The Emerald Forest

[Honey_B]

A thread for Ariosto and Honey_B...

The destination was Manchu Picchu. The plan to meet her husband at his excavation. The reality was vastly different.

Engine failure, pilot error...

Margaret O'Shaughnessy Wescott didn't have any ideas what the trouble was. She just knew the small plane was spiraling towards the emerald carpet of the Peruvian jumgle. The pilot's voice shouted unintelligible instructions between livid curses. Maggie bent over and laced her fingers over her neck. It just seemed like the thing to do. She was trying desperately to remember the words to the "Hail Mary" when the world went black.

A fortnight later, an article appeared in The New York Times.

The search for Margaret O'Shaughnessy Wescott has been called off today after two weeks of extensive searching. The 25 year old heiress to the O'Shaughnessy fortune is presumed dead from a plane crash somewhere in the jungles of Peru. Her husband, Clifton Wescott III, noted Pre-Columbian archeologist, is said to be consoled by his work and will get through this difficult time with the help of a close personal friend, Dorothy Dalton of Omaha. A memorial service for the famous red-haired beauty will be held at St. Patrick's Cathedral on April 14, 1937.

Again, the reality was vastly different.

 

[ariosto]

The twisted wreckage of the twin engined Lockheed had failed to burn which was why the two were still alive at all.
The pilot had wrestled the stricken aircraft down into a jungle clearing for a wheels up landing as soon as he saw the oil pressure gauges bottoming out.
The clearing had been a godsend, one open spot in an endless sea of green. It had saved them.
The plane had careened across the field and spent it's momentum enough that when it struck the trees on the far side and slammed to a halt it didn't kill them outright. It only knocked them senseless...


Raoul Kenyon the pilot was first to come around. He stared blankly through the shattered windshield at a wall of green jungle. He was aware of sounds. The howls of monkeys and birds in the trees around him. The groaning of the tortured metal as it tried to settle in unnatural patterns. The 'ticticticticing' of the overheated engines cooling down.
He looked around ... The cockpit was a shambles, the co-pilots seat had been crushed back by the bole of a large tree. A look out the window through a sheen of red, showed the leftside wing sheared off just beyond the engine nacele. This bird would never fly again.
A sheen of red!....blood!
Raoul's hand flew to his face and came away wet and warm. The cut was high on his forehead, not serious. He tentatively tried to stand and a lancing pain shot up his left leg...broken?...he tested it. No, no thank God. A sprain, just a sprain.
With the help of the chairback he opened the curtain to the small passenger cabin and was greeted with sunlight pouring in the gaping hole where the tail section was once attatched.

The passenger...Damn! The passenger!
"Mrs.Westcott...Margaret!"

His voice was horse but it carried and he heard a sound from outside the broken fuselage.
Stumbling back he jumped to the ground over the jagged tear where the aircraft had split in two.
And regretted it.
The pain in his ankle and leg caused him to black out for a moment but the sounds of her moaning brought him to and he worked his way towards the sound.
She had run from the aircraft and managed to stumble over some jungle vines which had sent her tumbling into the underbrush.

"Miss Westcott." he sat down heavily beside her. She seemed unharmed. His hand reached out and touched her shoulder.
"Miss Westcott." She stirred.
"Margaret are you all right?"

 

[ariosto]

OOC...After a short hiatus Honey...
Let's go to the jungle...I'm in the mood.

 

[Honey_B]

"I'm about a mile and a half from all right! What the hell happened up there?" She turned to look at the pilot, but stopped short when she saw the blood. Maggie tried desperately not to be sick, but failed miserably. She leaned over her other side and retched. Maggie struggled for control, every muscle in her body aching.

Maggie, get ahold of yourself.

She forced herself to sit up. Wiping her mouth and swallowing hard, she fought off another wave of nausea before speaking.

"Y-You seem to be cut rather badly."

The words came out sounding something like a squeak. Maggie untied the scarf from around her neck and pressed it to the pilot's wound. It hurt her to ruin such fine silk but she simply had to cover up that blood. It did seem to help. Maggie was able to continue in a more even tone.

"Apply pressure. It should stop the bleeding. Are you hurt elsewhere?"

Maggie waited for the pilot to answer, automatically glancing at her watch. She was quite alarmed to find it missing and her hands flew to her neck.

Thank God! It's still there.

She snapped open the locket and the needle of the tiny compass swung to north. As she always did whenever she opened it, Maggie reread the inscription on the cover. Follow your own path. She felt tears spring to her eyes and wiped them away as quickly as they'd formed. How childish to have such a sudden desire to see her father. She snapped the compass closed and slid it under her blouse.

