The Path
Approx 3,279 words
©2004 by Geraldine Ahrens
As the moon rose over the treetops, the shadows of the jungle
receded farther into the gloom from which they had come. A worshipful Julian
watched Luna climb higher in the night sky, lighting the path ahead. He thought
of the many centuries man had crouched in the darkness; waiting for the light
of the moon or the coming of day, to help dispel the fears of night.
Late in the afternoon he had become separated from the rest of
the survey party, when he had stepped off the path for a nature call. He knew
he had only walked twenty paces into the thick vegetation, but had somehow
gotten turned around. Fear became a sinister beast clinging to his back,
whispering dark thoughts in his head.
After stepping twenty paces in all directions and not finding
the path, the beast was no longer whispering, but shrieking. Julian’s screams
for help were absorbed by the dense jungle growth, instead of echoing out for his
companions to hear. He had panicked and fled.
In short order, ridding himself of the beast, he had stopped.
Coherent thoughts came slowly to his distressed mind. The vegetation was solid
in all directions. He couldn’t even tell how he had come to the spot he was now
standing. He knew he was in deep, deep trouble.
He took stock of the inventory in his pack. Two meal bars, a
short length of rope, toothbrush, toothpaste, large hunting knife, waterproof
matches, individual first aid kit, map, compass, water purification tablets and
a full canteen of water.
In spite of the dampness of the jungle, if it wasn’t the rainy
season, getting fresh drinking water was practically impossible. He would have
to conserve his water. Despair weighted him down and he fell asleep on a carpet
of large fronds.
Julian awoke with a start, sure he had
heard the noise of a large beast sniffing out his scent. The lighter shadows of
the late afternoon had been replaced by the darker shadows of the night. In the
jungle, when the sun sets, darkness is instantaneous; nothing like the long
twilight of the
Not knowing which direction he had come from, he did know that
he should be moving east toward the
Rick Suazo, a friend of his, who had spent most of his life in
the
Julian had jumped at the chance to see the jungle. He had read
all of Burroughs’s Tarzan novels, along with all of the other jungle stories he
could lay his hands on. He was still young enough to fantasize about the jungle
and even the reality had not defeated his enthusiasm. He was trying to remember
all that he had read about the
The Brazilian government, understanding that much money was to
be made in tourism, was considering expanding the boundaries of the
The intense and sometimes illegal mining, compounded with
helter-skelter development along the
The pressure of encroachment into the jungle as more and more
people tried carving out a living cutting timber, mining or farming, was
causing concern among environmental groups all over the world.
Studies were in progress along much of the
The
Julian had been briefed on all of the things not to do. Getting
separated from the rest of the party was definitely at the top of the list and
‘Do Not Panic’ was right under it. He had done both.
Luna allowed him enough light to see his compass, and he
started moving east. He knew to avoid clearings, because that is where the
larger beasts would congregate. Clearings also attracted the larger cats, for
the same reason. The panther however, was just as much at home in the dense jungle
as he was on the plains or the rocky escarpments.
As he threaded his way through the dark and sinister jungle,
fear lingered at his back. Many times the tangle of growth blotted out the
light of the moon and he would find he had been walking in the wrong direction.
Exasperated, fear had retreated and Julian was about to give up
his wandering until sunrise, when he stumbled onto a narrow path. The trees and
under-growth seemed to draw back, letting the moonlight shine gaily on the path;
inviting a traveler to follow where it led.
Drained of energy, emotionally exhausted and relieved at
finding a trail, Julian sunk down in the thick grass and fell fast asleep.
He did not know of the boar that came close, sniffing at the
dangerous smell of human; nor of the other countless small creatures that
inhabit the jungle night. A large boa constrictor, unseen and silent, uncoiled
from above, flicking its tongue at the strange smell. Not being hungry at the
moment, and not liking the odor of the human, it glided quietly away, leaving
Julian in peaceful repose.
The twittering of parakeets woke Julian in the early morning
hours. He smiled at the sound, but then remembered where he was and why.
After eating part of a meal bar and taking a small sip of water
to wash it down, he started walking. At first the trail was leading almost due north,
but then started in a more north-westerly direction. Julian figured he would
stay with the trail, no matter where it led; for most trails led to water, a
village, or both.
By early afternoon, he was beginning to wonder if he had
entered the ‘Twilight Zone’. The canopy of trees and other vegetation had
remained unchanged and the path always seemed to recede from sight. If he had
not been paying close attention to his compass, he would have sworn he was
walking in a circle.
