Jungle Land Read online

  “That’s it.”

  “It doesn’t look that big…or long.”

  “Width is no problem, but it should be twenty-five hundred feet long,” Grandpa said.

  I shook my head. “It doesn’t look that long.”

  “It isn’t. It should be twenty-five hundred feet long ideally, but I think we have about fifteen hundred.”

  “But you’ve landed here before, right?” I asked anxiously.

  “Dozens of times. Of course, I was usually in something smaller than this plane. But no worries—I just have to be more precise in my incline, approach closer to stalling speed and hit the brakes hard when we touch down.”

  He completed the bank and flattened out so that we were coming in directly in line with the slash of brown. It didn’t look wide, and it was dotted with splotches of blue that I assumed to be rainwater gathered in depressions.

  I looked over at Grandpa. Usually he was all conversation and jokes. Now he was completely focused on the dials on the board and the strip ahead of us. We were coming in very low, and it felt like we were just crawling along. But the brown was coming up quickly, and we were just skimming along the tops of the trees—and then we dropped. We hit the runway and bounced slightly back into the air before settling down again. We were on the ground, but we were bumping along and the trees at the end of the runway looked like they were coming toward us much too fast—and then we came to a stop.

  Grandpa turned off the engine, and we both pulled off our headsets. I felt a rush of relief.

  “That was some landing,” I said.

  “You know what they say.”

  “I know—any landing you can walk away from is a good one,” I said.

  And then three men came out of the jungle and rushed toward the plane, with rifles aimed right at us!

  TWO

  The three men spread out. One stood directly in front of us while the other two went to either side. All three still held their guns aimed right at the plane—and us.

  “Stay calm,” Grandpa said.

  “I think I’m too nervous to be scared.”

  He laughed, and that made me smile almost against my will. “Just follow me, and no sudden movements.”

  One of the men yelled out something in what had to be Spanish, and I didn’t understand what he was saying.

  Grandpa moved between the seats to get to where the door was located in the back. I unclicked my seat belt and followed him. He lowered the door to where two of the men were now waiting. They barked out what sounded like either a threat or an order. Grandpa raised his hands, and I did the same. Then Grandpa started talking—in Spanish!

  “Señor McLean?” one of them asked.

  “Sí, soy Señor McLean. Señor DeCarlo, por favor,” Grandpa said.

  I only knew a few words of Spanish but recognized the names of my grandpa and his friend.

  Grandpa climbed down the first few steps, and I could see the two men more clearly. They had not only lowered their guns but slung them over their shoulders, and they were smiling.

  Grandpa turned to me. “These are Juan’s guards. They are here to escort us onto the grounds.”

  “And that’s why they were pointing their guns at us?” I asked.

  “We were making sure you were…um… Señor DeCarlo’s guests,” one of the men said with a strong Spanish accent.

  “I’m sure Juan appreciates your care, and I certainly appreciate your welcome,” Grandpa said.

  “Come,” one of the guards said. “My compadres will get luggage.”

  He led the way, and we fell in beside him. My grandpa had his cane in his hands. It was made of dark wood, with two carved elephants on the handle. He had had it from when he flew planes in Africa—decades before I was even born. That cane, along with the black beret he almost always wore, were almost part of him.

  As we walked, Grandpa and the guard started talking in Spanish. I hadn’t even known Grandpa spoke Spanish, but he seemed to be pretty good at it. Despite my not understanding a word they were saying, I could tell my grandpa was being his usual self—charming, friendly, a smile on his face—and he gave the guard a slap on the back. The guard was smiling and laughing, and they sounded like old friends as they talked. Even though I couldn’t understand the words, I could see it was a friendly exchange.

  We walked with the jungle pressing in on us on one side and the wall of the compound on the other. The wall was incredibly high—more than three times my height—and it was topped with strands of barbed wire. I could picture how that wall protected us from the jaguars I was sure lurked just beyond the trees.

  We came up to a massive metal gate. Above it, written in curved wrought iron, were the words Jungle Land. The big gate swung open and another guard, rifle strapped to his back, waved us in. My grandpa greeted him in Spanish, and he replied with words, a big smile and a handshake. Another friend was made.

  “Straight ahead,” our escort said. “I will go back to help with luggage.”

  We really didn’t need any directions. The house—the mansion—was at the end of a long walkway. The house was even more massive and impressive on the ground than it had looked from the air. It felt like we were in a movie.

  “I didn’t know you could speak Spanish,” I said.

  “I traveled down here for business a lot, mainly before you were born, and you pick up a few words here and there. So I speak a little bit.”

  “It sounds like you know a lot more than a bit.”

  “You’d be surprised how a few well-chosen phrases and a smile make people willing to overlook what you don’t know.”

  The grounds we were walking through were amazing. Manicured grass and groomed flower beds filled with exotic flowers, their colors mirrored in reflective pools and ponds punctuated by little waterfalls and fountains. The garden was as cultivated and tamed as the jungle outside was wild and dangerous.

  “Your friend must be rich,” I said.

  “There’s money to be made in the import/export business, although things are much less expensive down here…and there’s my friend right now!”