"Well?"

 

[ariosto]

"I'm okay. Lot of blood from a cut up there but it doesn't seem deep...besides, I can always use another scar."

The attempt at levity failed as a two meter snake slithered like a fat green garden hose between them.
Margaret leaped up and Raoul tried to but ended up grabbing a branch for support. They were both wise enough in the ways of the jungle to know that the snake was no threat, but the size of it was alarming.

"I could kill it for food."
He'd taken an old service automatic from a leather holster at his side.

"No...no let it go...it's harmless."

"I know it, but we wont last long on whats left of my lunch and a few stale crackers."

She faced him.
"Where are we Raoul...how bad is it."
He thought for a moment, watching the snake disapear into the undergrowth.
"We'd just crossed the Cordelliera and turned South when we went down....there's almost nothing indicated on the charts around here that I know of...we need the map from the cockpit."

They both looked back at the plane which seemed to stare back at them though it's broken windows accusingly...why did you do this to me...it seemed to be saying.

"Come on, I think it's safe."
Half way back his tortured ankle gave out and he stumbled, nearly falling.
Margaret grabbed him around the waist.
"Your hurt worse than I thought...there's a first aid kit in there, let's go."
With her help and drawing on her surprising strength they made it back to the aircraft. The ominous ticking of overheated metal had stopped but there was still the reek of high octane fuel that had poured from the ruptured tanks.

 

[Honey_B]

Your hurt worse than I thought...there's a first aid kit in there, let's go.

First aid. Right. The closest she had come administering first aid was hosting a benefit for the Red Cross. Still Maggie realized she had to do her best. The cold reality of it was she needed this man. The thought made her shiver despite the heat. Who was this person her life depended on?

With some difficulty, Maggie helped him to the plane. Her slim skirt caught on every branch they passed, increasing the length of the rips and tears that had already formed. She would have to change soon or this was going to become indecent.

"I wonder what survived the crash. I suppose I should look for my lugguage after we do something about your ankle. Believe it or not, I do know what to do actually. I've sprained these ankles skiing more times than I can count."

Maggie settled him down next to the plan and began the very difficult task of locating the kit in the dissary left by the crash. She finally found it in the remnants of the cockpit. Maggie stopped for a moment and just stared at the destruction. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears. How was it that they were still alive. She shook her head with disbelief and blinked away the tears. Maggie didn't cry.

"You know, Mr. Kenyon, I think we are quite lucky. When all is said and done, I will owe you a debt of gratitude. You most likely saved my life."

She opened the kit and unwound the coil of an Ace bandage.

"I'm afraid this is going to hurt a bit."

Maggie knealt down and began to untie the laces of his left boot. She tried to be as gentle as possible when she slid it off, but she knew it had to hurt like hell. He didn't make a sound, not then nor when she wrapped the joint tightly in the bandage. Maggie couldn't help but be impressed. When she got his boot back on, she asked,

"Now how does that feel?"

 

[ariosto]

His ankle had been replaced by a ball of red hot steel.
"Fine...feels good."
He manged to choke out.

Maggie looked at him and smiled.
"Yeah right...how about the map, where is it?"
Getting involved with that might be the best way to refocus him from the pain in his ankle.
It did, though in it's own way the map produced a pain all it's own.

"We have a big problem."
He looked up at her. The chart lay in his lap. He pointed...
"Look here."
His finger was on a blank part of the chart with nothing but trackless jungle indicated and sguigly contour lines.

"I think we're close to the headwaters of the Yavero river. If we can get to it and folow it, we'll reach Quillabamba...but it could be anywhere from ten to fifty miles away...and as we go down into the valley the going will get rougher...thick jungle down there."

She looked at him trying to comprehend what fifty miles of walking in this terraine and worse might be like.

"It could take a week and then we'll have to follow the river another fifty miles."
He slammed his fist on his bad leg and winced.
"AND...and I have this to contend with."

She sat back against the broken fuselage. She'd changed into fresh clothes and used water from the canteen to smear most of the grime from her face and body...she wondered now if that had been a very dumb thing to do.
"Is that it?...I mean do we have a choice?"

He looked past her at the snowcapped Andes to the west.
"We sure as hell can't start mountain climbing back there."
He turned back to her.
"We can always stay right here, clear away the brush, light a smoke fire and hope."
he paused,
"We're in this together. What do you think?"

 

[Honey_B]

Maggie had changed into the clothes she had brought for the excavation, slim-cut trousers, a man's workshirt, and calf-high boots. She had tamed her wild mass of hair into a braid. Properly dressed, she felt better able to tackle the problem.

