JOURNAL ENTRY- (EXHIBIT A)

It’s kind of like watching a small child fall on a ski slope. Because a child is only a couple of feet off the ground the fall is never that bad. Children tend to
bounce back up barely even noticing the interruption. On the other hand
watching a seven footer tumble perilously, ass over tea kettle down the slopes
is another matter entirely.

This is how I think of my life. I have lived the best and worst life of any person
living or dead that I have ever known, read about or personally encountered.
Only by reaching such highs have I been able to fall so far. Unlike so many
before me it was not drugs, alcohol, sickness or crime that brought me down
but something far more difficult to reconcile…………

I don’t think anyone around me even knows I have fallen or how hard I am
trying to get back up. I am a rock personally, professionally and even to casual
acquaintances. I am the one constant in life those around me can count on. I am
the guy you want in your corner when the chips are down. I am the guy who
regardless of circumstance always has a confident and settling smile on his
face. I am the guy most people think they want to be.

I am the guy who has fallen……and I am the guy who is too big for anyone to
help back to his feet.

BOOK PROLOGUE
(A boys’ tale)
 

I guess it all started for me when I was about four years old. I remember sitting
at the dinner table in a small but well kept house trailer in a tiny farming
community on a plot of land passed down through a couple generations of my
mother’s family. My mother who was and still is, my rock, asked me how my
first week of kindergarten was going. I replied somewhat less than
enthusiastically, forcing her to probe a little harder.

At the center of my discontent was a misguided young boy named Rory Post.
Each day the children at my school would arrive early and wait for Miss
Teager to open the doors to her classroom. This could take up to 20 minutes or
so depending on what time the children began to arrive. It was during this time
that my troubles with Rory would manifest.

I started school a year earlier than most children and therefore I was a bit
smaller. Waiting in the line each day soon became something I dreaded dearly.
One of the girls in line had taken a disliking to me and she regularly utilized
her cousin Rory to lay vengeance upon me. Each day she would send her
minion over to punch me in the face or stomach, to what end I am still unsure.

When I recounted this tale to my mother she said firmly “first thing tomorrow
morning you go find Mrs. Teager and tell her what is happening to you.” Mrs.
Teager was a firm but kind and loving woman and this idea seemed to ring
with simple brilliance. Surely my teacher would deliver a sharp and barbed
scolding to this would be felon that would reform his mal intended actions
immediately. However that scolding would never come.

When my father heard my mother’s recommendation he responded with what
was clearly shock and disapproval. “Elad” he said, “if the boy runs to a teacher
to settle his differences every time someone picks on him he will be targeted
by bullies for the rest of his life.” My mother the consummate diplomat started
to interject but before she could retort my father said “son put down your fork
and come into the living room with me…..it is time you learned how to take
care of yourself.”

Once away from the dinner table my father said, “Now show me how this boy
hits you each day.” For hours we practiced blocking and counter punching
until my forearms ached from performing the blocks. The entire time my
mother looked on with equal parts contempt and respect for my fathers
parenting techniques. When my father was satisfied with my progress he gave
me a speech that was almost as long as the lesson itself.

I don’t remember all of the details but the message was clear. My father said
“son, we are Garners and that means something.” “We don’t start fights, but
we sure as hell don’t walk away from them.” “Tomorrow, don’t wait for this
boy to find you….seek him out and tell him that you would rather be his friend
than fight with him.” If he accepts shake his hand and walk away. If he does
not, do exactly as I have taught you.

The next day when I arrived at school I nervously approached the line scanning
it diligently for Rory. Before his cousin could issue another attack command I
approached him and delivered my speech. It seemed to be working until taunts
of “punch him, punch him” came from a familiar and sinister voice somewhere
in the line.

I did not have time for another attempt at diplomacy. When Rory delivered his
strike I blocked it and scored such a vicious counter punch that one was all it
took. As Rory hit the schoolyard gravel in tears the other children’s eyes
swelled like saucers. Mumbling amongst the line soon ensued and a general
consensus was quickly formed…….It might be best, not to screw with the little
guy!

Kindergarten was never a source of discontent for me again.
 
 

BOOK PROLOGUE
(A young mans’ confusion)

My upbringing served me well and carried me far from that little trailer in the
field but as a young man I was obsessed with the idea of amassing wealth. I
married a woman who shared the same focus and we allowed our obsession to
drive us to maintaining homes in two different geographic locations.

It got to the point that we were only spending about two days per year together,
when our schedules would allow. We were so blinded by being “successful”
that I can not recall a single memorable event from the years we spent together
that is not in some way related to money. I am quite sure we never really loved
each other. Our relationship was more one of convenience and shared ambition
than blinding love.

Through a strange but life changing series of events I chose to leave the
relationship far worse than penniless. I accrued a massive and seemingly
insurmountable mountain of debt with no real source of income. I forfeited
every cent of the investments that I was so willing to sacrifice everything else
in my life to obtain. I traded my career along with my beautiful homes and
lucrative investments for an endless pit of debt, a depressing one bedroom
apartment, and a newly found joblessness.

It was unquestionably the best decision I have ever made.

Over the years to come I would eventually rebuild my fortune and fall so
madly in love that even money would have little value in comparison.

JOURNAL ENTRY (EXHIBIT B) ~date unknown

My life has been blessed with more fortune than any other I have encountered.
It is that incredible fortune that has led me to this bizarre crossroads. My good
fortune includes financial success but it is the least of my accomplishments on
the road to a perfect life.

A perfect life that I once held in my very hand, but have subsequently lost.

