Page 41 of Factory Controller

Hurting her feelings sucks. It makes me feel like I’ve been punched in the gut, just imagining the pain in her eyes. It’s the right decision, though. I don’t know if I can give Heather what she needs. I’m protecting her by hurting her.

Or so I try to tell myself.

We struggle up a steep incline, resorting to moving on all fours when it practically becomes a cliff. I scrape my shin trying to clamber over a log thrust out of the dirt, then pause and give Heather a hand so she won’t have the same problem.

When we reach the top, we have a bird’s eye view of the rainforest. Only when I hear her gasp do I remember what this must be like to a first-timer. I point my finger at a distant, shimmering ribbon. “The settlement is just at that bend of the river. We should be able to get transportation back to civilization.”

Heather nods, exhausted both physically and emotionally. I quickly resume the journey so she won’t have time to bring up last night.

We eat and drink while marching, only taking breaks when absolutely necessary. The lack of progress is frustrating. It’s been several years since I took this trail, and the Amazon Rainforest is always changing. A new stream has washed out part of the trail, forcing us to fight our way through dense undergrowth, slowing us to a snail’s pace.

Even when we rejoin the trail, I find that it has new branches and permutations. The landmarks I remember from several years back have changed. The hulk of a giant tree laying to the side of the correct fork in our path lies covered by a dense growth of wild grass and vines.

“Are we lost?” Heather asks when I stand by the fork for a long time.

“No, this is the right path,” I say, gesturing weakly as I stare at the log. “I’m just…it’s been a long time.”

It’s been a long time indeed, in more ways than one. It’s been a long time since I’ve been on this path or been in this part of the jungle. It’s been an even longer time since I last felt anything for another living being.

The city is less than a mile and a half away when the sun kisses the horizon. “We can make it. I say we keep going instead of making camp.”

“Agreed.” Heather has taken to giving one-word replies. I know she’s hurt and angry, but I’m doing what’s best for her.

I hear a sound akin to a rusty saw being drawn through a thick tree limb, and freeze. Heather almost bumps into my back.

“What’s wrong?”

I glance over at her fair eyes and put my finger over my lips.

“Shh. Get down.”

“Why?”

“Just do it!”

Heather sinks into a crouch in the tall grass while I reach for the only weapon I have, a survival knife. The sound of sawing wood comes again, even closer.

“Trent, you’re scaring me.”

“Good. Stay down and be quiet.”

I wait for a long time, the sound of my heartbeat competing with the birds and insects of the rainforest for dominance. I don’t hear the sawing wood noise again. I relax and turn to gaze down at Heather.

“Okay, it should be safe now—”

A heavy weight slams into my back, making me stagger forward. I scream as fiery pain explodes in my shoulder. I catch a glimpse of a black and yellow maw peeled back like a fleshy curtain to reveal rows of razor-sharp teeth out of the corner of my eye. A jaguar is latched onto my shoulder, its claws raking lines of fire down my back.

Don’t go down. It’s the one thought in my head as I stagger under the brutish creature’s weight. The name jaguar means ‘he who kills with one pounce.’ If the jaguar gets me down on the ground, I’m done for. He’ll eviscerate me with his hind claws, or suffocate me by biting my throat.

Or even gnaw off the back of my head. I’ve seen gruesome bodies in the Amazon. Am I about to become one?

I drop the knife somewhere during the assault. I try to grab the jaguar’s ears, jam my fingers in its eye, but the awkward position makes it nearly impossible to reach.

Heather runs in from the side, screaming as she wields a fallen branch in her hands. She smashes the improvised club into the jaguar’s flank again and again. The beast finally relents, letting go of my shoulder to turn and roar at her.

My vision blurs, and blood flows sticky and hot down my back and chest. I almost lose consciousness, but I hang on to it by force of sheer will. I have to keep Heather safe. I have to.

I turn around, struggling to keep my feet, and see Heather swinging the club wildly at the jaguar. The big cat’s ears are back, its lethal paw swiping out at her weapon and leaving deep rents in the bark. The jaguar lashes out with a particularly powerful swipe and sweeps the stick right out of her hand.

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