Writing for Fun
June 2017
Out Of The Mist - Sue Barker
It had been a horrendous journey, the four explorers were exhausted and on the edge of heat exhaustion. They had been on many expeditions before but nothing had prepared them for this one. In 2013 they were at an archaeological dig when Bill Jones said he had information on a remote village in Honduras. He was an expert in his field and if he thought that there was a possibility of discovering a long lost tribe the other three were definitely interested. John Mathers and Simon and Don King had been friends since university and while travelling they had met Bill. Their shared passion for wandering around remote places led to a tight bond but this peripatetic life was to cost them dearly. They had no home lives, divorces and separations was the price they paid. Any money they earned was used to have long distance adventures. This escapade was by far the most adventurous so far. They met regularly to exchange any new facts they had uncovered, there wasn’t much to go on as they didn’t want to share any information with outsiders and they wanted to find this village themselves.
Finally the funds were in place; Bill had a book deal resting on this. He had a healthy advance from his publishers as he was a well-respected author and had previously had several books in the top 10 non-fiction books category. They flew to Honduras and met a local guide there. Initially it was similar to other journeys they had made. Finally after several days on foot they had to stop. The heat was almost unbearable. They had blistered feet and John had started hallucinating. The guide said he knew where they were so far but wasn’t confident that he could take them any further.
They spent the next two days in their makeshift camp. They had taken as much medicine as possible with them and had managed to get John’s temperature down. Bill was concerned that if they didn’t move on their supplies may not last. From now on they discovered that they had no means of communication, so they were only going to survive if they worked together as a tight unit. This was far harder than they anticipated. It took another three days to locate a new guide. When they found another guide he said he had heard of the lost village and was certain he could guide them. They had paid him handsomely in Honduran lempira. The boat they hired was crudely made but it served the purpose, they meandered through the swampy river with only the sound of buzzing insects and the occasional birdcall. It was tranquil but after 72 hours they were almost resigned to never finding the village.
They set off before sun rise and the boat sailed lazily along and around a curve in the bank; inexplicably they felt a change in the atmosphere, the river bank was much narrower with only just room for the boat to get by. This morning was very misty and it was difficult to make out what was around them. The guide was getting quite agitated and was muttering to himself, no-one understood what he was saying. After an hour the guide jumped off the boat and ran off into the mist. The men had no idea what to do, they were so very tired and the humidity on their skin felt like a sauna, sweating a layer of skin off at a time.
They disembarked and stood on the bank. A shape to the left came from through the mist. It was a native and he was accompanied by several young men, they appeared to have come from the same tribe. Unable to converse the men were dragged away. Bill was the first to recognise the village, it was actually called the City of the Monkey God, they had found it. Their reputations would spiral now, they would be world famous explorers. For a few marvellous seconds they drank in the sight before them. It must have been how the ancient explorers felt when they discovered civilisations no-one knew about.
They were led stumbling through the undergrowth to a big stone edifice, in front of which the leader of the tribe sat. He was fearsome and his face was daubed with red, his face was deeply wrinkled and he stared at them with cold dead eyes. Suddenly they were all talking at once, no-one understanding anything that was being said. While the chaos was encompassing him Bill was silent, a look of pure terror on his face. By the leaders foot was an effigy with an arrow sticking out of it; his brain did not want to believe it. He realised that this was a sacrifice to the gods and it was human, there were strands of hair hanging limply from the skull and it still retained an eye in its socket. With sad acceptance Bill realised why no-one had returned with tales of the City of the Monkey God, no-one was ever spared.
The mist thickened and the men were enveloped in the gloom. Inhuman screams could be heard but they were soon swallowed up by the mist. In 2017 in England an article appeared in The Guardian, reporting on the disappearance of the four explorers. No-one had been able to contact them and they not been seen in four years. Would this be a mystery like Shergar and Lord Lucan? Who could say? Only the Monkey God . . . and he would take the secret to his grave.