What Bugs Me
It is not every day one wakes up in a cave. My day begins, or my life resumes, as this may be the last of many countless days I have slept here, sitting up choking, dry heaving in musty stale dirty air to exhale while coughing up granular sand. I gasp for oxygen holding air in my lungs to keep consciousness as I do not remember ~ I do not remember any previous days to this point I can say I have lived.
As I gain my feet, I am struck by the cave walls around me, there is no explanation for this! It is like waking up with the worst ever blackout and being deprived of your bearings, unable to find clarity.
Curious is the bed of moss cushioning me from the rock surface; it is ideal to my body size. A thick moss, Broom moss, it grows on rocks.
A fine moisture in the cave glistens in areas where the sparse sunlight shines in from an opening a short distance above me.
My skin feels cold and clammy, I whisper to myself, “This is strange.”
“Isn’t it?”
My heart jumps into my throat from the voice in the back of the cave. If it were not a familiar voice, my response would be more defensive.
“Hello?”
“I agree, this is strange,” a well-built middle age man smiles at me with a boyish grin and joyful eyes, giving off an intense warmth of personality, a bond I feel tracing into his eyes.
“What is going on here?” I respond without hesitation, “Have
you been watching me for very long?”
“It appears we have gained consciousness simultaneously,” he said. “When I heard your movements just now, I opened my eyes. Hearing your voice, I feel not so lonely.”
The wind gusts hot, dry air into the cave carrying with it a slight sweet odor.
“Do you smell that?” He asks while drawing in deep breaths.
“The fragrance of Gardenia flowers.” I notice it undeniably as Jasminoides, “Let’s take a look out there, come on!”
He smiles looking at the short distance to traverse, “A little rock climbing, get the blood flowing into these stiff joints. I’m in.”
Blood rushes to my head as I exert physically a surge of adrenaline pulsating through my muscles elevating my strength upon contact with the rock surface as I establish that I have the agility of a trained athlete as I scale the rock steadily.
The rock climbing is not as demanding of a challenge as I anticipated it to be. In fact, it is more like I have rock climbed often. My hands are callous, my fingers and forearms are muscular.
My shoulders and legs are ripped in muscular definition having carried my weight the most.
I look back to see how this guy with the baby blue eyes is getting along. He is a familiar face to me. If not for the fact we found ourselves in a strange, mysterious place, we otherwise have zero knowledge of how we got here. His looks intuit our mutual bond, it is curious to share a sense of trust on our faces, as if our past has a long thread together.
“The first mystery to crack is why are we wearing unmarked khaki brown flannel shirts and pants, wearing jungle boots, and without any identification?”
“It could be, we hooked up last night at some costume beach party, and imbibed way too much to black out!”
He obviously has a penchant for sarcasm.
“Without feeling the effects of a hangover,” I simply point out, my bafflement is curbed by the presumption, “this will be explained soon enough.”
A wind whirls dirt in from the cave entrance overwhelming me to heave a dry cough. The high pressure exhaling in the process of clearing my air passages led me to near fainting.
“Are you going to be, okay?” He asks with a severe concern.
I wave my hands palms down indicating, “I will be fine in a moment.” I am forced to whisper due to a dry scratchy throat.
“Who would have ever thought,” he remarks, “I would wake up in a cave next to a gorgeous woman nonetheless, and not know where I am or how I got there.”
“I’d be surprised if this is the first time.”
“But we don’t know each other, it’s weird.”
“I’m sure that’s never stopped you in the past,” I tease him further. “Would you like to know the ‘where?’” As I reach the caves’ opening, I invite him to join me outside.
A jungle. There is a vast jungle before us.
The temperature is sweltering with heavy vegetation growth all around us, some flowering, most of it green, thick, and lush in health. The Gardenia flowers as Jasminoides are a subtropical shrub with billowing lobes, white and pale yellow.
From our elevated position we gain a view of the landscape within ten miles of visibility. It’s a hazy view, yet an open tundra I presume exists. The heat vapor rising distorts visibility of the horizon. Amazon rain forest, only “Amazonia” has the vastness.
