Chapter 67: Something Doesn't Look Right
Chapter 68: Needs-Management
Chapter 69: A Pickup
Chapter 70: Back at the Camp
Chapter 71: A Violent Assault
Chapter 72: Uncle
Chapter 73: Iron Grip
Chapter 74: Rescue
Chapter 75: Loot
For More Information
Chapter 1
Fugged-Up
The bus taking the trekkers into the jungle turned out to be a battered old truck, its sides open to the elements, over which clear plastic sheeting had been draped to protect the passengers from the rain.
The trekkers climbed inside, having handed up their backpacks to two guides, Tak, who was also the cook, and Dao, his assistant, who arranged them on the roof, next to the supplies of food and water, covering them from the rain with an army-green tarp.
Narrow, plastic-covered wooden benches ran up the sides and down the middle of the back the truck. The travelers took the outer benches, the US contingent on one side, the Brits and Grace on the other. Savan, Lao, and the three other guides took the middle bench, cradling their rifles, as the truck juddered into life and crawled along Attapeu's flooded roads, its exhaust fumes rivaling a coal-fired power station for noxious emissions.
At the first opportunity, Mark nudged Anna and whispered, “I'm worried about Cassius. I saw him buy something as we left town...”
“Give it a rest will you. We haven't even started and you're already obsessing about him. Try to relax and enjoy the trip,” she said, patting his knee and turning to speak to Belinda.
Next, Mark tried to engage Sheldon, who was jealously staring across the truck at Dominic, as he kept Grace entertained.
“I think Cassius is up to something,” said Mark, quietly.
“Do you think she has the hots for him?” replied Sheldon.
Confused, Mark asked “Who?”
“Grace, for Dominic.”
“Who cares? I'm trying to tell you something important, I just had a worrying conversation with Cassius …”
“She's so beautiful…”
Mark gave up and put on his headphones. He decided, at the first opportunity, he would find out what Cassius had put in the top of his backpack as they'd left town.
For the first couple of hours the truck traveled through the countryside on battered asphalt roads which meandered up and down steep, cloud-shrouded mountains. Driving rain drummed monotonously on the plastic sheeting, and inside the back of the truck it became hot, sweaty and unpleasantly fugged up.
Cassius pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered them round.
“You can't seriously be thinking of smoking in here?” asked Anna, looking outraged.
Sheepishly, he put them away.
Eventually the truck veered off the asphalt and cut into the jungle along a narrow dirt track, swaying wildly from side to side as it hit deep potholes and skidded in pools of thick mud.
The rain finally stopped and the sun came out, and Savan called a halt so the plastic sheeting could be removed. The Americans stretched their legs and the Brits stood in a smoking huddle. Mark cornered Brad and told him about Cassius and the mysterious white package, but Brad wasn't interested either.
“It could have been anything. So long as they don't endanger us out here, I'm relaxed,” he said.
Nobody seemed to share Mark's deep suspicions about the Brits.
The truck continued slowly through the jungle, driving along muddy tracks and avoiding fallen rocks and small landslides caused by the previous night's torrential downpour. On one side of the truck was a sheer rock face, formed when the road had been blasted out of the side of the mountain, and on the other was dense jungle, broken only by occasional patchworks of water-filled rice fields, reflecting bright sunlight off their mirror-flat surfaces.
Savan tapped Brad on the knee. “What kind of MIA remains are you looking for with your CIA team?”
“Oh, we're not exactly looking for remains on this trip; it's more of a scouting and study mission,” Brad replied, feeling embarrassed about his CIA/MIA white lie, which he'd told in order to persuade Savan to take them into the jungle.
“Aha - a reconnaissance mission to the Ho Chi Minh Trail. Like in the war?”
“A bit like that,” said Brad, trying to get off the subject.
Lao smiled and said something to his father, who asked, “Your British friends; they come as observers?”
“Not really. They're more interested in anthropology and the villagers in the region,” said Brad.
Savan gave a knowing nod, then, looking at Sabinia, he asked, “Are you MI6?”
Remembering Sheldon's book, Sabinia replied, “No, we're SAS,” to suppressed laughter from Cassius and Dominic.
Savan turned and gave Brad a 'you can trust me' look, as Brad shook his head in exasperation. One of the other guides, Khong, was eagerly listening in.
Khong was about thirty years old; he wore old army fatigues and had swift, darting eyes. He was taking a great interest in the group and he picked up on everything that was said, probably not believing a covert military unit like this could be so deep undercover as a bunch of dumbass backpackers.
The track narrowed, and the jungle was now so close it reached into the truck.
