The Number Two Rule

The Number Two Rule

The waterfall had to be one hundred feet high and almost as long across; fast moving water with jagged rocks everywhere. Jeni’s first attempt to cross the lower basin left her with a huge gash on her shin. She leaned against her backpack and rested her leg after suturing the cut. It wasn’t the first time she had to sew up a wound during one of her adventures. Cal taught her, long ago. Never leave home without a needle and thread, his Number One Rule for travelling.

Cal’s Needle Rule was what got him started on his collection of ancient iron sewing needles and other small iron gadgets. They came across many ancient tools during their travels which is how his interest in iron pieces began - everything from sewing needles to iron styluses to pen nibs. Jeni was a writer and found the writing tools fascinating. When she wrote in her journal, she always used the iron pen nib given to her by Cal on their wedding day five years ago. She had the pen, ink and journal with her on this trip stored securely in her pack alongside the life-saving sewing kit and a flask of whisky (for disinfecting wounds, of course). She pulled the flask from her bag, held it high and toasted to Cal.She viewed this trip as a memorial journey to Cal – one last adventure together, at least in spirit.

She looked up to the waterfall’s crest line. It seemed calmer at the top, maybe she could cross there? Her desired destination was not far, maybe another thirty minutes. The map had already brought her through three hours of bush-whacking accompanied by numerous creepy sensations of silent rainforest creatures following her. No critters showed themselves but when goosebumps chilled her skin in the middle of the Indonesian rainforest, she knew something was lurking nearby. At least the map seemed accurate, up until now. It said nothing about a giant waterfall so she began to question following it any further. She cringed at the thought of having to turn back without having found the treasure.

The treasure was something called an iron rose, a rare iron mineral that formed into thin layers, resembling the shape of a rose – strength and elegance sculpted from nature. One year ago, when Cal died, she vowed to return here to search for the metallic rose.They came across the map, a few years ago, during their honeymoon trip to Indonesia at the Tanjung market on Lombok Island. It was essentially a fish market; the reek of fish guts and swarms of buzzing flies remained vivid in her mind and bile began to rise in her throat. At the far edge of the fish market, under the shade of a weeping fig, there was an old woman selling miscellaneous items. The woman waved them over.

“You buy,” she said.

They welcomed the diversion and the pocket of fresher air. The woman picked up random items and said “Yes?” each time.Jeni shook her head until she saw the book. It was a native plant guide for Lombok. Jeni nodded to the lady and looked at the book. She had an interest in wildflowers and was curious about the abundance of yellow flowered shrubs blooming in the area. Thumbing through the pages, she found them right away.

“Cal, those pretty yellow flowers we’ve been seeing are called Yellow Oleanders.”

Cal glanced at the image on the page. “Yah, that looks like them.”

Jeni read aloud, “The sweetly perfumed flowers are funnel-shaped, bright yellow or peach coloured, grouped in clusters at the end of the branches. Ohhh, and it says all parts of the plant are toxic if eaten. Ingestion can be fatal.Well, that is fascinating.”

Cal flicked back his sun-bleached curls and laughed. “Your intense interest of that fact makes me nervous.Trying to get rid of me already? Am I doomed to become the next victim in your newest story?”

Jeni laughed. “My writer’s mind does crave such interesting facts, and yes, you better not annoy me during this trip!” She smacked his arm playfully with the book.

The whack dislodged a loose paper from the book. It was a map of Lombok Island, cockled by moisture but still clear enough to read. It highlighted a section of the rainforest on the island, an outlined path which led to a circled X on the map and the words “besi mawar” written beside the X. Jeni showed the map to the woman and pointed to the words.

“What are these words?” Jeni asked.

The woman raised her eyebrows and shook her head fervently. “No go there. Genderuwo.” she said. The woman then pointed directly at the closest fish vender who was sliding fish entrails into a bucket. With her other hand she held her nose and repeated the word genderuwo.

Jeni was confused but reassured the woman, “OK, OK we won’t go.” She dropped a few rupiah coins into the old lady’s hand and turned away. She tucked the book, and the map, into her bag.

Jeni and Cal didn’t have time to explore the mystery of the map during their honeymoon trip but later when they did some research, they discovered that “besi maraw” meant iron rose and “genderuwo” referred to a shape-shifting malevolent spirit of the rainforest. A mischievous and brutish simian creature with reddish skin, fangs, and thick dark fur. And, when a genderuwo was near, you would be sure to smell rotting fish. That explained the old woman’s nose-holding gesture directed toward the fish vendor when she repeated the word “genderuwo”.

