NICOYA

They switched guides on us at the last minute. We complained mightily, but to no avail. The outfitting company told us our original guide had come down with malaria, so that was that.

 

We were a party of ten and our new guide Carlos. The object of our endeavor was to hike across the Nicoya Peninsula, in Costa Rica. Luck was an essential element to pull this adventure off as far as weather was concerned. What we hoped for was to catch the tail end of the rainy season in the expectation the rain would subside, but the jungle would still be lush and green. Later in the season the peninsula becomes very hot and dry. So we wanted the best of both worlds, a dry and verdant environment.

 

The group was comprised of serious eco-tourists that liked to push the envelope a littler farther than your average cruise line experience. They were all members of the Sierra Club in California; an organization started by John Muir, a renowned naturalist and one of the first environmentalists. This was going to be no easy trip. The biggest obstacle would be the terrain, followed by dangerous animals such as jaguars, though seldom seen. Insects and venomous snakes were the most likely creatures to cause us problems, other than the unknown danger we brought with us.

 

Carlos was a rather odd fellow, but we were assured he was a very good guide despite his nature.  I would guess he was around forty-five years old and had spent his life exploring the Nicoya Peninsula. Initially, he seemed all right; however, occasionally he would withdraw into a deep depression and become uncommunicative. He was slight in stature but was incredibly strong. Across his dark Mayan face was a rather deep scar that went vertically from forehead to chin, and he walked with a slight limp.

 

The first night the group was enthusiastic about what lay ahead and in a jovial mood. A few of us noticed that Carlos had slipped off, and when he returned he had the smell of alcohol on his breath. Carlos, although heavily accented, spoke respectable English. His native language was Mangue, and ancient Indian tongue spoken long before the Spanish conquest. He also spoke some Spanish. That night, as we sat around the fire, Carlos told stories about the area. His face was animated and the firelight created shadows that danced on his features.

“Ancestors live Nicoya since time begin,” Carlos said. “Me padre and me grande padre both shaman and mucho respecto in Nicoya,” Carlos continued in a confusing mix of Spanish and English.

One of the trekkers named Bruce broke in, “Why didn’t you become a shaman Carlos? Probably doesn’t pay as well as being a guide, right?”

Carlos gave a quick, but menacing look at Bruce, “Old ways no mas. White hambres come and destroy old way. Now hambre on cross, new god, no like other gods. Other gods go way. Shaman no mas.”

“How do you feel about the changes that have come to Nicoya?”

“No like new way, old way mas good. Old gods mad, will be trouble

someday.”

 

It was easy to see Bruce had hit a sore spot with this aloof and disengaged man. Most guides were friendly and outgoing, which they should be. Guides are the leaders and motivators of the excursion. It was their job to keep morale high and be the life of the party. Carlos’ attitude was the reverse of what was needed to make the expedition a success. There was little mutterings among the group. Uncomfortable feelings were developing concerning Carlos and his strange behavior.

 

That first night I heard Charlie and Peter talking, as they were setting up their tent.

         “I don’t know about this Carlos fellow Peter. He seems to be a bit on the strange side, and I surely didn’t like that last minute switch-a-roo.”

         “Me neither. I guess we’ll have to go on faith that the other guide was sick. After we were introduced to him yesterday, I thought he was the kind of guy I could really like. Now we have this slightly whacked out dude that doesn’t particularly come across as a people person, to say the least.”

         “I agree, but I guess we’ll have to make do with what we have.”  

 

I was disappointed that the trek was starting off on a bad foot. Once in bed, I had a fitful night’s sleep, and at early dawn woke to a scream. As it turned out a harmless tarantula had found some way to enter one of the women’s tents. What really scared her was not the tarantula, but Carlos, who jumped into the tent and madly tried to kill the spider with of all things a machete!

Finally, the excitement died down and Janice was able to regain her composure.

        

“For Christ’s sake, yes, the tarantula scared the pants off me, but to see that ugly, scared face sticking into my tent, I was petrified.”

 

So on that note, we continued trekking deeper into the Nicoya. In the late afternoon, there was a disagreement between Anthony and Carlos. Anthony, part-time adventurer and full-time chemical engineer, was rather opinionated and argumentative. Carlos was also bull-headed and wanted to be looked upon as the boss of the expedition.