“You are now on the old Ho Chi Minh Trail” announced Savan. Everyone instinctively turned around to look, only to be smacked in the face by overhanging bushes, snapped back by the truck.
“Can we get out and take some photos?” asked Mark, excited that they were now in the world of his grandfather's journal. Savan banged on the top of the truck and it came to an immediate stop. “We can eat food here,” he said, pointing to a grassy, sun-dappled clearing, which was mostly shaded by trees.
“You must be careful not to walk off. There is much UXO here, from the war,” said Lao, as the guides clambered onto the roof and passed down food for lunch. Ahead of the truck, a cloud of brown and yellow butterflies settled back down on some large round balls lying on the track.
“What are they eating?” Belinda asked Lao.
“That is elephant shit. It is fresh. Good for butterflies.”
“So they have wild elephants out here?”
“They have wild everything out here, including tigers,” replied Brad.
“And maybe much wilder things,” said Khong, to himself, as he helped Tak and Dao unload the food.
The noise of cicadas was almost deafening as the travelers sat in the clearing eating their lunch of rice and tinned fish. They'd traveled for over three hours and hadn't seen a soul before they’d stopped.
The group heard disembodied voices on the Trail, coming from around the corner, from the direction in which they were traveling. The guides' conversations fizzled out. They stood up, nervously gripped their rifles, released the safeties, and took aim.
“Stay down,” said Lao, as Mark stood up to see what was happening.
“This is a bit much isn't it?” Sheldon asked Brad, hoping the guides were over-reacting.
“I suppose that depends on what they think may be coming round the corner,” he replied.
A group of men in white uniforms with distinctive, circular red, white and blue patches on their arms came into view, carrying what looked like big guns slung over their shoulders. The guides covered them with their rifles. Suddenly Savan laughed. “Metal detectors!” he said.
It was a UXO Lao bomb disposal unit. The guides breathed a sigh of relief, put down their weapons and Savan went over to talk to the team.
“Was that necessary?” Sabinia asked Khong.
“In the jungle, you can't be too careful, especially out here.” Khong looked around him. “It is sometimes better to shoot first and never ask any questions later.”
Savan returned, telling the group that the UXO team had been camping and working in the jungle for two months, clearing the way for a new road. They were in radio contact with other UXO teams even deeper in the jungle, and they had warned of heavy landslides up ahead, following the previous days' rain.
Brad, Sheldon and Mark wandered over to talk to the UXO guys, taking Lao as their interpreter.
The foreman told them this part of the Ho Chi Minh Trail had been heavily bombed and attacked during the war. Mark looked around the peaceful jungle and wondered if this is where his grandfather had seen action, creeping through dense undergrowth to observe perhaps the very spot on the Trail where they now stood. The foreman said something to Lao, who indicated that the group should follow as they walked a short way off the trail.
“Be careful. Only follow in this man's footprints,” said Lao.
The foreman stopped and pointed out an area closed off by red and white security tape, from which hung square pieces of red-painted plastic marked with a skull and crossbones drawn in white, bearing the words: “Danger! Mines!”
Lao translated: “If you stand on them, the mines jump out of the ground and blow your balls and your legs off. Happens many times every year.”
“Who laid the mines?” asked Mark.
“They are Chinese, laid by North Vietnamese Army, to protect the Trail from secret US commando attack,” translated Lao.
Above the warning signs, a cluster of beautiful yellow and white orchids burst out from the gray bark of a tree. Mark wondered what would've happened had he seen the orchids and taken Anna for a closer look.
As they carefully walked back to their lunch spot, Mark realized he could so easily have become a victim of a mine laid for his grandfather all those years ago, and he walked with even greater care, now knowing what dangers lay just beneath the surface of the jungle.
Chapter 2
Dead End
Back at the lunch stop, Tak and Dao were re-packing all the gear on the roof, as Savan self-consciously pretended to take bearings from a small, crumpled map he was carrying.
The trekkers tied scarves and handkerchiefs around their necks to protect them from the fierce afternoon sun, got back on the truck and drove deeper into the jungle. They ascended a hill, from where they could see for miles, although there was nothing else under the deep blue sky except dense green jungle and distant mountains.
They pressed on as the sun sank towards the horizon, passing through an area of hills and mountains which were completely devoid of trees. Only stunted patches of grass grew on them.
Sabinia asked Savan, “What's happened to all the trees? Have they been illegally logged?”
“This is because of Agent Orange, dropped over forty years ago by the Americans to expose the Ho Chi Minh Trail from the air, but still, nothing can grow here but grass.”
