Chapter 1: Where The Hell Am I?
Man, it was fucking cold.
I couldn’t remember when was the last time I had ever switched the air conditioning to a setting where it felt like I was sleeping in the bloody arctic. For some reason my blanket was gone, and already I was fuming under my breath at myself for having been stupid enough to kick it off of myself in my sleep. But even as I blindly reached out a hand to pull it back over me, something in the back of my brain tickled at me, telling me that there was something I was forgetting.
Gah, never mind that, I just needed something to warm me up - it felt like I’d just taken a dip in a snowdrift on bloody Hoth.
So I slapped a hand down next to me, felt only the chilly, hard dirt of a forest floor through the camping tarp beneath me, and then I remembered.
Oh yeah. I’m not at home anymore.
Son of a bitch.
Letting out a tired groan, I rolled myself onto my stomach with tight and sore muscles that protested with every movement, until I managed to get my feet under me. Very reluctantly, I finally managed to open my eyes, creaking open eyelids that had been gummed over with the remnants of sleep, and I peered around my surroundings as the rest of my brain caught up with the events of the past few days.
Okay, Joseph, quick recap here. So apparently you were out backpacking in the forests of Tennessee on one of your occasional hiking trips, when you took a bad step and fell through some really wide, really deep hole in the ground somewhere. Damned ground looked solid enough when you stepped on it, don’t know how the foothold started crumbling away beneath you. I don’t know how you managed to somehow find Alice’s rabbit hole, but this sure as hell ain’t Wonderland.
Thank God the fall had been on a steep incline rather than a vertical drop - if I’d estimated things correctly during my rapid descent, I think I must’ve fallen at least thirty feet down. I’m no traceur, and a vertical fall like that could have easily broken one of my legs, or at the very least twisted an ankle badly. As it was, I’d been lucky to get away with only a few scrapes and scratches, and I hadn’t lost any of the camping gear I had packed for a three-day getaway in the woods from hectic city life by the time I’d rolled to a halt in a heap and picked myself up with a groan.
I’d immediately tried to climb my way back out, but that had quickly proven to be an exercise in futility. The incline had been too smooth and steep for me to climb out of the hole, even with the climbing axe I carried on my belt - there just weren’t any other handholds or footholds for me to work with. The hole I’d fallen into, however, had turned out to be a tunnel that led further inwards, and at that moment, waiting around at the entrance for help to happen by didn’t seem very feasible. The route I’d been hiking on wasn’t one that was often travelled, and it was highly unlikely that shouting for help from there would attract any attention even if I’d stayed there for hours.
I’d briefly considered using the flare gun I’d stashed in my pack before setting out on this trip in case of an emergency when I needed to send out a signal, but given how deep I was into the wilderness, I also doubted that anyone would be close enough for the signal to attract their attention.
So, naturally, I’d decided to keep on the move and try to save myself by heading further down the tunnel.
Boy, had that been a mistake.
It had only been a short, shallow descent down the tunnel before it began slowly sloping upwards. The inside of the tunnel had been completely pitch black, as was expected because the only light source was the bloody hole that I’d fallen through, and it was already dozens of metres behind me. So, I navigated my way through with the flashlight that I had packed, thinking that it would eventually lead me back up to the surface.
Under the light of my flashlight, the walls of the tunnel revealed themselves to be utterly smooth rock, and the dirt floor underneath my boots was packed and hard, as though this path had been often traversed. That alone had been enough to kindle a hope in me that a way out lay at the other end of the tunnel, and I had quickened my pace in my eagerness to get out.
In hindsight, if I’d known just where I was going to emerge, I would have immediately run all the way back to the damned hole I’d fallen through and stayed there for days just shouting for help, even if nobody was there to hear me.
When I was halfway through the tunnel, the air inside had slowly become colder, drier, less humid as I proceeded onwards. The steady incline going upslope still lent me some hope that it would eventually lead me back to the surface, and my pace quickened as I felt a draft blowing inwards from where I was walking... but by the time I got to the other end, that hope had rapidly fizzled out and died a quiet, silent death as it became painfully obvious that wherever this tunnel emerged to... it wasn’t the same place I had come from.
For one thing, the fauna looked completely different from the forest which I had been hiking through not more than ten minutes ago, and secondly... it was freaking freezing. The black cotton muscle tee I was wearing, even with the equally dark outdoors vest I had over it, was ill-suited to staving off the chills that suddenly overcame me, and I'd quickly found myself shivering from the cold even from inside my fatigues and hiking boots.
