They started off slowly. The first leg was a steep, sandy hill; then the primal forest took over. Ben and Nathan went first. After some time, she noticed that some native men had joined them. She hadn’t noticed them at first. Immediately she thought they had evil intentions, but then she understood that they were going to accompany them on the journey. Ben explained to her that they were members of the Orang-asli, the original people.
They climbed up a slick and slippery slope. Her backpack kept pulling her off balance. She held tight to roots and branches, trudging upwards with difficulty. Heinrich was right behind her, a whistling sound when he breathed.
“How’re you doing?” she panted.
“I hate to complain when we’ve just started,” he said. “But this goddamn heat.”
Yes, the heat was enervating; it made movement slow and breathing heavy. It forced out sweat so that their clothes became wet, made the cloth from their pants cling to their legs making their steps even more difficult.
Once at the top, the plant growth stood like a great green wall. The native men began to clear a path. Justine tried to use her knife, but it was hard to grasp, she needed both hands to hold on to it. One of the men took the knife from her and showed her how to hack. It seemed so easy when he did it.
They cut their way through up there, and then there was a sharp drop, a ravine full of mud and slippery leaves.
“Do we have to go down right here?” said Gudmundur.
“That’s right, they really didn’t give a damn about informing us how the jungle is constructed,” said Heinrich. “They should have told us all the way to the very last vein in the very last leaf.”
Ben came up to them.
“Having a rough time?”
“If only it weren’t so damn hot. We’re not used to it.”
“Drink a lot of water. Don’t forget to drink.”
One of the native men started the descent. He was wearing a shirt with “Pepsi” written on it, and dark blue shorts. His legs were skinny and scratched. She thought she might slip and roll all the way down to the ravine’s stony bottom. Her muscles shook from the strain; she climbed down extraordinarily slowly, holding tightly to vines and branches. Fell on her butt and slid down quite a ways until a tree stump stopped her. She sat for a moment, hugging it like a lifesaver. Once she let go, she managed to set her hand right into a thorny bush. She swore to herself.
Nathan was quite a bit ahead of her. “Aren’t you coming?” he called.
Martina had already reached the bottom.
“We can take a short rest,” Ben said.
The yellow river ran rapidly; from a distance came the thunder of a waterfall.
“Take off your backpack,” said Nathan, but she was too tired; her hands were shaking. He helped her, lifted it off; the straps had cut into her shoulders. Her arms had swollen so that her watch was too tight. She had to loosen it a few holes. She looked at her fingers; they were swollen like small sausages, and she could hardly bend them.
Heinrich was the last one down. His eyes wandered; his clothes were soaked and dirty.
Ben looked at them all.
“You’ll get used to it. It’s hardest at the beginning.”
“I wonder,” said Heinrich. “I’m not sure you can teach an old dog new tricks.”
They had stopped at a beautiful place. Large white flowers were blooming at the river’s edge; higher up they saw grottos, and a group of bats came out into the light, frightened by their closeness. Justine fell to her knees by the river. She let the water run over her hands and face. An enormous butterfly was sitting on a twig which was sticking out over the water. She noticed more of them all at once; they circled around her and she held out her hands. One of them landed on her thumb. She felt its small cool feet and its antennae as it slid across her skin.
“Don’t move!” said Martina. “I want to get a close-up.”
But when she approached with her camera lens, the butterfly became scared and flew off. She sighed with disappointment.
“Damn! That would have been the best picture!”
“They’re looking for salt,” said Ben.
“They are? I thought butterflies looked for sweet.”
“Well, that’s why they’re landing on Justine,” said Heinrich. He had taken off his shoes and dropped his feet into the water. He grimaced strongly.
“Usch. Have any of you gotten blisters?”
“I don’t know,” said Justine. Her gym shoes were soaked through and muddy. “I don’t dare take them off. I doubt I’ll ever get them back on.”
One of the native men came up to Ben. He was somewhat younger; he had a scar running across one of his cheeks. He was holding a blow pipe in his hand. A quiver hung on his hip. He appeared excited. He kept repeating the same word again and again.
“What’s he saying?” asked Nathan.
“Tiger tracks.”
“Where?” Martina forced herself forward. “Let me see so I can take some pictures.”
About ten meters away they saw the prints of large paws in the sand. “Ben, you did say that they are more afraid of us than we are of them,” mumbled Katrine. “I really hope that’s true.” “Oh yes, of course it’s true. He certainly heard us and ran away. He’s far away by now.”
They started off again. They were going to follow the edge of the river. The mountain stood straight up on their left side. They had to balance on slippery roots and cliffs right where the mountain met the water. One of the men had tied a rope of rattan between the twigs and branches. They held to the rope and slowly moved forward.
Eventually, the mountain leveled out, and they turned into the forest.
She and Heinrich were always coming last. She was stressed by the pace the others kept. She managed as best she could. She struggled with breathing and she lost her rhythm. In the beginning, Nathan waited for her and helped her over the most difficult passages. In the beginning, he also exhorted her.
“Try and go a bit faster, Justine; you’re holding up the whole group.”
Later, Ben let one of the native men go with Justine and Heinrich. Every time they caught up to the others, they had already rested for a while and were ready to keep going. This kept increasing her stress and her feeling of incompetence. Heinrich noticed this and he tried to comfort her.
“Not everyone has the same ability; that’s just the way it is. And if Nathan wants to arrange jungle adventures in the future, he should inform his customers that you have to be a marathoner and an elite gymnast in order to go.”
She was noticing so clearly how her body had become more limited. She wasn’t young any longer.
They sat on some stones and rested. Justine kneaded one of her ankles and felt something warm in her hand. It was blood. Her socks had large red stains. She touched one of the stains and felt something rubbery. She screamed aloud.
The native men laughed.
Four leeches had attached themselves through her socks. Their bodies were swelling and thickening. She had drawn up her socks over her pant leg, but they had sucked their way through.
“There’s leeches for you,” said Nathan.
“Take them off!” she screamed.
Martina came near with the camera.
“Hold still. This will take only a few seconds.”
Justine screamed in Swedish, “Go to hell!”
She threw herself on the ground, shook her leg against the ground, kicked, howled.
Nathan gripped her shoulders.
“Don’t get hysterical, Justine. Dammit, don’t make an idiot of yourself.”
She froze, sniffled.
“Take them off, then! Take them off!”
“You take them off! We’ve all gotten leeches on us.”
She forced herself, fingers on slimy, soft bodies, fingers that trolled, her eyes closed; in with her fingernail next to the sticky, rubbery mouths: there! They twisted in her grip, black and aggressive rings. With a grimace of disgust, she struck them against a stone.
Her wounds wouldn’t stop bleeding, but there wasn’t any pain.