Where No Tourist Has Gone Before - Part 2

[Aiko]

Rhonda figured things would only get worse if she hesitated. The distance to solid ground was slowly increasing as the plane was sliding back and down into the bog. The angle at which she had to get out of the door alongside the plane only made it more difficult. She took the leap and, with the black muck splashing in all directions, Rhonda immediately sank to her waist in it. The mixture of peat and mud was heaving all around her from the aftershock of her sudden entry. Her jump had been several feet short of the intended target. She tried to move forward, but the quicksand held her firmly in place and only allowed her to slide in deeper. She looked around for something to hold onto and pull herself out with. To her right was the sinking plane which she could almost reach, but even if she could she doubted it would do her any good as the plane's hull did not offer anything much to hold onto. In front of her she could see several vines hanging down from the group of trees. Rhonda stretched forward and reached as far as she could but was at least an arm's length short. The bog was steadily claiming more of her slim form and approaching her perky breasts. She struggled again to try and reach the nearest vine, but could not even get an inch closer. The peat was wobbling in response to her every movement. Rhonda wondered about the depth of the bog and glanced at the plane for a moment. Its tail section had completely disappeared from view including the tail wing. The door she had gotten out of was half-buried and swamp muck was flowing in through it, filling the cargo hold. Only the cockpit section by her side had apparently not sunken any deeper in the last few minutes. Her chest was being swallowed by the bog, as was her backpack. She pushed down against the surface in a desperate attempt to stop sinking. Of course that did not do any good, it merely cost her a few moments and and also a few more inches to get her left arm unstuck. The formerly white tank top vanished completely into the murky depths along with Rhonda's shoulders. Her arms were resting on the bog's surface as she was thinking about what to do about her predicament. Every instinct told her to try and struggle as hard as she could, but she suppressed that urge. She knew that giving in to panic would very likely mean the end. There was one last thread of hope. Rhonda called out for help. Or rather she screamed at the top of her lungs: "Help! I'm sinking in quicksand. Help me, please! I'm about to go under." Then she stayed still and listened, while her slender neck was being engulved in the mud. She could hear gurgling sounds from the plane going deeper. There was also the sound of creaking branches and rustling leaves. But there was no reply to her calls.

Her descent had slowed since she had stopped struggling, but it was not coming to a halt. She thought about what this trip would have been like if her boyfriend, Jason, - actually ex-boyfriend - had come with her. Maybe together they would have made it through this. But he did not want to come along, and what was worse, he did not want her to go alone either and they had had a heated argument about that. He was even more insistent than her parents about it and eventually they had broken up. As the mire reached her chin and began to dirty her raven-black hair, she considered for the first time, that they - Jason and her parents - might have been right. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of breaking wood. The branches which were still extending into the cockpit refused to bend down any further. Suddenly the plane's nose went down at about three feet and sent a pressure wave through the mire, as well as causing the surface to heave in response. Rhonda nearly went under in the process. Almost instantly she had become just a face with a beige cap, looking upwards at the broken twigs and branches falling down. One of those branches became stuck to her right. It was almost as long as she was tall. She grabbing it and pointed it towards the vines. The mud was rolling over her cheeks and about to cover her face. She bought a few more seconds by pushing down with the other hand. That was just enough time to hook a vine with the branch and start pulling it closer. She took a deep breath before the mire sucked her under anyway. Though she could not see anymore, she kept reeling in that branch until finally she had the vine in her hand. The vine tensioned and a few seconds later a muddy head emerged from the bog. Rhonda inhaled deeply and then went on to pull herself free. The mud was clinging onto her as if it did not want her to leave, but slowly more of her muddy form reappeared and she also came closer to the edge of the pit. It was an exhausting exercise but she did not permit herself to pause until she was finally on solid ground.

So there she stood, brushing off some of the mud that was covering her from head to toe. She still had her backpack, the interior of which had taken less damage than she would have expected. The only thing Rhonda had lost to the bog was her cap. Well, that and her flight to Morocco. She thought about all the things she had gone through that day, and how her folks back home would not believe a word of it. Luckily the camera was still working and she took pictures and even a video of the plane's cockpit as it went under. She may have become the survivor of a plane crash and of a dangerous bog encounter, but she was also still a tourist.

It was late in the afternoon. Rhonda once more scanned her surroundings and eventually decided on which way looked to be the safest and shortest out of this swamp. There were expanses of dark water and mud, with hillocks of various sizes on which the taller plants and trees grew in between. There was no way she could leave without wading through water and mud along the way. So for her safety she picked branch to use as a walking stick. Each time she crossed a muddy area she probed carefully ahead on every step. Often enough it proved to be deeper than it looked and she had to take a detour. She carefully made her way from one hillock to the next. At one time the mud reached her upper thighs and every step drained her strength. But eventually she made it. The ground became drier and the foliage thicker. She had left the swamp behind and come into the jungle, and now it occurred to her, that she felt no safer here than on any of those hillocks back in the swamp. The sun was colliding with the horizon, and Rhonda was thinking about how she should prepare for the night. She also thought about which way she was to go in the morning, but the girl had no idea where she was. She did not even know whether she was still in Bansamibia. Rhonda heard the faint noise of an engine in the distance and looked that way. Through the dense vegetation she caught glimpses of a car's headlights. It was some sort of off-road vehicle, and it was headed her way. She looked around and found the old overgrown trail on which it was cleaving its way through the jungle. She was not sure, as the vision was mostly blocked by leaves, but she thought there were three or maybe four men in the car wearing camouflage suits. If it had not been for the vehicle, she would not have spotted any of them in this environment. They on the other hand had apparently not noticed Rhonda so far.

[Aiko]

Looks like the voters here don't trust these guys. Well, in that case neither does Rhonda. And so the story continues...

http://www.quicksandfans.com/bb/viewtopic.php?f=14&t=2847