Chapter 2: Narrow Escape (3)
"Do you know... why I kept you chained up?"
I shook my head—I'd never understood why Sylvie had kept me confined. She'd never truly pressed me about the whereabouts of those five hundred thousand dollars.
"Little madwoman, in a place like this... in Northern Myanmar, this... man-eating place... you didn't really think that little Cry... could keep you safe, did you?"
No. I knew that.
"When... I got word that Ahab had gone to the plantation and couldn't leave... but he'd already... been trying to bring Gusman in, specifically... to make you talk, to get back... that money..."
"...Now, the fighting's... a complete mess... they're... truly... desperate for cash..."
I froze—if I'd fallen into Gusman's hands before, it would have been certain death with no hope of survival.
"So you helped me?"
Sylvie gave a soft scoff.
"Help you... I'm not that kind. Good people die fast around here. I... was fattening you up... to butcher you for meat..."
We both laughed.
Then fell silent again.
After a while, Sylvie struggled to breathe, her throat rattling like a broken bellows.
"Back in D-Zone... when I heard... you beg Ahab to save me..."
"I never told you... thanks..."
I shook my head. In the end, I hadn't been able to save her.
Sylvie.
She pointed weakly at the dress thrown on the ground, commanding me to pick it up. I did, extracting a phone from the inner pocket.
"There's an offline Google map on it. Without a map... you won't make it out of the rainforest..."
"Keep the phone safe. Whatever you do, don't lose it, okay?"
I held the phone and nodded firmly.
Then I shook out her expensive rose-colored dress and, with infinite care, slipped it over her feet and pulled it up her body, tying the torn portions into a tight knot at the broken seams.
Covered again, Sylvie relaxed, and the smile returned to her face.
"Help me one more time. The address I told you before... do you still remember? Don't forget to send word..."
She said the address, then with her last breath, her eyes bright and fixed on me, she gave a low command:
"Run, little madwoman... and whatever you do... don't look back!"
A sudden gust swept through the forest, and my heart lurched—I turned and ran. But after a dozen steps, I looked back anyway—wiping the tears from my eyes, I caught one last glimpse of the woman impaled on the tree, her long seaweed hair hanging down over her beautiful face, blood dyeing the earth beneath her.
The rose-colored dress billowed in the wind, but her thin chest had ceased to rise.
Before I could scream, I whipped my head away, bit down hard, and fled deeper into the forest.
5.
Sylvie's phone had less than 60% battery. I opened the map, studied my approximate position and the route I needed to take, then methodically took screenshots of the map, saving them to the photo gallery.
Viewing saved screenshots would drain far less power than repeatedly opening the map.
After memorizing as much of the route as I could, I checked again—the battery had already dropped 3%. I shut the phone off immediately.
Having a map steadied me considerably, but whenever I thought of Sylvie, my chest would hollow out with an aching emptiness.
I shook my head hard, forcing myself not to dwell on it.
Trudging forward for over an hour, the sun grew more punishing. I found shelter beneath a rock overhang, using the time to take inventory of my supplies.
Besides the pressed cake, Cry's bundle contained six flatbreads, each carefully sealed in plastic to keep out moisture.
That was all my food.
The breads were small and plain, but dense—each only a couple of ounces. I knew Cry had very little; this was probably everything she could spare.
I opened one bag gingerly, careful not to tear the plastic, and bit into a flatbread. While eating, I wrapped Sylvie's phone in a plastic bag, sealed it tight, and tucked it alongside the pressed cake inside my sports bra, then wound the long towel around my torso layer by layer, tying it securely.
I tucked my inner T-shirt into my jeans for an extra layer of security.
Unsightly, but practical. The only thing on my body with enough elasticity to hold anything was that sports bra.
I had to protect against accidents—the phone couldn't be lost or water-damaged.
Munching my flatbread, I assessed my clothing. These were the same clothes I'd been wearing when I was abducted to Myanmar—after more than half a year, they were filthy and tattered beyond recognition. The hoodie's hood had disintegrated into dangling strips. My jeans were riddled with holes at the knees and seat, caked with dirt and grime. I looked like a beggar.
My shoes, at least, though filthy, hadn't fallen apart.
I could walk long distances in them.
I ate half a flatbread. Though far from full, I saved the rest—I couldn't afford to deplete my rations. I had no idea how long it would take to reach safety, or whether I'd find any other food.
I rewrapped the bundle, tying it securely across my chest.
Good.
I brushed the crumbs from my shirt, popped them into my mouth, then poked my head out to confirm there was no one nearby.
Rising, I clambered out from the rocks and pressed on through the heat.
The sun grew hotter as the day wore on. Sweat never dried on my forehead or back. I had no water—just had to endure.
Add the dry half-flatbread I'd just eaten, and now my mouth was parched, every swallow an effort.
By midday, still no water source. I was starting to regret—last night's rain had left every leaf dripping with dew this morning. Why hadn't I thought to drink from them?
Now the sun had evaporated it all. Not a drop remained.
I did have some experience living in the mountains—from my childhood, I remembered going up the mountain with my grandmother to dig bamboo shoots, gather mushrooms, chop firewood. Grandmother never brought water—how had she stayed hydrated?
Wild berries and spring water, I seemed to recall.
Spring water was out of the question. The terrain was rising, and according to my route map, I had to cross this high ground first.
I did spot wild berries several times, but they looked too similar to poisonous varieties I'd been warned about. I didn't risk it.
By the time I was truly desperate with thirst, I was pushing through a small mountain hollow—no trail, just thrashing through low vegetation, pulling on tree branches for purchase.
Then I spotted a cluster of bell-shaped purple-red flowers, swaying on delicate stems beside me.
Three small heart-shaped leaflets clustered together, covered in fine hairs—wood sorrel!
I dropped to my knees in delight. This plant was full of moisture, tart and sweet—perfect for quenching thirst!
After carefully checking the stems for insects—especially snails or slugs—I tore up handfuls and stuffed them into my mouth.
The tart, grassy taste soothed my parched throat. I ate several more handfuls, then pulled the plants up by their roots.
The soil in the hollow was soft and rich, and every wood sorrel root bore several plump, translucent little "radishes"—even better. Packed with water and refreshingly sweet.
Squatting in the grass, I harvested over twenty of these root tubers, brushing off the dirt and stuffing them into both pockets.
For today at least, they'd solve my thirst problem.
Of course, I knew this wasn't sustainable. Tomorrow or the day after, I might not find such safe, abundant plants again.
And while the moisture content could tide me over, it wouldn't solve the fundamental problem.
I still needed water.
For the past while, my mind had been consumed with planning my escape—terrified I wouldn't be able to get out, terrified of being caught again. The constant rehearsal and calculation had left little room to think about what came after escaping into the mountains.
Now, facing these black slopes, the rainforest that blotted out the sky, the countless unfamiliar plants and insects, possibly wild animals... and an indeterminate journey ahead—
Was I scared?
...Of course I was. I didn't dare venture into the deeper forest, sticking to areas where sunlight filtered through.
And at night—where would I sleep?
I kept turning this question over in my mind...
After a full day of walking, dusk arrived as expected.
Before full darkness fell, I finally decided how to spend the night. Building a shelter wasn't realistic—I lacked tools and energy, and it would only be for one night, not worth the investment.