Page 11 of Explorer's Revenge
My thoughts soon divert from them as I return outside because the island we are looking for is appearing on the horizon—one thought to be lost.
Rising from the water like an avenging god of old, the green jungle glimmers in the sun.
“There she is,” I call, and the music cuts out as we crowd around the bow of the boat.
“This is our big break, boys.” Wilder grips my shoulder, standing next to me. “Let’s find ourselves a lost city.”
EIGHT
MAEVE
The plane is small, but big enough for what I need. After communicating the drop zone with the pilots, I prepare my gear. I will have to throw it from the plane, so I attached floatation devices, which I will tie on the cliff to be picked up at a later date. It will be easier to haul the stuff up that way. I don’t bring too much, knowing the more I bring, the more I have to haul, but I have my food, clothes, water, map, compass, cameras, ropes and pulleys, snorkel and dive mask, flashlight, pick, and a few other tools I might need. I condensed a lot, not wanting to die while traveling through the jungle. That’s the only issue with exploring alone. Before, Dad would have taken half the gear, and we could have brought more with us, but not now.
It doesn’t matter because no matter what I’ll face there, I can do it. Climb it, swim it, dig it, explore it—I can do anything. That confidence is what pisses a lot of men off in my field. They don’t like a woman saying that she can do it the same if not better than they can. Mansplaining is the worst, as if I’m not a fucking expert. Idiots. I think that’s why the Adreno Squad hates me so much, because I can do exactly what they can, just better.
That or they are just miserable fucks who hate sharing the spotlight. Yeah, that’s more likely since they are plastered allover social media. Their fan clubs are notorious. Their profiles all have pretty ab snapshots and perfectly timed pictures to make them look their best.
Me? I show the real side of exploring, even the hard stuff, so no one goes into this with a lie. My behind-the-scenes vlogs are famous, from showing the weather conditions in Malaysia to the bad stomach bug I got in Bali—my own fault. I show the good stuff too, of course, like ruins and heights normal people might never get to see otherwise. I show them the beauty of the world and how they can safely explore it themselves.
I encourage men, women, and kids, showing them that they can do anything if they put their minds to it. In the end, the fear they create by setting restrictions is their only limitation.
I feel that same fear before I do something like this. It never goes away, not really. You just get better at dealing with it. Like now, as I move to the open door as we draw closer to the island. A moment of loneliness hits me. I wish I could turn and see my dad with his grin. Instead, I close my eyes and reach for him, and when I’m ready, I open them again, vibrating with excitement.
“You should see the island any minute now,” the pilot calls, and I nod, leaning out of the door to look. A few moments later, I see it.
The luscious, bright green jungle obscures the terrain beneath. It would take at least four days to walk from one side to the other, and that’s without getting lost. We circle it, passing the beach until we find the cliffs, and then we go in for the run. I drop the gear first before saluting the pilot, then I grin as they call out and throw myself backwards.
I whoop as I flip midair, my arms and legs spread as I free fall. Adrenaline makes my heart pound. The drop will come quickly, so I flip again, cross my arms, and lock my ankles before I hit the water.
I enter hard, slipping under, then wait a beat before kicking to the surface with a laugh. Swimming hard, I reach my gear and grab the rope I tied to it. I shield my eyes as I look up, waving to the plane as it leaves.
When the sounds of the engines fade, I’m left with the lapping waves and the crash as they hit the cliffs and nothing else, just nature.
Tying the rope to my waist, I start to swim, having to paddle harder against the current to pull the equipment, but I manage it, and when I get to the base of the cliffs, there’s a ledge. I haul myself up and sit with my legs dangling, then I pull the equipment up. I lay it out to dry as I stand and look out at the water. The cameras on my chest are recording, so I start to talk.
“See that? That is an empty ocean, no man-made structures anywhere in sight, just nature. This island was forgotten many years ago until a recent storm washed a man ashore. It’s said many will never venture to this part of the world. How about we see why?”
I glance up at the cliff and dry my hands. “Now, to get my stuff up there, I’m going to free climb the cliff, placing lines as I go. Once I reach the top, I’ll repel back down, clip the equipment, climb, and haul it up after me. I won’t leave the lines in place, since I won’t leave the island from here, and you never know what you will need. Plus, you need to respect your environment when adventuring. You know the saying, ‘Leave it as you find it.’ This island has stood for many years and will stand after we’re gone, so we’ll respect it.”
Finished with my little pep talk, I get my equipment ready and check all the safety features before chalking my hands. I walk the base of the cliff, looking for the best route up, and when I have it, I grip the crumbling rock and begin to climb. It’s slow going, as I check every hand and foothold, knowing I could drop at any minute. I lay line as I go, double-checking it is locked andsafe with carabiners before moving onto the next section. I reach the top in under thirty minutes.
I drop my backpack there and tie myself up, step back over the edge, and throw myself down. My feet hit the base, and I secure the other equipment bag and start to pull myself up. My arms shake with the effort as the bag dangles midair.
When I get to the top, I haul the equipment over the ledge, slowly unlatch all my lines, and wind them up. Leaving the anchors there in case I need them for the way back. Stretching out my arms and legs, I slip off my waterproof jacket and roll it up into my bag, leaving me in shorts, socks, boots, and a white tank. I’m not wearing a bra because who’s going to see my nipples out here? I put as much in my bag as I can, testing the weight before I bury it at the base of a tree and mark it. It’s my emergency kit, stuff I don’t think I’ll need, but you never know. I have everything else with me, including flares and a flare gun.
Lifting my bag up, I pull on my sunglasses, apply more sunscreen, tug my hat down, and turn to the jungle. The sound of wildlife is loud now, the insects buzzing and birds calling to each other.
It’s incredible.
“Time to explore.” I grin and let out a hoot. Birds take flight, and predators sink deeper, and I laugh, unable to help it.
I set off into the jungle, making sure to keep my eyes peeled. There could be snakes or venomous spiders anywhere. They won’t attack unless threatened, but I could wander too close or scare them, and I don’t want that. I’d be dead before anyone even realized something was wrong. Plus, I never know what I’ll find, but I’ve always felt more at home in the jungle than in a city.
I take some photos as I stroll through the flora, using my compass to keep me on the right path. A worn route through the trees becomes apparent the farther I go, which is helpful but alsohas me wondering who or what made it. Maybe someone has been here before, but surely it would have been recorded. I don’t know, but I know I’ll find the ruins if they are here, and that’s all there is to it.
Whistling to myself, I stop a few hours in to drink some water and have a quick snack before setting out again. The air is hot, sweat dripping down my body, and my muscles start to ache, but I push through it. I want to get close to the middle of the island before I make camp for the night, which will mainly entail a hammock. That way I’ll stay off the ground where most of the smaller predators hunt.
An hour or so later, I hear a waterfall. I follow the sound, and when I come upon the sight, I gape in amazement.