I remembered checking my compass under my flashlight while I had been inside the tunnel - though the needle had been slightly wobbly, I'd managed to figure out I was headed due East, and checked my map and course accordingly. But when I came out of that tunnel, it was at that moment I knew that I was well and truly screwed when I looked around, saw that none of the landmarks I had been using to navigate before were there any longer, and then glanced at my compass again and realized that the needle was on the fritz, jumping all over the damned place.
I’d stared uncomprehendingly at my compass for a few seconds, trying to figure out just why a freakin’ magnet would be on the fritz. Just to be sure, I pulled my iPhone out of my pocket and its waterproof casing, firing it up - just as I suspected, not only was there not a single shred of reception, even the compass app wasn’t working properly. It was even worse than my regular compass, the way it kept on spinning this way and that.
My map was useless - I'd taken a look around, and the foliage had been impossible to see through. I couldn't even see past the canopy of dark blue-green leaves that blanketed the new woods I had found myself in. The color of the leaves were a stark contrast to the bright, rich green of the forest I had been backpacking through just minutes before this, and as the fact registered with my brain, it was just all the more proof that I had absolutely no idea where I was.
And if I couldn't see past the canopy, then I sure as hell couldn't try and find landmarks in the form of hills and valleys in the distance either - it would be nearly impossible to get my bearings.
Any other normal person would have started panicking and freaking out at that point in time, and I damn near did so myself. I was really starting to regret my decision of going on this backpacking trip solo right then, but I had just grit my teeth and made the decision to carry on.
One thing at a time, Jo. I'd remembered thinking to myself yesterday as I'd barely fought off the impending freak out, reminding myself of what I’d done before to survive such a scenario once, despite the fact that it had been almost two years ago, alongside almost a dozen other trainees, and I now barely recalled a thing about it. One thing at a time. So maybe it’s been a couple of years since you’ve even touched your jungle survival skillset, much less the memories of those two obligatory years you spent serving in the military. So you’re rusty, your mindset’s changed, but still, you did not survive that one-week jungle survival course during OCS training for nothing. You can survive this. Just. Keep. Moving.
The first order of business had been to secure shelter, which had eventually landed me up with the campsite I was now waking up at. I reckoned it had been around late afternoon when I started looking for shelter for the night, but I spent nearly a better part of the day looking for a damned place where I could stay safely for the night before I finally found it at sunset.
It was a small clearing well-sheltered by the leaves above me, where I had gathered twigs and other dry branches to build a fire. Cold as it was, I'd wasted no time getting a miniature campfire going with a small block of solid fuel I'd ignited with my lighter... and that was when I had a second disturbing revelation.
I'd grown up in tropical Singapore before moving to the good old U.S. of A., so I wasn't as used to temperate cold as most of the local Americans there would have been. But if I recalled correctly, the kind of cold I was experiencing now was the kind you would have expected when it was far into autumn and fast approaching winter.
And it had been midsummer back where I had come from.
Wherever I was, it sure as hell wasn't anywhere close to home.
I'd gone to sleep that night a tired, nervous wreck from the revelation, after scarfing down dinner from an MRE pack I’d purchased from a military surplus store - good old pork sausage with gravy - with some water, desperately trying not to think about the implications of such a thing. Strange, ululating cries had come out from the woods around me as night fell, and I did my best to ignore them as I curled up in my sleeping bag, huddling up as close as I could to the heat and light of the fire I'd built.
All that mattered right now, all that I had to focus on, was securing immediate survival.
So, when I woke up, the first thing I did was to dig out breakfast, heat it up in my mess tin over a portable stove, and devour it along with a cup of instant coffee - if I didn’t have the energy to keep my movement up throughout the day, I wouldn’t be able to get anything done. It was as I was chowing down on my food when I took perturbed stock of my supplies - it took only one glance inside what was left inside my field pack, and I was already frowning.
I’d only packed enough rations for a three-day trip, but this was already my second day out here. If I didn’t find a way back to civilisation soon, I was going to have to start living off the forest if I wanted to stay alive long enough to find a way out of this damned place. Now that thought was enough to elicit a disgusted reaction out of me, and I suppressed a shudder before digging in to the rest of my breakfast, trying not to think thoughts of trapping, killing, skinning live animals, or drinking water that had come from questionable sources.
Well, if it came to that, the water would have to be purified by the purification tablets I carried - they did make the water clean and made sure it wouldn’t give me the runs (or worse), sure, but they also made the water taste like it had just come out of a chemical treatment plant... which wouldn’t have been entirely inaccurate.
My brain started recalling the seven days of disgusting slogging through the jungle I’d spent as a part of nine months of training as an officer cadet during my two years of National Service years ago, and I quickly shook my head, dispelling the quease-inducing thoughts before they spoiled my appetite - and my breakfast. My next spoonful of beef stew was halfway to my mouth when a strange, warbling cry suddenly came out of the woods behind me, and I damn near leapt right out of my skin. A last-second grab luckily managed to save my breakfast, and I quickly cast a glance over my shoulder before setting down my mess tin and reaching for my pack.