 

         “Ok, ok Carlos, I know you grew up in this jungle, but I swear if we go left here we will be walking in the wrong direction. My GPS doesn’t lie,” Anthony said in an irritated and exasperated tone of voice.

         Carlos, with his typical sullen look, fired back, “Me boss man, not you. I say this way, we go way I say.”

         “Let’s get something straight right here and now Carlos my friend. You aren’t’ what you call “boss man,” and you never were hired for that purpose. We as a group decide where we go and what we do. You were hired to be a guide, and now you have chosen the wrong direction to proceed. I have a little more confidence in my GPS than you right now.”

         “What mean proceed?’

           Anthony furiously pointed in the two opposing directions, “Let’s put it this way, we are not going that way, we are going this way. Are you coming?” 

 

Carlos tromped into the forest alone, and the rest of us took the path suggested by the GPS. About a half hour later we could see Carlos trailing behind us like a fuming schoolboy. It was becoming obvious that Carlos was not much help; instead, he was a detriment and possible danger. He for sure had one oar out of the water at best. We tried to be patient with him over the next few days, but his attitude was on a downhill slide. Seldom would he talk with anyone, and always camped away from everyone at night.

 

One night Jenny, a former professional tennis play, got up late at night to pee. She heard strange animal sounds out in the bush, and she swore she saw Carlos naked and walking on all fours like some crazed dog. Jenny forgot about why she was out there and ran back to the camp bumping into things on the way.

She busted into Anthony’s tent and shook him awake, “Anthony, Anthony, I saw Carlos out in the jungle naked, and acting extremely strange!”

         Blurry eyed and half awake, Anthony managed to spit out, “What the hell are you talking about?”      

“I went out to pee and I saw Carlos running around like an animal completely naked! He was making a barking sound like a dog! This whole thing with Carlos is getting scary.”

 

The next morning Carlos was back in camp fully clothed, his old sour faced self.

“What the hell were you doing out in the jungle last night running around naked? You scared Jenny half to death.” Anthony said.

         “I no go jungle last noche, sleep bed. You crazy loco Americano!” He said it so convincingly that Anthony half believed him. Anthony began thinking that Carlos might be so mentally disturbed that he really didn’t know what he had done the night before. It was time for another pow-wow with the group.

“Ok, you have all heard by now what Carlos was up to last night, and we need to decide what we are going to do about it. If this keeps up like this I’m afraid something terrible is going to happen.” Anthony said with sincere emotion. Our medical person on the team was Sally, who was a nurse back home and had all the medications.

She said, “We could sneak sleeping pills into his drink at night and have him conk-out where he can’t hurt himself or anyone else.”

Jake spoke up with the air of frustration in his voice. “That sounds like a plan. We don’t have many options to get this guy under control. What he really needs is to be hospitalized and given psychiatric care, but that opportunity is still a week long hike from here, and that’s if we were lucky.” Usually calm, cool and collected you could tell that he was really upset with what had been going on.

Anthony said, “Raise your hand if you agree Sally should drug Carlos before bed.”

It was unanimous, no need to count hands.

 

That night Sally slipped a powerful sleeping pill into Carlos’ coffee, and he slept like a baby. In fact, he overslept. Once rousted out of bed, he managed to get packed up and ready for the days trek. As usual, he had nothing to say. He didn’t seem suspicious about what we had done.

 

The following night there was a snafu. Sally managed to get the pill in the coffee; however, Carlos spilled it by accident, then threw the cup down and went off to bed in a huff. Not a word came from his mouth. Now we had a problem, and no one was going to get much sleep that night. Sure enough, about two o’clock in the morning we could hear barking and howling sounds coming from the jungle. We checked Carlos’ bed, and as we all feared, he was not there. No one was willing to go tramping around a snake-infested jungle late at night; so waiting for morning was the only alternative.