“That's outrageous,” fumed Sabinia, glowering at Brad, like he'd dropped it all. Brad ignored her.
“Do you know why it's called Agent Orange?” asked Sheldon.
“Yeah, because the drums it came in were painted with an orange stripe to distinguish it from other chemicals,” replied Brad.
As he spoke, the truck turned a corner and suddenly slammed to a halt, throwing everyone over the floor. Brad hoped the guides' rifles had their safeties on, as they went clattering in all directions.
In front of the truck, as the trail passed between two steep, grassy hills, there had been a landslide which had completely blocked the track with a large mound of densely-packed mud, grass, rich red earth and rocks. The driver hadn't been able to see it until he'd rounded the bend, and then he'd had to brake fast, so he didn't plough into it. There was a strong smell of damp earth. “It's just happened,” said Lao. “Not enough vegetation can grow on the mountain side to secure the soil when it is wet.”
Savan got out to examine the roadblock. There was no way around it, as the other side of the Trail steeply sloped away into the jungle. He came back disappointed.
“We have to walk in from here. I wanted we use the truck for tomorrow, but now we cannot. We make camp nearby tonight, go in on foot instead,” he said.
“Where's a charter helicopter service when you need it,” joked Belinda. At least Brad thought she was joking.
The realization they were now without transport worried Anna. She stood looking around her; the birds and cicadas had suddenly gone quiet and an oppressive silence enveloped the group.
“Don't worry,” said Mark. “Savan, Lao and the guys are experienced guides. They know what they're doing.”
Anna still looked concerned, but said nothing.
Savan made a general announcement to the group, “We have to send truck back to Attapeu tomorrow, and we walk to Red Mountain from here.”
“Excellent!” said Cassius. All the Brits seemed very happy with the news. Sheldon wondered what could be so excellent about having to walk further into the jungle instead of driving in the truck.
“How much time will it add to the trip?” asked Belinda, uncertainly eyeing the food which Tak was handing down from the roof.
“Two extra days to go there and two extra days to come back. So now, ten days.”
Belinda wiped sweat from her neck. “Do you think we have enough food and water? You said you'd only brought enough for six days”
Savan said: “Should be OK, if you like rice. We eat less, maybe. But you have to decide. Do you want to go on with the trek, or go back to Attapeu with the truck tomorrow. It's up to you. I have been paid already!”
Standing on the Trail as late afternoon shadows grew longer, Anna felt exposed and very far from home.
“Anna, what do you want to do?” Mark asked, noticing her nervousness.
“I think it's a long way to come from New York to give up now, much as I'd like to,” she said, looking around her apprehensively, worrying about spending the night in the jungle.
Addressing himself only to his four friends, Mark said: “I know we're following my grandfather's journal, but I don't want to go on if any of you has even the slightest doubt about continuing.”
“Just think of what your grandfather had to do to get here,” said Sheldon. Brad, Belinda, Anna and Sheldon all voted to continue.
“Ok then. We carry on,” said Mark.
“We're definitely happy to continue,” said Sabinia, on behalf of the Brits. “It increases our chances of contact with indigenous hill tribes, which is why we're very happy to go in on foot.”
They all looked at Grace. She wiped sweat and dirt from around her beautiful green eyes, and said “OK. I'll continue with you too. Why not?”
“Will the food and water last? That's my only worry,” said Belinda.
Savan replied, “Should not be a problem. We can buy from villages if we run out.”
The guides went back to unloading supplies and backpacks from the roof. When Grace's was handed down, Dominic and Sheldon both rushed to grab it, jostling each other out of the way. Grace swiped it from Tak's hands and walked off.
“There's something amusing about watching two socially inept people making a play for the same beautiful, sophisticated woman, especially when she's way out of their league” said Brad to Mark.
Savan made an announcement that the trekkers should only take what they needed for the night, and they should leave valuables and any items they didn't need inside the truck, in case it rained and everything got ruined.
“Aren't your tents waterproof?” asked Anna.
“Yes, but why take the chance?” said Lao, really meaning, 'No, they're absolutely not.'
“We'll lock the truck and leave the driver with it, so you can leave everything except what you wear and what you need for tonight,” said Savan.
There was no cell phone or any other kind of signal, so most people left on the truck the few remaining phones and laptops which they hadn't already deposited back at the hotel, and all the clothes they wouldn't need that night. Mark decided to leave his cell phone, the satellite phone and the heavy laminated copy of his grandfather's journal, but he took the GPS, the laminated photos of Red Mountain and Spike's old army photos, as he wanted to look at them again.