I think I am going to have to do something drastic…………………………………
 
 

BOOK PROLOGUE
(A grown mans dream)

Several years ago I set out on a seven continent tour around the world. By my
side (for the first 5 continents) was my best friend, companion, trusted ally,
and the love of my life. When I began this quest it was for several reasons one
of which was to find the greater reason for being that so many of us seek.

Underlying that objective was the desire to find a place to call home for my
beloved and I. I wanted to find a place that would allow us to slip off the face
of the earth and retire. That place was to be a small island in the South China
Sea. But this dream would never come to pass, for reasons that will soon
become apparent.

It was my tertiary objective that now steers my hand. This was an objective
that began with relative innocence but has since become my only hope in the
restoration of my life.

Unbeknownst to my companion I’d been hiding sophisticated clues and codes
in my journals for years. It had always been my intent to (one day) publish
short excerpts from these journals. The clues were originally intended to lead
only the most scholarly of readers to the original journals hidden location. The
collection consisted of over 20 or so hand bound books with original art work,
chronicling my life and travels.

These journals were intended to leave a legacy of our lives and a testament to
the love we shared. Shortly into our trip I began to think that their location
would be better preserved if I placed physical clues on each of the continents I
had visited. I thought this would assure that our lives and our love would lay
buried for many years only to be resurrected by specific intent many years into
the future. Unfortunately this plan in its entirety would not see fruition.
 
 

BOOK PROLOGUE
(A foolish mans down fall)

Many years ago I began to experiment with the boundaries of the human mind,
its limitations, its strengths and its effects on the body. Without going into
great detail I began to meticulously detach myself from mental and physical
fears. That is not to say I wasn’t still afraid of many things but I refused to let
irrational fears dictate my behavior and rule my life. I confronted everything
that I thought would be a boundary to my mind or my body and I found a way
to move past it.

The process actually had the exact opposite effect from what I intended.
Instead of making me feel more alive, with each passing day, I became
increasingly disenfranchised with the mundane. The things that I once found
thrilling, dangerous and exciting now seemed passé and un-robust. This new
perception of the things around me eventually led me to embrace only those
things which were new or undiscovered to attain any sense of excitement in my
life.

I soon realized that material things started to lose their importance as well.
There was nothing that I could buy, rent or borrow that could give me the
feeling of truly being satisfied. As I climbed out of the massive debt hole left
by my divorce and started to recover my personal wealth, material things
eventually lost their value all together.

For the second time in my life, I purged myself of my home, my automobiles,
and all the things that I could not carry in two large backpacks. This time
however I maintained my investments as a security blanket incase I ever
wanted to return to the life I once knew.

One other thing was different this time as well; I was accompanied on my
journey by an amazing and beautiful woman with whom I had shared my life
for several years.

It did not take long for us to further narrow our belongings to one backpack of
essentials and some journaling supplies. At this point I was well into my
exploratory quest around the world and I truly believed that I had rid myself of
all the things that could burden me. Soon after my return to the States I
realized this was not the case.
 
In the middle of what I concluded was the most fortunate and truly blissful
time of any humans’ life I finally found what I had been searching for. The
answer was there in front of me all along. The one thing that truly made me
content, the one thing that had changed my life forever, the one thing that
made life worth living was about to be revealed to me.

I had lived like a king in some of the most exotic locations in the world. I lived
amongst the Masai Tribes in Africa; narrowly escaped death on Mount
Everest, climbed frozen glaciers in New Zealand and dodged gunfire in the
South China Sea but none of those things gave me a fraction of the thrill of my
next discovery.

Once I finally stopped traveling and stopped searching long enough to look
right in front of me I knew I had finally found it. The golden chalice I sought,
the reason for my travels, the unattainable state of contentment I had never
found was now so obvious.

When I could finally see clearly I realized it was the unparallel and sacred
relationship that I had shared with Heather for over ten years that was the true
prize in my otherwise un-extraordinary life. When all else was stripped away, I
realized it was the Holy Grail I had been searching for all along.

No words can describe how I felt when I realized how the only thing left with
any value to me on the entire planet was soon to be gone.

It was not that she had left me for another man, for that I was compassionate. I
truly loved her enough to let her go. It was an unimaginable sacrifice, but I was
willing to make it if it meant making her happier in the end. I have always said,
and truly meant that I would give my life today so that 40 years from now she
could have one more hour of happiness added to the end of hers. The chain of
events that followed is what has forced me to cut the final tether that binds me
to the rules used by the rest of the world.

It was money once again that lay at the root of my undoing. After the break up
the legal battles that ensued over my liquid assets left me not only emotionally
exhausted, but without purpose or reason to continue living.

Many months passed before I realized what I must do. Instead of my journals
buried in a shrine, I must make a bigger commitment to my freedom. I must rid
myself of all remaining anchors. It was the money after all that poured the
foundation for this particular evil.

If not for the money I could have just let her go. I could still love her from afar
to this very day, but I allowed myself to become a pawn to it. It became the
ultimate undoing of the only thing that ever really mattered. I could not allow
myself to be caught in the snare again. I knew every drop of blood must be
drained from the monster, save a few drops to get me through the next year or
so. The hole that was once to contain my legacy would become the hole that
would set me free.
 

 
BOOK PROLOGUE
(A mad mans curse)
 

The clues are encrypted with the sophistication of mathematicians but the
simplicity of a school child. It will not be solely a person of above average
intellect who unearths this treasure, but a series of individuals who posses
physical and mental strengths and are unencumbered by greed.

For my own protection I have enlisted the help of several individuals and
organizations to encrypt the clues. In all cases the names of those involved are
unknown to me and my name is unknown to them. Each has a set of legal and
intellectual guidelines that prevents them from profiting from the information
they hold.

There is a set of simple but elaborate checks and balances that all but guarantee
the integrity of the agreement. The clock began to tick on April 21st 2005. 20
years will be the fold and the fold will be 20 years after which all things may
come to rest.