 

In the morning again Carlos came to breakfast. He was disheveled, and this time, he had blood on the front of his shirt. No one could see any wounds on his body, so where did the blood come from?  He acted like he hadn’t even noticed it. When someone asked him about it, he seemed a bit bewildered and claimed he had no idea how it got there. Anthony thought we should take a head count, so two of us searched the area to make sure everyone was accounted for. Sure enough, one of the group was missing. It was Jenny! We asked Carlos if he had seen her, and he just shrugged his shoulders. Anthony lost his temper and said, “Damn you son-of-a-b***h where is she? If you have hurt her I’ll kill you!” 

“No hurt Jenny, maybe jaguar,” Carlos said.

         “Where did the blood come from you piece of s**t?” Anthony slapped Carlos hard on the back of his head. We left Carlos by the fire babbling to himself. The rest of us went to comb the jungle for poor Jenny.

 

It didn’t take long before we found her. She was a mess, and her throat was mutilated as if it had been chewed. Jenny was dead. The big guy in our group Eric gently picked Jenny’s body up and carried her back to camp. Carlos was gone and so were some supplies, mostly food. Burying Jenny was all we could do for her. We estimated that our group was at least a week away from any form of civilization, and we had a homicidal maniac running loose close by.

 

After Jenny was put to rest, we sat around the fire, people were crying. Eric, the strongest and youngest member of the group, was a college student studying sociology. He really took Jenny’s death hard and was inconsolable. We all knew that Eric had a crush on the beautiful and vivacious Jenny. He tried to get us all on our feet and go after Carlos. His need for revenge was understandable, but under the present circumstances it was impractical, and if we caught him, what then? How would we get him back to face justice? The only realistic way to make Carlos pay for his crime and make the rest of us safe was to kill him, but no member of the group had a stomach for that except one, Eric. 

 

That night we all bunched our tents together and tried to sleep, which was hard to do because of Eric’s occasional sobbing. Morning came and we all had the same thought in mind, get out of the jungle as quickly as possible to report Jenny’s death, and get the law after Carlos. Another night passed without incident. In the late hours of the following night, we were awakened by the sound of a barking dog. It was Carlos! Eric ran from his tent, “You’re a murder and a coward! When I find you, you will wish you had never been born!  Mark my words Carlos, I’m going to find you and when I do I’m going to kill you, you b*****d!”

 

This was a side of Eric that no one had seen before. Usually, he was composed and very funny, always the jokester. Now he was an enraged bull, and there was no doubt he meant what he said. He charged out into the jungle towards where the barking had come. We tried to restrain him, but he would have none of it. After more than an hour, Eric stumbled back into camp exhausted, with starches and bruises all over his legs and arms. He hadn’t found anything except for a massive case of anger and frustration. We tried to console him without much success. After a couple hours of rest, the expedition headed out, following the path supplied by the GPS. Without that tool, we would have been royally screwed.

 

As we slashed our way through the dense undergrowth, we noticed that Eric was looking from side to side very intently. There was no doubt he was looking for Carlos. Eric now had a one-track mind, find and kill Carlos.

         Anthony tried talking with the young man, “Eric, let the law take care of this. It’s not your job to be judge, jury and executioner. Let it go for now. When we get to civilization will notify Jenny’s parents, and tell the authorities all that happened.”

         Eric shouted, “Do you actually think they’ll do anything about it! Once we go back to the States they’ll throw the whole thing under the rug, and try to keep what happened from the tourists. I meant what I said Anthony; I’m going to find that b*****d and kill him. I owe it to Jenny. I loved her.”

         “We all loved her Eric, and we also know that you loved her the most. I really don’t think that Jenny would agree with what you have planned.”

         “We’ll never know will we? Jenny is dead!” Eric broke down into tears again, and Anthony tried to comfort him the best he could.

That very same night Carlos crept back into camp, most likely looking for more food. Sadly for him, Eric’s constant vigilance paid off, and he spotted Carlos rummaging through some supplies. Not waiting a second, Eric grabbed his hunting knife and cautiously slipped out of his tent. Like a cat, he crept up behind Carlos and plunged his knife deep into Carlos’ back. Carlos let out an ear-splitting scream and fell to the ground mortally wounded. Of course, the entire camp was aroused and quickly found Eric standing over Carlos’ now dead body. Eric was just standing there with the knife still clutched in his hand.  After three days of emotional turmoil, Eric, at last, felt at peace. The problem now was the rest of the group, who had just witnessed a cold-blooded murder. The ethical questions immediately started bouncing around in everyone’s head, everyone except Eric that is.       