The girls decided to change out of their sweat-stained clothes for the evening and clambered into the back of the truck, reappearing as though they were going to a party. Sabinia was wearing a tight, breast-hugging white lycra t-shirt which displayed some of her abundant cleavage, and a short denim skirt, frayed around the hem. She was looking hot.
“I bet you'd never have thought it?” said Mark as he and Brad stared in astonishment at her. They'd only ever seen Sabinia draped in loose-fitting, scruffy clothes until then.
“Thought what?”
“That she's got a killer figure beneath all that Attitude.”
Brad smiled. “Maybe she thinks The Jungle's a nightclub we're heading to.”
Grace was next, wearing a pair of tight denim shorts with a sequined Union Jack on one pocket, and a tight black t-shirt with a white line image of Table Mountain drawn on it. She'd draped a white cardigan over her shoulders and tied her curly hair back, which drew attention to her fine facial features, arched eyebrows and stunning green eyes. She bent down to massage insect repellent into her long, slender, sun-tanned legs.
“There's no need to comment,” sighed Mark, as they turned to observe Dominic and Sheldon's Neanderthal stares.
Anna had changed into an NYU Violets polo shirt and a black ethnic skirt she'd picked up in Vang Vieng. Mark noticed with pleasure that she was bra-less.
“The straps were digging in,” she said, catching Mark's admiring stare. “I'll put it on again tomorrow.”
“Don't bother on my account,” he replied, thinking about later.
Belinda stepped off the truck looking like a million dollars, still wearing her Ray Ban Wayfarer limited edition black-rimmed sunglasses, her pink freshwater pearl earrings, and still not a hair out of place. She'd changed into a pink polo shirt but retained her knee-length denim skirt.
As the sun sank lower, outfits duly changed, and their backpacks considerably lightened by what they'd left in the truck, the trekkers were ready to head into the jungle.
“It's no problem, really…”
Mark looked round to see Sheldon trying to lift Grace's backpack as well as his own. Now it was Dominic's turn to simmer; the Nerd War was hotting up.
Savan again took an elaborate bearing from the sun, and, telling everyone to follow only in his footsteps, he disappeared down the side of the trail and was immediately swallowed up by the jungle.
Chapter 3
First Night
The jungle was damp and humid as a thick, interlocking tree canopy blocked out the sun, and vines, stands of bamboo, thorny palms and fantastically shaped tree roots impeded their progress as they walked. Above them, roosting hornbills and other birds chattered, boomed and squawked. Sheldon tried to spot them with his binoculars. Realizing he'd been left behind, and unnerved by the sound of cracking twigs, he ran as fast as he could to catch up, shooting nervous glances behind him.
“There's something claustrophobic about the jungle at sunset isn't there? It feels like hope is disappearing with the light, and evil is creeping towards us with the darkness,” he said to Brad, when he'd finally caught up.
Brad looked at him oddly. “Sure, if you're mentally ill,” he said. “Although the jungle can play tricks on people, and if you're tired, sick or stressed, it can be a very bad place to be stuck in.”
The light was quickly fading and the sky in the west was turning pink. Savan and Lao machete'd their way through a wall of vines and creepers which twisted through the undergrowth, and finally broke out in a clearing near a small stream. Savan told the group to wait, while he and his son carefully checked the campground for UXO, as light leached from the jungle. Around the campsite, tall stands of bamboo exploded in silhouette against the blue-black sky.
The group were handed paraffin lamps and five tents by the guides, three of which quickly went to Brad and Belinda, Anna and Mark, and Cassius and Sabinia.
“What, we have to put up our own accommodation?” asked Belinda in horror.
“Relax, I can do it with my eyes closed,” said Brad, as he scoped out the area with an experienced eye, to locate the best possible sleeping spot. “And it's called a tent, by the way.”
“I know. I just wasn't expecting…well, I don't know what I was expecting really. This is my first time sleeping rough.”
Brad held her and kissed her. “Relax honey. This isn't 'rough'. And you're in the best possible hands.”
“So I can feel,” she said, as he cupped her pert ass through her denim skirt.
Three tents for three couples. That left two tents and the Love Triangle to sort itself out.
Dominic and Sheldon warily eyed each other, and Grace, in a parody of a Western shoot-out. Sensing the tension, Grace calmly picked up a tent, declared she wasn't going to share and would be sleeping on her own.
A short while later, tired of Dominic and Sheldon's constant bickering as they erected the tent for her, Grace drifted over to Anna and Belinda.
