Jumbled up Jungle

Jumbled Up Jungle

Chong Shyr Siew

Published by Chong Shyr Siew at Smashwords

Copyright © 2016 Chong Shyr Siew

Jumbled up Jungle is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

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Chapter 1

The diplomat, Nelson Joshwell was going home. He passed a half constructed curb. He left his hands in his jacket's pocket because the wind was actually quite chilly. He passed the Bangladeshi workers with shabby safety-gears on and paid little attention to them. They were just some regular hardworking people working the road and did not bother him as well. After all, Suzy from the nightclub had taken most of his attention. It was late, he checked his Samsung smartphone from the pocket, and it was 4:37 a.m. sort of late. He hastened his steps. He would call it over if his wife hadn't caught him coming home at such hour. The cool breeze made him think of a good sleep. Veiny-dark bruise was the overhead predawn sky. The dark clouds reminded him of a tight fist pressuring to ooze the sun out. He was panting and all he could really do was walk. Under the dawning sky, the man with guilt looked back now and then and tried leaving no trail behind.

Nelson's scattered attention reformed when the booth guard saluted at him. He nodded and on the way in, he checked his BMW under the roofed carpark. His car was untouched, a sign that his wife hadn't gone berserk on him or his properties. He sighed when he reached the apartment front door. Check point, had he saved the game? The keyhole engulfed the key. He twisted his wrist and pushed the door opened. Everything was as still as a photograph. Without the street light, it was darker on the inside. His house was an un-gated semi-d right in the city centre. He tiptoed through the doorway and very careful not to wake his dear wife up. Peggy and he had been married two months after their ten years old and only daughter, Doreen Joshwell, was conceived. He tripped on the Kashmir mat and landed on all four limbs. The loud thud, he should be more mindful but there were too much on his mind. Nelson inwardly cursed and awkwardly stayed in position until the echo subsided.

'Dring' the phone suddenly rang. He gasped. It was the house phone. 'Dring' the dimmed yellow dial flashed and growled at him. 'Dring" He returned to an upright position and jogged toward the living room. He felt his way around the furniture. When the last time that damned house phone was rang? And at this hour, it is most probably some prankster calling, he thought. 'Drrg-'

He picked up the phone. 'Hello," he said to the wireless piece. 'Chup,' the other side had hung up on him. He pulled his untidy hair in frustration. 'Duuu... duuu... duuu...,' the dial tone teased. Luckily, his family wasn't awake. He took a quick cold shower and changed into his pyjamas. He was procrastinating. The master bedroom upstairs was adjacent to Doreen's room. The pressure preventing him in climbing the stairs existed and was very real. There was something maybe a psychological barrier preventing him to be close to his wife. He switched on the corridor light and climbed the stairs anyway. He stretched his back to crack his ribs. The door creaked and he tiptoed until he was inside. But the bedroom was vacant. He could see the silhouette of all the furniture. But there was no body on the bed. He switched on the lights and checked the toilet too but his wife wasn't there. He scratched his head returned to the room and sat on the kingsize bed that was made to a pristine order.

A thousand questions crossed his mind all at once. Headache stroke and he frowned like a motorcyclist going against a heavy wind. He held his breath and knew deep down that his wife was no longer in the house. Without confirming he knew also that she had taken their daughter with her. He tried detecting what was changed in the room. Then he found the note on the make-up counter. A note his wife had left him. It was the first time she had done so. He tore open the envelope, the letter inside was written with black ink on a piece of blue lined paper. He found where the letter starts and it reads;

Dear Nelson,

I am a simple woman. It hadn't been like how it used to be. Perhaps, it was after I've accused you of using my relation to my uncle to get you to where you are. Your male pride hurt too easily, and for that I am sorry. I would like to leave this short and on point.

Nelson, I've been your woman. I've been on your side all this while. And yet you distrust me. Like the saying goes, only fool does the same and hope for a different result. I have been a fool and that's why in order to prove that I love you, I'll be leaving you. I don't know if I would ever return.

Doreen will be with me during this 'absence'. She will be healthier that way.

Love, Peggy.

p.s. I stayed awake just now and saw you sneaking out of the house.

The last sentence was written with a different ink. But who cares? He reread the paragraphs looking for hints and clues. Once satisfied that there was none on it, he stared blankly at the space in front of him. His mind went blank and he didn't feel like moving, so he sat on the edge of the bed and tried remembering if there were any precursors that he missed. There wasn't a hunch. He was convinced that Peggy was the serpent that strikes without tail rattling. He roused himself into an angry fit; its furnace was burning the recollection of Peggy's inadequacy as a wife and mother.