“What did you say? You just whisper something?” He chuckles, “No–secrets–between–us, okay?”
Apparently, he wears his sarcasm like a toothless smile, easy to look foolish, and sometimes ugly.
“It looks like going west is our best bet,” I recommend. “Sunlight is behind us now. We can get the most out of the daylight and put a camp together while the Sun sets.”
“You’re the romantic type?” He is delighted to ask. “Good plan but we still must get down from here to get over there. Ready to move on?”
“Yes, let us move. ‘No’ to the crass comment; it has nothing to do with being romantic, I’m being practical.”
My regard for my integrity prompts me to make myself clear, “We have no idea where we’ll be when the Sun goes down and I’m not sleeping vulnerable in the open air.”
“I’m in. We better get on with it.”
We are free as humans can be in this environment of the wild. Yet we do not know how we got here, but we are free. I feel we may be intimate, not that I would object, but not knowing the why of either circumstance makes such thoughts extraneous.
It’s a beautiful hot, humid day under the fractures of sunlight rays shimmering through the dense broadleaf coverage above. We identify with the Sun, as we identify with the Earth, the prospect of water and everything natural from what we’ve seen, this is a world familiar to us.
The time is different from our innate experience, and we feel out of place, like a dream is out of place, out of reality. We know this as fact especially as the sky is dotted with tremendously fast, low flying air traffic zipping across the atmosphere, and floating higher above are space stations so massive they are clearly visible through the crisp clean atmosphere, further beyond the exosphere above all satellites we can make out misshapen space stations as they orbit the Earth!
We continue to descend from our vantage point and explore what is before us. Although we are defenseless against the wildlife on the terrain, we know how survival is; to contend with adversities in fight or flight scenarios and to avoid poisonous plants and snakes.
We continue to trek down the side of the hill, we work to brace and secure each other over the steep rocky terrain, our every touch offers a hand in a growing trust.
As we scale down onto some level terrain we share smiles, giddy with fascination, it becomes evident there is a trail to blaze intuitively. On the jungle floor we find it is difficult to traverse without the use of a machete to cut through heavy plants with strong thick roots.
We know it is helpful to make aware of our presence to the wild, to put the wild on notice. With a stick in hand, I advise my fellow explorer to search out a walking stick.
“Good idea. Three points of contact would be useful in ‘a flytrap’ like this. They keep tripping me up,” he replies, noticing my expression of anticipating more, he exults, “or for self-defense too!”
“Yeah, I’m not talking about the abundance of insects. I would not underestimate the veracity of a wild boar or a jungle leopard.”
“Could be.” He looks around into the trees, “Or hostile indigenous tribes.”
Interesting he would think about indigenous tribes, I think with all the apparent advanced technology in the sky, the prospect of primitive tribal communities seems meek at best.
The animals are in fear of us, as evidenced each time we cross paths with a forest floor dweller. The plants shake and rustle from near to far as marsupial’s scamper away from us.
“The density of the underbrush is receding . . .,” I observe before he anticipates my words finishing my thought.
“We’re going to need to collect some of this to use as kindling later,” his decisiveness reflects his need for certainty. This assertiveness does not offend me as a woman, even when he talks over me, given the circumstances anything said or witnessed could bring a significant memory to surface.
“What is your name?”
He looks at me curiously, “I was thinking the same thing.”
“What do you mean? Do you not know your own name?”
“No, I do not. I feel like I should. What is your name?”
This question startles me, and I hesitate to think, “I don’t remember my name. Isn’t that strange? I feel as though I know you intimately, however I do not remember who you are either. I somehow did not realize I do not know my own name.”
“I’m certain we are experiencing amnesia for some reason. Probably hit our heads on the cave rock.”
“Transient global amnesia ~ usually due to emotional, neurological stress ~ it’s my best thought.” I respond with a nod of my head, not as certain as he is, “We better figure out where we are so perhaps, we can find out ‘who’ we are.”
