Jungle Hunt

Kelleson made a mental note to keep an eye on him as she addressed the rest of the group again. “It’s good to meet all of you. I imagine you’re pretty strung out from the travel, so the rest of the day is a light one, to give you time to become acclimated to the area. Two more tips that will make your stay here a more pleasant one. First, I know they harped on it during orientation, but I’m going to repeat it again—stay hydrated. The temperature here can reach a balmy forty degrees Celsius—that’s more than one hundred-five Fahrenheit—and you’ll sweat more than you might think. Remind yourself to drink often—and yes, you’ll get used to the taste of the chlorinated water soon enough. If the pump for the well works, there will be better water shortly.

“Second, although I know we’re in the rainforest, it can still be pretty cool here, especially at night. That combined with rain can cause a chill that could develop into something worse. Be sure to dress appropriately. That always means long sleeves and pants when going out into the jungle, as there are dozens of plants and insects that would like to get a piece of you. Are there any questions so far?”

Wilberson piped up again. “Where are we sleeping?”

“You’re fortunate enough to be staying in my old tents for the next few weeks, until you build your own hut. It’s part of the reclamation effort to expand the village, so I hope you all know one end of a hammer from the other. Take the rest of the afternoon to look around, introduce yourself and get the lay of the land. Again, do not go off into the jungle by yourself until you know your way around—it is far too easy to get lost here. Come on, I’ll take you to your temporary quarters.”

As they walked, she noticed Cooper already attracting attention from the children of the village, each of whom would shyly come up and take something from his hand, then dart away with smiles and laughter. When they reached the three surplus Army tents, Kelleson wasn’t surprised to see the looks of dismay on the volunteers’ faces.

“I know they don’t look like much, but the mosquito netting is intact, and trust me, most days you’ll be working so hard you won’t notice where you’re sleeping. Besides, just think of this as incentive to get your hut completed more quickly, right?”

One of the college students—Mike, she thought—pushed back the stained canvas flap with a whistle. “Boy, SARE wasn’t kidding when they said we were roughing it.”

“No, and even with the Amazon getting more of a priority lately, we’re still lucky to have this stuff.”

The South American Relief Effort, or SARE, was a small but growing Third World relief organization that had been founded and dedicated solely for providing assistance to the indigenous tribes on the continent. The non-government organization accepted volunteers with diverse skills to help out all across the continent. For Kelleson, it had been the perfect opportunity to escape her checkered past, leaving that old life behind to start fresh, which she had seized with both hands. Once involved, she discovered that she actually liked the amazing stress of helping people better their lives in some of the worst parts of the world. She had been here for three months so far and would stay as long as it took to complete her mission.

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