But has he been a good husband and a father. Was Suzy from the nightclub a fling or something with a deeper root? He brushed the attention off himself and let his ego take over. All Peggy knew was to taunt. What kind of wife calls her husband a 'small man' in front of their daughter? He was getting more rhetorical by the second. There were so many words he didn't know that could describe his faulting wife. Is he the alchemist that will discover the scientific method to change love to hate? The philosophical stone used for consistency would be his wife!

The telephone rang again. He heard it, vaguely coming from downstairs but was too drained to make the journey. 'Dring,' the bell tussled from a distance. It might be his wife and daughter in peril. He succumbed to his own imagination and jogged down the stairs. Already he was missing his ten years old daughter. 'Dring.' He had to be quick, who was the one that told him that house phone only rings thirteen times. He may not see his bundle of joy ever again. He remembered the first time Doreen hand had grabbed his finger. The action went straight to his heart. '--'

Hello, he picked up the phone. There was no immediate answer. Hello, he said again.

Halo, greeted the man on the other end. It was a high pitch voice. "Is this the diplomat house-ka?" a man voice said, his accent was obvious Malay.

Yes, may I know who am I speaking with? Nelson said, the mention of 'diplomat's house' had stroked his curiosity. He could barely understand the man's accent.

Oh... good, my name is Marajukim, the man said.

Yes, Mister, how can I help you? Nelson said.

Oh... easy. You help me I help you. I want money. I have your wife and daughter...Marajukim said and after a long pause, I want 10 million Ringgit.

Nelson was rendered speechless. It must be a very bad faith joke. But who else knew about his wife and daughter's absence? Nelson thought. He was dumbfounded, curious, exhausted and wasn't thinking straight. He listened intendedly before he replied, Are they safe?

"For now...I am Marajukim, 10 million, you bring to Lahad Datu and you'll see your wife and daughter...un-brush...," he said.

He had the phone pressed on to his ear but he found himself not fully understanding the man. ...10 million, bring it to Lahad Datu..., he repeated.

Yes.

Was this a form of a ransom? Nelson stared at the floor, uncertain of what he should be thinking. Then the man's voice was suddenly at a distant and he heard the receiver shuffling through something and then a familiar voice. ...Nell, call my uncle quick... we were at the Tabin wildlife reserve, Peggy was shouting her lungs out. A loud thud, as if she was hit by something and then she was wailing.

Doreen, where's Doreen? Nelson was shouting back. Then he heard Doreen's, his little angel, crying and refused to speak to the phone. Nelson was all awake now. The heart was pumping the adrenaline and he took the pen from the pen holder and wrote down the mentioned name onto the inside of his palm. Lahad Datu and Tabin wildlife reserve, places he had never heard of before this.

"...percayalah ku (believe me), one week, if not, they die," Marajukim said and hung up the phone.

Nelson's body suddenly became very rigid. Stress had a weird way of transference. He sat on the sofa and let the acacia cushion absorbed him. He felt the house darken and an oblivion was as if sucking his family's presences away from him. Already he had forgotten both their faces. Not letting the inaction overcomes him, he did what a small man would do and so he called Peggy's uncle.

Chapter 2

A person with no legs on a wheelchair struggled to climb the manmade slope. Onn Hui Fei was this man. He was outside the post office on his wheelchair struggling to get in like how normal people do. The handicap slope was indeed too steep. Green veins were beginning to show on his pale face. The sun was scorching hot and caused sweat breaking out from his pimply forehead. It was the hottest day of the year and yet he had chosen the same fated day to send a letter and for a good reason.

He had spent month's indoor hiding from the world and his skin looked the part. It was almost a year; since he had lost his legs he was ready for the world again. He was tidy in a starched shirt and a long beige slack with leggings tied to a knot. The knot on the cushion emphasised him missing both legs. It was the way he challenged himself, and was trying to get used to all the darting stares, henceforth.

Finally, without the help of any passer-by he reached the slope's peak. From his front pockets he drew out the envelope holding the letter. He rechecked the address written on it, and if the valuation of the stamps was correct, indeed it was sixty cents a letter. And he pushed it into the slid on the iron-casted postbox.

