Village E3: Survival of the Human Spirit (3 page)

After finally settling on a spot, he
began to build. This shelter would be much like his first, but built with more
incentive for quality.
I'm not going to spend another night like last night,
he thought.

After what seemed like four or five
hours, John had a shelter as good as his last one, but he continued to make
improvements. He kept adding and interweaving more leaves. Taking a short
break, he drank the last of the water in his pot. He checked his clothes. They
were still fairly damp, but not dripping wet like they were. He put on his
boxer shorts. Being naked wasn't something that he was comfortable with.

John took a deep breath and went back
to work. Gathering more large leaves, he started piling them under his new
shelter. He wanted to get off the ground, because the ants and other insects
made it hard to sleep at night. Finally he had his bed of leaves finished.
Crawling into his shelter, he tried out the feel of his bed.
This is nice,
he
thought. Knowing he couldn't rest yet, he rolled off his bed, then slowly
walked around the shelter, inspecting it with a critical eye. After adding
still more leaves, he was finally satisfied.

Walking over to where his clothes
were hanging, John checked his shirt and pants again. While he slipped his arm
into one sleeve of his shirt, he remembered how quickly the rain started
yesterday. While they were mostly dry, he wanted to make sure they stayed that
way. He took his arm back out of the sleeve, and carried his shirt and jeans to
his shelter, placing them on his bed.

If it starts to rain, at least my
clothes will be dry,
he thought. He retrieved his bag, and placed it near where he planned to have
his feet tonight. He felt a sense of relief, because feeling vulnerable was
something that he never wanted to experience again.
I need to start using my
brain. I better go get my poncho,
he thought.

He started back toward the beach, to
the place where he had left his poncho. Without even pausing, he grabbed it and
started back. On the way, he gathered a few bird nests, and callously dumped
the eggs on the ground. Tearing them apart, he tried to find as much dry
material as he could, to aid in starting a fire later. After all the rain, he
knew that it might be a challenge just to get one started this time.

Arriving back in camp, John placed
his poncho with his clothes, and then set about trying to catch a familiar
source of food. Flipping rocks for crayfish was harder this time. They weren't
as easy to find.
Maybe the rain has something to do with it,
he thought.
He worked harder and longer than last time, and only came up with three
crayfish, but three would have to do. He would have to dip into his reserve of
fruit, which he had been saving.

I'll try the fire starter this time,
he thought, as he prepared to start a
fire. It was a struggle to keep the fire going once it was started since all of
the wood was still wet.

Thinking about the day before, John
looked up at the sky, just to get a feel for what the weather was doing. The
clouds building overhead made him decide to wait a bit on the fire. He decided
to do some exploring while he waited to see if it would rain again. He could
see what he thought might be another clearing on the other side of the water
pool. Once he broke through the vegetation on the far side, he was able to see
that it wasn't just a clearing, but a very large clearing.

Off in the distance, he could see
some animals grazing. Even though he wasn't close enough to tell exactly what
they were, it looked like there were several dozen of them. From this vantage
point, he could see the clouds above much better, and didn't like what he saw.
Without wasting any time, he headed back to camp. As he neared the far side of
the pool from his camp, a light rain began. He only had his boxers on, but he
didn't want to get them wet, so he took them off. Folding them into a tight
ball, he then shoved them up into his armpit. He cupped his hand around the
bottom side, and tried to protect them from the rain as much as he could.

As soon as John got to his shelter,
he headed into it. Now would be the moment of truth. It was still raining very
lightly, but so far, so good. There were no leaks that he could see. He put his
boxers back on, then his shirt and jeans.

After getting his clothes on, he
slipped his poncho over his head. There were still a few hours till dark, so he
thought this would be a good chance for him to relax, and take a break from the
never ending job of trying to stay alive.
I might not have a chance to build
a fire today,
he thought. His only option for food, without fire, was his
stash of fruit. He got a couple out, and cut them into sections with his knife.
Hunger was his constant companion now, and this light meal of fruit wasn't
going to change that.

Free from thinking about what to do
next, John let his mind wonder back to his home in Colorado. He thought about
the people back home, and wondered if anyone was missing him yet.
Will they
form a search party,
he wondered. He knew Amy would be upset. He and Amy
had been dating for over three years. She came out to his place, which was many
miles from town, almost every weekend. He had tried to get her to move in with
him, but thought she was holding out for a ring.
When I get back, I'm going
to ask her to marry me,
he thought. His thoughts of home were broken by the
sudden sound of heavy rain.

