Special thanks to Craig Bartlett, and Kim Burk and everyone else on the HA! message board. I dedicate this to you.
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Prolog:
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The moon was full, but passing clouds obstructed its brilliant glow. Down below, the jungle looked peaceful, but the rainforest is never truly at rest, but very much alive with activity. While one creature sleeps, another feasts. While one feasts, another flies. And when another flies, others journey into the deepest, darkest part of the forest, where not even the oldest inhabitants of the jungle dare to venture.
"Careful, Son," Whispered the blonde man to the lad at his side. "After that last scrape on the mountain, I think your mom's a bit tense."
The boy nodded and looked at his mother. Her red lips were drawn together tightly and she was still not speaking to Dad. Not that he blamed her at all. After all, what had happened on the mountain was Dad's fault. Trying to make lunch from that eagle's eggs! What a bad idea! The mother eagle had chased them down the mountain for a quarter mile before giving up.
"It's getting late." He said. "Maybe we should turn in. After all, if we get too tired, we could make a mistake and…"
There was the rustle of leaves and then a scream. When he turned, they were gone.
"Mom! Dad! Where are you?" All he could see was the jungle, stretching out before him, growing darker and darker.
"Arnold!" It was then that he saw the fingers sticking out of the ground. They hadn't disappeared! They had just fallen in a pit that was all! "Arnold!" Called his father. "Hurry! We can't hold on much longer!"
"Please Arnold!" His mother added.
Crouching at the hole, he could see them grasping on for dear life. He extended his fingers towards them. "I got you! Just grab on!"
With gritted teeth, his father let go of the wall and reached up to take the boy's hand. "That's it, Dad! It's only a little further…NO!" His screams were futile. The man and his wife plummeted down the murky chasm never to be seen by human eyes again.
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He woke in a cold sweat, which was a new sensation for him. Checking his potato-powered clock, he could see the time was only four past six, too early for anything on television besides crazy ladies selling miracle pills. He wasn't hungry for breakfast, either.
Turning over, he thought about his dream. It wasn't the first dream he had had about his parents, but it was certainly one of the more vivid.
He hated the dreams where his parents disappeared. He liked happy dreams with clouds and horses.
The rising sun was coming through the skylight, now, making him squint. What was the last thing his father said? Oh yeah. Hurry, we can't hold on much longer.
We can't hold on much longer…
He sat bolt right up in bed. The dream was a message! It had to be! They wanted him to come! It all made sense! This dream and the map he had found last night…
Getting out of bed, and nearly tripping over his twisted sheets as he did, he pulled out his desk drawer. The map from father's journal was on the top, outlining the last journey his parents took in San Lorenzo.
"Yes!" He quietly cheered to himself. It was all coming together now! The discovery of the map and the dream! It was all too much to be a coincidence!
With that in mind, he began to write. He wrote to all the sponsors, clubs, and organizations he read about. Anyone he thought would listen. Anyone else would have done this halfheartedly. Not him. He had always been an optimist and a dreamer with the best of faith in everyone. And that is why he was not surprised when he got a letter in the mail from the T. Roberson Society.