Late afternoon found Julian standing at the edge of a large
clearing; the path continuing hurriedly into the safety of the trees a few
hundred yards beyond. His hesitation
caused him to notice a peccary rooting around in the grass. He looked for
others, knowing they are a herd animal.
Presently a large boar and several additional peccaries appeared in the
clearing.
He tested the breeze, he was downwind of the creatures. Their
eyesight may have been poor, but their sense of smell was acute, as well as
their hearing.
He crept across the clearing with no detection from the
peccaries. His sense of the path was different now. Instead of the jungle
growth receding, it now grew close. The trees created a solid canopy, causing
dark shadows on the land below. The path
had turned malevolent, warning that no invaders would be let to pass. Knowing
his imagination was working overtime, Julian hurried along, wanting only to
find water.
When the path took a rather steep descent down a rocky slope he
was sure he heard the sound of rushing water. Could this be the
The trees stopped abruptly at a sheer cliff. Far below,
probably one hundred feet or more, the Rio Tapajos raged and roared. A fine
spray reached his cheeks, causing him to stick out his tongue for the moisture
it awarded him.
Seemingly without warning, Stygian shadows rapidly began to devour
the light of day. Julian commenced to ferret out a place to rest till morning. Finding
a small opening among the tumbled boulders, he crawled in, took a bite from his
remaining meal bar and promptly fell into a restless sleep.
Peccaries, maintaining no more substance than shadows, had
stolen his canteen and fled into a hole in the ground. He had chased them to
the hole, only to find himself standing on a large compass. The needle was
pointing east and he kept trying to push it north, but it was too heavy for him
to move. Presently, a large white rabbit came from the hole, handed him back
his canteen and jumped over the edge of the cliff.
Julian awoke to the sound of his own scream. He felt hot, but
he wasn’t sweating. He was dehydrated and the beginnings of heat exhaustion
were setting in. He knew he must have water very soon or he may end up like the
rabbit in his dreams.
The moon was high overhead, once again lighting the path in
front of him. He staggered along, staying close to the trees for support and to
keep him from stumbling over the edge of the cliff. The roar of the river
increased his desire for water.
He was trying to navigate his way over a small brook that
crossed the path, when his muddied brain cleared enough for him to realize that
water was at his feet.
He lay down and drank deeply and then promptly vomited. Too
much water, too fast was not good for the system. But it did clear his head. He
dug around in his pack for the water purification tablets and then filled his
canteen. Now he would have to wait the required thirty minutes before drinking.
He couldn’t see well enough to know whether the water was
clear, he could only hope he would not become ill from drinking it.
He drank the water slowly, refilled his canteen and leaned back
against a tree, falling into a quiet sleep. Late the next morning, the sun woke
him with its heat. His neck and back were stiff and his legs were asleep; it
would take awhile to get back in motion.
The water in the brook was clear. Perhaps it carried some dire
virus or bacteria, but for now he was alive, thinking clearly and was noticing no
untoward effects.
Eating the remainder of his last meal bar, he washed it down
with a full canteen of water. He stayed long enough to drink one more canteen
before continuing his trek along the path.
Directly, the path started a gradual descent toward the river. The
Rio Tapajos could be as wide as 10 kilometers before it mingled its contents
with the mighty Amazon. Julian thought he could see where the river widened and
slowed, but he didn’t believe he had wandered that far.
Early afternoon brought him closer to the rivers edge and he
sat down in the shade of a tree to rest. He had fallen asleep and was drifting
into a dream state when he heard a voice. Smiling, he figured the voice was in
his dream, so he ignored it.
Julian usually liked to dream, for most of his dreams were a
jumble of odds and ends which he enjoyed perusing. This dream had started out
in an airplane that was flying over the jungle, but soon Julian was flying on a
carpet made of fronds, enjoying the wind on his face. But the wind had turned
hot and the stench was bad enough for his gag reflex to kick in. He woke,
choking. Then froze.
A panther’s green eyes were staring straight into his own. Even
though Julian was sure his life was over, he couldn’t help but notice the
beauty of the big cat. He wanted to touch the magnificent beast’s spotted fur.
A grumble from the cat’s chest brought Julian into reality. He
almost lost control of his bowels when he heard a firm voice speak. The cat
continued to grumble, but turned away and evaporated into the trees.
Julian looked up into the humorous eyes of a man. He was of
medium height and dressed as Julian was; jeans, shirt and boots. His long hair
was pulled away from his face and tied at the nape of his neck with leather cord.