I will not disclose the amount or exact nature of the find. I will only say that it
is significant by any standard, and I hope that the barer does not fall to its filthy
curse, as did I.

Words alone cannot possibly reach a large enough audience to find the rare
few, clean hearted enough to bare this prize. I have decided to begin publishing
my journals to this end. I hope they provide you with an opportunity to escape
from whatever chains may bind you and I hope you do not follow my tracks
beyond the cliffs edge.

Today I live as a pauper and I am free from the evil that has been my downfall
so many times before. However, new seeds are constantly being planted at my
feet and I fear if I don’t keep moving they may grow in my presence and bind
me once again.

I have left some simple clues in my first publication but never again will I
leave such obvious tracks in the snow.

G.D. Garner

throughtheeyesofmadness.com

CHAPTER 1 ……..YUCATAN KIDNAPPERS
 

I had been threatening to cut the cord and disappear out into the world for a
number of years before I actually pulled the trigger but like everyone else I
was bound by numerous material possessions and responsibilities. I had three
different companies in the Seattle area, a home on the ocean, several cars and a
massive accumulation of other useless stuff that provided an ample list of
reasons to put it off.

When I’d finally made my mind up, the timing seemed right and it took almost
no time at all to liquidate the entire lot. Within 30 days I would not set foot in
the US or Canada again for a couple of years and never again would I call
North America home.

With backpacks in tow we were ready to make the great escape. Up until now I
hadn’t traveled much internationally so I was unsure of the best means by
which to embark upon such a grand journey. I recalled a conversation with a
man who patronized my restaurant years earlier. He claimed to have traveled to
several different countries using a multi travel ticket that allowed him to
circumnavigate the globe with multiple stops for one very reasonable fee.

After a bit of research we confirmed that in fact most airlines were part of one
network or another that would allow you to use multiple carriers to travel to
different locations on one ticket provided you met certain criteria. I believe the
package we chose allowed us to travel 50,000 miles or so, provided we flew in
only one basic direction, never stopped at the same airport twice, went all the
way around the globe and used all of our miles in a year or less. As our
original plan was to travel for only two years this ticket was the perfect way to
cement our commitment and get the ball rolling.

With airfare out of the way the only other matter that remained was division of
responsibilities. We would be visiting some pretty hostile places and traveling
in some inhospitable lands so it was important to have at least a basic plan for
our safety and wellbeing before encountering any hardships on the road. I took
responsibility for security and finance while Heather handled travel
coordination and accommodations.

As far as security went, life and death situations were pretty much the only
thing I really wanted to do any pre-planning for. Away from the work
environment I was one of the most casual and laid back people you could ever
meet. I didn’t make or follow a detailed plan in my private life and I was happy
to do just about anything with regards to our travels. In fact one of my goals
for the journey was to leave the meticulous planner and relentless businessman
behind. I just wanted to take my hands off the wheel and let life steer me for
awhile.

However I was not so carefree with regards to my responsibility for Heathers’
safety. We were both willing to take significant risk but I had a much better
understanding of how to manage those risks to a favorable outcome. She had a
tendency to trust every person she ever met and seemed to put herself in
unforgiving situations more often than necessary. I knew a few simple
precautions in the right situations could greatly reduce our risks and help me
keep my internal promise, to keep her safe….no matter what that meant for
me.

I really wanted our trip to be a mutual, no rules, life changing and spontaneous
journey.

It was for this reason that when we started our trip by targeting a small village
in the Yucatan Peninsula I did minimal research as to the risks we might
encounter during our travels in this part of the world. I did however stumble
across an article about the growing sophistication of kidnappers in Central
America.

Kidnappings were no longer really random. Kidnappers had learned to focus
on wealthy executives who often carried kidnapping insurance or could
otherwise afford a healthy ransom. The attackers would often intercept email
transmissions to confirm exact travel itineraries, which included arrival times
and destinations. They would also use these intercepted transmissions to
determine the wealth and amount of ransom for their potential victims.

This was not particularly alarming as I already knew that this was one of the
risks with traveling to less developed nations. However by simply avoiding
any of these details in our email transmissions and declaring ourselves as an
“Artist and a Student” when asked I knew we could lower our risk significantly
with very little effort.

Finally D Day had arrived. We took a flight into Mexico where we would set
up ground transportation to the Yucatan. I knew that once we got off the plane
the transportation would not be very reliable, so I asked Heather to book us a
flight that would put us on the ground early enough in the day to avoid
traveling by bus at night into an unknown area.

I don’t remember the exact time but I think we hit the ground in the early
afternoon with plenty of time to make it to Calabar before nightfall. From the
very beginning it was clear that the bus ride was going to be an adventure. We
wanted to travel “with the people”…….. and boy did we. We took a second or
third class bus and, as expected, once we finally found the bus station the bus
was running an hour or so late. Once aboard the sweltering vessel we waited
another 20-30 minutes for the driver to show up.

Once he was firmly planted in his captains chair we sat for another 30 to 40
minutes baking like raisins in the sun. Even the locals were getting pissed. I
could not understand what they were yelling. But one thing is for sure they
weren’t compliments. Eventually a young man showed up and took his place
on the steps by the driver. I later learned that this young fellow was there to
chat to the driver and keep him company while he meandered down every back
road he could find, arduously filling the bus with more passengers than it was
ever intended to hold. But anyway, thank God we could finally get underway
and get some air flowing through the oven on wheels.

The bus stopped and stopped and stopped again, it was very clear that there
was no chance in hell of being anywhere near on-schedule. The only question
that remained was would we make it to our destination before nightfall.

