Village E3: Survival of the Human Spirit (2 page)

If I put my hand near the fire pit,
and reach out with my foot, I should be able to find my bag by working my way
around the pit,
he
thought. There was so little light, that he might as well be blind. Finally, he
felt his leg hit the bag. He was too tired to try to start a fire, but wouldn't
be able to sleep without knowing his bag was safe. Cradling the bag like it was
a baby, he went to sleep.

John could feel the sun on his face,
as he opened his eyes and looked from side to side, without even raising his
head. He remembered the fruit.
I don't even care if it's poison,
he
thought.
If I die, I die.
He cut one of them in half, then squeezed as much
juice out of it as he could. It wasn't even a mouthful but was delicious, and
more importantly, wet. He ventured to the next step and took a big bite. The
pulp was as good as the juice.
Even all the fruit might not be enough to
keep me alive for one more day, without some water,
he thought.

Suddenly John felt an intense pain in
his head. As he held his head in his hands, without thinking, he stood up. With
one hand still holding his head, he grabbed his bag, and started to walk
straight into the heart of the jungle. He walked about a hundred yards.
Where
the hell am I going,
he wondered, but continued to walk.
The sun rises
over the ocean, so I should be able to find my way back, if I get lost, he
thought,
as he trudged on. The trees were so dense that not much sunshine
reached the ground, but up ahead, he noticed that there was some sunlight
visible between the trees.

John proceeded toward the light and
walked into a clearing. It was there he heard moving water. It wasn't just a
puddle of water, but a deep pool of it. There was a small, but steady stream,
flowing over rocks and into the pool. His first urge was to drink directly from
it, but he knew better. He decided to boil it first, so he must use one of his
matches.

He dipped a full pot of water from
the pool, and then started to gather fuel for a fire. There were stones here,
so he could make a proper fire pit.
Wow, I can't believe I walked straight
to this place,
he thought, as he organized stones to hold his pot. While
looking for fire starting material, he found a bird's nest made of dried grass,
holding two small eggs in it. He broke the nest apart and used it to start his
fire. Once he had the fire going well, he dropped the two eggs into his pot.

For John, it seemed like an eternity
before the water started to boil. He waited for it to come to a full boil and
then let it boil for a couple of more minutes. He used a stick to remove the
pot of water from the stones that supported it, above the fire. Now, he had to
impatiently wait for the water to cool enough for him to drink it without
burning his mouth. After testing it with his finger several times, he decided
it was ready.

He reached in and got his two tiny
eggs and placed them on a rock, to enjoy later. He took a small sip to test the
temperature of the water on his mouth. He then chugged it down in seconds,
finishing with water dripping from his chin. His body finally had what it had
been screaming for.

For a while, John felt like he might
die, but now life here got a whole lot better. He put another pot of water on
to boil. After drinking until his thirst was satiated, he filled his plastic
container with water that had been boiled. He could now concentrate on food and
shelter. Feeling much better, he decided to explore the area around his newly
found pool. On one end of the pool, the water was shallow and very clear, and
he could see crayfish crawling on the rocks, oblivious to his presence.

He used to catch crayfish to use for
fish bait during the summers at his grandparents' house. He went to where the
water met the shore, and started turning over rocks. The third rock had a big crayfish
under it. He didn't want to get pinched, so he smashed it with a rock, pulled
the tail off, and went looking for more. After hunting for about an hour, he
had ten crayfish tails. He suddenly realized that the claws probably held some
edible meat too, so he went back and started gathering those.

Into a pot of boiling water, John
dropped the crayfish parts. He couldn't believe his luck. He was going to be
enjoying some real food, and all the water he wanted. Free from his own
personal life and death struggle, he leaned back and rested, while his meal
cooked. This area had everything he needed to get by, but soon panic started to
set in as he realized no one could find him here.

John needed to go back to the beach,
but first he would eat. The crayfish tails and pinchers were better tasting
than he thought they would be. After sampling those, he picked up one of the
small eggs, and cracked the shell. His nose wrinkled as he held it up and took
a sniff. Even though it didn't smell very good, he took a small bite.
Not
too good,
he thought. He popped it in his mouth, and chewed it a few times
and then spit it out. Next he tried more crayfish tails.
Much better than
eggs,
he thought, as he ate one after another. This meal wasn't going to
fill him up, but it was a good start.

John wasn't sure if he had enough
daylight to get back to his old camp site, but he was going to try. He needed
to be sure to find his way back, so every twenty yards or so, he cut a notch in
a tree, on the ocean side.
It shouldn't be too hard to find my way back,
he thought. With renewed energy, it didn't seem to take very long for him to
arrive on the beach.

John had formulated a game plan on
the way back. He put his bag down, and started looking for something to mark
the area with. He found a large fallen limb, about ten feet long. He placed it
in the sand, pointed in the direction of his newly found oasis. On the end
closest to the jungle, he placed two shorter limbs about the same diameter as
the first. Together, the three pieces of wood made an arrow pointing to where
he would be.
Anyone should be able to understand what that means,
he
thought.

Next, he started to gather large
limbs and sticks. He made a huge pile of wood, for a signal fire, in case he
saw a plane or boat. He wasn't holding out much hope for seeing a plane though.
He hadn't seen a jet trail since he had been here.

John was still hungry. He still had a
few pieces of mystery fruit, but he wanted to save them if he could. About a
quarter of a mile away, was a rocky shallow area that formed an elongated circle, almost like a small lake. With
rocks encircling its border, it was almost completely separated from the rest
of the ocean. There were some fish out in the middle, but he wasn't confident
enough to risk going out there. He wanted some easy pickings.