Once into the depths of the jungle we were afforded continued relief from the heat of the Sun by the shade of the leafy canopy above us from a variety of trees ranging from Kapok to Rubber to Brazilian nut.
“Doesn’t this seem familiar to you?”
“Yes, there is a certain quality of déjà vu again!” He laughs cavalier towards his remark, for some reason it strikes me as cliché.
I stop to speak my serious concerns, “That’s right, I mention it as we are not walking in circles! At least, I’m not walking in circles.”
“Good point, sensible thinking.” His demur reply is more appropriate for the circumstances, “Let’s see if we can find a fresh water source.”
“Do you think it’s a good idea to get the attention of these ‘spacecraft’ overhead?” I wave my arms in futility under the lush leafy branches made dense with the growth of epiphytes on top of the plethora of tree variety.
“No,” he asserts, “We don’t know who is flying them. I think we need to determine what the hell is going on. It will be more of a problem to hide than to get their attention, but we must find a way to get closer to the civilization unnoticed.”
“If this is Earth and they are human, then maybe we can blend in,” I suggest with a lack of conviction as his mind was made up, he is already marching on ahead.
“We can move faster on this terrain,” he shouts once on solid ground without turning his head back to me, “We need to find a water source before the end of the day!”
For hours as we traverse the jungles’ difficult terrain, we discover a cornucopia of digestible insects and worms, stopping on the occasion to snack on grubs and termites in rotted out tree trunks. There are many other edible insects, millions of insects within the rain forest no doubt, but most surprising is the immense variety of insects from different regions of the world.
We may not be on Earth after all. Finding dozens of varieties of species of insects from everywhere except Antarctica. If this is the Amazon Rainforest, then why are there significant African insect populations too?
“Hey!” He raises his voice measured, “Here’s a rock formation!” He cups his hands around his mouth as he begins speaking, he realizes he is a little further ahead of me than he thought.
My forward progress is impeded by my curiosity of the unique ecosystem revealing itself to us. At least it is interesting to me anyway, he is driven to find more reliable sources of water before sunset. The abundance of ‘life’ is evidence enough to me water is not a scarce resource. He must be going ‘by the book’ not to realize this simple, obvious fact.
Finally, we stop to examine the crevices of a rock formation for fresh water when I present him with the facts, “You know,” I start in to gain his full attention, “intelligent inhabitants are plant breeding and bioengineering the ecosystems.”
He arduously works his fingers into and through the rock crevices, “Yes, I’ve noticed that too.”
“The ‘Army ant,’ ‘Bullet ant’ and the ‘Blushing Phantom,’ a clear winged butterfly, are known to be from South America! The ‘Bombus Traversalis bumblebee’ is specific to the Amazon Rainforest.’”
“Bombus Traversalis is an underground nesting bumblebee unique for the ‘protective dome’ over the entrance to provide added protection against the rainfall.”
“Correct. They also have a few bees guarding the entrance from predators’ approach. That’s when they introduced themselves to me.”
“I was aware of the fact; they went for me as well,” he rebuttals defensively, “What has you so concerned?”
“There are insects from other regions like the ‘Comet moth,’ ‘Goliath beetle’ and the ‘Dancing Jewel damselfly’ are from Africa. It’s astonishing the variety we’ve encountered all at once.”
“What’s a ‘Comet’ moth?” He asks.
“The Comet moth, once hatching, has no mouth, no ability to
feed, it only has a week to find a mate and reproduce.”
“Talk about hard times. Why is it a ‘comet’ moth?”
“Other than the nature of its life span, each of its’ tail wings resemble comets.”
“Yeah? You know, I had an ‘Ulysses butterfly’ nearly fly into
my face earlier. Those are from Southeast Asia.”
“See what I mean? As long as it was not President Ulysses Grant.”
“Right, hallucinations would not be a good~” he pauses for a moment in contemplation, “Wow!”
“Wow what?”
“There was a ‘Brachydiplax’ dragonfly resting here, causing me to think there is water on this rock formation!”