The heat and the bumps really took there toll after a few hours and I just
wanted to get there, get to our bungalow, and get some sleep. When I asked
Heather how far from the bus stop in Calabar we had to go to reach our house,
her answer set off my alarm bells ……………………… “I am not sure,” she
said.

When I inquired further she said that our contact Sonja was going to meet us at
the bus stop when we arrived and drive us to the house. Yes, I said, “that
sounds like a great plan but we are going to be several hours late and I doubt
she is going to just sit at the bus stop and wait.” “You do have the address,
right?”
...............................................................Heather got that look on her face that
let me know I was not going to like what she was about to say.

“No I didn’t write the address down because everything was in Spanish, but
don’t worry Sonja will be there.”

I was not pleased with that answer, but I decided not to push. I wanted to focus
all of my energy on just getting to the damn village. I passed the time by
studying my Spanish book and playing with the little Spanish speaking girl in
front of us who was clearly fascinated by our pale white skin and Heather’s
bright orange hair.

As darkness fell over the bus I was amazed at how people in this part of the
world interacted with their children. The children were all very well behaved,
no crying, no yelling and screaming and all with no direct supervision from
their parents. Many of the children wandered freely around the bus and didn’t
seem to mind visiting every family they encountered. The little girl in front of
us had now joined us in our seat and had been there for a couple of hours
without her mother paying her much attention. She was a well behaved little
girl but about the only thing that I could understand her say was that her name
was Maria. It was also clear that she wanted me to read a book about farm
animals to her. We worked out that a cow makes the Moo sound and from
there on we pretty much got past the language barrier with all the other
animals.

After reading the book by flashlight for what seemed like a hundred times I
turned my attention back to my watch. It was now well after ten o’clock and
pitch black outside. I couldn’t ignore our lack of lodging any longer. I asked
Heather if she knew if there was any place else to stay in the village that was
near the bus stop. It was clear that we were so late there was little to no chance
Sonja would be there to meet us. The answer that she gave to console me was
the one thing I did not want to hear.

“Don’t worry I emailed her our entire itinerary, flight schedule, bus schedule,
what time we would be arriving……. everything.”

The one thing I had asked her to avoid……NEVER email anyone our travel
itinerary. It was the one thing the article I had read focused on……it just
makes it too easy for potential kidnappers to intercept the information and be
waiting for you….. right on schedule.

I thought I would enquire more to see just how bad the situation really was.
“What else did you say in the email,” I asked?

“Oh nothing really just that we would be traveling the world for two years on
an around the world ticket and we weren’t really sure how long we would need
the house for.”

Great, now not only did the prospective kidnappers know where we were going
and when we would get there, but they also knew that we had enough money
to travel the world for two years. That should be just enough incentive for them
to do some research and see that I owned three different companies in the
worlds’ most hated nation.

I tried not to let my imagination get the best of me but this was the one and
only restriction I put on the whole damn stop. You can pick the place, you can
decide how long we stay, you can decide what kind of place we rent, just don’t
email the DAMN TRAVEL PLANS!

As we traveled deeper into the darkness I was hoping we would see some city
lights or any other sign we were getting close. As the bus slowed in the
darkness everyone began to stand. I asked Maria’s mother the only Spanish
word I knew Calabar? Calabar? She nodded and smiled and motioned with her
hands indicating that in two more stops we would be in Calabar at last.

I did not see the city lights that I was expecting. Instead when the bus finally
came to rest I saw something straight out of a Clint Eastwood movie. I saw old
adobe style buildings with palm branch roofs, dirt streets dividing the buildings
and a lone light bulb hanging from a pole about 50 yards from the bus stop. An
unsettling darkness covered the town, but it was eclipsed by the unsettling
feeling in both of our stomachs.

Immediately off the bus I scrambled for my Spanish book. I strung together a
few frantic words for Maria’s mother. “Donde esta un Hotel?” She looked at
me in a puzzled way, so the second time I asked I used my master charade
skills to act out sleeping in a bed while repeating, “Donde esta un Hotel?”

The woman that was so friendly on the bus now seemed curt and impatient.
She looked around the streets, grabbed her little girl by the arm and rushed
away without even trying to respond. She seemed unsettled to be out on the
streets in her own village and even more unsettled to be near me. She rushed
away from me in a very unnatural fashion, especially since we basically looked
after her daughter for several hours on the infinite bus ride. I began to wonder
if maybe she knew something bad was about to happen to us and that is why
she made such a brisk effort to get her and her daughter off the street and away
from Heather and I.

As I looked to see where she was headed I could not help but notice that even
though it was now well after midnight there were several highly suspicious
men with machetes standing only a few yards away………. And yep, that’s
right, no sign of Sonja.

Now Heather was truly beginning to appreciate my concern. As we scanned
the town we clung to the only pole with a light bulb. We could see nothing
even vaguely resembling a hotel or hostel. What we did see however, was three
men heading our way with machine guns. This is not a good feeling. To our
left was a band of guys with machetes and off to our right there were armed
gunmen heading straight for us. I can remember thinking to myself that
coincidently these unfavorable images were in the only two parts of town lit
well enough to see…….God only knows what was waiting for us in the
darkness.

My first instinct was to choose the lesser of two evils, with only a second to
think, for some reason light seemed like a safer option than darkness (even if it
came with machete wielding banditos). We headed for the machete men who
were at least stationary and not moving directly toward us but as we got closer
to them suddenly darkness did not seem so bad.

We crossed the street and backed ourselves up to an unlit concrete fence
adorned along the top with broken beer bottles (to keep people from climbing
over). While this side of the street was darker at least it gave us some distance
from the would be assailants and a minute to think.