There was nothing out there that I could see, but damn if that animal cry just now didn’t sound close. I had to get moving.
There wasn’t much of my breakfast left and I’d be ready to leave soon, but I wasn’t about to get caught with my pants down. I had about six spare flares stashed inside the pockets of my outdoors vest for my signal flare gun, in addition to the one that was already loaded inside it - plenty enough for the next few days.
I wasted no time digging it out of my pack, and hastily clipped to my belt.
Now, it might not have been an actual weapon, per se, and the only times I’ve ever fired a flare gun at a target instead of straight up into the air had been in Alan Wake and Far Cry 3 - I had no idea if they really worked that way in real life, but if common sense was any indication, the light and heat of the flares it fired would probably serve well enough to violently discourage any potential predator I might encounter here.
Well... provided they were even scared by such things to begin with, or if I was even a good enough shot to hit a pouncing jungle predator with a flare pistol.
With my improvised armament secured, I quickly dug into what was left of my breakfast and scarfed it down, washing down the remnants with a swig of water before I capped my canteen and stuffed it back into my field pack along with my sleeping bag and camping tarp. Shouldering the heavy bag, I‘d been kicking some dirt over the dying embers of the campfire I’d set up when I heard that same damned cry again.
Damned if the bloody thing didn’t nearly give me a heart attack. I immediately whirled around, snatching the flare gun from my belt as I pointed it in the direction I’d heard it, and I readied myself for anything.
My heart pounded steadily in chest as nervous sweat broke out across my brow, but my hands didn’t shake too much - nine months in officer cadet school, in addition to years of recreational shooting practice, had trained me enough for that. If anything came busting out of the foliage in front of me, I’d be ready for it.
All around me, the sounds of the forest were a quiet backdrop - the calls of insects, the faint sound of leaves rustling in the wind. I kept my ears trained for any sound of movement, but even after several tense moments of waiting... nothing came out.
I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, and tucked the flare gun back onto my belt, trying to calm myself down.
“All right, Joe,” I muttered to myself. “Quit spooking yourself. First order of business for today - get your bearings. You ain’t getting anywhere closer to home if you don’t even know where you are.”
Self-pep talk was all well and good, but as I took a look around me, I realized that finding out just where I’d landed myself up in was going to be way harder than I thought. Foliage blocked my vision for almost every damn inch of the canopy I could see. I’d have to get past that first if I wanted a look around this place to see if there were any landmarks I could recognize, but just how was I going to...
My gaze went contemplatively up one of the huge, mighty trees that grew up and out of the ground around me, and I immediately shook my head at the idea that suddenly took root in my mind.
“Oh, hell no. Hell no, you have got to be kidding me.”
---
My climbing axe hooked itself on the next branch higher up on the tree, and I hauled myself up, grumbling under my breath all the way.
“I swear to God,” I muttered to myself as I grabbed on to the next branch. “If I’m not able to find my way out of here after this, I am going to break something,”
I didn’t need to look down to know that if I fell from this height... well, I wouldn’t be getting up and walking away from it any time soon. But as far as I could see, this was the only way I would even be able to get a clear line of sight past the foliage and get a sense of just where the hell I was. So, as my climbing axe hooked onto the next branch and I hauled myself up again, I just grit my teeth and carried on - it was the only thing I could do.
By the time I reached the top, my arms were burning and my legs were tense as all hell from expecting a slip or a loss of balance at any moment. Grunting against the exhaustion, I pulled myself up that last step, and suddenly found myself blinking against the glare of the morning sunrise.
Squinting against the light, I quickly lowered my Oakleys over my eyes from where they rested on my forehead. The jet-black sunglasses did their job admirably, filtering out most of the sun’s glare so that I could take a better look around... and boy, did what I see not help to raise my spirits one bit.
None of the landmarks I had been using to navigate in the forest I’d come from were even there anymore. Hell, it was like the entire damn landscape had been changed. There were hills and cliffs that I didn’t remember being there before, and where I had expected to see them, there was nothing but flat, rolling forest covered in trees.
Okay, I think I was starting to freak out right about now.
How in the hell had everything around me managed to undergo such a rapid change, until it seemed like I was in another place altogether!? The mere notion, the very idea that I might have stumbled through a portal of some sort was so fantastic, so outlandish, that I almost didn’t even dare think about the possibility.
Jesus Christ, where the hell was I? How the hell was I going to get home?