At first Julian figured him to be young, but a closer look showed the much
lined face of an elderly man.
Julian quickly rose and looked at the spot where the cat had
disappeared.
The old man smiled and said, “Amigos.”
Julian could only nod his head. He knew amigo meant friend or
something akin to that, but he did not know any language but his own.
The man smiled and gestured that Julian should follow him. Since
the old man was going in the same direction, Julian could see no reason not to
follow. The panther materialized and proceeded to follow along at the old man’s
heels like an obedient dog.
An hour of walking brought them to a clearing that enfolded
several dwellings made of grass, branches and large fronds from the surrounding
growth. The aroma of roasting meat over the
community fire pit generated a grumble within Julian’s stomach that was loud
enough to cause the old man to smile at him.
The old man then spoke firmly to the panther, who made itself comfortable by the side of the path. A few
words were exchanged among the old man and the other village inhabitants and
Julian was made to sit, while fresh water and food was brought. Two little
girls and an older boy came to look at the stranger. But other than serve him
politely, no one tried o speak to him.
Julian slept peacefully that night. His dreams were of no
consequence.
The next morning he awoke to the twittering of parakeets and
other unnamed birds. He lay quietly, curious as to why he heard no sounds of
the small village. When he sat up he knew why he heard no sounds. The village
was gone. He jumped up; suddenly he was very much awake. Walking around the
clearing produced no clues. It was as if the village had never existed.
But it had! The pelt he had laid on was still here and fresh
fruit and some sort of root, wrapped in large leaves was beside it. His canteen
and pack were in place, the canteen full of fresh water.
The fur of the pelt was softer than anything Julian had ever
touched. The tawny color was woven with dark brown/black splotches and broad
stripes of the same color. It was so large he could wrap it fully around
himself with some left over. He rolled it carefully and tied it to his pack.
He ate a piece of fruit, shouted his thanks to the ‘ghost
people’ and started on his way, heading north along the river; following the
path that was leading him to who knew where. He was beginning to believe some
of the jungle stories he had read.
By nightfall Julian was next to the rushing water of the
His thoughts of trying to catch fish with his hands were carted
away as thoughts of leeches and other types of critters that inhabited the
waters of the jungle tumbled into his mind. He would have to be satisfied with fruit.
Thanks to the ‘ghost people,’ he at least knew what kinds of fruit were safe
for him to eat.
Julian stood and looked south, up the path he had been
following for the last four days and wondered why it was so well defined and
the only people he had seen were the ‘ghost people.’ He hadn’t thought about it
till now. It gave him something to ponder as he continued north, toward
Evening shadows were making their way toward him when he
smelled smoke. He followed his nose and found the camp of his lost companions.
Rick exploded with joy at the sight of his friend. Julian was too exhausted to
respond in kind. Instead he sat quietly and listened to the story of the search
that had been instituted in his behalf.
After a light meal, Julian wrapped himself in the pelt that the
‘ghost people’ had given him and fell asleep. In his dreams the old man was guiding the
panther in the use of the controls to make the magic carpet fly.
The next morning Julian was coerced into telling everyone in
the camp of his journey.
One of the men, James, tall and lanky, asked him to elaborate
on his experience with the old man and the panther.
“Well, there isn’t much to tell, really. I followed him and his
cat until we reached the village. I can’t speak or understand any other
language, so we didn’t speak at all. The people in the village did not talk to
me, but were very polite. Three children came and watched me for a few minutes.
I guess they were curious about the stranger. They fed me and gave me this pelt
to sleep on. I woke up and they were
gone. And I do mean gone. I couldn’t find any trace of them. No ring of rocks where
the fire had been. Nothing. That’s why I call them the
‘ghost people’.”
James put his hand on Julian’s shoulder. “My friend, you are
one of the chosen.”
“Huh?” was all Julian could say.
“The old man and the panther only help those who deserve help.
They do not help the deceitful or the poacher. They help only those whose heart
is good. Had you not been a good man, the panther would have killed you before
you had a chance to admire its strength and beauty.” He picked up the pelt. “Treasure
this pelt always. It holds a magic that only the receiver can have. It is said
that the pelt comes from the extinct, great ancestors of the panther and the
bearer will always be protected from evil.”
Julian walked toward the river carrying the pelt. Sitting down
on a rock he looked up the path. He silently thanked the old man, the village
and most of all, the panther.
Rick came up and told him to gather his things, as they were
ready to leave.
Julian turned to have one last look up the path. But it too,
had vanished; just as had the old man, the panther and the village.
The End