Page 6 of Explorer's Revenge
I hang up, having nothing else left to say. Throwing my legs out of the open window, I watch the jungle as we speed across the island to the dock. I have to grab a boat from here, the mainland, to the next island over where the plane port is, and then I’ll be on my way. When I find the lost city, I’ll rub it in the Adreno assholes’ faces.
I can picture their anger now as I smugly show them pictures. That ridiculously hot prick, Wilder, will hate me even more, and it will be so worth it to see his envy.
Pulling out my camera, I snap a few pictures and videos, and when we stop at the port, I climb into the back of the truck and ask the driver to take a few more. After he does, I take some short recordings on the camera they gave me—I have to document the exploration. They automatically upload to the office when there is a signal, so I switch it off after it’s done its thing and strip at the port, putting on some shorts and a tank top over my bikini. I change my sneakers for boots and thick socks before braiding my hair and winding it on my head to keep my neck bare.
I hoist my backpack up, testing the weight, then grab my equipment in both hands and head to the boat. I’m betting not many people come through here, since it isn’t exactly a tourist attraction. The other side of the island is filled with luxury resorts and floating villas, but this side is for the locals and fishermen.
“Hey, I’m Carter.” I shake the captain’s hand. Wearing nothing but some low-slung shorts and sunglasses, he’s my type of guy. He’s relaxed and knowledgeable, which is evident in his boat and how swiftly he escorts me on and gets settled.
“Welcome to paradise, Carter,” he calls as we maneuver into the open ocean.
“It sure feels like it,” I shout over the wind as I watch the choppy blue waters on either side of us. “I don’t suppose this thing goes any faster, does it?” I grin.
He turns and meets my eyes with his own grin. “Hold on, city girl.”
He guns it. Laughing, I tip my head back and close my eyes, letting the wind flow through my hair and the sun heat my face while we speed through the ocean. Each moment brings me closer to what I know is going to be an incredible adventure.
I can feel it in the anticipation and rightness of being here in the air, like when you’re on the verge of jumping off a cliff. I can’twait to get there, but my dad used to remind me to enjoy the journey there because that is half the experience.
I focus on the present, keeping myself grounded as I look out. He was right—it’s paradise. The blue ocean beckons me to dive in to learn its secrets. The green, jungle-covered oasis of islands are close enough to see but not get to by swimming. The sky is a bright blue, shining with the type of sun that overheats your skin if you aren’t careful.
The crossing takes just over an hour, and I spend some of the time stretching my body and double-checking my bags for the supplies I will need, and then I take pictures and videos for Venture and my dad. The captain is nice enough to stop for one in the middle of the ocean with the island behind me, my bikini on display as I grin. I know Dad will frame it alongside the others I’ve sent him from all over the world.
Once we arrive at the other island holding only jungles and locals, I unload and hand cash to the captain. “Good luck,” he tells me, and I grin as I drop my bags on the dock.
I have to wait two hours for the plane to be ready, and I plan to spend that time finding the man who discovered the island. Venture made sure he was here. I like to get my information from the source, and like it or not, he’s the closest thing I’ll get. Leaving my bags with the person who will load them onto the plane, I hoist my backpack onto my shoulders and set off on foot into the jungle, taking the shortcut into town.
An hour later, I’m sweaty but grinning after exploring the jungle and coming upon the town. It’s filled with cute shanty shops and shacks, some built into the lake water, and I can’t help but take more pictures. I love the bright colors and friendly, curious faces. I greet as many people as I can before asking for directions. They point me across some dock planks fastened together to create a walk over the lake to a floating bar.
After thanking them for the directions, I set off across the boards. They shift slightly with the water but seem stable, so I wander across them, looking out at the tiny town. It’s the opposite of a tourist attraction, which I love. I can feel the culture. I stand out for sure, and I don’t plan to cause any trouble or even showcase this place, since they deserve their privacy. That’s the one rule I follow—respect their world since you are just a tourist in it.
The dock splits off almost like a junction, but I take the wooden steps up into the bar, which is a mix of driftwood and old boats without doors or windows, just an open front. Tables are spread out across a floating wooden balcony. Some of them are made from crates, boxes, and even a surfboard. Grinning, I look inside to see more tables and an old bar with a door leading to a kitchen. It’s warm as hell but so amazing. There’s a fridge buzzing with cold drinks, and a surprised woman greets me in her native tongue.
“Sorry, I don’t speak your language.” I wince, and she laughs. I start to pull out my translator, since I’m the tourist here, when she speaks again in a thick, accented voice.
“English?”
I look up in surprise, and she grins.
“You want a drink?”
“I’ll take a cold beer if you have one, and a water please,” I reply.
“Sure. Take a seat wherever. We are never busy at this time of day. You want some food too?” she asks, wiping her hands on her shorts.
“Anything you have will be great.” I hand over a wad of cash, and she blinks in shock, but I gesture for her to keep it. “I’m looking for someone named Conrad.”
She huffs, her black hair moving as she turns and points to a table outside in the corner where a man is hunched over,snoring, with a half drank beer in his grip. “You’ve found him. Don’t expect to get any sense out of him though.” She hurries to the back.
Shrugging, I drop my bag at the table closest to him then stand above him.
He doesn’t stop snoring. “Conrad?” I ask loudly.
Nothing.
“Hey, I have money,” I say, but he still doesn’t respond. Rolling my eyes, I kick his chair. It screeches back, and he windmills his arms as he glares up at me.
“The fuck?” he slurs with a heavy accent as I sit and slide money over.