  A man was at the top of the stairs. He was dressed all in white and took off his brimmed hat and waved it in the air.

  “Davie!” he yelled. “Davie!”

  My grandpa went up the stairs, and the two men greeted each other with a handshake and then a big hug. They were talking in Spanish—I could tell Grandpa knew more than simply a few words. He was just being modest.

  “This is my dear friend Juan,” Grandpa said to me.

  “I am so pleased to meet you!” he exclaimed. He took my hand and then, instead of shaking it, pulled me into a big hug, squeezing me tightly before releasing me.

  “It’s good to meet you, sir.”

  “I am so honored to have you and your grandfather, my good friend, join us. Please come. Mi casa es su casa. That means my house is your house,” Juan said.

  He led us back up the stairs and through an enormous door leading into an even more enormous entrance area. The ceiling was ornate, painted in golds and silvers and blues and reds. I felt more like I was in a church or a hotel or a museum than in a house.

  “Before we go on a tour of the grounds, I thought you might be in need of refreshment.”

  “I’m so hungry I could eat a capybara,” my grandpa said. He turned to me. “That’s the world’s largest rodent.”

  “And one not native to this part of Central America,” Juan said. “Instead we will have to settle for a more traditional dish of our country.”

  “You wouldn’t be talking about casado by any chance, would you?” Grandpa asked.

  Juan smiled. “But of course. Come. We will eat, and I will introduce you to a very important person.”

  We followed him out to the patio, and I wondered who this important person could be. A big table was set with all sorts of fancy glasses and linen napkins and plates and silver. Sitting at the table was a girl. She looked to be around my age or a little bit older. She had d
ark hair and was wearing a fancy dress, as if she was going to a party or a wedding. Or maybe she was the bride at that wedding.

  “Gentleman, I want you to meet my granddaughter, Alejandra.”

  “Buenas tardes, señorita,” my grandpa said as he took her hand and bowed slightly from the waist.

  She smiled and nodded shyly in reply.

  My grandpa and Alejandra exchanged a few words in Spanish, and then Juan joined in the conversation. I stood there helpless, unable to add to or even understand the conversation. She looked directly at me, and her eyes were so dark it felt like she was looking through me. I looked down at the ground.

  “Um, hola,” I said, using one of the few Spanish words I knew.

  “Hola,” she said.

  “I thought it would be good for your grandson DJ to have somebody closer to his own age to spend time with,” Juan said, “so I arranged to have my dear Alejandra join us.”

  A grandson would have been a better choice, but really, what did it matter? I was here to spend time with my grandpa anyway.

  “In fact, I’m going to leave you two alone to talk while I speak privately to Davie.”

  “I thought we were going to eat,” I said. “I mean…I can wait.”

  “No need to wait. You will start with dessert.”

  Juan picked up a little bell and rang it, and almost instantly a woman appeared carrying a tray that held two very large bowls of chocolate ice cream.

  “My favorite!” I exclaimed.

  “Davie told me, so I had a full tub shipped in for your pleasure. So, Berta,” he said to the woman, “make sure they get a second or even a third helping.” She smiled and nodded.

  “Leave a little space for the casado,” my grandpa said.

  “There will be time for casado,” Juan said. “Just enjoy the ice cream and pura vida.”

  “Yes, pura vida,” my grandpa said. “That means pure life. We’ll be back soon.”

  I sat down at the table across from Alejandra. She was already digging into the ice cream. I dug in with my spoon as well. We could share ice cream, but I didn’t speak any Spanish, so there wasn’t much else we were going to share. I took a few more mouthfuls of ice cream and then looked up to see her watching me. She didn’t look happy. I had to say something or at least try to say something.

  “It’s really good,” I said. I spoke loud and slowly, but she didn’t seem to understand. I strained my mind to come up with a little bit of Spanish. “Mucho goodo.”

  She looked up. “Mucho goodo?”

  “Um…I’m sorry…I just don’t know much Spanish. Une petite.”

  “Une petite? That would be French, not Spanish,” she said.

  “You speak French—wait, you speak English?”

  “I speak English and Spanish and some French. And you?”

  “You’ve heard my Spanish, and I speak some French—we learn it in school—but my English is pretty good.”

  “People who speak English often only speak one language,” she said.

  “You spoke to my grandpa, so you know he speaks some Spanish.”

  “He speaks very good Spanish. Maybe he could teach his grandson.”

  “Maybe you could teach me some too.”

  She shrugged. “I could try. It’s not like we’re going to be doing much out here. No Internet, no cell phone, not even television.”

  “I guess we are pretty far into the jungle,” I said.

  “Not that far. We could have them all, but my abuelo does not want them here.”

  I laughed.

  “You think that is funny?” she demanded, and her dark eyes flashed.

  “No, it’s just that that’s the way it is at my grandpa’s cottage too. He has a no-electronics rule. I just don’t know how somebody could live that way all the time.”

  “It is not all the time. This is my abuelo’s weekend home.”

  I gasped. “This is just for the weekends?”

  “Sí, for weekends and for holidays. His regular home is much bigger, much fancier.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. “I’ve never, ever seen anything this fancy or big.”

