The Mystery of Yamashita's Map (32 page)

Joe watched him intently. Every footstep he took, every word he said, Joe noticed. He had not forgotten the events of the night before, even if Winthrope had. He had not forgotten the look on the girl’s face as she lay dying and the blood on Winthrope’s shirt. Neither had he forgotten the fear and suspicion in the eyes of the women that had gathered around the dead girl’s hut as they walked away – afraid, but not sure of what or of whom.

As they reached the top of the ridge, all the members of the group could feel their pulse and their heart rates rise; of course, they could not be sure that this was really the place depicted on the map but all those who had seen it agreed that if this wasn’t the place it was somewhere very like it. One by one they helped each other up the sharp incline. Fraser strode up first, taking with him a basket under each arm and seeming re-energised by his stay in the jungle; the professor came after him, being helped up by three of the women, two of whom pulled him by the arms while another pushed him from behind. Winthrope followed, being helped up by the other women, and Joe and Lisa brought up the rear.

The jungle suddenly became quiet. It was as if the animals and the birds shared in the group’s anticipation as they rounded the top of the ridge, placed their hands on its apex and gazed with open eyes and open mouths at what was on the other side.

‘Well, where is it?’ Joe asked, pushing his way through. ‘All I see is more damn jungle.’

But the professor was studying the map. He raised his hands and shielded his eyes from the sun that was now beating down into his face. He scratched his head. ‘I don’t know,’ he said finally. ‘I’m not sure it’s here.’

Fraser snatched the map away from him and examined it himself. ‘We could try over there by that small clearing – you see where the earth’s a little darker than anywhere else?’

‘Yes, of course, the soil would be darker where it was less impacted, even after sixty years. You may be right Fraser.’

The group moved off; they slowly made their way down the ridge, passing the baskets to each other and helping each other down. Winthrope made sure he was right at the head of the group by Fraser as they moved towards the clearing. By the time they got there the sun had sent a pure shaft of light through the trees to where they were standing and it felt as if the sky were guiding their way.

Fraser dropped his basket and pulled at a small sapling that grew from the ground; he began to poke it into the earth, testing it for solidity. Joe too began to scratch around, moving the undergrowth out of the way and thumping at the jungle floor with his fist.

‘I don’t even know what I’m looking for, professor,’ he said after a while.

The professor thought for a moment. ‘I have seen another tunnel, in Thailand,’ he began. ‘The entrance was set into what looked like a sheer face, like a hill or small mountain. The years had put trees and moss on it so it looked like part of the surrounding environment. I doubt very much whether we will find it in the ground – it’s much more likely to be . . .’ He stopped for a moment and slowly turned. ‘In a ridge.’

As one, the whole group turned and looked at the ridge that they had just so diligently traversed. Slowly, as if not wanting to deny his suspicions, the professor removed the map from his pocket. He unfolded it and held it up to his eye. When it was at the correct height the professor could see that the small intricate drawing exactly matched the landscape of the ridge and its immediate environment. He checked the map again, noting the highlighted area which spelled out ‘Sakura Sakura.’ He knew that this meant cherry blossom, but there were no cherry blossoms in the area. He had heard the rumour that one of the Japanese royal family, Prince Takeda, had been involved with Yamashita, and that one of his favourite songs was cherry blossoms. Could this be a code? He could feel his heart pound and his breath get quicker. Small beads of sweat began to form on his neck and he could sense his legs growing weak.

‘I think we have it,’ he said, and as he did so a wind which sounded like a million wings flapping in the air blew through the jungle and encircled the group. The trees swayed silently and wisps of grey smoke fluttered like butterflies through the leaves; some of the women villagers grew afraid and tried to leave but Winthrope held them by the arm and pinned them to the spot. The group suddenly felt the earth tremble and the sky blacken. All around them the air grew colder and seemed to enclose them. Joe began to feel his skin tighten and the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He looked around him and through the dim light of the jungle saw an old woman floating through the trees. She raced up to him at breakneck speed and then disappeared, leaving only her scent and thin traces of hair wrapped around his shoulders.

As quickly as it came, the darkness and the breeze disappeared and the group found themselves in the bright sunlight again. For a moment they stood in silence, not daring to move or look at each other, but eventually the professor made his way to the ridge and began to search its surface with his bare hands.

‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Come on, help me. We need to feel our way along it. Look for something, anything.’

The rest of group began to feel their way along the ridge. They laid their hands flat on its surface and, one by one, made their way along its entire length but they found nothing. Thinking that perhaps they had missed something the first time round, once they had finished they turned round and did the same in the opposite direction, but still after an hour there was nothing to be found. Almost as one they fell to the floor, their backs against the ridge and let out a collective sigh of disappointment.

Above their heads, they could tell that the sun was going down. They knew that pretty soon it was would be dark and there would be no chance of finding the entrance to the tunnel, so Lisa and Joe were sent to gather wood for a fire while the others set up what little camp they had.

Away from the group Lisa and Joe felt as though they could breathe properly at last.

‘Do you think there’s something up with Fraser?’ Lisa asked in a quiet moment.

Joe thought for a minute. ‘Yeah, I think he’s fallen in with this life. I think he’s fallen under the spell of Winthrope – a dangerous thing to do in my opinion.’

‘Ah, he’s not so bad.’

‘Did you hear that screaming last night?’

‘Yeah.’

‘That was no animal.’

‘What do you mean?’ Lisa asked incredulously.

‘Well, I’m not one to speak out of turn but, let’s just put it this way, Winthrope had blood on his shirt and I am sure it didn’t come from any animal bite.’ Lisa was shocked. ‘He didn’t kill someone?’ Joe shrugged his shoulders. ‘Hey, look at that dead tree sticking out over there. Do you think we should get that? It’s a big one but it will probably last all night.’