We had two large backpacks and two small day packs. Buried somewhere in
one of the packs was a large navy seal knife that I desperately wanted to
retrieve. I absolutely did not want to make a scene or give the impression that
anything was wrong. All of my maneuvering was done under the guise that this
was all part of the plan. I even put my Spanish book away to seem a little bit
less lost and touristy. In my mad scramble for my knife I heard Heather say, “I
think that man just yelled our names.”

I stood up and looked to our right where a small Hispanic man was yelling
something in Spanish. I couldn’t make out a word he was saying but every so
often it did sound a bit like Heather and Gary. I asked Heather to move up the
road a bit and stay with the bags so I could see her while I went to talk to the
man. When I approached the man I circled around behind him to force him to
turn around so I could see Heather while I attempted to talk with him. This
seemed to make him a bit nervous but at this point his comfort level was not
exactly on the top of my priority list.

I tried my best to understand what the hell he was going on about but it was
quite pointless. All I could get out of him was “Gary / Heather” and that was
questionable. When I asked about Sonja he did not really respond, but when I
said her name repeatedly he would repeat it back to me. He kept motioning for
me to get in his car. This was not something that I had a good feeling about. It
made perfect sense that if our itinerary had been intercepted he would lure us
into his car and haul us off to the cartel to start the bidding war. But there was
also the chance that he had some affiliation with Sonja and was going to take
us to our new home. What a dichotomous set of choices.

I went back and talked to Heather about what I had learned from our
conversation……NOTHING…..to be exact. Though the guy did not seem
particularly threatening and my spider sense was not completely on tilt I didn’t
feel like he was going to be taking us for tea and crumpets any time soon.

While we were discussing our options I said, “SCREW IT, let’s just take our
tent and head into the jungle for the night, we can come back here and sort
things out in the light of day.” We were discussing that very option with this
guy yelling in Spanish from a distance when our minds were made up for us.
Just as we were about to pull the trigger on the jungle option I looked up only
to see the 3 guys with machine guns closing the distance.

At this point any option that got us out of this nightmare of a village and away
from the machete militia and automatic weapon toting maniacs seemed like a
good idea. ……………………………. We got in the car.

Though we were nervous about the driver and his intentions we were still
relieved to be out of that village and away from what seemed like certain
death. As the car drove further down the street we could see the light from the
poles fade and we felt much better. Better that is until we drove headlong into
pitch blackness. Further and further away from anything. Out into the darkness
and away from any kind of civilization at all.

After some time we began to whisper to each other in the back. I remember
being worried that the driver may only be pretending not to speak English so
he could get information from us. We kept our voices below hearing range. I
don’t remember the nature of our conversation but I know that the consensus
was that we were screwed.

In every related movie I had ever seen, they always drove the victims out to
some remote location to unleash their evil plot far from prying eyes. This
seemed like the perfect way to get to such a place. True to movie form the
wind, rain and darkness washed over the swaying palm trees as we passed. The
village that seemed like the worst place in the world now seemed like a
sanctuary lost. We just wanted to turn around and go back to a place with
people and those very wonderful light bulbs hanging from poles.

The entire time we were driving I was leaning into the front seat talking to the
driver. I could not understand a single word of his responses but I was trying to
gauge his demeanor. I quickly learned as we traveled, to pick up on body
language and tone which said a lot more than words you couldn’t understand.
This fellow however had amazing neutrality about him, a poker face to beat all
poker faces. He could have been a school teacher or a henchman I just couldn’t
tell.

As I leaned back into the seat to whisper to Heather I realized that my knife
was once again out of my reach. In our haste to get out of town we threw our
backpacks in the trunk and fled. All I had now was the multi-tool in my fleece
pocket (which I had been gripping tightly the entire drive). I told Heather that I
was going to insist that the driver take us back to town. We were now far away
from any houses and any civilization of any kind. Wherever we were it
couldn’t be good.

As we reached the crest of yet another dark hilltop I told the driver (in my best
charades) to take us back to town immediately. I was very firm in my request
and the driver could tell something was wrong. He jabbered away in Spanish
and pointed over the hill. As we came over the crest of the hill we could see a
lone house with a light on at the bottom. It should have given us comfort but it
did not. Every development had two possible outcomes. It could be Sonja’s
house or it could be the safe house where we were being delivered for
“processing.”

As we approached the house it soon became very clear that it most definitely
was not Sonja’s house. It was a small unkempt place lit only by a single light
in the main room. I was praying that the driver would leave the car running as
he pulled over and made his exit from the automobile, but he did not.

Heather and I began to quickly formulate a plan. When and if the driver
returned we were going to insist that he return us to town immediately. If he
refused we were going to get out and start walking. We thought that this would
cut through the communication barrier and help us get down to his true
intentions. But before we had a chance to launch our plan, things took a turn
for the worse.

Inside the small house we could see the diminutive cab driver’s silhouette
behind a sheet hanging over the window. He was eclipsed by a huge man who
was growing increasingly upset. Once again we could not understand what was
being said as the two men began to yell at one another. We watched the scene
play out before us, struggling to understand what was being said. I could only
make out two words that seemed to be repeating with intensity “La Muchacha
and El Dinero”…………… The girl and the money.

This was the first time that I really felt it had come down to life and death, it
was clear to me that they were negotiating the amount to be paid for Heather.
What nefarious plan they had for her I could not imagine or rather I did not
want to imagine. One thing was for sure though…they were about to
experience the fight of their lives. Now speculation was finished and my
attention was one hundred percent focused on my assault plan. I switched
places with Heather so that I was seated directly behind the driver’s seat.

