Aly & John in “Island of Fire” a Graphic Blog Episode

Excerpt from Travelouge May 20, 2009

It was growing dark outside.  I could visibly see the fading light through the thatched roof of the hut where we were being held.  It had been quiet now for several hours.

Alyson sat across from me on the sandy floor.  Her concern shown in the terrified expression on her face.  Even in the dimly lit hut I could see it.  I had been wrestling with the bindings on my arms ever since we had been captured the day before.  My wrists began to chafe and bleed from rubbing of the coarse ropes.  If only I had my pocket knife, or anything really with which I could cut our ties.  It was no use.  We were too tightly bound, and all our clothes and possessions had been taken from us shortly before we were tied.  All we had been given to cover ourselves were crudely fashioned loin cloths made out of small animal hyde.  We had been given nothing else.  No food.  No water.  My stomach began to knot from the deprivation, or perhaps in was just my nerves.

Even if we had a way to free our bindings, it was doubtful that we could escape our captors.  There were too many and they were much too fleet.  Still it was our only hope.

“How long do you think they will keep us here” Alyson asked.  Her question broke the silence which had enveloped our prison for most of the afternoon.

I peered through the cracks in the bamboo walls of our cell.  It was nearly nightfall.  I could see the vague flickerings of torches already lit in the perimeters surrounding the dwelling where we were housed.

“Someone will find us soon” I assured her, though I had little belief in my own words.  I moved towards her, sliding across the dirt floor, and let her place her head upon my shoulder.

“Get some sleep.”  We had barely rested in the past 36 hours, but our minds were wracked with fear and uncertainty.  Sleep would be difficult.

Soon we began to hear the voices our our captors coming closer.  They were speaking in a language we could never discern.  For all we had been aware, the small island where we were being held was uninhabited.  A gross oversight on our part.  The thatched paneling which had been placed over the doorway  was unfastened and pulled away.

The shadowy figures of the menacing islanders entered our enclosure.  They made no gesture or attempt in communication with us in anyway.  They seemed to merely regard us as livestock, leading us wherever they needed us to go.  As we stepped out of the hut, we were led down a pathway in the dense jungle.  It took us to a clearing in which several of the same crude huts had been erected.  Their village I suppose.

Glancing out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Alyson tensely studying their faces.  In the light of the numerous torches we were once again able to view the faces of our captors.  They were a frightening people.  The pale color of their skin was taunt across their lean bodies, giving them the appearance of a skeleton.  Their bodies were decorated with sharpened bones pierced through the skin and elaborate tattoos.  There were several of them and each one was more frightening than the rest.  They held large spears which they used to prod us along.

Without any discussion or explanation we were once again ushered along a narrow path through the dense forest.  Our procession walked in single file, being strung along by our escorts and prodded at the rear with the stony spears.  The path began to slope upwards and it was hard to keep our footing with our hands bound behind us.  Several times we fell and were poked with the blunt ends of our captors weapons until we could struggle to our feet again.  The dense vegetation on the jungle floor began to swallow the pathway we were traversing.  Soon the waist high grass had completely enveloped our view of the ground.  I could hear the scurrying noises of small animals at our feet.  Lizards or some type of rat I supposed.

We must have walked for over an hour.  The hike up the mountain side became gradually steeper as we went.  Our bare feet ached from the unseen stones and branches that lay beneath the thick grass.  Our bodies were covered with scratches and bruises from our continual falls, and the sand in my mouth only increased my thirst.  Soon we began to hear the faint sounds of drums, and a dim light was visible over the next hill.  My heart began to race with anticipation of what these brutal tribesmen had planned for us.  I thought for a moment that I could turn on our assailants to create a diversion.  Perhaps an impromptu struggle could give Alyson a chance to escape, but it was unlikely.  We were weak from deprivation, and an attempt at escape would only end badly for both of us.

Soon we came to the top of the mountain and our purpose here became horrifyingly evident.  The hard, stony ground stretched out from beneath the flourishing jungle and jutted into the air forming the precarious ledge of a cliff.  This was the end of the pathway, but not the end of our long walk.  Hundreds of yards below the cliffs ledge bubbled a large lake of sizzling lava.  The active belly of the island’s volcano.  The infamous landmark behind the name “Isla de Fuego“.  The Island of Fire.

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