“How does that elicit a ‘wow’ reaction?”
“The ‘Brachydiplax’ dragonfly is known to exist near pools of standing water from Queensland, Australia.”
“I don’t think we’re in Australia, do you? You realize both insects you mention are prevalent in Southeast Asia? Why is it you are familiar with them?”
“I don’t know, but I know the ‘Brachydiplax’ dragonfly lives nearby water sources.”
“It most likely does, as does the ‘Dancing Jewel’ damselfly I found earlier, lives by lakes and rivers in Africa.”
His affable look towards me reveals his internal fascination along with a bewilderment I find adorable.
Through our way, as we follow the Sun westward, we find more sustenance in the form of nuts, and flowering vegetation. The volume of varieties at peak form of this cross-section of plants, trees, and vegetation from around the world, is evidence enough of plant breeding. I spot a ‘Plukenetia volubilis’ plant native to much of tropical South America and are known for their star-shaped fruit Sacha Inchi. Stepping closer to prune a few off, my boots sink into an increasingly muddy area.
Looking out through the top of the plants there appears to be a clearing where fewer trees exist. The mud is ankle deep, and cools my feet.
He walks towards me seeing that I have ceased, “What’s going on? Did you find something?”
“I found these Sacha Inchi and when I walked over, I found my boots sinking in this mud,~”
“Water? Where do you think it’s from?”
“There appears to be a clearing over that way.” I point to my right extending my arm shaking my right hand. He looks in the direction and runs off like a jaguar toward unsuspecting prey.
Before I can slop my way to firm ground, I hear his jubilant cries. “Water, it’s fresh water!”
It takes my breath away to view the large pond of water, calm and pristine except for the algae and lily pads prominently floating a few feet from the edge around the pond. He is looking urgently around for something.
“What are you doing?”
“We need to find something to parcel some water in, to boil before we drink it.”
“Oh, is that all? You may have kindle, but there is no dry wood stock to be found to generate friction to coax a smoldering charcoal needed to create fire. Not to mention we don’t have access to a kettle or any containers for storage.”
“I’ll have to risk it and try soaking my sleeve then squeeze the water into my mouth.”
“Really? We’re not at a severe risk; at least with what we’ve consumed in plant moisture and in tree trunks, condensation in rock crevices,~”
“Okay, I got it. I should have been looking for something to transport water with.”
“Do not get down on yourself. We’re going to be okay.”
“I could shove a bamboo rod up my buttocks and perform a water enema or colonics.”
“What for?”
“To hydrate. It’s safer in the end.”
“‘Sarcastic to the end,’ are we?”
“Figuratively most of the time, in this case literally!”
The heat of the Sun is made tolerable caressed by a series of subtle breezes gently revitalizing our senses as we approach a breach line fifty or so yards ahead of us. The bright sunshine demarcates the jungles perimeter where just beyond is a drastic change of terrain as we take notice of drawing nearer.
The open plain of tall grass is dotted with trees indigenous to the African Sierra and Australia. Perplexing as it is to encounter this stark contrast in terrain, we soon realize our sudden exposure to the Sun is damaging to our survival! Much worse is our exposure to the suspect aircraft continuously zipping by overhead.
Crouching to find cover in the tall-grass, as our clothing is a shade duller than the brown-beige tall grass, we crawl our way toward the nearby copse of mauve-crimson bottlebrush trees some one-hundred yards away.
The breeze across the plain alleviates the oppressive heat, a dangerous distraction as we relax our awareness while we rejuvenate ourselves.
We observe the sky traffic as we close in on the bottlebrush tree coppice, when up to ten feet away from us appears the mane of a lion! We see through the blades of tall-grass three lionesses accompanying the male lion.
We freeze in place. Unbelievable how this pride did not detect us by smell, and if so, they do not attack us from a threatening short distance?
The three lionesses continue past us a few yards before coming to a full stop!
We look at each other, my right hand gripping his left forearm.