“Is Sheldon always like this? So competitive?” Grace asked.
“This is unusual,” said Belinda. “He's obviously got the hots for you. But so has Dominic I think?”
“It's tiring, but what can I do? It's happened a lot on this trip.”
“That's the downside of a beautiful, single woman traveling on her own,” said Anna. “But normally, Sheldon's a very nice guy.”
The men were tasked with collecting firewood. Savan warned them to be careful, to stay within the clearing, and to not go further than where they could be seen, while Savan and Lao dug a latrine pit a little ways off from the tents, and chopped some bushes to act as screens.
It was now totally dark. Out in the jungle, it was like someone had flicked off the lights. The moon hadn't yet risen, and stars and constellations clearly stood out, the Milky Way appearing as a bright slash across the vastness of the sky. Around the perimeter of the camp, and above it, fireflies pulsed brilliant white light.
“They look like flashing lights on high flying aircraft,” said Anna as she and Mark lay behind their tent looking up. They kissed and held each other, grateful for the brief moment of intimacy, feeling very close, surrounded by the dark, brooding jungle.
Brad and Belinda also lay together outside their tent, looking up at the sky and spotting satellites and shooting stars.
“Amazing isn't it?” said Brad.
“I've never felt so insignificant, or so vulnerable,” said Belinda, as she pulled Brad's arms tighter around her body and nuzzled into his neck.
After eating, the trekkers sat around the camp fire. It gave off a fierce heat; the burning wood bathed the group in a bright yellow glow and threw grotesque shadows haphazardly around the camp. Outside their small circle of light, for many miles in all directions, there was only the deep black darkness of the jungle.
The trekkers watched as giant rhinoceros beetles and hawk moths launched suicide missions around the flames, before columns of large black ants carried away the injured fliers. An owl screeched in a nearby tree. Anna sat up, startled.
“We're gonna have to get used to this,” laughed Mark, his own heart pounding.
The fire invited them ever-closer. In a lull in the conversation, the unfamiliar sounds of toads, animals, insects and birds calling from the jungle seemed to grow louder. It reminded Mark that it was the first time he'd slept in a tent for many years, since his hunting trips in Vermont with Spike. On that last hunting trip, Spike had said, 'Memories. They haunt you for the rest of your life…'
At the time, Mark hadn't understood, but now he believed Spike was referring to his friend Ed Evans, the guy he'd left behind in the Laotian jungle. Maybe he'd last seen him on this very spot, in the cavernous truck park clearing not far from the Trail.
“I wonder what my grandfather would say if he could see us now?” said Mark, out loud.
“What the fuck are you guys doing? You're insane!” replied Cassius. Everyone laughed.
Savan wandered over, unintentionally throwing highly combustible material on the fire of passion: “Miss Grace, who will sleep in your tent with you tonight?”
“I'm going to sleep on my own, thanks,” she replied.
“No. No. One of the men, Mr. Dominic or Mr. Sheldon, must sleep with you. For protection,” he said, looking very grave.
Sabinia bridled at this, although Grace didn't react. Dominic and Sheldon shot each other a hard stare and appeared to be heading for a showdown.
“I'll do it,” volunteered Sheldon. “I know how to survive in the jungle.”
“I don't think a pampered life in New York or Singapore qualifies you for that. At least I've got my hands dirty in the jungle recently, in the Golden Triangle,” replied Dominic.
Rapidly tiring of the sparring, Grace said firmly, “Guys, I can sleep on my own. It's cool. In my country I'm used to sleeping out in the bush.” She knew where this might otherwise lead, to an embarrassing public display of altercation.
Sheldon ignored Grace’s intervention and said to Dominic, “You're just a pothead asshole. If anything did happen, you'd be too stoned to know what day it was.” Sheldon then stood up, intending to duke it out.
“Is that how you want to play it?” Dominic also rose, carefully removing his glasses and handing them to Cassius, before raising his fists like a bad boxer. Sabinia suddenly stood up and announced she would sleep with Grace, Dominic could sleep in Cassius's tent and Sheldon could have a tent all to himself.
Secretly relieved about not having to fight, but happy the other wasn't sharing Grace's tent, and even happier that they wouldn't be sharing one either, Sheldon and Dominic wandered off to comply with the new sleeping arrangements, hurling insults at each other.
Cassius went back to his tent and returned with a bottle of Johnnie Walker Red Label and some plastic glasses.
“I thought a nightcap might be in order?”
“Maybe you've got this guy all wrong,” whispered Brad to Mark. Mark doubted that.
