Chapter 8: Into the Green
1399 Words
Choosing who entered the jungle felt worse than entering it.
Idris looked from face to face and disliked every answer.
Maya had to stay with Peter. Clara had Lily. Owen's arm was useless. Rosa was observant and practical, but her fingers still shook whenever the jungle made a sound. Gareth was strong, but strength was not the same as usefulness. Not when it came wrapped in pride.
That left Idris and one other man, red-haired, cut lip, quiet since helping move Peter and the bodies.
"What's your name?" Idris asked him.
"Tom."
His voice was plain and tired, the voice of a man who had spent the morning doing things before deciding whether he could bear them.
"Can you walk properly?"
Tom nodded. "I think so."
"Then you come with me."
Gareth stood. "I said I would go."
"I heard you."
"And you picked him?"
"Yes."
Tom looked as if he wished the ground would swallow him.
Gareth stepped closer. "Why?"
"Because he helped carry Peter without arguing."
The insult landed cleanly because it was true.
Gareth's face darkened. "You think carrying a man makes him useful?"
"No," Idris said. "Listening does."
For a second, no one moved.
Then Maya spoke from beside Peter. "Let them go, Gareth."
He turned to her, and Idris saw it again. The softening. The way Gareth's anger bent when Maya spoke, not disappearing, only changing direction.
Dangerous.
Gareth lifted both hands. "Fine. Let the bushcraft king take a stroll."
Idris picked up the sharp strip of metal, wrapped one end in cloth to protect his palm and took the burning branch in his other hand.
"Tom, find a stick. Something shoulder height. Use it before you step. Snakes, holes, loose ground."
Tom grabbed a length of driftwood and swallowed. "Right. Anything else likely to ruin my afternoon?"
"Several things."
"Excellent. I enjoy a full schedule."
The dry answer earned the smallest sound from Owen. Not quite laughter, but close enough to matter.
Maya stood and came close enough that the others could not hear.
"Do not be noble," she said.
"I was not planning to."
"Men say that before doing noble, stupid things."
"I will aim for useful and slightly cowardly."
Her eyes searched his face. He wondered what she saw there. An average man with short dark hair dried stiff with salt, blood on his shirt and a watch strap hanging half-loose at his wrist. Not enough to lean on. Maybe enough to hope near.
"Bring water," she said.
The words were practical.
The way she said them made him hear the rest.
Come back.
He nodded. "Keep Peter alive until I do."
"I was hoping to do that anyway."
They held each other's gaze for one breath too long.
Then Idris turned to the group.
"No one leaves the fire. No one drinks seawater. No one eats anything from the jungle. If we are not back before the shadow from that palm reaches the luggage pile, shout. Do not come in after us."
Clara looked frightened. "Shout what?"
"Anything loud."
Lily lifted her head. "Please come back."
Idris looked at the child.
He wanted to say something reassuring. Something easy. Instead, he gave her the only promise he could honestly make.
"I'll try."
Then he and Tom walked towards the jungle.
Behind them, the camp shrank into voices. Clara murmuring to Lily. Maya telling Peter to breathe. Gareth muttering something Idris chose not to hear. Those sounds followed him for the first few steps like hands tugging at his shirt.
He wanted to look back again. He did not. The first rule of walking into danger, he thought, was not letting everyone see how much you wanted to turn around.
The first step beneath the trees felt like entering another world.
Idris glanced back once before the leaves swallowed the camp. Maya was already kneeling beside Peter again, but her head lifted as if she had felt the glance. For a second, through smoke and heat shimmer, their eyes met. Then Clara shifted, Lily cried and the beach pulled Maya back into need.
That was what this place did, Idris thought. It made people important before there was time to decide whether you could bear losing them.
The beach noise dulled behind them at once. The sea became a heavy breathing sound. The fire crackle faded. In front of them, the jungle rose close, wet and alive.
Heat wrapped around Idris like damp cloth. The air smelled of mud, rotting leaves, crushed stems and flowers too sweet to trust. Vines hung from branches in thick ropes. Roots twisted across the ground. Bright insects moved over bark. Somewhere overhead, something with wings beat through the canopy and vanished.
Idris stopped after ten paces.
"Slow," he said.
Tom nodded too quickly.
"I mean it. Every step. Look before you put your foot down."
"I am looking."
"You are staring. It is different."
Tom blinked, then forced himself to breathe.
They followed the hoof marks first. Small, narrow prints pressed into damp soil. Goat or deer, Idris thought, though the island had already made him suspicious of simple answers. The trail moved between palms and darker trees, curving away from the beach.
Idris kept the burning branch low, smoke drifting around his knees.
The forest floor was crowded with life. Ants marched in black rivers. Tiny lizards darted over roots. Mushrooms grew in pale clusters against fallen logs. Once, Idris saw berries hanging beneath glossy leaves, round and red as drops of paint.
He did not touch them.
"Could those be edible?" Tom whispered.
"Could be."
"That means yes?"
"It means we do not know."
Tom nodded and moved on.
They had gone perhaps thirty yards when the beach sound thinned behind them so completely that Idris almost turned back.
The jungle did not simply surround them.
It had too many layers. Leaves over leaves. Roots under roots. Creepers twisting around trunks like fingers that had learned patience. The woods Idris knew from home had paths, fences and distant road noise. Even when they were quiet, they belonged to maps. This place felt older than paths. Older than permission.
Something clicked above them. Tik-tik-tik. Then silence. A fat drop of water fell from a leaf and struck Tom on the neck.
He flinched so hard Idris nearly reached for him.
"The tree attacked me," Tom whispered.
"You endured it heroically," Idris whispered back.
The humour was thin, but it kept them breathing.
It listened.
A leaf fell somewhere to his left.
Tom flinched.
Idris held up one hand.
They stood in the damp heat, breathing through open mouths, while unseen insects buzzed and clicked around them.
"You hear that?" Tom whispered.
"Insects."
"No, I mean the bit where everything sounds like it is deciding whether to murder us."
Despite himself, Idris almost smiled. "That is not a specific sound."
"Feels specific."
They moved again.
Every few steps, Idris glanced back. The beach was no longer visible as a place, only pieces of brightness between trunks. A strip of sky. A wink of water. The human world shrinking behind leaves.
He thought of Maya by Peter's side. Her hands steady though her voice had shaken. Her warning not to be noble. There was no time for softness, yet the thought of returning empty-handed to those eyes made his chest tighten.
Water first.
Feeling later.
A twig snapped beneath Tom's foot with a sharp c***k.
Both men froze.
Nothing leapt. Nothing growled.
Tom breathed out. "That was me."
"Try not to surprise yourself."
"I make no promises."
Then Idris heard it.
A faint trickle beneath the green noise.
Water.
Tom's eyes widened.
Idris did not smile yet.
Good news on this island had already shown signs of teeth.
Idris crouched and touched the mud with two fingers. Damp. Cool. Freshly pressed by hooves. The trail bent towards the sound as if the animals knew exactly where they were going. That should have reassured him. Instead, it reminded him that anything thirsty enough would come here eventually.
Including whatever had made the growl.
He lifted the burning branch a little higher. Smoke curled around his wrist and made his eyes sting.
"This way," he whispered again, more to make himself move than to guide Tom.
He pointed deeper into the trees.
"This way," he whispered.
The jungle seemed to close behind them as they followed the sound.
- Writer