Before my mind could go spinning off into the depths of panic and despair however, I quickly seized my thoughts by the reins, and firmly grounded them.
Keep it together, man. I firmly told myself. You aren’t going to do your survival odds any good if you go spinning off the deep end. Whatever it is that just happened, I don’t care what it is - you are going to survive and get out of this jungle. Once you’ve done that, we can figure out a way to get back home.
I took a deep breath, making miniscule progress in calming myself, but I at least managed to focus my mind again on what I had to do. A moment’s scanning of the landscape revealed the location of the highest cliff I could spot - a handful of klicks away due North, judging from the position of the rising sun.
It was going to be a hell of a hike, but I was no stranger to long-distance marches. The cliff was going to be a much better vantage point than the tree I was currently perched on, and I’d be able to see much further than I could now.
And more importantly, if there were any signs of civilisation at all, like the lights of a town nearby, I would be all the more likely able to see them at night.
I only had two days’ worth of rations and supplies left - I had to reach that cliff before nightfall.
I took one look below at the tree stretching out back to the ground underneath me, and sighed, before I reluctantly began the long climb back down.
As gruelling as all of this was... well, even a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.
---
Several hours later, I’d become pretty sure that Confucius had never been on a four-klick route march before, never mind the six full kilometers I’d estimated I had to hike before reaching the cliff I’d sighted. Thankfully, I made it down the tree without any of the branches suddenly breaking off on me, and I’d let out a huge sigh of relief the moment I felt my boots touch solid ground once again.
After that, I wasted no time getting my ass in gear - I still vaguely remembered which direction North lay in, and had immediately set off at a quick march, despite the weight of my pack. Once I’d covered a short distance I checked my compass again, and realized that the farther away I was getting from the hole I’d emerged from, the less jumpy my compass’ needle seemed to get. Soon enough the damn thing had finally stabilized enough for me to use it again, and I felt the uncertain tension in my chest relax slightly.
Well, that was at least one silver lining to this fucking thundercloud I’d suddenly found myself in. All the better - at least this time I wouldn’t have to climb every other tree each step of the way just to make sure that I wasn’t veering off course.
I spent the next several hours hiking through terrain that was treacherous like I’d never seen before. Ferns and underbrush concealed holes in the ground that I’d nearly tripped over and broken my ankle inside several times. When I wasn’t navigating my way through the carpet of plants that hid the forest floor from view, I found myself trying to find ways around suddenly yawning chasms, or hauling myself up steep slopes that suddenly dipped into drops that I found myself tumbling down.
I came damn close to breaking several bones during those falls, but thank my lucky stars that I didn’t come away from those with anything more than a few scratches, bruises, and a couple of banged up joints. A bit of antiseptic and some bandages from my first aid kit took care of those easily enough, and though treating those injuries still stung like a bitch, I managed to quickly get myself back on track each time.
The next couple of miles blurred away beneath me, and before I knew it, it was already midday, the afternoon sun blazing down from straight above me. The sun’s heat was almost just enough to stave off the late-autumn chills I was getting, but I still felt it nonetheless as I set myself down on a nearby fallen log and dug out another ration pack for lunch, giving my tired and screaming legs a chance to rest.
I'd been in the midst of digging into my spaghetti when I saw the damnedest thing - a small group of brightly colored insects, each about the size of a butterfly, floated into my field of vision, and three of them alighted on my outstretched hand.
Now, I'm normally very skittish around flying insects, but only because I hated how suddenly those slippery bastards could zip around your head out of freaking nowhere. Plus the fact that if they landed on you, well, the sensation of their tiny little legs skittering across my skin was just plain creepy, though this time I didn't feel much thanks to my climbing gloves.
But the only reason why I didn't immediately swat them away was because they were fluttering about so slowly, so gently, that they barely disturbed me, and they were just so damn brightly colored. I swear, that bunch of bright little flying dots gently landed on me like a bunch of butterflies, and I kid you not, I think one of them was looking at me.
The little bugger peered up at me with huge, bright green eyes that I could have sworn were blinking with curiosity, and I stared right back at it, captivated. I'd never seen anything like this before back home, and I was trying to think of what it might be when it suddenly turned towards the spaghetti in my mess tin along with the rest of its companions, sniffing curiously.
Then, before I even had the chance to react and try to swat them away, they leapt upon my damned food, and this was where I started to think I was hallucinating, because they proceeded to devour every scrap of pasta that was left in my mess tin. Sauce, noodles, all of it.
A few seconds later they were done, leaving behind a licked-clean mess tin, and I swear to God those little buggers let out tiny, satisfied burps before taking off again with a light buzz, zipping away while I stared at my empty mess tin.
… Wait a minute. "What the hell just happened?”