Chapter 18: The Forest Temple

February 1999

Morning came without incident. It was peaceful and quiet. The roosters that roamed around the mission compound had been crowing since daybreak. Sunlight cascaded into my room, casting beams of golden light onto the blank white wall of my room. One of these beams hit me in the face and woke me. I had slept very peaceably, feeling very rested as I was going to need it today. Getting out of bed to get dressed, I stumped my toe on the gym bag sticking out from my bed. I guess I was not supposed to forget that! I grabbed it, and took it with me, along with my other luggage. I met Lou out in the hall, as we both headed for the car. “Sleep ok?” I asked. I could have really used a cup of coffee. Surely, I could get one here in the middle of coffee country.

“I slept fine, amigo! No surprises last night, eh?” Lou was obviously overjoyed that the FARC had not paid us a visit. “Let’s put this stuff into the car and get some breakfast.” My head was nodding with approval. My nose had picked up the scent of breakfast and of coffee percolating.

Rosalva met us on the veranda as we came away from our car. She had her bags with her. Lou, always the gentleman, returned to the car, to place her luggage in the car with ours. Then the three of us went back into the mission house to meet with Paul for breakfast. The sun was streaming into the glass windows of the dining room, making it hard to see. Paul was almost a silhouette, sitting at the table and with the sun at his back. He stood up to greet us.

“Good morning, my friends. I see that God has graced us with another beautiful morning. We should all be thankful! Please sit down and have breakfast with us.” There were other staff members sitting there too, as it seems this is when they plan their day. Breakfast was already on the table. My nose homed in on the coffee. We pulled up chairs and sat down. Paul had us all hold hands and said grace over the breakfast table. I could tell it had been a long time since either Rosalva or Lou had given thanks before consuming a meal.

After we finished eating a hearty breakfast, it was time to say our goodbyes. We all thanked the staff for their wonderful hospitality, and of course Paul, too. Paul wished us all a safe time, as he was hopeful, we would get answers to our questions, and Rosalva would finally reach her home safely. We thanked him for his concern and his hospitality. I knew that he didn’t get too many English-speaking visitors out here, especially ones from the United States. As I approached our car, Paul pulled me aside and spoke to me in a low voice. “Malcolm, you know I love you like a brother. So, please be careful out here! This place is more dangerous than you could believe. There isn’t a 911 to call out here. It is only you and that which you carry in that gym bag that you have there. Yes, I know. I always seem to know. Nevertheless, I think it is a prudent thing. If something does happen, and you are able to make it back to here, look at the gate. If it is open, do not stop here. Keep going, as it will be your clue that the FARC is here. Should you need to keep driving from here, I have given you an extra gas can, and a basket of food for you both. My prayers will go with you. My prayers are always with you. I hope to see you again, my brother!”

With those last words, I gave him a big hug, patting him on the back. “I think you will, Paul. You will!”

I got in the car, and we backed out of the drive and left through the gate that Paul had made mention of. As we drove away, I told Lou what Paul had said.

“So at least we have a kind of contingency should everything go wrong? Good thinking, Malcolm.”

I felt better knowing that Lou knew I was thinking ahead.

Rosalva seemed anxious to get home, but I knew that she was not looking forward to seeing the source of her nightmares. She seemed nervous, as we got closer to her father’s plantation.

I tried to talk to her about all kinds of things to take her mind off it, but our conversations seemed to keep drifting back to the altar. So, I decided, that since that seemed to be the focus of the morning, we should just talk about it.

“Senor Harris, I know that you are anxious to get to see the altar, as is Senor Martinez, but I must tell you how much I am frightened about it. It occupies my sleep, and I have spent most of my life running away from this thing! I will take you to the bridge and let you cross over and find the altar.”

I knew she was very reluctant to lay eyes on that thing again. I asked Lou, “What do you think about that? If she takes us real close, and then we go on alone?”

Lou quipped back, “We have taken a great risk to get you here, senorita! We made a bargain, to get you home. You must live up to your end of the bargain so you must take us to the altar. We shouldn’t be split up. Besides, we have the weapons. You would be defenseless on your own.”

“That is not true. You would be in great danger out here if it were not for me. It is my father’s land that you will walk on. My father is a respected man,” Rosalva retorted back at him.

It was strange that except for underwear, and socks, we all were wearing either the same or the identical clothing as we were wearing the day before. I opened the gym bag and peered inside to see our deadly array of weaponry.

Lou said, “You should go ahead and take our weapons out, check them for safety switches and the like.”

This I did, with my usual clumsiness and apprehension. As I was doing this, Rosalva asked Lou to slow down, as he would be making a left turn on to another dirt road soon. We drove around a heavily vegetated hill and began to see a road leading off to the left. Taking the left turn, we could see fields of crops with people in them, working the rows of plants. These were large fields, with all kinds of crops growing in them. As we drove past them, the workers would turn to look at us, lifting their hands to acknowledge us. We left them behind us in a cloud of dust. We drove for several miles. As we drove, we could see small houses and a few large houses off in the distance. One of these was a fine house. I suspected it was probably the hacienda house. “Yes, that is my father’s house!” Rosalva said from the backseat. She was irritated that she knew she must go with us before we could take her to the large white house off in the distance. Rosalva gave Lou directions to take a right off the dirt road onto another road that was even smaller. It was rough with ruts from carts, and erosion from the heavy rains.

After a while, it seemed we had to park the car, and start walking. We were in a heavily wooded area. “Senors, please! If you go straight down that hill, you will see a large gorge. About fifty meters to the left of you, you will find a wooden footbridge. Cross the bridge, look for a thick, wooded area, and in there you will find the altar.” She started to back away as if to return to the car.

Lou, not wanting to split up, remanded her for her timidity, saying, “Face your fears, Rosalva! Besides, you promised to take us there, and I do not want anyone to be alone out here! Is that clear?”

We walked down the hill to the edge of the gorge. It was very steep. Our dirt road had turned into a goat trail, and a might steep one at that! No wonder goats are sure-footed animals! The hill, as she called it, was very thick with vegetation. We continued to follow the path. It merely leveled off for a small distance and then I found myself standing dangerously close to a gorge that had about a 60-foot drop. Then the path took a sharp left and followed the cliff’s edge to a rope and plank footbridge, just as Rosalva had said it would. I looked at the bridge and immediately had visions of being in an “Indiana Jones” movie. I think it was the one that was set somewhere in India. Anyway, I sure hoped that this bridge had received some maintenance. It looked sturdy enough. I was tired of carrying my weapons, cameras, and my backpack. Dropping my backpack, along with my AKM rifle behind a rock on this side of the bridge, I lightened my load. I would be picking it back up when we returned. I kept the 9mm pistol, inside my belt, behind my back. I had my camera ready, so I took a snapshot of Rosalva. She wasn’t smiling.