CHAPTER FORTY

My legs wobbled as the bridge shook under the weight of the wind.

I could feel it whistling again, and now actually as though it was singing a tune. Like an old farmer waiting for the rain to come, as he watched dark clouds grow over the sky before his eyes.

I could see the pointed rocks glisten in the sunshine, and they seemed to even sharpen themselves in preparation for my downfall. But I kept on moving slowly, counting my steps to take my mind away from how stupid it was to be on a rickety bridge in the middle of nowhere.

I was alone. And I suddenly realised it.

I would die out here and no one would find my remains. No soul. No one. Asides the vultures. I didn't even know if the jungle ahead had any vultures. But I knew if it did, they'd be worse than the ones I knew.

I gulped again as I kept moving across the creaking mix mash of wood and green ropes; holding the leafy railing like ingredients in a pot of steamy soup. I was scared, truly scared for the first time in all my life.