The two walked absent-mindedly over to the trees that jutted out of the ridge at a sharp right angle. Joe placed a hand upon its trunk and began to pull but it wouldn’t budge.

‘I think maybe it’s more alive than I think,’ he laughed. ‘Probably more alive than me right now.’

Lisa grabbed him by the waist and began to pull also. They tugged and tugged at the branch until all four of their hands began to burn and tear. Joe placed a foot on the ridge to give him better leverage and arched his back, straining every muscle. Eventually with a pop, the tree came out of the ridge and sent them both flying backwards. Joe landed on Lisa with a thump, knocking the wind out of her body and covering her in loose divots of earth. Joe began to laugh out loud. Suddenly all of the tension he had been feeling for the last week or so was let loose and he let out a manic screaming laugh that Lisa thought would go on forever. His eyes bulged and his chest puffed out in crazy giggles as he picked himself up and stood over Lisa watching her brush the last of the ridge off her clothes.

Lisa, however, wasn’t laughing. She was staring at the ground open-mouthed, her eyes wide with horror. On the end of the small sapling tree that Joe held in his hand, forming part of the roots that had grown around and inside it, was a human skull, turned a strange yellow by the earth and the vegetation. Lisa pointed at it, hardly able to speak until Joe, realising something was wrong, glanced down.
 

Chapter Eighteen

Joe raced to the others who were by now setting up camp. ‘Come! Come!’ he shouted, hardly able to say the words. Luckily, Lisa had followed behind him and managed to explain the situation in a clear and concise manner. The professor dropped his water flask and rushed over to where the tree now lay on the ground. He picked up the skull and examined it closely. ‘I would say this was buried in the last sixty years or so,’ he announced after a while. ‘Certainly in the last hundred. I’d say the person was a man and probably Asian. He could well have been part of Yamashita’s group.’ He handed the skull to Winthrope, who held the skull up to the fading light. ‘There’s no sign of any damage, but there is slight marking to the bone, as if something has been growing in and around it.’ ‘The tree had grown into it,’ Lisa explained. ‘Just a small tree – look.’ She held up the tree for the others to see. Winthrope began to look at the sky.

‘There’s absolutely no point in trying to search for anything in this fading light. We have to set up camp and start tomorrow.’

The professor looked heartbroken and began to speak but thought better of it. ‘Yes, you’re right,’ he concluded. ‘The gold has been there for over sixty years now. One more night won’t make any difference.’

* * *

That night the aswang were busy in the jungle. As Joe and the professor closed their eyes to sleep they made their way silently through the trees and entered their heads where they made them dream of dark deep tunnels that led nowhere but had to be walked down.

Joe found himself in a small room with no doors and no windows. It was cold and the ground was hard underfoot. He reached up and touched his chest and felt blood there but there was no pain, just a freezing cold that seemed as if it might go on forever. He began to search around the room but found nothing. Then he heard a voice, it was a sweet voice and familiar – Lisa’s voice. She was calling to him from outside the room and he could barely hear her. He moved over to the wall and placed an ear against it. Yes, it was her, he could hear her, she was calling him. He shouted to her but he knew she could not hear. He shouted again but still knew that it was useless. Her voice began to fade and he called out ‘No!’ – he did not want her to go. He wanted her here beside him. He wanted to touch her and to hold her and to tell her that everything was going to be all right, but her voice just got dimmer and dimmer, softer and softer until he could hear it no longer. He began to bang on the wall with his fists and shout to her until his throat and hands ached. If it was the last thing that he did, he wanted to see Lisa again. He kicked the wall and pounded it again and again but no matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried the wall would not budge. He was trapped inside and she was outside.

Joe woke up to find that the rest of the group were still asleep. The first thing he did was to glance over at Lisa and was relieved to see her breathing gently, her soft breaths making wisps in the cold night air. He leaned over, tucked the blanket that covered her over her shoulders and began to gather wood for the fire. He looked up and saw the first rays of the sun dancing over the trees, sending scudding waves of light into his eyes. He thought to himself that never before had he experienced a place so beautiful and yet so utterly isolating, where one minute he felt like a king and the next he felt like nothing. He stoked the fire and watched as one by the one the party began to wake.

When everyone had woken they made their way along the ridge to where Joe had pulled out the tree the night before. He felt that he was being led towards something, but what? All those dreams, what was he being told? His eyes were drawn to a boulder almost completely hidden in the undergrowth. The etchings on the boulder seemed to be some sort of sign pointing to the area where he and Lisa had fallen. An army of insects had been unearthed from the baked soil where the branch had been uprooted. They stood in a circle and examined the hole. It was about as big as a dinner plate and looked as though it might collapse at any minute. The professor moved closer and looked further in. ‘There’s not much there,’ he said. ‘Looks like we might have to move some of the earth and . . . er . . . the rest of our friend here.’

Joe and Fraser set about digging into the hole with their bare hands and it wasn’t long before the rest of the body, which was nothing but bones and rags, came out of the tunnel entrance. Winthrope kicked at the skeleton with his boot.

‘Yes, looks like Imperial Army to me. I’ve seen that uniform before,’ he said, and squatted down to shake some of the dirt away from the scraps of material that still clung to the bones like some eerie woven skin. Winthrope motioned to two of the women and they ran forward, picked up the skeleton and moved it away. Joe and Fraser were grasping at handfuls of earth and passing them through their legs. With each handful the smell got worse. It was clearly the smell of death and stale air. It hit everyone’s noses and turned their stomachs.