Sheldon and Dominic rejoined the circle, and everyone sat around the fire drinking nightcaps and staring into the blaze. They all seemed to be aware of the oppressive blackness around them, their fire, one small pinprick of light, representing civilization and human interaction, in the dark, mysterious, war-ravaged jungle of southern Laos.
“I wonder if you have ghosts out here, like from the war and stuff,” said Sheldon.
“You don't believe in that crap do you?” asked Cassius.
“I'm a Buddhist; I believe a lot of things, and maybe you'd be wrong to dismiss them, especially out here in Asia. Animists believe there are Spirits everywhere; they're all around us even as we sit here. They're in the trees, the bushes, just watching us…”
The trekkers involuntarily looked around them. Anna shuddered; the hairs on the back of her neck were standing on end.
“Here's what I believe in,” said Cassius, producing two joints. He passed them round, extolling the virtues of Laotian grass.
Suddenly a gunshot rang out from the jungle. Everyone jumped out of their skins. The guides looked up, more alarmed by the trekkers' reaction than by the gunfire, and they began to laugh.
Lao explained, “They are night hunters. Poachers. Very far away.”
“But they sound very close,” said Dominic, warily.
Khong strolled past, eyeing everyone carefully. “The jungle can be very deceptive,” he said.
Mark asked Sabinia what they were likely to see in the hill villages they visited for her project.
She pulled a face. “You shouldn't come with us. It detrimentally impacts on their village ecosystems, so we try not to take any other people in with us.”
“Oh. I thought it would be quite interesting to see them,” said Mark.
“They're not zoo animals. Have you ever thought they may not want to see you?” she replied, testily.
“Jesus, what do I have to do to make conversation with her,” said Mark, quietly, to Anna, who squeezed his hand sympathetically.
Cassius shot Sabinia a glance. Relenting slightly at having bitten his head off, she said to Mark: “Actually, It depends if they're open to contact or not. And I'll only know once I've approached them. So maybe you can get to see some.
“What kind of hill tribes are we likely to encounter?” Mark asked.
“Mostly the Lao Thoeng tribe - they're called “upland Lao” and they're a loose affiliation of mostly Austro-Asiatic people who live on mid-altitude mountain slopes around here.”
Mark couldn't fault her. She obviously had a detailed knowledge of the local Laotian hill tribes, and he felt slightly embarrassed for not having believed her about her anthropology degree.
At 9 pm, it felt like 3 am; everyone was beat and ready for bed. As people got up from around the fire, a loud explosion, like thunder, rumbled across the jungle.
“What the hell was that?” asked Dominic.
“People defusing a bomb, probably,” said Savan.
“Defusing a bomb? At night?”
“Perhaps an accident. It happens. There are many hill tribes who live in the jungle defusing Vietnam War bombs to sell as scrap metal. It is illegal and dangerous. They lose their limbs or they die. But what can they do, they need money.”
After that, everyone said goodnight and crawled into their damp-smelling tents after a long, adventurous day.
Brad found it difficult to sleep. Constantly alert, he was aware of the low talk of the guides, who had posted two armed guards, on rotation. He was wondering why they'd bother. They'd said because of tigers, but he thought that was bullshit.
A short while later, Dominic went to use the latrine and stopped suddenly on his return. Anna and Mark were clearly silhouetted inside their tent by the light of the camp fire. Anna was sitting on top of Mark and slowly grinding into him, as Mark cupped her rhythmically swinging breasts. When she came she put her hand over her mouth and jerked and spasmed silently, before falling down on top of him.
Dominic watched them, and after he’d finished masturbating he went back to his tent, where he and Cassius kept a small, battery-operated light lit late into the night, poring over maps, unzipping bags, rustling paper, and counting money.
Mark woke at 4 am, grabbed a flashlight and crawled outside to take a leak. The air felt cold, slightly damp and very fresh. A half-moon had risen, and he could see his way clearly. He walked past the sleeping guards who were supposed to be on sentry duty. He thought about taking their rifles to teach them a lesson, but instead decided to speak to Brad and Savan in the morning.
‘What's the point of having armed guards on duty if they don't even wake up when someone walks past?' he wondered.
The night had been regularly punctured by the sound of solitary gunshots and larger explosions from the jungle, but as Mark lay back down to sleep, he heard a low rumble, which grew to a loud roar, and then was quickly gone.
'It must have been another explosion', he thought, and went back to sleep.
Chapter 4
More Victims of Agent Orange
“Jesus turn the alarm off,” groaned Anna.
“What are you talking about? We're in the jungle,” said Mark.