They knew Indonesia had a deep spiritual culture which warned against exploring forbidden places.Jeni recognized that was what the old lady was likely referring to – shadowy cryptids that protected the land. But Jeni returned to Lombok despite the old lady’s warning, for Cal. Guilt rushed through her heart. She’d been away with girlfriends on another trip when Cal fell ill back home and died. Not being there for him crushed her soul.

She pushed the pain away and returned her focus to the challenge at hand, the conundrum of the waterfall crossing. A sudden movement at the waterfall edge caught her eye. Just a curious macaque monkey? She stared at the spot trying to locate the primate but the only thing peeking out from the bushes were groups of yellow oleander plants.The plants made her flashback to the purchase of the plant book at the fish market and Cal’s laugh. She sighed.

A voice floated past her, “Jeni” it called.

“Cal?” She sensed he was near. Perhaps he was the one who followed her through the jungle?

Jeni sat up and glanced around. She heard her name again. It was coming from the waterfall itself. The roar of the water suddenly dropped to a warbled hiss. In the mysterious quiet, she saw something move. There in the middle of the falls was Cal. Blond curls, square jaw, broad shoulders, all perfectly Cal. Jeni grabbed her pack and stumbled over to the base of the falls. Cal gestured for her to come, then slipped behind the stream of water.

Jeni began to climb up the side of the waterfall. She knew there must be an opening behind the thundering water. She dug her feet into the slippery rock crags and gripped jungle roots as she pulled herself up to the spot where Cal disappeared. When she stopped, she looked down, she was so high up. As her eyes scanned the chasm below, a spectral figure came into view, hovering above the river. It was Cal.He waved frantically and called out to her. Jeni strained to hear but lost grip of her hold as a sudden dizziness overcame her.She began to fall.

Jeni woke, face down, on a cold, damp stone floor. She was drenched, her body ached and her head throbbed. She rose unsteadily on to her hands and knees.She sat back and looked around.She was in a natural stone pit, about thirty feet down. A musty smell mixed with metal filled her nostrils, just like that odor that saturates the air under a bridge. She could hear the hum of the waterfall all around her. A beam of muted sunlight poked through a hole in the earth above. As her eyes adjusted, she saw a cavernous space strewn with the skeletons of former residents. Jeni scrabbled backward against the stone wall, stunned. She couldn’t make sense of it.

A voice spoke from above, “Jeni.”

She looked up. Cal sat at the top, his legs dangling off the edge. “Jeni, you came.”

Jeni gasped as she watched Cal’s curls turn into a dark, thick patch of fur and his body transform into a fanged ape-like creature with carnelian skin. The air filled with the stench of rotting fish. Jeni’s stomach felt queasy. The hair on her neck tingled.

“Genderuwo,” she whispered. She clutched her stomach and vomited. She spat, wiped her mouth and looked up at the creature. “You tricked me.”

“You made your own choices, Jeni.”

“Cal was never here, was he?”

The monster smirked. “He was here. You saw him before you fell.”

“That was him, down below?”

“Yes, he tried to warn you, didn’t he? So did the old lady at the market.Tsk, tsk.” He shook his head and gave her a condescending finger-wag. “Cal’s effort, while noble, was a fruitless endeavor. The realms we dwell in are very different and he cannot enter this space.But my dear Jeni, I have a lovely surprise for you.”

The mystical creature stood, raised his hands and drew light from above. He slowly began to turn, directing the light with his hands. The glow bounced off the cave walls illuminating veins of iron ore in every crack and crevice of the rock. Streaks of iron deposits dotted with thousands of iron rose clusters shimmered in the light.

“You found the iron roses, Jeni.” He smiled. “Cal would’ve been thrilled. Ah, the rewards of the adventuresome spirit.”His laughter echoed through the chamber as he faded away.

Jeni shivered and held back another pang of nausea. She reached for her bag. Shreds of jungle foliage fell loose from the backpack as she shakily dumped the contents. She took out the flask and the sewing needle and sat facing the wall. With a splash of whisky, she rubbed away a section of mildew from the stoney surface. With the needle she engraved into the stone the names Jeni and Cal. Pulling out her pen nib she retraced the names, filling the letters with shiny black ink. She used the last of the ink to record the “Iron Rose Adventure” in her journal.

A deranged laugh escaped from her throat as she closed the book. Yes, quite the adventure. She rested her head in her hands and let out a deep breath. She felt the tension in her shoulders release. Then, she began to cry as she picked out several yellow blooms from the scattered foliage. She recalled Cal’s Number Two Rule for travelling – always have an escape plan.Jeni stuffed the flowers into her mouth and swallowed the rest of the whisky. She laid back and gazed at the metallic sparkles above until the buzz of rushing water fell silent.