Excerpt: Dinner Worth Dying For

The five of us, would-be dining companions, stand staring down at the edge of the precipice. We’ve just hiked over rough jungle terrain for several hours, laden with heavy gear. We are sweating in the oppressive humidity, our breath coming in heavy and loud aspirations. There has been little warning of the clearing before we are upon it, since the foliage in this area is thick and clinging. The path has been little more than a suggestion through the greenery, though it is traversed often by our guides and others like us, who come to experience the wonders of this tropical area. We have been dappled with a stingy green light, then thrust into the full heat of the sun.

The sun beats down heavily since the foliage we can now see is only on the edge of the underground cavern. Instead of a normal cave, this one opens at the top, so it is really more of a giant hole in the ground of the jungle. Foliage creeps from the jungle floor around the edges of the cave, inching its way down to the furthest reaches of sunlight. But the cave is so deep it becomes something much different than the rest of the area. Where the foliage peters out, there are dark shadows and grey rocks. The bottom is a long, long way down. The cave opening is nearly a half a mile across, in very nearly a circular shape.

On the end near where we stand, a rickety wooden structure has been built, looking like someone tried to make a bridge and got bored after only a few feet. This is the launching pad for the next stage of our journey.