Page 48 of Fall
“We can give him a soldier’s death,” I reply, watching the brutal agony of his fight cease. A whispered puff of air empties his lungs. Finality snarls within me with a certain madness.
It’s my fault these men died.
I put everyone in danger.
Rising tall, I leave humanity in the sands of time. “Burn the building to its foundation.”
16
I’m woken by nasally snuffling. If I could crawl under the sheet laced with Dante’s exotic scent and stay in his bed longer, I would. A silver sheen of moonlight tips the stenciled shadows of treetops. The gleam of a new day hides on a rotation of the spinning earth. I’m still in the jungle. Alone, and in my jailer's bed—without him.
I can’t explain why I wish Dante was beside me. The yearning is unfathomable after everything the man put me through. From a cold-hearted battle to a lust so intense it’s left fires burning between us. He’s taken so much from me, and something I never dreamed possible––my heart.
The spot on the bed beside me is empty. Sal was right, Dante didn’t return in the hours of darkness to draw me into his arms. That silly fantasy was laughable. A parallel longing so ghostly it could never happen.
I've lost him and found myself in the process.
Before my boots hit foreign soil, my entire existence revolved like a hamster treading a wheel. The same routine. Void of sexual thrills and lacking deep intimacy. It’s only after weeks as a prisoner, I’ve lived a thousand lives with one man. I’ve experienced his passion and his poison. An intolerable hunger and burning hatred. And found strength in my weakness.
My head thumps when I sit upright. The sprawling view still catches my breath. A platinum-gold forest glows under trillions of twinkly stars in a graphite sky. I could ask the moon where he is right now, but that would be pointless. It knows what I know. When he returns to this bed, I’ll be flying over the Atlantic Ocean.
I should be refreshed after a few hours of valuable sleep. However, scenarios of a romantic reunion ran riot in my restless dreams.
Laoch holds his little snout to the breeze, pining for his mother. Active strides back and forth tell me he wants to go home. We’re both ready.
My heart breaks when he paces the platform in unintentional captivity. I didn’t plan to trap him. It was a good deed. In the same way that Dante took me in and nursed me back to health. It was an act of kindness.
I collapse back onto the pillows as if I’ve lived here my whole life. It’s comforting and confusing. My purpose through all of this was the natural world surrounding this hideout. Laoch became a worthy cause and the impetus for something good. To protect his species. Saving him is my salvation, but with his restlessness, I’m torn. Sal promised to release the cub once I’ve gone, except Laoch has grown impatient, ready to rejoin his mother.
He balances at the edge of the deck, ears pricked, debating a fateful jump. I throw back the sheet and scramble off the bed, groaning when my achy ankles bend to walk.
Reaching him in a few quick strides, I scoop him into my arms. He strains to stay put and wrestles against me. There’s no way I can keep a wild animal contained up here in the sky. The sensible thing to do would be to release him myself. It won’t be an easy task to find the boundary fencing on my own, but I can lead him close to the river and still have enough time to join Sal.
My energetic little cub decides to bounce off the mattress after I plonk him down. In a rush, I shrug into the floral dress and grab a backpack from under Dante’s desk, stuffing my passport inside. The fully equipped kitchen has plenty of rations to pack for breakfast and the fridge has a clear jug of filtered water. Grabbing a bowl from the shelf, I fill it to the brim and set it on the floor for Laoch, then pour myself some. The refreshing chill gives me a boost of stamina and a rush of prickles. Rather than lap up the offering, Laoch prowls outside again, still contemplating a leap of faith onto the safety net.
I swipe a papaya from the counter, free a jagged carving knife from a wooden block and locate a flashlight from a utility cupboard. Having learnt many lessons the hard way, I’m wise enough now to venture into the wild with helpful supplies. The last item to add is a flask of water. Then I zip up the bag and shrug the straps onto my shoulders.
It won’t be long until nightfall welcomes daylight. I’m buzzed and ready to gift Laoch with his freedom. The story will amaze my sister and give me an actual tale to retell without betraying Dante’s privacy.
Dashing barefoot to the chest of drawers by the bed, I hunt for a baseball cap. There’s an abundance to choose from. All in muted colors. Obsidian. Camo. Khaki. The colors of the rainforest. Luckily, I also find a pair of thin black socks that stretch over my knees when I toe into them. They’ll double as protection against thorny branches. Slotting my feet into my sturdy work boots, I tie the laces tightly mid ankle.
This is it.
I study the treehouse one last time, taking in every detail. Once I’ve waved off my furry friend, I’ll go to the Oasis and finally end this adventure once and for all.
Sadness crushes my ribs when I inhale. It’s a treacherous emotion. This wasn’t a vacation. My days were heavily pelted with hot coals from Hell, and the nights were trapped in dense undergrowth tipped with glorious sunshine. Yet, a part of me still prays Dante will turn up. In fact, it’s not just part of me, it’s my entire being. I know it’s crazy. Such a ridiculous concept of love is purely a trick of my time in captivity.
I scoop Laoch’s dappled body up from the balcony and walk away, descending downwards on the interconnecting rope bridges. The truth is, I’ll never be able to speak of Dante again. No one will know what really happened to me in the jungle, how I succumbed to a make-believe man. A man who doesn't exist.
Women have fallen for their captors throughout the ages of time. It’s a warped chemistry where endurance hunts pleasure to soothe suffering. Dopamine dupes the mind and twists reality. Fear for survival evolves into desperation. Their consuming presence morphs into oxygen and sucks souls in deep with a powerful force of gravity. I’m lucky to get out alive, even if my heart will never beat for another man again.
Touching down to the earth, I turn right, knowing the river will present itself soon or later. I’ve seen the murky waters bend in the distance from the treetops. It’s not far. A mile or so on foot.
Laoch continues to wrangle in my arms, fed up with being carried like a frail baby, or too hot next to me in the humidity of twilight. His body hums of life and determination, no longer sleepy and weak.
Prolific trees block out the full moon pinned to the heavens. Its bold glow tries to brighten the way behind a tangle of thickset greenery that steals its power. Setting Laoch on the blanketed forest floor, I slide off the backpack and take out the flashlight.
A beaten down trail makes it easier to navigate the unevenness of exposed roots and sloping ground. Laoch canters ahead, sniffing and snorting with a hunger to feed. I keep up the pace, rambling behind like a native. His long tail catches the beam from my flashlight, and I witness his sharp ninety degrees turn in the opposite direction. He bounces over a toppled tree trunk and disappears.
