Downpour(3): La Madremonte (1 of 2)

This chapter is a little longer, so I had to split it into two parts. 

PART 1

3. La Madremonte

    As the sun rose, the clouds began to burn off, and the rainforest quickly grew to an oppressive heat. If Nick thought the light would have been a reprieve from the constant dampness that had become his existence, he was wrong. Already he had run out of water, and was unable to find another source to drink from. I’m going to be the only person who could die of dehydration, next to the world’s largest river.

       Bugs swarmed around him in droves. Nick assumed once more that every single bug was out to kill him, but was not able to avoid them even in the slightest. By midday, every inch of exposed skin was covered in bumps and rashes. At one point, he had felt that his leg was on fire, and had to stop to pull a centipede off. It was misery in the utmost. He wanted nothing more than to be out of the jungle, back in his apartment, with a cold drink in his hand, and no site of any trees for the rest of his days.

     On top of the heat and the bugs was the humidity. Though he could not find any water to drink, it seemed to cling to his every pore, taunting him. His vision blurred, and there were several occasions when he swore that he could see eyes watching him from the forest. Each time he would tell himself that it was just his mind playing tricks on him, and continued slogging through the dense underbrush.

     Nick could not have imagined a worse hell. Feeling that he could go no further, he stopped and sat down on a rock to rest for a while. The bag had begun to feel so heavy that he considered throwing out the tome he had received from the man who trained him. It’s just a bunch of ramblings of an old man anyway. When has it ever told me anything useful?

     He pulled it out of the bag. The cover was faded and worn. Had it not been for the spells that kept it bound together, it would have likely fallen apart years ago. Well, let’s see what you can do for me. What do you know about South America? Nick turned to the hand-written index. While the book was unorganized, the man who wrote it had at least been kind enough to sort his encounters by geography.

     Nick flipped to the correct page and found himself staring at an image of a massive snake devouring a fishing boat. “No thanks,” he said aloud, and turned the page. The next entry was for a spiritual entity known as La Madremonte. Nick began to read, far too tired to walk any further for the time being.

     I first encountered this creature after a long evening of drinking in an Amazonian village.

     Shocker there, thought Nick.

     Most of the locals would have you believe that the Madremonte is region specific, and only appears within the borders of Columbia. I am not surprised to say that once again this localization is incorrect.

     Nick had found the same to be true in his travels. Each region was convinced that they had monsters unique to their area, but often, Nick had found that creatures didn’t care about the borders of man. So long as there was prey, they would move. He had run into vampires in Barbados and voodoo priests in Alaska. No matter where he went, the variety seemed to be abundant.

     As I stepped out to relieve myself, I thought I could see something watching me from the jungle beyond.

Nick’s spine prickled.

Looking deep into the forest, I saw a pair of glowing green eyes, staring straight at me. The next thing I knew, I was walking into the jungle after them, and very quickly became horribly lost.

     Nick was beginning to feel uncomfortable with the similarities in his story. I only saw her moving along the edges of the tree line; a tall woman, covered head to foot in leaves and vines, moving with only a slight rustle. On several occasions, I heard her whisper to me. I didn’t speak Spanish, so I hadn’t the faintest idea what it meant, but it felt as if it were coming from the very trees around me.

     Nick stopped reading for a moment, and was struck by how quiet the jungle around him had become. No longer were the birds singing, and the trees above him seemed deathly still. He looked around in all directions, searching for the green eyes, but saw nothing. The dense jungle surrounded him on all sides like a silent wall, empty, and yet he had an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach that he was being watched.

     “Estás perdido?” a voice whispered into his ear.

     Chills shook Nick head to foot, and he wished that he had his full kit with him. In one swift motion, he turned around, swinging the machete in a wide arc. There was a loud thunk as it caught in the tree behind him and Nick stumbled backwards. “Who’s there?” he called out into the forest.

     His voice was swallowed up by the vegetation. Nothing responded. The forest continued to remain silent. Nick tried to remain still and listened for even the slightest movement of leaves. There was nothing.

     The sky above grew dark, as thick clouds moved overhead and rain began to fall once more. Momentarily forgetful of the voice he had heard, Nick scrambled to get his canteen and fill it with rainwater. He unfolded the tarp and made it into a small funnel. It spilled most of the rain onto the dirt, but luckily for Nick, there was a lot of it. His skin prickled with every raindrop. The soft pattering made the jungle feel more alive again, but he still heard nothing from the animals that had been present before.

     The rain fell in heavy sheets, and soon Nick found his canteen full. Within minutes, his clothes were once again soaked, and heavy. The tome, which he had dropped on the forest floor made an odd site as it repelled the water falling on it. I guess he thought of everything.

     Wanting to move quickly, Nick repacked his bag and set off. The sooner I am out of this jungle, the better. It seemed self-evident, but Nick felt that he had to continue reminding himself that he would be able to make it out. Usually, overconfidence could push him through, but alone and out of his element, he felt very vulnerable.

     At least the snakes are gone, he thought as he moved through the silent jungle. Each footfall brought with it a soft crunch that seemed to intrude upon the forest around him. Nick no longer felt like he was lost. Instead, he felt as though he was trespassing on sacred ground. There was nothing to indicate it, but the heaviness of each footfall was odd. Something about places of great power changed the air. It felt stagnant, but also charged with electricity. He half expected to pass a pile of skulls huddled around a stone idol at any minute.

     With my luck, I crash landed on one of thousands of ancient burial sites that dot this region. On another one of Paul Mansen’s programs, Nick had learned just how many hidden temples there were throughout the Amazon. The foolhardy would think they were full of treasure, but he knew better. They were all likely resting places for the ‘easily disturbed dead’. This was a group that Nick did not like to do business with. When a person died under great turmoil, or just wasn’t ready to go; their bodies stayed in a permanent state of waiting. It meant that they were more susceptible to being raised than other corpses. As such, they were usually buried in places of great security, that proposed high levels of danger for minimal rewards.

     Nick grimaced at the thought of surviving a temple’s traps only to find the treasure room filled with thousand-year-old corpses, rotted to bone. It was not a prospect he was very keen on, but was also a part of the reason he was there. Why did he have to come here? Nick thought again, wishing that he had just been a little more careful with his apprentice. Probably could’ve avoided this whole damned jungle

LINK TO PART 2