Skull of the Zipa PREVIEW CHAPTERS, Chuck Chitwood [ebook reader library .txt] 📗

know is the road off to my left. And if I can see it, my kidnappers will easily see me. I close my eyes and let myself have a little cry. But after a few minutes of being pitiful I wipe my tears away with my oil sand hands. “Stop being a baby. You’re not dead yet.”

 

I look around see all sorts of branches and vines dangling close by, but they’re just out of reach. There’s a tree limb not too far away but I don’t want to disturb the snake who has yet to set his sights on me.

 

I look just to my right and see a large white heron sitting perched on a branch. It looks at me like I’m stupid and squawks as if to say, ‘Hey, what’re you doing in the quicksand genius?’ “Yeah, yeah. Stop staring at me. You’re lucky I can’t throw a rock at you because I would.” Wait. I do have something to throw! The rope. I have in my pocket.

 

I slowly reach my hands into the brown muck and can feel myself being sucked down. I carefully reach into the pocket with the rope because I don’t want to get sucked under getting the one thing I think will actually help me. Once I have the rope and my arms above the muck, I give it plenty of slack. I take a deep breath and toss it up hoping it’ll go over the branch so I can try to pull myself up.

 

Only I miss the limb and the rope lands with a thud on the oil sand. What’s more, my motion caused me to sink a couple inches deeper down. I reel in the rope as slowly as possible so I can try again. If know I only have a few attempts to snag the branch. If I keep missing, I won’t have to worry about the kidnappers because I’ll sink like a T-Rex and probably won’t be found for centuries.

 

As I prepare to toss the rope a second time, I hear the rumble of a truck heading down the mountain. Great. Now I have to work as fast as possible without sinking completely. Think, Haddie, think. If I just toss it up again and again, it’s only going to fall again and again. I need weight to get it over the limb.

 

Taking inventory of everything I have access to, I realize the only thing small enough and yet heavy enough to use is the knife I grabbed. If I had the SAT phone, I would use it. But I don’t know where it landed. For all I know it’s somewhere in the muck. I tie the rope securely to the knife and throw it upwards again. I watch as the knife bounces off the limb and falls down towards me. Now I’m not only about chest deep in the oil sand but I barely avoid stabbing myself with the knife. If I toss it again, I might kill myself by either sinking below the muck or by stabbing myself.

 

I’m frazzled and fatigued and fearful. Most of all I’m annoyed with myself. The force I’m exerting to get out of this stuff is taking every ounce of strength I have. And hearing the sound of the truck getting closer isn’t helping.

 

I have to do this now. I lean back, cock my arm, throw as hard as I can, and I say a little ‘Please, please, God, let this work’ prayer. And it works! The knife flies over the branch and comes fall down the other side. If I could jump up and down, I would. But I can’t.

 

With the rope finally in place, I untie the knife and put it between my teeth which is not as easy as television makes it look. Mental note: You’ve got to start scripting your own life Haddie. Life is NOT like television. I wrap my hands around the rope and pull with all my might. The limb strains and bends. I feel myself moving only I barely go anywhere because of the suction. I struggle again and manage to pull my legs out of the gunk and find myself somewhat perched on the top of the oil sand trying not to sink back down.

 

I hear shouting in Spanish above me, near the cliff where I fell. They are so close. I have to get out of the quicksand. Even though my hands are killing me, I wrap the rope around them tight and start swinging my hips back and forth like I’m going to do a long jump. If I can build up enough momentum and jump, I might make it over the oil sand. The branch bounces up and down, but thankfully it hasn’t yet reached its breaking point.

 

One, two, three. Wait. Before I go leaping towards the tree I realize I’ll be going deeper into the jungle which could be even more dangerous than letting Santiago and his men find me. It’s too dangerous. There are too many unknowns. My safest option is to stick close to the road and be ready to fight if I need to.

 

It’s a risky move but I shift my weight and start swinging towards the cliff from where I fell. I’ve only got one shot to catch hold of one of leafy, rooty vines sticking out from the cliff and make my way up and over the edge. One, two, three. Go! I push off, through the muck, and lunge at the cliff face grabbing at the foliage. Thankfully, I’m able to grab a strong root and pull myself free of the oil sand.