My plan was simple but violent. I opened my multi-tool to the longest blade
available…..only two and a half or three inches in total but it would have to do.
I slipped it handle first inside the elastic sleeve of my fleece with the blade
pointed out toward my hand. When the driver returned we were going to refuse
to get out of the same car that we wanted so desperately to escape from only
minutes ago.

Every scenario that we found to be terrible somehow soon became the lesser of
two evils. Every time we got what we wanted it seemed like we were better off
with what we had. What had we gotten ourselves into?

Though I was convinced we would soon be fighting for our lives, I still wanted
to alleviate the risk of killing an innocent man. I told Heather under no
circumstances, not by knife point not by gun point not for any reason were we
going to get out of that car. I knew once they took us into that house where
they controlled the environment it would be over for us. More importantly I
knew that any rational human being would not try to physically force us out of
the car just because we couldn’t understand what each other were saying. So
the plan was simple really if they tried to force us out of the car then they
intended to kill us…….and we would reciprocate in kind.

We locked the back doors and waited. There were really only two courses of
action they could take and I had a plan for each. They could attempt to force us
out here and drag us into the house or they could get in with guns and drive us
some place else.

If they tried to force us out I would jump over the front seat and start the car
while wildly stabbing anyone trying to prevent me from doing so……at which
point we would flee. If they tried to drive us off at gun point I would do in the
armed assailant by cutting his throat from behind as we drove. Then I would
turn my attention to the driver. My plan was to kill him and then drag his body
on top of the dead gunmen so that Heather could climb over and try to get
control of the wheel.

It was a pretty messy plan and there was a pretty good likelihood that we
would end up shot and/or crashed. Still it was definitely better than going
along without a fight. At least this way maybe I could at the minimum buy
Heather a chance to escape.

Once the screaming stopped inside the house the driver made a hasty return to
our car. He jumped in the driver seat and sped away. This was neither of the
scenarios I had planned for. I still could not decisively determine his
intentions. Did he get cold feet and suddenly grow a conscience and decide he
couldn’t go through with it, or had he just successfully negotiated his fee for
dropping us off at the safe house.

I now slid the multi-tool out into my hand but still out of sight. I knew that this
would be the best opportunity to make our escape……but I was still unwilling
to do anything drastic until I knew for sure that this guy was not on our side.
Once again when I thought things could not possibly get worse, they
did……….

Not more than a quarter mile or so from the house I could see the head lights of
an on coming vehicle. The comforting feeling of another human being in our
vicinity soon passed as the vehicle turned sideways in the road blocking our
path. It was an old pick up truck and it was parked kitty corner in the street in
such a way that the headlight glare obscured our view of the driver. We could
see several people in the truck but could not make out anymore detail than that.

I was convinced now that the driver had in fact grown a conscience and
decided to drive us away from the kidnappers. I knew however that his kind
gesture would probably now assure him the same fate as us.

As the gunmen approached our vehicle I was ready to spring my plan into
action and with the cab driver now on our side I felt like our chances of
success were greatly increased. When the driver of the truck finally came into
view I was surprised to see that it was a young, dark skinned, rather attractive
woman. While I was taking the whole thing in I heard her say “Gary, Heather
is that you?”……it’s me Sonja.

I can’t describe the overwhelming feeling of relief that poured over me. My
heart was still pounding but I finally felt like we might just live to see the
morning light and best of all we were going to do it without killing a single
person or spending any time in a particularly undesirable foreign prison
system.

Sonja spoke a few words to the driver in Spanish handed him some money and
motioned for us to come with her. We were still a little skeptical but now we
could see several children in the truck and it felt like the best offer we had all
night. Very little was said as we drove the next few blocks to our house. When
we arrived Sonja opened a chained gate that guarded another cinder block
fence adorned with broken glass. She told us to follow her, and we did. She led
us up the dark steps to the front door and said, “Whatever you do don’t leave
anything outside and be sure to lock your doors.”

We entered the small house and sat our backpacks on the floor. Sonja said she
had some clean drinking water in the truck and she left to retrieve it. We had so
many questions for her. Who were the men with machine guns, what was with
the driver and how did she find us?

We closed the door to fend off the millions of malaria ridden mosquitoes that
were drawn to the light and waited for her to return. We scanned the room
while we waited. We quickly noticed that every window and door was heavily
guarded by thick iron bars, but other than that the place did not look so bad.
There was a couch and although it was completely wrapped in heavy plastic it
still looked inviting.

From the entry door we could see the whole place. The kitchen and living area
were combined into one small room. The kitchen had no stove but it did have a
rusty propane cook top and a small fridge. The tiny bedroom had no door but it
did have two small beds with sheets. After the long plane ride, infinite bus trip
and brush with the machete militia the two small beds seemed like a suite at
the Four Seasons.

All we needed to do was get the low down from Sonja on the safe places in
town and our strange trip through the village and we could have some peace of
mind on our way to slumber land. We were sure that there must be some
logical explanation for it all and once she explained we could sleep like babies.
After some time however we began to wonder what had happened to Sonja as
she had not yet returned with the water. I opened the door only to find the
bottle of water sitting on the steps. Her truck was gone and so was she.

We were both exhausted by our prolonged adrenalin surges lack of sleep and
the fact that it had been about 16 hours since we had really eaten anything
substantial. We just wanted to get some sleep but we were both excited to
check out our new place. We were also both a bit puzzled by Sonja’s abrupt
departure. We talked it over and decided that it was unlikely that she was part
of some bigger conspiracy to kidnap or harm us. It would have been much
easier to just subdue us earlier in the evening. Besides why would she bring us
water if she were just going to have us killed later? Still her behavior struck us
as a bit strange and we never got the answers to some pretty important
questions.

It was clear that it was not entirely safe where we were and I secured the door
with my backpack lock and chain in addition to the normal locks and paddle
lock already on the inside of the door.