Since his bed would keep him up off of
the ground, he would stay dry tonight. Taking his poncho off, and folding it,
he got ready to get some sleep. It would be awhile before the sun went down,
but he was confident that it would be raining for many more hours. He had been
exhausted most of his stay here, but this was the first time he had felt
relaxed. Sleep came easily this night.

Hours later, John woke up. The first
thing he noticed was the quiet. The rain had stopped. He realized it was
lighter than it had been in the nights before.
It must be a full moon,
he
thought. His eyes began searching the sky for it. What he saw overwhelmed his
mind, just like it had been when he woke up on the beach that first day. It was
a full moon, but it wasn't the moon he knew. This moon was many times larger.
It was massive, and lit the jungle up like early morning. It didn't have that
man in the moon face either.

Now, his mind was being flooded with
more questions. There was one question he kept going back to....
Am I going
crazy,
he wondered.
This can't be real,
he kept thinking. It
suddenly hit him like a death in the family. He hadn't felt like this, since he
was a child. Right now, he felt like a child.
Why in the hell am I here,
he
wondered. He wanted to go home, but somehow knew
he never would again.

It's been three months since John
woke up, bewildered on the beach. He still wasn't happy about being here, but
finally got over being depressed about it. He liked to think of himself as an
analytical thinker, and has had plenty of time to think about why he was here.
It was obvious to him, that no one on earth would be capable of doing this to
him. Whoever put him here wasn't going to dump
him here, and never return. They would either come back, or they were able to
monitor him. What kept him going now was the hope that they might return.

John's new shelter was a hut. He left his lean-to as it was when he built it.
He even built a bed frame in his new hut, so he could get away from those
annoying insects on the ground. The first month was the hardest. It rained so
often, that it was hard to enjoy a fire, or even start one. At least when it
was raining, drinkable water was easy to get. It only rained once in the last
week, so he has had time to explore. He has even had time to appreciate the
variety of flora and fauna in the area.

He enjoyed feeding the birds in
Colorado. The ones he saw now, didn't require feeding, and were incredibly
beautiful, compared to the ones back home. While some things were exotic and
strange to him, there were a few things that were familiar. There were even
some things that seemed strangely out of place.

From experience, John had learned
that he should think of getting food early in the day, rather than later. An
all-day rain could kill his chance to cook anything. He decided that this
morning he was going to try to catch a fish or two.

In his bug out bag, he had a survival
fishing kit that contained three hooks, and twenty feet of monofilament line.
Everything he had was irreplaceable, so he cut about five feet of line off,
leaving the rest for future use. He then tied it securely to a very long limb.
The limb was very flexible, but still strong enough that it wouldn't break
easily. He tied the hook on using a polymer knot. His dad had taught him how to
tie the knot when he was only eight or nine years old.

Insects and grubs were easy to find
and they made great fish bait, so John caught about a dozen to start with. He
put a big fat one on his hook, then got into position by a drop-off, in front
of some rocks. He took a beetle and threw it into the water. It started wildly
thrashing about with its legs. The commotion was the only disturbance on the
calm surface of the water. It only took about five seconds until, in a quick
splash, a fish took the beetle.

Next, he threw in a grub and watched
it sink slowly in the clear water. He saw a fish take it, then swim away. This
is what his grandpa called chumming. His grandpa always said, "You give
them a free meal, then offer them a meal with a hook in it."

John slowly swung his line out over
the water, then gently dropped his baited hook right where the fish had just
surfaced. Before it had a chance to even sink a foot, he had a fish on. It was
only about eight inches long, but that was the size he was after. He couldn't
take a chance with bigger fish, because he didn't want to risk losing his hook.

He took the fish off, then put it on his
homemade stringer, which was fashioned from a long thin tree branch, with a
fork at the end. By running the limb up through the gill plate, and out through
the mouth, he was able to place the fish in the water. He put a heavy rock on
the other end of the limb, keeping the fish in the water which allowed it to
stay alive until he was ready to eat it.