The large head of the male lion parts the tall grass to the side of my friend, and I thought ‘this is it!’ The baked breath from the lion overwhelms us with the odor of rotting flesh.
My friend, startled, rolls over onto me keeping my body hidden from the roaring majestic beast.
The lion, as if put to ease by our frightened reaction, gingerly steps forward and licks my friend’s face with his thick wet tongue graciously.
Then the lionesses came upon us sniffing, licking, and laying to rest around us.
“They’re going to eat us,” he whispers.
“I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
I don’t know why other than the wild beast’s calm demeanor is counter-intuitive to an attack, “Because they are purring.”
In an instant the group’s attention is drawn elsewhere. A rumbling is felt on the ground prompting the pride to their paws sensing a pending threat. Their keen awareness alerts them to flee!
Suddenly a crash of rhinoceros and herds of wildebeests and a zeal of zebras charge by perilously close. The pack of frightened quadrupeds create a slight alteration of their path to purposefully avoid stampeding us.
The sudden chaos motivates us to push forward crouching in cover as we scamper on. For all we know the excitement could be due to a sandstorm, but the air is heavy with moisture and the Sun of this bizarre world stretches orange-red bands of sweltering heat rising, distorting the horizon from the surface in waves of evaporating moisture.
We keep our pace despite a growing fatigue, as ahead of us appears pools of water in the not-too-distant desert sands.
With every hour passing our frustration grows, desperate for nourishment in our approach to the water source and the seeming lack of progress to arrive at these pools of water and our senses are taxed to make rational observation of our surroundings.
The Sun is hovering above the desert sands at about the four o’clock hour. The dehydration of our bodies is becoming severe as I feel my tongue swelling, salty to taste and the soles of my feet scorched through my boots in the unbearable hot sand.
We press on, every minute becoming more momentous than the last. We share the urgency of finding a location for a campsite subsiding to our dire need for finding an oasis. Discouraged by the temptation of mirages we haplessly expend energy to reach, in our ignorance we've been played to the charade of the deserts’ devices. We begin to experience the increasing desire to quench a burning thirst every few minutes gasping in heavy stifling hot air.
I swear the better choice is to draw the attention from above. We are fully exposed now and there is no apparent concern about us, an absolute loneliness pervades.
Succumbing to delusion undermines my judgement now as the flow of rushing water in the near distance arouses my attention.
We lost our heads in contemplation toward the sound of softly crashing waves. In a few breathless, adrenaline-fueled moments we scale over a mound of sand and into a gully sliding down on the loose sand to the edge of a riverbank!
Reaching the river, we dive in immersing ourselves into flowing fresh water, reinvigorating our mental and physical strength, euphorically splashing wildly about. He cups water into his hand sniffing it then in one motion drinking it. He is too quick for me to interject caution. He appears uncertain of the potential of ingesting bacteria laden water. In a moment he is confidently refreshed and the both of us begin to take in copious gulps.
“It is advised to purify fresh water in rivers and bodies of freshwater before consumption,” I remind my risk-taking friend.
“Are you serious? This water is as clean as a baby’s bum!”
“It’s too late now, we’ll know better in the coming hours!”
“Yes, we will,” his left hand emerges from the water gripping the dry kindle, now soaking wet, he holds it in his open hand between us. The recognition of losing out on this precious resource at the expense of currents of water is now profoundly humorous to us.
He brings me in closer placing his right hand around my back on my left shoulder blade.
He could have kissed me for every circumstance up to this point has dealt the anxiety of isolation with the probability of being outcasts to society, but his play on me is for his sake only.
“Please, no,” I place my hands on his muscular biceps, “Until we know who we are, I will not be subject to intimacies.”
He releases his caressing hold on me and shakes his head in understanding. His embarrassment is flattering and heart-warming to an extent. He’s not lacking in self-confidence, or self-respect for sure.
He speaks with his chin down, “I’m obviously experiencing feelings for you. You said you thought we were intimate together?”
“Yeah, I did, I did,” I offer reassurance to him, “Due to the circumstances it would be better to refrain from such advances until we know better. What if we are brother and sister? Okay with you?”