 

The first order of business was to get Carlos buried, and then worry about the ramification of what just happened in the morning. Eric, in a semi-daze, went back to his tent and lay down. Anthony had already removed the knife from his powerful hand. The camp was in a state of complete shock and confusion. When the sun had inched its way up far enough to give off some light, the group huddled around the campfire. By this time Eric was somewhat himself again.

         “I don’t know what to say,” he said. “Honestly, I don’t regret killing that piece of slim, but I also realize it puts the rest of you in a tough situation. You have to be thinking, what are we going to do about this? I can’t deny that I killed him, so my fate rests with you.”

         Anthony said, “It was obvious Carlos was a threat to everyone. He was insane and needed help, but the circumstances would not allow for that. We could have tied him and walked him out, but that option was not realistic. In addition, how were we to catch him alive without putting ourselves at considerable risk?  For my part, I feel we should go about our business, get out of here and out of the country, pretend that it never happened.”

 

Bruce and Peter were old friends and had gone to school together. Peter was an attorney, and both men were uncomfortable with what was going on.

         Peter said, “If we go along with this, I hope you all know that you would be considered accessories to murder, which is a very serious crime.”

         Anthony chimed in, “I hear what you’re saying Peter; however, we are in a highly unique situation here. First of all, we’re in a foreign country and along way from home, with no clue if Eric would get a fair trial or not. Secondly, Carlos posed an immediate threat and could not be reasoned with. Third, if we just all keep our mouths shut we have little to no chance of being found out. Although it was a brutal act, I feel that we owe Eric our thanks for keeping us from harm. Does anyone here agree with me?” Everyone raised his or her hands except for Peter and Bruce.

        

Then Anthony spoke again, “Ok fellows, what do you purpose we do? Upon our return should we immediately turn Eric over to the authorities, and leave him to rot in some third world prison cell? This man prevented another one of us from being killed.”  The rest of the group had their eyes on Peter and Bruce. They looked at each other and both slowly raised their hands. It was settled. For covering up the murder we were all equally guilty, which bonded us to a code of silence. We decided not to notify the Costa Rican authorities about what had transpired. It was doubtful that anyone one would even question about Carlos’ where a bouts. Although it was vigilante justice, Carlos got what he deserved. After we got back to the States Anthony explained to Jenny’s parents what had happened to their beloved daughter. We all went our separate ways and dealt with our own demons individually. We knew that the hike across the peninsula was going to be tough, but no one could have predicted it would become a life changing experience.

 

 

Reviews

[emmajoy]

My goodness, what an extraordinary story, It flowed very smoothly from start to finish and kept me reading nonstop. You raised the bar with this writing, has a great mix with its exotic setting, city people/trekkers and of course, that very dubious Carlos who, from the start, was obviously going to cause some sort of trouble . and, what trouble it proved to be. There are some great descriptions of his behaviour, which, in turn make/made the reviewer consider different future scenarios.
Your dialogue in this fills gives a real edge, gives life to the characters plus adds light and shade from long pieces of prose. Think you need to edit carefully, odd little omissions or extras here and there .. was going to add that i thought it would make an exciting film but see that another reviewer has said that .. great minds!
One query, was Jenny's death going to be blamed on an animal and what about Carlos' disappearance?

[roarke]

riveting well told story. I think you can go farther; what about Jenny's death? If no one says anything about the indigenous man, that still leaves what happened to Jenny, the foreigner tourist? Two people dead/missing. One, Jenny would have to be reported as killed by an animal.... would definitely lead to an investigation. Then the "company" would want to know what happened to the guide. All in all sets up a fishy situation, one that somebody is gonna look into.

The scenario here is top notch. The enactment exotic and compelling. Lots of conflicts to work with, lots of individual character quirks to bring out and play with. One of those stories that is as much fun to write as it is to read.
Great job here. When ya gonna publish it?