She squinted; something to do with it had caught her eye, had jarred inside of her. She stared again at the tendrils splaying out from underneath the woman’s body. Then it landed.I knowthat hair.She’d seen it so many times before. Long, blonde braids, tied with tiny, brightly coloured elastic bands.
Oh my God, no. It can’t be... It is, isn’t it?
Please, please, don’t let this be her... It’s impossible...
Naya didn’t want to do it; she was cowering, retching just at the thought. But she had to know for sure – she had to confirm her suspicion, for all their sakes. She took a deep, shuddering breath, then moved towards the woman’s face, leaned over, was about to use the sleeve of her jacket to brush some of the debris away from it, when a yell from Scott behind her made her halt in her tracks.
‘Naya, stop! Don’t touch anything,’ he shouted. ‘I know we’re not sure what’s happened to her exactly, but this could be a crime scene – police might need to investigate it, right? I don’t think we should get our fingerprints anywhere, or disturb anything, or move anything around.’
She reeled backwards. He was right, of course.What on earth was I thinking, trying to touch the body?She knew better than that. It was the shock of what she’d just realized, the lack of sense it all made; it had thrown her. But in any case, she didn’t need to brush the matted clumps of hair away from the face. Now she was closer, she could see enough of the woman’s face to confirm exactly who she was looking at.
A new wave of horror, and of confusion, racked her body and emerged from her throat as a choking sob.
It’s her. It’s Hannah.This was the very woman who was supposed to be stuck on the other side of the peninsula in a beach town called Golfito, waiting for a boat ride home. Unmistakably her, in fact, now that she knew what she was looking at – even through the leaves, she could make out theglint of her nose ring, the shape of her sharp cheekbones, the curve of her slightly upturned nose. There was a small gap in the mulchy earth that surrounded her eyes, and she could even make out their colour: sky blue, half-open, staring unfocused at the canopy of trees above them.
She heard a stifled sob behind her, then a gasp. Scott’s and Ben’s eyes were as transfixed on the area around Hannah’s head as her own. She wondered if they’d just had their suspicions confirmed too, in the same instant – or if they’d already known it was Hannah – maybe they’d realized it as soon as they saw her. Maybe Naya had too; she just didn’t want to admit it. They’d all seen enough of her selfies online, watched her videos. They all knew exactly what she looked like.
She was about to voice it, to ask them if they’d seen what she had – when a surge of doubt rushed through her.
It can’t be Hannah – how is this even possible?
She felt herself bargaining for a different reality, a different explanation. That the dead woman she was looking at was someone else – it had to be. A random stranger, perhaps, a tourist who bore a remarkable resemblance to the influencer – someone who’d come to explore here, lost their way in the rainforest – then had a terrible accident.
But Naya couldn’t lie to herself. It was Hannah; there could be no doubt. Her brain just couldn’t process yet how it could be possible – or what it could mean.
‘It’s her, isn’t it?’ said Scott, his voice cracking. ‘It’s Hannah.’
Before Naya could respond, a loud rustling of leaves and branches from behind startled her; she glanced towards the sound and saw Carly emerge through the foliage, helping Mira along with her.
‘You’ve been ages! What did you find? What was making all that buzzing?’ she said. And then she looked at the ground, and her voice tailed off into a terrible silence, before she leaned forward, bent her head to the floor and vomited.
‘Oh, no, no, no,’ said Mira, her voice weak. ‘Is that – oh my God, are they dead?’
Naya searched the others’ faces, each one etched with grief, fear, shock and confusion.
‘Guys – it’s – I don’t know how, it doesn’t make any sense, but yes, this woman is dead and – and...’ Her words caught in her throat; she forced them out. ‘I think it’s Hannah.’More than that, she thought. She wassureit was Hannah.
‘What? Hannah? No. That’s impossible – it can’t be her...’ Mira’s eyes moved over Hannah’s body; her gaze landed on her face, and then her hands flew to her mouth and tears began to stream down her cheeks. Naya looked at Carly, still bent close to the ground, but looking upwards now. Her face had drained of all colour, and she was breathing so fast, Naya suspected she was in the throes of a full-blown panic attack.
‘Try to breathe, Carly,’ said Naya, moving towards her, placing one hand on her shoulder. ‘In and out to the count of three.’
‘But... this makes no sense,’ cried Ben, making his way up to standing now, shaking his head. ‘Hannah’s in that beach town – what was it called? Golfito? She sent us that selfie of her there this morning! How could she have got back here, out into the middle of the rainforest and ended up... ended up...’ He broke off, left the sentence hanging in the cloying, rotten air.
The humidity and the last whispers of the day’s rain seemed to have thickened the atmosphere, making it feel oppressive in the small clearing; suffocating. The smell of death and decay in the overgrown space mingled with the damp leaves; the mixture cloyed in her nostrils. Naya had the creeping, uneasy sense of being watched by the jungle: a thousand beady eyes fixed on her from through the leaves in the trees above them.
‘Ben’s right,’ said Carly, through her rapid breaths. ‘It can’t be Hannah. It’s not even an option. There’s no way she could have got back here and into the rainforest this fast, let alone have ended up dead – it was only a few hours ago that she sent those messages. It must be... it must be someone else – a woman who looks like her, maybe?’
The desperation in Carly’s voice moved Naya to a fresh round of tears.
No one wants to admit it. Come on, Naya.
‘I’m sorry, but there’s no doubt. It’s Hannah,’ she sobbed, her voice thick with tears and bile, nausea fighting its way up her throat again, threatening to erupt. She forced it back down. ‘It’s her, and it looks as if...’ She teetered on the edge but stopped herself from saying the next part, the part that made this discovery all the more terrifying.
Before Naya could finish her sentence, Scott snapped upright, started to swat at the swarm of insects attacking Hannah’s flesh.
‘Get away from her!’ He was waving his arms frantically in the air now, attempting to shoo away the flock of vultures that was still hovering high above them. The creatures were bold; they hadn’t been turned away by the group’s presence, their voices, their loud outpourings of grief. But at least they’dmanaged to stave them off – for now. Naya had no doubt they’d swoop down and enjoy their spoils the minute the five of them walked away.
‘We need to call the police,’ he said, turning back to the group when the bulk of the creatures had moved elsewhere, his voice shaking but resolute. He looked at Mira and Carly. ‘There’s a wound to the back of her head – and her body is all covered up. I think – I think that maybe someone did this to her.’