It was a letter to Lady Mai, the person in charge and founder of Bridal Consultation Company or BCC for short. Hui Fei had been corresponding with them, in earnest, hoping to get himself a wife. "You have to mail your intent using the old-fashion letters. E-mail might be too fast. We want to make sure it isn't out of an impulse," she had reasoned to him. He wasn't the overly suspicious type to imagine that physical letters leave no paper trail. After all, Hui Fei had found BCC and Lady Mai casually on the World Wide Web and everything appeared legit.

Sixty-nine thousand Ringgit was the cost to legally buy a bride. His sixty-nine thousand Ringgit came from the insurance payout for losing both his legs. The compensation was just enough and he let the coincidence settled and convinced himself the act was indeed holistically inspired like everyone was interconnected in some ways. A signed cheque for nine thousand Ringgit was tucked together with the letter as down payment. Or, as Lady Mai had once or twice said, Dowry to the bride's family.

She had been speaking to Hui Fei over the past months and had taught him the route to get to Lahad Datu. Patience does it; Lahad Datu will be where he would meet his wife-to-be, Sofiani. According to Lady Mai, Lahad Datu was a quaint town about four hundred kilometres away from Kota Kinabalu, Sabah's state capital. The easiest way would be by a domestic flight once you reach the state's capital. So two flights; three-hours-and-fifteen-minutes in total, plus all the time he needs to be on the ground waiting for such an ambition.

With all that information, Hui Fei would be at Lahad Datu in three days' time to hand over the remaining sixty thousand Ringgits in order to be a happy camper. He searched the internet for any information related to the town. Its Wikipedia page noted some interesting facts; the town's population of two hundred thousand in an area dependant on palm oil. Hui Fei did not read about the many kidnapping incidents nearby its water. He was too much in the mood for love and was only thinking of Sofiani, his wife to be. Three days later would be their first sighting and he, like a sack of watery emotions, was not thinking like an arrow.

He rolled himself off the tiny slope and let the wind excite him. As soon as he was down, he made a phone call to Lady Mai. She picked up after four dial tones.

Hello, are you convenient to speak right now? he asked.

Hi, Hui Fei. I can spare a few minutes, yes? Lady Mai replied, her voice was crisp and coherent.

I am looking forward to be there, he said.

We've discussed it. I must be sure you're ready. I cannot promise that you won't feel lonely in the future. I've job, I consult and that's all I can do. If you've second thoughts, I think you better call it off. The dowry was a proof to your sincerity, she said.

Yes, I've already sent the letter and the cheque, he said, quickly. He can't wait to meet Sofiani. Sofiani had added him on Facebook. She looked slender, and more importantly, seemed timid in her photos, just the sort of girl that he was after.

Okay thanks, but nothing is for certain you know. Not until we meet, alright? I will be expecting you. See you soon, she said.

Bye.

He was by himself again. Depression has to be fought like preventing jelly set in a mould. Action can overcome most fear, and he was already forgoing the mental pain he had felt in the last twelve months when the trip had come up. He hadn't been on a plane since he became a cripple. Sofiani had privately sent him a picture of her in a purple singlet. Showing her shoulders and a bit of her cleavage. He looked at it over and over. She was fair with an edgy feature. Her hair touched her shoulders and she does looked quite pretty on his phone. For the past months, the picture had helped him from sinking into one of his lows. It's what you do in the loneliness that matters, he thought. The sun was giving energy he had forgotten existed. Hui Fei was 27 and still a virgin. Then his thought went to mother and how he had yet to notify her of the trip.

He knew mother had always understood him so he decided to tell her later. He looked at the date on his smartphone and begun counting down the days. The answer was something he already knew and so he grinned sheepishly out of his own silliness. A pair of passing strangers ignored him and walked straight past him

By midnight, Hui Fei was all packed up. A fabric luggage lay by his side as if it was a faithful hound. It was quite heavy for mother when she had come into Hui Fei's room to check on him and was curious about the packed luggage. She woke her son up. It was 2:00 a.m. and she was expecting the worst. Ah Fei...Ah Fei, why are you all packed up? her swollen midnight voice said, nudging her son to get up.

Her son woke up rubbing his eyes. Sophia, what do you want? he said, frustrated. She had disturbed him sleeping. It was uncommon for a Chinese to call their parent by their actual name. Sophia was mother's English name. She was educated in a Japanese secondary school which had made her quirky and eccentric in a Malaysian sense. She was the second generation Chinese born and raised in Malaysia. Even her son would sometimes be confused by her identity. He had to read up about the English colonisation and Japanese occupation during the early history.

Ah Fei, don't make ma worry, where are you going. she said pointing at the luggage on the side. Then she hysterically cried