"The authorities are sure to send out a search party. In that case, building a signal fire makes sense to me. We can wait to see whether that the fire is effective. Hopefully we will be found quickly. If not, at least your leg will have had a chance to heal a bit."

She tilted her head back and drank the last of the water.

"Should we fail to be found, we can start on the treck to the Yavero. In the meantime, I suggest you start looking through the plane. I want to know exactly what supplies survived the crash. I have a compass to offer and a knife, but I'm afraid not much else."

Without realizing it, Maggie's speech had taken on the somewhat imperious tone she used with servants.

"While you're working on that, I'll start clearing a spot for the fire."

She missed Kenyon's look as she retrieved her knife from the plane, an eight-inch blade with a lethal single edge.

The job wasn't easy. Clearing tropical growth was difficult for a woman used to to garden parties. Her muscles began to protest after only minutes, but she kept at it, determined to do her part. The thorns of a particularly nasty plant ripped into her hand and Maggie brought her palm to her mouth, trying to soothe the cut. She noticed Raoul watching her.

"What are you looking at?"

 

[ariosto]

"You."
He said. His expression was unreadable.

"How's your ankle?"
She wiped a strand of hair from her face and realised how hot and sweaty the work had made her.
Her shirt clung to her skin like a wet washcloth.

Raoul took a few slow painful steps from the plane using the butt of the .3030 rifle he'd found as a crutch. It wasn't good for anything else. There wasn't a bullet in the airplane.

"Thought this might help."
He offered her a dully gleaming razor sharp 18 inch machete.
"Your best pal in the jungle Maggie...cuts anything from elephant grass to pythons in half."

She held the blade in her hands. It had been well used.
She tried a few tentative swings.

"See, your a natural."
He paused...
"When you get a chance come on inside, I've put together the things we can use...not to promising for a long stay, I'm afraid."

"I hope were not talking about a LONG stay Kenyon...I want out of this damned place fast."

Her tone of voice pissed him off completely.
"Tell you what...O'Shaughnessy, no one wants out of this place faster than me. When you finish come inside and we can talk about just how long, LONG is."
He turned and hobbled back inside without another word.

Shrugging she returned to the task and had to admit the machete worked a hell of a lot better than the knife.
But she took her time...let him wait. She'd come inside when SHE was good and ready.

Ten minutes later the clouds that had been building up over the Andes let go in an instant deluge of cold rain and wind that had her soaked to the skin and pounding on the fuselage door a lot sooner than she'd bargained for.

 

[Honey_B]

A cool sprinkle would have felt wonderful on her heated skin. The dowsing she received made her feel like a drowned rat. Maggie knocked on the fuselage and waited.

Nothing…

She pounded on the door with her fist and waited.

Still, nothing…

Feeling her blood begin to boil, Maggie knocked the handle of the machete against the door.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

The smirk on Kenyon’s face told Maggie she had been heard quite clearly. Inwardly she fumed, outwardly she exploded as she pushed past the man.

“What do you mean keeping me out in the rain! Can’t you see…”

Maggie noticed the crinkles at the corners of his dark eyes, seeming to keep from laughing at her. Her anger was amusing him! Damned if she’d give him the satisfaction. When she spoke again it was in a more normal tone.

“All right, you’ve had your fun, Mr. Kenyon.”

She looked about the cabin for something to dry off. Water was dripping into her eyes. Water was dripping everywhere.

“Is that all you’ve found?!”

It was hard to keep the panic from creeping into her voice.

 

[ariosto]

"Well, " he said looking at the meager pileof supplies on the cabin floor, "We do have plenty of water."
Maggie shook her hair like a wet dog while the rain hammered the roof like a machine gun.

"Nice...really nice...that's a big damned comfort!"
She sat down on a wooden crate and hung her head...
"What else is there Raoul...any food?"

"Sure there is, look here."
He pointed at a box of Oreo cookies, a can of vegetable soup, two apples and a limp sandwich.
"My lunch..."
He grinned,
"Oh and those."

She looked up to see him looking at two big crates.
"Dried beans...We can live up here forever darlin'"

"Jesus!...we dont have anything do we?!"
She struck the case with the handle of the machete.

"Careful there", he gestured at the crate.
It was clearly marked...DYNAMITE.

"Listen, your soaked and you've a suitcase full of dry clothes, I'll step into the cockpit and see if there's any hope for the radio.
You change okay? Then maybe we can figure out how to heat up that soup."