Anna sat up and realized the dawn cacophony didn't have anything to do with their alarm clock. Nearby, gibbons howled at each other like banshees on acid. Mark staggered out of the tent to see Brad and Belinda crawl out of theirs; Belinda looked tired.
“How did you sleep?” he asked.
“Horribly,” Belinda replied.
“It was her first time in a tent,” Brad explained.
“Thank God it's only for a few days,” said Belinda, as she made her way to the latrines.
The guides had already built up the fire, and Tak and Dao were cooking breakfast of rice, tinned meat and coffee.
“If I don't get scurvy on this trip I'd be doing well,” said Mark to Anna, who emerged from the tent looking like a scarecrow.
“If I get a decent night's sleep, I'll be doing well,” she said.
Mark spoke to Brad about the sleeping guards, and they both went to talk to Savan, who immediately summoned Khong and the cook, Tak, who were on duty at the time, and bawled them out in front of everyone. Mark could tell they resented it, especially Khong, who eyed him reproachfully. A little while later, as Mark brushed his teeth in the nearby stream, Khong confronted him.
“My friend, why did you not wake me up? Why make a problem for me?”
“I'm sorry. I was half asleep myself. I didn't think Savan would holler at you like that in front of everyone.”
“By not waking me, you left the camp unprotected. Very dangerous.” Khong said, as though his sleeping on the job and the resulting security lapse was Mark's fault.
“I thought there was nothing to worry about out here anyway?” said Mark.
“Think again,” Khong replied darkly, before walking off, muttering under his breath.
Back at the campground everything was packed, and everyone was ready to return to the truck to collect the items they'd stored the previous evening, before they started on their trek to Red Mountain. Noticing Cassius's backpack lay open, Mark volunteered to stay behind and look after the bags in the clearing; Brad would collect his few items from the truck. The group disappeared into the jungle, heading back to the Trail, leaving only Mark and Tak, who lay on the ground next to his hunting rifle, grabbing some extra sleep.
Mark looked again at Cassius's open backpack, and, wondering what the shifty Laotian guy had handed to him the previous day, he casually wandered over and stole a look inside.
At the top, besides balled up underwear and socks, was a dirty old Dubai Duty Free bag. It was heavy, and when he opened it, he saw four tightly-sealed bricks of cannabis, weighing about a kilo each. Way more than could ever be needed for personal use on a trip like theirs. Using his limited retail knowledge, he calculated it had a street value of tens of thousands of dollars back in the US.
“I don't think he bought that in Dubai Duty free,” he said out loud.
Cassius hadn't gone back to the truck. He'd been down to the stream to wash, and he'd left open the backpack to repack his toiletries. He walked into the camp ground and saw Mark examining the cannabis. He watched him for a moment, and then angrily stormed across the clearing.
“What the fuck are you doing?” He shouted. “Found anything interesting in there, you nosey bastard?” He snatched back the duty free bag of weed and looking pretty pissed.
Mark was shocked and deeply embarrassed to have been caught. “I'm sorry…”
Cassius was furious. “Were you trying to nick this?”
“No! I just wanted to see what it was…”
Well, next time I catch you with your thieving fucking hands near my stuff I'll cut you. You understand?” He said this so close to Mark's face that drops of spit landed on him.
Woken by the commotion, Tak rushed over, but by then Cassius had calmed down and tousled Mark's hair, play-punched him in the arm, saying “It's OK, Tak. We're cool. Aren't we, mate?”
Mark gulped, then hesitantly nodded, playing his part in the charade.
As Tak walked off, Mark stammered: “Sorry, it was open...”
“Save it. Just mind your own fucking business in future, and keep your hands and your nose out of my bag. Or you'll fucking regret it,” Cassius added, menacingly.
“Why have you got so much dope?”
Before Cassius could answer, there was a noise in the jungle and Brad came crashing through the bush saying, “You guys had better come up to the road.”
They rushed through the now well-trodden path through the undergrowth, climbed the slope and exited onto the narrow track where they'd parked the truck the previous night, only now the truck had disappeared, and everyone was standing around in varying degrees of surprise, shock and anger.
“Where is it?” asked Mark.
“It's completely buried under tons of earth. There was another landslide last night,” replied Brad, indicating a fresh fall of soil, grass and rock. The truck's roof was the only part of the vehicle visible under the debris.
“I think I heard this happen, around 4 am. Where's the driver?” asked Mark.
“He's OK. He got out in time, but all the things we left in there are now buried,” said Brad.
Anna came over. She was distressed at losing her camera, ipod and laptop, which she'd left inside the vehicle.
