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Back Jungle Up Save as PDF
Chapters (63)
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  63. Author’s Note

Andy remained skeptical until he opened the email Roth sent him and looked at the scans himself. The thousands of beams of light sneaking through the jungle canopy had revealed a series of large rectangular mounds, pyramids, and enclosures—what must be the ruins of a lost city.

Goosebumps had formed on Andy’s arms.

“So are you with us?” Roth asked. “Do you want to be part of the team that finds the biggest archaeological treasure of the twenty-first century?”

Hell yes, he did!

But Andy couldn’t help thinking about the many flights it would take to get down there (presumably, each successive plane getting smaller and smaller), not to mention the jungle itself. Andy had lived in Peru for a year and a half—the last time he’d been on a plane—but he’d spent nearly all that time in the Andes. The closest thing to a jungle he’d been to was the Jurassic Park ride at Universal Studios.

As if sensing his trepidation, Roth said, “Farah Karim will be our lead archaeologist.”

Dr. Farah Karim was a young Egyptian archaeologist who, three years earlier, at the age of twenty-seven, had led the excavation of an ancient site in the Nile Delta. In addition to having a brilliant mind, Dr. Karim was stunningly attractive. She was something of a celebrity and often posted images of herself at her latest excavation site. At last count, she had more than three million Instagram followers—one of whom was Andy Depree.

“I’m in,” Andy told him.

Now, three weeks later, Andy was regretting his decision.

The compact jet accelerated down the runway, and its nose slowly lifted. Andy picked all three of his good-luck charms up off the table and cradled them to his chest.

“Don’t freak out, don’t freak out, don’t freak out,” he mouthed.

The plane hit a pocket of turbulence as it rose. Andy fumbled for the prescription bottle in his backpack, slid one of the white pills into his hand, and tossed it into his mouth.

7

7

34,240 feet
august 13, 10:33 a.m.
days since abduction: 8

“A little bit more turbulence than I anticipated,” the pilot said over the intercom, “but it looks like we’re in the clear now. Feel free to get up and stretch. Molly will be around with refreshments and snacks here in a bit. Should be about six hours until we touch down in La Paz.”

There were six other passengers on board, and I had the third row of seats all to myself. I stood up, stepped past a blond woman in the second row who was preoccupied with a large blue binder, and took the seat next to Jonathan Roth.

Roth had a magazine open on his lap and a red vape pen in his hand.

“Thomas, my man,” he said as I sat.

“John, my guy,” I replied.