Jungle of Creation

A rush of crisp, humid air floods my senses when the vault door closes. It is just Dr. Howard, a stoic, tall and sandy-haired bodyguard—for me or Howard I don’t know—and I making our way into the wilderness. The door is attached to a wide expanse of windowless walls just as white outside as inside, forming the exterior of the so-called corporation. Tearing my eyes from the sheen of the building, I find nothing but sprawling jungle trees and vines as far as I can see. Not a speck of civilization in sight. Joy. There goes my escape plan. I examine the tree line closer, catching sight of some bright macaws and even a barely visible, camouflaged anaconda hanging from the branches, but no other people.

“Ms. Faller, come along. It’s still fairly early here, but we really need to handle the situation before the sun and the pests arrive.”

“Situation? Is that what we’re calling a dead body now? Why exactly hasn’t the crime been cleaned anyway? How long has this man been dead? Are you really just going to let him rot in the middle of the jungle?” I feel my face flush to crimson as the absurdity of the scenario rushes from my mouth. Behind me, the guard snickers and gives me a side glance before quickly returning to his inhuman state.

“You know, Ms. Faller, I am unaccustomed to such incredible bluntness. I cannot divulge all of the organization’s secrets, but I can say that the only reason we have not taken care of Charley is because we were unaware he was dead until you found him and then we wanted to wait and see if you had anything useful to lend to our investigation.” Dr. Howard’s posture remains professional as he rigidly replies to my swarm of doubts. “I can assure you we never intended to let Charley’s body simply ‘rot’. The organization will cremate the body per the family’s wishes after this whole ordeal is over.”

“That’s good to know, I guess.” I answer in a small voice, embarrassed that I caused Dr. Howard to go into ultra-agent mode. I am still at the mercy of these people after all.

Thinking aloud, Dr. Howard speaks into the open air, “Though I do wonder why you would care at all about the fate of Mr. Charley Bunsen.”

I follow Dr. Howard’s eyes to the line of trees and answer his unspoken question. “I was the one who found him. I couldn’t do anything about it then. No one would believe me and even if they did, I couldn’t remember where exactly I’d found him. I was in such a daze. I feel responsible.” I look towards Howard to see him silently appraising me, his face free of a smile but his eyes filled with a strange warmth nonetheless. “Besides, I wouldn’t want my family to fade away. I don’t think anyone else should either,” I add on in a timid whisper, averting my eyes from his. For some reason, I feel as if this man doesn’t mean me any harm, and I feel the need to confess my worst secrets. He’s had plenty of chances to do something already, so why hurt me now?

“That is… honorable, Ms. Faller. Now, let us see that we get this debacle done as soon as possible so that we can all move on—Charley included.”

Dr. Howard sets off into the jungle, picking his way through the underbrush as if he had lived among the trees for all his life. Clumsily following along behind the doctor, I trip over every root and tree stump we come across. The agility I had the last time I was in the jungle is long gone. While the bodyguard constantly surveys the area around us at the back of the group, I focus on Howard and the noises of the wild. The cicadas, even though it is morning, still keep up their nightly tunes, and the vast array of birds in the jungle can be heard chirping and flapping all around my head. This jungle is far different than the one I entered before. It is crystal clear, while the other is foggy in my memory, and this one possesses pure breaths of life, while the other held overwhelming death and mystery. It is the same jungle, though, so why is it so different?

“Alright. We are getting close so be ready for the… sights.” Dr. Howard slows in his trek through the jungle before before to a halt in front of a thin barrier of trees. Though I can’t see what’s beyond them, I can give a good guess. Inhaling a deep breath, I wait until Dr. Howard moves forward again and pushes through the trees into a small clearing. Like a bubble of air in the middle of the sea, the circular grove is relatively free of the excessive growth that plagues the rest of the jungle. The trees surround the area before rising into an arch above, blocking out some of the sunlight and leaving the clearing with a dreary glow.

The centerpiece, by far though, is the body resting in the middle, eaten by decomposition and filling the air with a sickly smell. I wrinkle my nose and make my way forward even more hesitantly. It’s okay. You’re okay. Nothing you haven’t seen before. Oh God. If seeing the corpse freshly killed was horrific, seeing it a week later is an injustice to humanity. Charley’s once pale skin is now tinted a mutilated and bloated milky green, while white foam and flies have joined the sticky green blood covering him. I swallow the bile beginning to rise in my throat, and ignore the body before me along with the horrid smell.

“Good gracious. Charley, you deserved better than this. I am sorry.” Dr. Howard kneels down before the body, seemingly unaffected by the horror before him, and gently presses Charley’s eyes closed. Howard stays by the body’s head, indulging in a moment of silence to, I assume, remember Charley as he once was. I slowly walk around the body, taking in all the details except for the obvious ones that I had already chosen to ignore. Remembering the broken syringe that had the blood on it, my eyes scan the clearing to find any sign of red. The syringe was lying to the right of Charley’s head the first time I was here, so I maneuver my way to his side to look for it. It’s not there. Where could it have gone?

“What are you looking for, Ms. Faller? You look troubled.” Dr. Howard has risen from his position by Charley and is now watching me pace around the clearing, frustrated and antsy.

“The syringe! It was right here,” I nearly shout at Dr. Howard while gesturing wildly to the spot the syringe had been, “Who could have known to move the syringe?”

Dr. Howard regards me calmly, a furrowed brow marring his otherwise blank face. “You did say there was blood on it, correct? Perhaps an animal dragged it off?” Howard suggestions do nothing to calm my anxiety, especially since he doesn’t even look convinced by his own words.

“An animal dragging off broken glass? Yeah, right. What if the killer took the evidence and is still here waiting?” As the thought crosses my mind, my pacing grows even more frantic, my nerves trying to escape in any way possible.

“Ms. Faller, calm please. Even if the killer is still here, Grant is more than capable of taking care of the threat.” The bodyguard waiting at the edge of the clearing gives a little salute, but doesn’t show any other emotion. I force myself to take a deep breath and unscramble my thoughts. In, out, in, out. Once sufficiently calm I take a moment to glance around the scene once more for anything I missed.

Nothing seems more out of the ordinary than a dead body can be until I see a glimmer by the trees on the opposite side of the Charley’s body. I make my way over to the tree line, never moving my eyes from the sparkle. When I reach the far side of the clearing, I am struck speechless. Lying in the dirt is the very shattered syringe I had been looking for. And it is squeaky clean.