There were a few small crabs prowling
about. He didn't know the first thing about cooking crabs, but he was ready to
give it a try. He wrapped several of the crabs in his shirt, for the trip back,
as his mouth began to water at the thought of more food.

John walked to his shelter and began
to pull the leaves off of the top of it. He gathered the poles, and bunched them
up as well as he could. With nothing to tie the ends, they were too difficult
to carry all at once, so he tried dragging them.
This is too much work, for
this late in the day,
he thought, dropping them to the ground. He dropped
them.
I'll come back and get them tomorrow.

Following the notches in the trees was a little harder than he thought it would be.
After getting stuck in a couple of places, he finally made it back to the pool
of water. As he approached, he noticed something by the edge, on the far side
of the pool. There were three small animals, that looked like some sort of tiny
deer. As he approached, they looked up at him, but didn't seem to be frightened. After satisfying their curiosity
with one look, they went back to drinking.

John's menu choice went from sea
food, to red meat. Steak was one of his favorite things to eat. He had no idea if these small animals were good to
eat, but he intended to find out. He already had his crude spear in his hand,
so he slowly put his bag down. He was experienced at hunting Mule Deer with a
bow and arrow, but trying to kill wild game with a sharpened stick was a whole
different story.

He took quiet, careful steps, as he
eased toward the deer. When they looked up, he stopped. When they resumed
drinking, he again moved toward them. As he got
closer, he moved more slowly, and more deliberately. He couldn't believe how
close he was getting, and it was clear that they didn't fear him. He raised his
spear above his shoulder, then paused.
They are such amazing little
creatures.
It's too late in the day to gut an animal and cook it,
he
thought. He lowered his spear and moved away, just as stealthily as he came.
His appreciation of their natural beauty saved their lives.

It's getting late, I better get the
fire going. I don't have time to build a shelter, so it will be a long night,
John thought. Before he could even
begin, there was a loud crack of thunder. He unwrapped the crabs from his
shirt. Picking up his pot, he placed the crabs in it. He placed them under a
bush and quickly found a leaf large enough to cover the pot.

If it rains very much, it could be a
bad night,
he
thought. Before he could even reach for his bag, large drops started falling,
then with no time to prepare, the downpour began. He frantically tried to find
his lightweight rain poncho, but it was in his bag, buried under many other
things. He and the bag were soaked before he found it. He was just as wet, as
if he had been swimming.

John stood there in the pounding
rain, holding his plastic poncho.
Now what? I'm wet, what good is this going
to do me,
he thought. "You Son of a Bitches," he yelled, as if he
expected someone to hear him. He was already feeling chilled from the rain, as
he took the poncho out of its package. He threw it over his bag, then took off
his jeans and his boxers. Standing stark naked in the rain, he felt more alone
than he had felt in his lifetime. Under these circumstances, his poncho was as
good as he could do. It was going to be his shelter for the night. It didn't
cover his legs, so he would have to squat, so it could form a tent over him. He
was going to be cold, but maybe he would dry out enough to keep from getting
hypothermia. He knew he wouldn't be sleeping tonight.

For what seemed like hours, John
squatted beneath a tree. Between the tree, and his cheaply made poncho, they
kept most of the rain off of him. With each passing minute though, the cold was
getting worse. He had been shivering for a while, but now it was becoming more
than he could take.

Knowing he wouldn't make it till
morning if he just sat there, he got to his feet. Stiff, and shaking so badly
he could barely stand straight, he slowly began walking in the darkness. Back
and forth, like a caged animal, he paced fifteen or twenty feet in one
direction, then back. Feeling no difference after a few minutes, he started
jogging. He slipped in the mud and fell. He wanted to stay face down in the mud
and give up, but he didn't. Getting back to his feet, he began doing jumping
jacks, then pushups.

With hours left before sunrise, John
was on a mission to live to see the next day. He finally noticed that he had
stopped shivering. Shortly after the shivering stopped, he felt like he was
starting to work up a sweat.
Now I can slow down, but I can't stop,
he
thought. He resumed walking twenty feet at a time, knowing that it would be
miles before he could rest.

Feeling thirsty, he felt around in
the dark for his pot with the crabs in it. He threw them out and positioned the
pot directly below a leaf that was funneling rainwater. After a few minutes of
walking, he checked his pot and found a half cup full or so already! He
alternated walking and drinking, until finally, night began to slowly give way
to day.

John could see well enough now, that
he didn't have to worry about getting lost. Starting toward the beach, he was
determined not to go through another night like that one. It was still raining
just as hard as when it began. He'd forgotten exactly where he'd dropped the
poles from his shelter, so he retraced his steps from the day before and
finally found them. He put a few under one arm, and the rest under the other.
He dragged the trailing end of each bundle on the ground and headed back to his
camp. After the night he just had, shelter had jumped to the top of his list of
priorities.

It was slow going, trying to get
through the thick plant growth. It didn't help that
his manhood was hanging in the breeze. Trying to carry the poles, keep from
tearing his poncho, and not injure his private
parts, wasn't working out too well. He dropped the poles, and rested for a
couple of minutes. He took off the poncho and folded it, then placed it on top
of a bush, to retrieve later. Now he was completely naked again. He already had
several good sized scrapes on his legs and arms.
No time to worry about
those now,
he thought. Gathering his poles, he continued on his way.

As John approached his camp, the rain
stopped. Dropping his poles, he walked straight to his pot. It was full to the
brim. He drank most of it, but saved a little for later. Looking all around
him, he surveyed the area for just the right spot to erect his new shelter.
There on the ground, where he'd taken them off, were his clothes. He wrung out
as much water as he could, then hung them over several limbs.