“That would be embarrassing!”
“That would be disgusting!”
His crooked smile turns smooth when looking into my eyes, “Sounds like the right direction to me. I’m in!”
Revitalizing our hearts and spirits, we came to the same conclusion to traverse upstream in search of inhabitants living off the water source.
The river water is so clean the distinction between slippery rocks and areas of stable footing on the bottom of the riverbed is discernible through hip high levels. I kept cupping water in my hands sipping it along the way.
Moving steadily, we exit the stream of waves intending to run along the sandy riverbank edge increasing our rate of speed. We spot a pipeline a mile in the distance appearing desolate. We decided not to venture out on the desert floor with the Sun within two hours of setting. The temperature will drop rapidly near the desert. We need to build a camp around a fire, and I am intent on sleeping elevated from the ground to avoid the hazards of poisonous critters and desert foxes.
A wind gust provides an unexpected odor.
Coconut oil?
The scent thickens in the minutes before we halt in view of two humanoids upstream about one-hundred feet. In reflection of our mutual concern for remaining undetected, a prudent observation is advisable to approach without alarming them.
Scantily clad we see there is one female accompanied by one male.
“Wait a second, are they exhibitionist?”
“Indeed, in the middle of nowhere,” he spoofs me. “What are they doing, I see quite a remarkable female.”
“She is too, it’s amazing.”
“Like I said, 'remarkable female.'”
He smiles at me. Where does this guy learn his manners?
“Oh yes, her too, so far away,” his smile beams without a care in the world. “You’re blushing!”
“What did we just now discuss about making advances?”
“No advances. Sorry, sometimes I cannot help myself.”
“No excuses either,” I held my ground continuing, “and I am not blushing. Shush ~ look at what’s happening.”
“Should we be looking, what about respecting other peoples’ privacy?”
“They don’t seem to have a problem with the air traffic viewing them ~ maybe they’re nudist?”
Standing opposite one another on either side of the river, they proceed to perform motions in synchronization that evolve into a beautiful form of performance art once the water elevates from the riverbed. As if by their command, in a collage of shapes and animated forms, the water alternates between its' various states liquid, gaseous and ice.
There is a sense of technological bones creating the illusion of a miracle, a splendid enhancement of reality, orchestrated by human ingenuity.
Rivulets of water float above them in the air as if miniscule prisms separating sunlight into an array of colors projecting extended rays of the spectrum. It feels like we are witnessing an intensely intimate engagement.
A flock of thousands of birds of various feathers command my attention flying in droves populating the sparse tree-tops upriver tweeting harmoniously ~ the tree limbs begin swaying, shaking despite the wind gusts subsiding minutes ago, we hear an escalation of primal screams.
“Look on the branches. Are those monkeys?” “Yes, I’m speechless!”
This mesmerizing magnificence of affection on display is a transcendence at the core of what it means to be human. This is an aesthetic true to love. A celebration of the soul. We watch in amazement the defying of physics, the calming truth instilled by the powers of nature.
A terrifying noise, a siren of sorts, at deafening decibels forces us to crumble to our knees before collapsing to the ground entirely.
Seeing the ritual is abandoned and we suffer the anguish of our motor functions paralyzed, our brain capacity to rationalize deteriorates from this mind-bending audio, also incapacitating us from physical movement.
Appearing from the horizon downstream are a pack of immensely large wolves racing toward us. From a closing distance the horrifying spectacle reveals its’ true origin as these are not animals but artificial life forms intent on our capture if not our destruction.
My companion stares at me helpless, a distorted expression of pain equal no doubt to my own as we remain paralyzed, unable to flee and in anticipation of our certain demise.
As the pack descends relentless towards us, we manage to maintain our focus into each other’s eyes realizing the imminent release of our souls soon to occur.
Nearing unconsciousness, the penetrating, disabling sound is silenced. A spacecraft hovers directly above as an energy tickles our senses and hoist us off the ground and into the apparent safety of the crafts’ cabin.