 

It takes a lot of doing but I work my way up the wall and pull myself back to where I went flying over the edge. Luckily the undergrowth is thick here so I can hide and take a moment to catch my breath and secure the rope knowing I might need it again. I look out from the dense greenery to see where my kidnappers are. I spot the truck. But no one is near it and they left it running like the idiots who dash into a convenience store to buy a soda and leave their car running.

 

I think of my options. If I can only see a few men so I have to assume the rest are in the jungle looking for me. And thanks to the dark, oily sludge on me I blend into the terrain. If I can make it to the truck, it might be an easy getaway. I might even get down to the next turn before they notice. But if they should see me before I reach the truck, I can race back to the cliff and hurl myself away from the oil sand below. Sure, I could land and hurt my ankle but I think I can do it. If I do that then some of them are probably dumb enough to follow me over the cliff but they won’t know there’s quicksand below them. All my options have risks but knowing what to expect is an advantage for me.

 

SPAT. Scan. I see men heading into the jungle off to the right. There are four men on the left. Straight ahead of me I see Mauricio and he’s now sporting a black eye. Santiago must have worked him over pretty good for falling asleep and letting me escape.

 

Patience. I can’t just run to the truck. I need to distract Mauricio without attracting the others.

 

Assess. All I have is myself, the knife, the rope, a protein bar, and… the jungle. To get away, I know I need everything except the jungle.

 

Think. I’ll use the jungle to help me. I make my way behind a huge moss covered tree, duck down, pick up a stick, and toss it a couple of feet away from me to the right. It catches Mauricio’s attention; making him curious. He stops holds his rifle close and approaches the area where the sound came from. If I weren’t so worried about getting away, I’d probably giggle and say ‘Be vewy, vewy quiet. I’m hunting wabbits’. Instead, I slip back behind the tree.

 

Mauricio takes a few steps towards the sound but turns to head back to his post. No. No. No. I need you over here. I grab a rock and toss it close to me. What am I thinking? There are men with guns combing the jungle looking for me and I here I am egging one of them on. I brace myself behind the tree waiting for Mauricio to come closer.

 

Chapter 15 - WATERFALL

 

Branches and leaves crackle under Mauricio’s feet. He moves slowly, methodically looking for the source of the noise. The closer he gets to me the more I realize that this might be a really stupid plan. I should have just swung over the oil sand and took off running. Maybe I could have outrun them. Then again, I had no idea where I would’ve run to. Don’t second guess yourself, Haddie. Stay committed to your plan. No shortcuts. This is the best option. I have to make some sort of stand, slow them down, and stun them to give me more time to get away.

 

The barrel of the rifle comes around the tree followed by Mauricio’s head. I know the edge of the cliff is only about five or six feet behind me. I raise my hands slowly to grab the rifle. As Mauricio catches sight of me, I can tell right away he’s surprised. He hesitates. His brief pause is all I need to strike.

 

Like Uncle Ami said attack fast, attack first, and do not hesitate. I grab the barrel of the rifle and pull it towards me. Mauricio is knocked off balance. For some reason, he isn’t calling for help. Maybe he wants to catch me himself to get into Santiago’s good graces. Or maybe he’s just stupid like Pablo.

 

My feet planted firmly, I swing the rifle around tucking it under my arm. I punch him in the face, dead on, a couple of times. Which upsets him and he lunges for me. He grabs my shoulders only he can’t really get hold of me because of my oily skin.

 

My knee slams into his stomach three times in rapid succession. He swings wildly, hitting me in the side of the face, but he had to let go of the rifle completely to do it. With the rifle securely in my hands, I use it to smack him in the head with the butt. He staggers and stumbles toward the edge of the cliff holding his head. I give a quick kick to his backside and Mauricio tumbles over the edge of the cliff.

 

He lets out a scream just before he lands on the oil sands below. Now’s my chance. I try racing towards the truck but I only make it about twenty feet up when I see the others moving towards the source of the scream. I duck down behind a fallen tree.

 

The truck is no longer an option. And they’re closing in fast. Great. At least I have a rifle. I kneel down low and lean against a tree behind a banana tree. Wait. I have a