fooling ourselves. Let’s face it, we will not find a way out of this green hell on our own.’
Didier was also plagued with anxiety, but still clung to a faint hope that they would manage to get out of the jungle. ‘Don’t be pessimistic,’ he said as if trying to reassure not only Florent but also himself. ‘There’s no need to despair. I think we still have a chance. We have to try, anyway. If we just come upon a river, everything will be fine. I’m sure we’ll be saved.’
On the hard, uncomfortable ground they tossed and turned that night, eventually falling into a brief, fitful sleep.
They woke early the next morning, aching all over, feeling anything but rested. The jungle was shrouded in a grey milky fog making it almost impossible to see anything. With nothing to eat they set off without delay. Florent went up front and Didier followed. They walked in gloomy silence, both persistently forcing their way through the unfriendly thicket. The misty damp forest, eerily quiet, did little to improve their morose moods. The monotonous swish of the machete and their tired, deep breaths were the only sounds that reached their ears.
‘I doubt I’ll manage to get far today, I feel too exhausted.’ Florent broke the silence. ‘I don’t understand how you can stand all this without complaining. My legs hurt so bad I can hardly walk.’
‘Complaining doesn’t bring us any closer to finding a way out of here. Anyway, I am used to walking in harsh mountain conditions. I am more of an outdoor than indoor man. I live in the south of France, in Toulouse, not far from the Pyrenees. Every year, in the fall, I used to take a two-week walking trip in the mountains. Some years I stayed in France, others I crossed onto the Spanish side.’
‘You used to? Did you stop? Why?’
‘Something happened… something bad. But I don’t want to talk about it now.’
‘How bad? An accident, someone died?’
‘Don’t insist. I really don’t want to talk about it.’
‘Ok, I won’t.’
‘What about you? How much of an outdoorsman are you?’
‘I wouldn’t call myself an outdoor type. I’m from Liège and have an occasional weekend in the Ardennes. Of course, the Ardennes can’t equal the Pyrenees. Anyway I prefer to ride a bicycle than walk.’ Florent paused for a few seconds and then exclaimed:
‘Oh, I can’t stand it anymore. I need a rest.’
‘Make an effort. We should push on a few more miles before we take a rest. Just think, each step we take brings us closer to getting out of this bloody jungle.’
Another hour went by. Accompanied by hordes of biting insects and mosquitoes, they marched steadfastly on. Strangely, walking calmed them down, because they were focused on one goal: to go straight ahead, to advance as far as possible.
After some time the fog started to thin out. The dense jungle around them looked as if no human had ever set foot in it. The temperature rose and the heat became agonising.
At noon they decided to stop soon for a short break and to look for something to eat.
Unexpectedly from a short distance away came a sound of rushing water. First it was just a soft murmuring, barely audible. Then it grew in strength as they approached its source. They followed the sound filled with a new surge of hope. Maybe a river flew nearby.
‘A river? Another waterfall?’ Didier wondered.
A few more steps and from behind the dense wall of trees emerged again a foamy, rushing stream of water falling from a high rocky cliff with an immense roar. The sharp rays of the sun made it shine with all the colours of the rainbow.
‘A waterfall. It looks exactly like the one we saw yesterday,’ said Florent, disappointed. ‘Do you think it possible to find two waterfalls the same so close to each other?’ Then he cried out: ‘Oh, no, not again. I can’t believe it, we’re back where we started from yesterday. All that effort for nothing. Really, each step we take brings us closer to getting out of
Didier was also plagued with anxiety, but still clung to a faint hope that they would manage to get out of the jungle. ‘Don’t be pessimistic,’ he said as if trying to reassure not only Florent but also himself. ‘There’s no need to despair. I think we still have a chance. We have to try, anyway. If we just come upon a river, everything will be fine. I’m sure we’ll be saved.’
On the hard, uncomfortable ground they tossed and turned that night, eventually falling into a brief, fitful sleep.
They woke early the next morning, aching all over, feeling anything but rested. The jungle was shrouded in a grey milky fog making it almost impossible to see anything. With nothing to eat they set off without delay. Florent went up front and Didier followed. They walked in gloomy silence, both persistently forcing their way through the unfriendly thicket. The misty damp forest, eerily quiet, did little to improve their morose moods. The monotonous swish of the machete and their tired, deep breaths were the only sounds that reached their ears.
‘I doubt I’ll manage to get far today, I feel too exhausted.’ Florent broke the silence. ‘I don’t understand how you can stand all this without complaining. My legs hurt so bad I can hardly walk.’
‘Complaining doesn’t bring us any closer to finding a way out of here. Anyway, I am used to walking in harsh mountain conditions. I am more of an outdoor than indoor man. I live in the south of France, in Toulouse, not far from the Pyrenees. Every year, in the fall, I used to take a two-week walking trip in the mountains. Some years I stayed in France, others I crossed onto the Spanish side.’
‘You used to? Did you stop? Why?’
‘Something happened… something bad. But I don’t want to talk about it now.’
‘How bad? An accident, someone died?’
‘Don’t insist. I really don’t want to talk about it.’
‘Ok, I won’t.’
‘What about you? How much of an outdoorsman are you?’
‘I wouldn’t call myself an outdoor type. I’m from Liège and have an occasional weekend in the Ardennes. Of course, the Ardennes can’t equal the Pyrenees. Anyway I prefer to ride a bicycle than walk.’ Florent paused for a few seconds and then exclaimed:
‘Oh, I can’t stand it anymore. I need a rest.’
‘Make an effort. We should push on a few more miles before we take a rest. Just think, each step we take brings us closer to getting out of this bloody jungle.’
Another hour went by. Accompanied by hordes of biting insects and mosquitoes, they marched steadfastly on. Strangely, walking calmed them down, because they were focused on one goal: to go straight ahead, to advance as far as possible.
After some time the fog started to thin out. The dense jungle around them looked as if no human had ever set foot in it. The temperature rose and the heat became agonising.
At noon they decided to stop soon for a short break and to look for something to eat.
Unexpectedly from a short distance away came a sound of rushing water. First it was just a soft murmuring, barely audible. Then it grew in strength as they approached its source. They followed the sound filled with a new surge of hope. Maybe a river flew nearby.
‘A river? Another waterfall?’ Didier wondered.
A few more steps and from behind the dense wall of trees emerged again a foamy, rushing stream of water falling from a high rocky cliff with an immense roar. The sharp rays of the sun made it shine with all the colours of the rainbow.
‘A waterfall. It looks exactly like the one we saw yesterday,’ said Florent, disappointed. ‘Do you think it possible to find two waterfalls the same so close to each other?’ Then he cried out: ‘Oh, no, not again. I can’t believe it, we’re back where we started from yesterday. All that effort for nothing. Really, each step we take brings us closer to getting out of
Similar Books