Mark asked Savan, “Can we dig out the truck?”
“With what? We will have to wait for the road-clearing team to come with an excavator.”
“OK.” Mark looked at his watch. “How long will that be?”
“A week. Maybe two. Not many come here. You will get all your items back when the landslide is cleared, but you will not have them for the trek to Red Mountain.”
Everyone had left items they either wanted or needed inside the truck. And Grace, in her inappropriately short shorts and Sabinia in her short denim skirt, now had to travel through the jungle as though dressed for a night out.
“Lucky I tell you to leave everything you do not need in the truck,” Savan said, pleased with himself.
“Well, you said everything we didn't need for last night,” interrupted a furious Sabinia. “And why did you leave the fucking thing parked next to a landslide, for Christ's sake?”
“Lightning doesn't strike two times in the same place,” Savan gently replied.
“No, but landslides obviously do!” she shouted, before storming into the jungle, heading back to camp, with Cassius chasing after her, no doubt to tell her about catching Mark with the dope.
Mark said to Brad, “Unfortunately, the satellite phone's buried in there, but I've still got the GPS.”
Let's hope we won't need the phone,” Brad replied.
“What about food and water,” asked the ever-practical Belinda. “How much have we lost?”
“Maybe we lose three days food and water, but we have rice and water back at the camp; enough for a few days. We can also buy food and water from villages on the way. Or take water from the rivers,” Savan replied.
“Aren't all the rivers poisoned with Agent Orange?” asked Anna.
Belinda said she'd brought water purification tablets.
“I think we'll need a warehouse-full out here,” said Anna, dubiously.
Brad turned to Savan: “So, we don't have enough food or drinking water to cover us for the whole journey. And even if we wanted to turn back now, we couldn't, because we haven't got the truck, so we're basically stranded out here.”
“Yes…” mumbled Savan.
Mark sat quietly with Anna. Today had already surpassed his worst day in years, and it wasn't even 8 am. He'd made an enemy of Khong, been caught rifling through Cassius's bag, and now he'd lost his grandfather's laminated journal, which had been buried in the truck, along with his cell phone and laptop which contained backup PDF files for the trip.
“Lucky I took the GPS and photographs with me last night,” he said.
“Yes; how very lucky.” Anna's nerves were beginning to fray.
“OK. We go back to camp and start our trek, before too hot,” said Savan.
On the walk back to the camp, Mark told his friends about the cannabis in Cassius's bag, what had happened as they'd left Attapeu, when he'd bought it, and also of his suspicion that Cassius had stolen and sold Grace's green camera.
Brad listened carefully. “If they are thieves, at least there's less for them to steal, now it's all safely buried in the truck. If they've bought cannabis to take on the trek, that's really up to them.”
“You don't seem to like them much,” said Belinda, to definitive nodding from Anna. “Maybe you're now just seeing everything in its worst possible light, as far as they're concerned?”
Mark was fighting a losing battle trying to convince his friends about the Brits. Frustrated, he decided to give up.
Chapter 5
Confessions
Back at the camp Savan called the group together and briefed them on what lay ahead. Mark noticed he was receiving hostile stares from the Brits.
Sheldon also noticed, and said, “You'll have to start watching more than your camera from now on.”
Savan told the trekkers that the area they were heading into contained many cluster bombs, mines, unexploded airplane bombs, bullets and rockets, and there may still be booby traps from the Vietnam War, volatile and ready to detonate. This part of the tri-border area was intersected by many trails and targets which had been regularly attacked by US Special Forces and had been heavily pummeled by air strikes against the Ho Chi Minh Trail. Savan had never been to Red Mountain before, so this would be new for him too, he said.
“I hope we find the mountain safely, but you know, we may never find it at all,” he chuckled.
Anna looked at Mark. After the truck disaster, she was already harboring doubts about Savan's judgment.
The party set off, making good progress that morning, assisted by the weather. It was cooler than the previous day because the thick early-morning cloud cover hadn't yet burned off, preventing the sun from heating up the jungle, although it remained sticky and humid.
Savan discovered an overgrown foot trail. Reminding them not to stray off it, they moved slowly, Savan carefully checking for traps and UXO. It was a tense walk, accompanied by the sound of chopping and slashing, as Savan and the guides took on the jungle with machetes.
Troops of monkeys occasionally screamed and crashed through the trees, rich birdsong filled the jungle and brilliant blue, red and green plumage briefly flashed through the undergrowth. Otherwise, only the buzzing of insects and flies and the deafening, monotonous chirping of cicadas accompanied their journey that morning.