Picking up his fishing pole, he
baited his hook again, dropping his line in the same spot, where he had just
caught the fish. Almost immediately, he had another one on. This one was bigger,
so rather than trying to get it out quickly, he let it tire itself out,
fighting against the limber pole. It was a nice one, over a foot long. The two
fish together would be enough for a meal. Gathering his pole and his fish, he
headed back to his fire pit. Finding the fishing easy, he wished that he had
tried it sooner.

Fish remains attract flies, so John
walked about thirty yards away to gut the fish. After gutting them, he took the
fish over to the pool of water, and gave them a rinsing to get the blood and
what remained of the guts off. The smaller fish would fit in the pan that was
part of his cooking kit. The largest of his catch would have to be cooked over
the fire. He had done this a few times already, with fish he had speared.

For his larger meals, he had two
large rocks, which were about a foot tall. He would build a fire between the
rocks, and then run a stick through the fish. By laying the stick with the fish
on it across the rocks, he was able to cook the fish slowly. After one side
started to cook, he would turn it. It took longer to cook than in a pan, but he
could cook and eat the smaller one while the big one was cooking.

John knew that he couldn't keep
taking fish out of this one pool of water, and in time it would be fished out,
so he spent much of his time searching for other sources of food. Today, after
eating, he was going to do some searching along the beach. For now though, he
needed to get the fire going. It had been days since the last rain so that
meant a fire should be easy to start.

Starting a fire using just sparks
took some practice, but he was pretty good at it now. He discovered a type of
tree that often had loose sections of bark.
After removing the bark, on the inner side, were many hair-like fibers. Taking his knife, he scraped those until he
had a handful. He kept some of it stored in his hut at all times.

After cooking and eating what might
be his only meal of the day, John headed for the beach. He was going to try
something different today. With him, he had his newly fashioned spear, which
was an improvement on his original sharpened stick. He had made a crude
spearhead out of a piece of a clam shell. It wasn't perfectly shaped, but it
was sharp, thanks to hours of hard work.

He stopped beneath a tree that was
covered with flower blooms. Many of the blooms had fallen to the ground. Gathering
up several hands full that had fallen on the ground, he stuffed them in one of
his socks. He was wearing his boots. He never wore them anymore, except when he
went in the water. Some of the coral was sharp enough to cut flesh, and he
couldn't take a chance on getting an infection if he was injured.
Boxer
shorts and winter boots-now that's a fashion statement,
he thought, as he
approached the water's edge.

Because he had no idea what might be
in it, John was afraid of the ocean. He'd seen fish of all sizes, but he knew
there had to be other creatures he hadn't seen yet. He walked along the water's
edge until he came to the area that formed a shallow pool. This area wasn't
nearly as scary as the open water was. In some places, he could even see the
bottom.

He walked along the outer edge, where
the rocks were sticking up out of the water. He took several steps into the
water and got into position, then reached into his sock and took out a handful
of the flowers. He held them in his left hand, and his spear under his arm. He
threw the flowers out onto the water and watched them float on the surface for
several seconds, then some small fish started to surface, and were eating them.

Soon the activity of those fish
attracted more fish. When he threw out another handful, he noticed that some
bigger fish were starting to join in. He held his spear over his shoulder, and
waited for just the right moment. There were many more fish here than he
thought, and big one, which was about two feet long, cruised by in front of
him, less than ten feet away. When another one came even closer, with one quick
motion, he released his spear.

He reached and grabbed the end of his
spear, which had hit the fish right in the middle of its body. The fish had
lots of life left in it, and wasn't making things easy. Its violent shaking was making it slip off of the spear.
John tried to ease the fish toward him, but finally,
it came off.
I'm not going to let it get away,
he thought. He took a
quick step toward the fish, to try to grab it. Out of nowhere, an open mouth
about three feet wide appeared, and in one gulp, the fish was gone.

Shocked, John fell backwards and had
trouble getting back to his feet. He could feel the sudden surge of adrenalin
shoot through his body. His heart was pounding, and felt like it would explode
from his chest. As soon as he got back on his feet, he felt like he was walking
on water. He got out of the water fast. "Holy shit!" he said,
expressing his relief, excitement, and fear. "I hate this place. I really
hate this place." He didn't know what kind of fish it was, but he was sure
he didn't want to see another one.