  “There are many rich people in my country. And, of course, many, many more who are poor. That is why there are high walls to protect us.”

  “I thought that was to keep the jaguars and caimans and snakes out.”

  Alejandra laughed, and I felt like she was laughing at me. “The most dangerous animals are people who have little and want more. That is why there are walls and guards with guns.”

  “I’ve never had a gun pointed at me before,” I said.

  She looked confused and concerned.

  “Your grandfather’s guards aimed their guns at us when we landed,” I explained.

  “Oh, maybe they thought you were a jaguar,” she said and smirked.

  I shook my head slightly. Was my entire week going to be spent with some difficult girl? Wait—what were we going to do?

  “We’re not going to be just hanging around here for a week, are we?” I asked.

  “A week of just sitting here with you?” she said. “I certainly hope not.”

  “You’re not the only one who—”

  Grandpa and Juan reappeared, and I stopped myself from saying anything more. It didn’t matter if I had to spend time with Alejandra as long as I also got to spend time with my grandpa.

  THREE

  I woke to the sound of singing birds and bright light, and for a few seconds I struggled to remember where I was. I heard voices outside, jumped out of bed and walked through the open door and onto the balcony. Below on the patio sat my grandpa and Juan. They were having a lively discussion in Spanish, and it was pretty clear that my grandpa’s “bit of Spanish” was a lot more than that.

  My grandpa looked up at me and waved.

  “Good morning, DJ!”

  “Buenos días,” Juan called out.

  “You should get dressed, come down and have some breakfast, and then you’ll start off on your little adventure for the day,” my grandpa said.

  I ran back inside, threw on some clothes and hurried down the stairs and out onto the patio. Alejandra had arrived in the few minutes it took me to get dressed. She greeted me with a scowl and then went back to eating. I took a seat, and instantly a plate filled with fresh fruit, eggs and sausage was put down in front of me by one of the servants.

  I was hungry and started digging in. “So, what’s the adventure?” I asked between mouthfuls.

  My grandpa gestured to Juan.

  “I’ve arranged for you to go on a little hike to a waterfall,” Juan said.

  “How far a hike?” Alejandra asked.

  “The waterfall is no more than a dozen kilometers from here,” Juan explained.

  “So it’s almost twenty-five kilometers in total,” she said.

  “That’s pretty far,” I said. I wasn’t thinking about me but about my—

  “Juan and I won’t be coming,” my grandpa said, reading my thoughts or my expression or something. He always seemed to be able to do that with people.

  “So it’s just me and—and—her?”

  “Along with three of my men,” Juan added. “They will guide you and carry your supplies.”

  “And protect us from jaguars?” I asked.

  “It is always wise to have protection.”

  “Can’t we just go part of the way?” Alejandra asked.

  “At the end of the trail is the most beautiful waterfall in all of Central America.”

  “That’s a long way to go for a waterfall,” I said.

  “It will be worth it,” Grandpa said. “Besides, along the way you will experience the beauty of the birds and plants of the rainforest. I wish I could go with you, but it’s just too far for me.”

  “I understand, I guess. What are you going to be doing while we’re gone?” I asked.

  “While you are having a new adventure, my good friend and I will spend the day sitting on the patio, in the shade, drinking lemonade
and talking about old adventures,” Grandpa said.

  “So are there any objections?” Juan asked.

  I waited for Alejandra to argue. Instead, she gave her grandfather a slight nod and a friendly smile. Not what I was expecting.

  * * *

  The path through the jungle was clearly marked but was far from easy. It was probably good that my grandpa hadn’t come. Our escorts were the three men who had met us at the plane. Their leader—who I’d learned was called Francesco—was in front, a small pack on his back and a rifle strapped to his shoulder. Alejandra followed, I was behind her, and the two other guards took up the rear. In addition to their rifles they both had large packs on their backs.

  Alejandra hadn’t spoken more than a few words to me in the hour we’d been walking. Her only conversations had been with Francesco, and they had been in Spanish. If she hadn’t spoken English to me the day before, I wouldn’t have known that she even knew English.

  Even if she didn’t want to talk to me—maybe because she didn’t want to be with me—I was still enjoying our hike. The jungle was lush and dense and green and pressed in closely on both sides. In many places it overhung the path, and it felt like we were walking through a green tunnel—a tunnel often plugged by growth that sealed off the path itself. Francesco had a machete, and sometimes he had to hack through vines to open it up again to allow us to pass.

  There were flies and insects and butterflies and birds everywhere. Some of the birds were beautiful—streaks of color appearing and disappearing in the trees. There were continual squawks and howls coming from the forest, and a couple of times branches moved, indicating monkeys so high up in the trees that they were invisible from the ground. And, of course, there were other things I couldn’t see that I assumed were close at hand. How many poisonous snakes had been almost underfoot? How many jaguars had been only a layer of brush away? Thank goodness for the three men with guns.

  “Pretty beautiful, isn’t it,” Alejandra stated.

  I was startled that she’d spoken. “It is. Could I ask you a question?”

  She shrugged. “Sure, I guess.”

  “If you didn’t want to be here so much, why did you agree to come?”