The place was a bit spartan to say the least but we were thrilled with it. It was
exactly what we had been planning for. No hustle bustle no glitz and glamour
just a simple place far from everything where we could figure out life’s
mysteries. It did not take long to soak the whole place in. There really wasn’t
much to it and we were about to collapse from exhaustion.

Before turning in I went to the kitchen to wash my hands. As I turned on the
water I heard the pipes groan and saw a huge dark colored snake pop his head
out of the drain just before a couple of sporadic spurts of dark brown water
(that smelled like sewage) spurted out of the faucet. I quickly turned the tap
off, made a deal with the snake to leave well enough alone and headed off to
bed with dirty hands. I advised Heather not to use the water but did not say
why and adjourned to the sweltering bedroom.

The windows had screens but they were riddled with holes and the roof wasn’t
much better. Even though we had taken a couple of doses of malaria medicine
it was still a bit uncomfortable in a house full of unbelievable humidity,
sweltering heat and infectious mosquitoes. None the less we were still pretty
pleased with ourselves…..we had made it. We weren’t living by the rules
anymore and we were quite happy about it.

Even though we were completely exhausted it was very hard to sleep. The heat
and the constantly marauding mosquitoes were one thing but the wind and
noise was another thing all together. The area was surrounded by huge palms
and the wind kept smashing the branches against the house. We were still
pretty high strung and not sure if we were totally in the clear so each noise set
our minds racing. We were not yet use to the sounds of the jungle and each
monkey screech sounded like the devil himself at our doorstep. I convinced
Heather that most of the sounds were just the wind but I was not so sure. I
finally got my knife out of my pack, set it by the bedside and settled in for a
much needed night sleep.

I could not have been asleep for more than ten or fifteen minutes when I heard
something or someone on the roof. I jumped out of bed grabbed my knife and
looked over at Heather. She was sitting straight up and her eyes were as wide
as saucers. She raced over to my bed and jumped in. I motioned to my lips for
her to be quiet and I got up and crept to the window. I saw nothing. We sat up
in bed for another twenty minutes or so before we heard the sound again. What
ever it was it sounded massive and it was on the roof again.

Now my imagination was going to work. What could it be…. and then
suddenly there it was again. Now that I was fully awake I could tell that it was
not someone or something walking on the roof. It was more like something
being thrown onto the roof. It sounded like someone was throwing bottles on
the roof to lure us out. I snuck over to the window again and sat quietly from a
vantage point where I could not be easily seen. I staked the window out for
about 15 minutes, my heart once again pounding, before I spotted the culprit.

The wind was blowing so hard it was knocking coconuts down onto the roof of
the house. The sound of a coconut on a metal roof is really something the first
time you hear it.

(We later learned the house had been unoccupied for a number of years before
we came which is probably why the trees were over grown and there were
snakes living in the drains). Now that the mystery had been solved we could
get back to sleep. Despite the heat there would be no convincing Heather to
sleep in her own bed. We crowded in one small bed and struggled to get to
sleep.

This time I think I was asleep for about an hour or so before being awoken by a
blood curdling scream. It was Heather and she was terrified. She was
screaming hysterically “There is a HUGE FRIGGIN …%$!@^&^$#* in here.”
“Get out here right now!” Still half asleep I grabbed my knife and ran into the
living room. When I saw what she saw I immediately knew that I was going to
need something much bigger than a knife. I scanned the room for the best
weapon possible for the situation.

Against the wall in the kitchen I saw a long handled squeegee used to push
water out of the house under the huge gaps beneath the doors when the place
was flooded from the rain. It seemed like the perfect weapon for the massive
black scorpion stuck to the side of the wall only inches from the light switch to
the bathroom. Heather half asleep and surrounded by darkness had just stuck
her hand about 3 inches from the thing when she turned on the light to find the
bathroom.

I really believed in a Buddhist approach to Gods other creatures but I was
pretty sure these damn things could kill a guy. I didn’t know much about
scorpions at the time but our bedroom was only 7 or 8 feet away and I was not
too keen on rolling over on this thing in my sleep.

The only question that remained was, exactly what is the best way to kill a
huge scorpion stuck to the side of your living room wall? I sized up my long
handled squeegee and decided that the rubber end was too placid and would
probably just piss the thing off. I decided I had better use the wooden
end…..specifically the rounded handle point.

I thought it would be wise to practice a couple of techniques with the handle.
First I tried the swashbuckling stab a few times in the air, but I just couldn’t do
it very accurately. Eventually I opted for more of a pool cue kind of maneuver.
I lined the little monster up in my sights like I was about to sink an eight ball
and took a couple of short practice strokes.

When I finally had the stroke and the aim perfected I lunged my deadly
squeegee forward. Thwack, I hit the wall, pinning two of its legs.
Unfortunately not only did this not kill the deadly insect but it seemed to
enrage the damn thing as well. It was stinging the end of my squeegee
furiously and repeatedly. Not good really, because now I was faced with
another dilemma……what the hell do I do now. I didn’t want to release his
legs so he could leap off the wall and inject hemotoxin directly into my
jugular, but I couldn’t just hold him there forever either. My choice was clear, I
would release him, and with blistering speed I would re-stick him with a final
death blow to the body before he could even think about moving.

With my plan made I quickly retracted the handle. Before I could even start my
forward stroke he dropped to the ground and scurried under the couch. Ok
great, problem solved now I could go back for some much needed sleep. After
all, I had showed him who was boss and I was pretty sure he was not going to
seek me out for revenge, so why not let bygones be bygones? It sounded good
to me but Heather was having none of it……she insisted I track the monster
down and slay it once and for all or nobody was going to be getting any sleep
anytime soon………or anything else for that matter.