John still hadn't figured out how the
tide worked. Some days, the edge of the water was hundreds of yards from the
trees. On other days, it was as close as thirty yards.
That almost worked,
John thought, as he headed back home. His little hut in the jungle was his home now. He wasn't happy about it, but he worked
hard to make the best out of what he had to work with. He had been to the beach
enough times that he was starting to wear a path.

As he went through an area that had
dense undergrowth, he noticed something move. It was one of those tiny deer
that he'd seen near the pool. His constant activity there finally made them
stop coming, so it had been a while since he had seen one. He thought back to
the day when he could have had one, but let it go. Without hesitation, he made
up his mind to try for this one.

He started to stalk it, using his
standard technique. When the deer had its head down, he moved toward it. When
it raised its head, he stopped. Within a few minutes, he was very close. It was
standing broadside to him, and about fifteen feet away. John was a baseball
pitcher during the summers in his teen years, so he was confident he could hit
his mark. He would have to put a lot of force into this throw. This wasn't a
fish.

John put everything he had into it,
letting out a loud grunt as he flung the spear at what he hoped would be his
next meal. As the point of the spear penetrated flesh, the small deer
instinctively tried to leap forward. John had missed his mark badly, and could
see that it wasn't a clean kill. The spear had severed the deer's spine.

As it began to thrash about with its
front legs, the deer let out a sound that
sounded almost like a scream. It reminded John of the time he was hunting
rabbits with his father, and he shot a rabbit in the back. He never thought he
would hear anything like that again. Just seconds ago, he was trying to kill
the deer, but at this moment he was sorry he even hurt it. He found himself
wanting to help the same animal that he had just tried to kill.

Quickly sizing up the situation, he
knew that there was nothing he could do and it was no use in letting the deer
suffer any longer than necessary, so he took out his knife. Kneeling next to
the tiny animal, John placed the sharp blade on its neck. He could see the fear
in the deer's eyes. Placing his knee on the shoulder area, to steady the frightened
animal, he pressed downward and pulled outward. Again, it made that dreadful
sound, as the artery in its neck was severed. Then the noise stopped, and in a
few seconds, it stopped moving. The blood from its neck slowed to a trickle,
instead of squirting.

John stood there for a few moments.
He had hunted animals before, but right now, he didn't feel like a hunter, he
felt like a killer. He couldn't allow the creature to die for no reason. He
knelt next to it, and set about gutting it. He opened up the underside of the
deer, and noticed that its bladder was full. He wanted to be careful not to
spoil the meat by accidently cutting it.

Slowly he cut the necessary places to
allow him to pull out the bladder in one piece. In one move, most of the
intestines came out along with the bulging bladder. Then moving up to the chest
area, he removed the heart, lungs, liver, and the rest of the organs.

He pulled the now lifeless body of
the deer away from the pile of guts, disturbing several flies that were already
enjoying the unexpected feast. John held up his bloody hands; the dirty work
was done. The sight of them didn't make him feel any better about how this
turned out.

John rose to his feet, then bent over
and grabbed the dead deer by the hind legs. He picked up his spear and his
knife with his other hand, and began to walk toward home. Every couple of
hundred feet, his hand would tire from the weight of the deer, forcing him to
stop and switch hands. He was starting to wonder if it was worth all the
effort, when he finally arrived back at his hut.

Before doing anything else, he
checked the fire, which was something that had become habit. He stirred the hot
coals, and placed some small sticks in the middle to get a flame going. In
seconds it was going again. He carefully placed three
larger chunks of wood on the fire. He needed to rest a while before tackling
the task of skinning his next meal.

John sat next to a tree, leaning on
it. The longer he sat, the more he felt like going to sleep.
I better get
up,
he thought. Rising more like a man twice his age, he picked up his
knife and went to work skinning his dinner. Thinking he might find a use for
the skin, he took extra care to keep it in one piece.

Finally separating the carcass from
the skin, he examined it, then laid it on a rock and turned his attention to
the meat that would be his dinner that evening. With the skill of a butcher, he
separated the hind legs from the rest of the animal. He couldn't eat the whole
animal, and didn't have any way to preserve it, so the rest of his kill would
be waste. Not wanting to have a stinking, decaying animal close to his hut, he
picked up the rest of the carcass and started walking away from his home.