So with ultimatum in hand I begrudgingly went to my pack for a flashlight.
When I laid down on my bare belly and stuck my head under the couch I could
clearly see my newly acquired enemy ready for battle. His tail was held high
above his body and his stinger was in clear view. I decided that this was a task
more suited for footwear. I adorned myself with my ankle high hiking boots
and prepared for combat. I felt like a knight going into the darkened cave of a
dragon to slay the evil demon and save the fair maiden. The only problem was
that my suit of armor consisted of little more than day old underwear and
leather boots and my javelin was a rather modest house keeping utensil.
Still…………………. I had a job to do.

When I laid back down to look under the couch I had to decide how I was
going to get this angry little bastard out into the open. I wanted to stick the
squeegee end in first and make a big sweeping motion to the right, forcing him
out into the open three or four feet to my right hand side. However, the
configuration of the couch made it impossible. Each time I tried I couldn’t
really get the right angle and the stick just past over his body. I eventually had
to lay the stick flat on the floor and use the squeegee end more like a craps
dealer retrieving thrown dice. My plan was still to try to bring him out well to
my right, but the motion was much more awkward than I envisioned.

In fact the technique didn’t really work at all. Instead of angling him off to my
right I actually managed to scoop him straight toward my torso. As I lay
practically naked on my stomach I was forced to look down and see this beast
with its tail raised and stinger poised about two inches from my face. At this
point the damn thing could fly and breathe fire for all I knew so I didn’t waste
any time getting to my feet. In fact, I think I probably shot straight up about
five feet in the air. When I landed, I stomped the miserable creature so hard I
think I gave myself shin splints……and then I stomped it a few more times
just to be safe.

At this point we just couldn’t handle anymore drama…….no snakes, no
malaria ridden mosquitoes and no God forsaken death bugs. We pushed our
beds together and erected our screened jungle tent on top of them. We then
crawled inside just as the sun began to rise.

The light of day could mean only one thing…I had survived my first day on
the road.

CHAPTER 2…… THINGS ARE RARELY WHAT THEY SEEM

It is really amazing how a preconceived idea can steer the hand of fate. When
your mind decides that a particular scenario is “reality” it gives credence to
your behaviors and justifies any action based on that notion. If there is one
thing that traveling has taught me it is that things are rarely what they seem.

In my travels I have visited all seven continents and too many countries to
even name. Each new place brought a different version of the same historical
events. The history that I studied in the educational system was assimilated
into my mind as fact. I was shocked when I learned that not only did different
countries have a completely different story to tell about key historical events
but that their history books actually had different endings than the ones I had
accepted as gospel.

At first I found myself becoming enraged that I had been lied to for so many
years. However as I traveled I realized that every country had a different
version of what happened throughout history and it was likely that none of
them accurately reflected the facts at hand. By enlarge he who wins the war
also rights the history, but each person views their own experiences through a
preconceived set of filters and tells their story in a way that they believe to be
truthful. Reality is as much in the eye of the beholder as is beauty.

I have learned that the truth lies somewhere in the middle of these fables that
we call history. Religion, politics and commerce paint the landscape of the
world that we live in and it is up to us to see past what we believe to be true
and unlearn in order to truly relearn.

As an example when I awoke on day two of my journey, I found Sonja at my
doorstep with all the answers necessary to rewrite my previous days’ history.
As it turns out many of the villages’ population in Calabar were farmers and
jungle workers. They did not have automobiles and therefore were forced to
commute to work on foot carrying the tools of their trade …….in this case
machetes. It is so hot in the Yucatan during the day that it is impossible to do
the more strenuous work duties in the midday sun, so when necessary the
villagers work under the cool moonlit sky. Like anyone else they often stop in
town on their way home for a beer or two after a hard days work. I guess this
explains why there were so many of them in town on that particularly hot
summer night.

As for the guys with machine guns, they were the Mexican navy stationed at a
nearby outpost. They made rounds around the village 24/7 practicing their
formations. This explains why they seemed to be making a bee line right for
us…..it was part of their patrol formation and pattern.

The driver was simply a (unmarked) cab driver who did not speak a word of
English. Because not many people had cars in the village these guys stayed
pretty busy taking people from place to place. Sonja had approached this
gentleman earlier and told him that if he saw a couple of strange white people
to bring them to her and she would pay him.

The argument with the large gentleman at the house was a result of the cab
driver writing down the address incorrectly. The argument was because the
driver insisted that a girl (la muchcha) would give him money (el dinero) if he
brought the gringos to this address. The guy at the house had no idea what he
was talking about and of course refused to pay for a couple of unwanted
gringos.

Sonjas’ vanishing act the previous night was a result of one of her children
getting swarmed by the fire ants in the driveway. I can tell you first hand this is
not a pleasant thing and is a good reason to split Dodge unannounced.

Sonja turned out to be a great person and she helped us in every way she could.
In the months that we spent in Calabar it proved to be one of the safer places
we visited and it provided some life long friendships and unforgettable
memories.

Because I had made my mind up about the kind people of Calabar before I
really knew them, I nearly murdered a completely innocent cab driver who was
just trying to do his job. I am pretty sure that this would not have gone over
well with local authorities. My guess is that it probably would have resulted in
a less than enjoyable stay for Heather and I………………..Which is exactly
what I was trying to avoid in the first place.

My future travels would include some other real eye openers:
· My own near death experience on Mt. Everest
· Watching a man murdered less than five feet away from me
· Being the center of an angry mobs attention in a nation in civil unrest

All of these things would happen in places that I had previously believed to be
quite safe and relatively peaceful……………………………………..
……………………….So as I said before “things are rarely what they seem.”