Savannah Tour: Chapter 8

Delta, June 3rd, 6:47PM

I stared at the figure looming over me, trying to piece things together. Then I realized.

When Mr. Ortega went home, he went to the desert. I’d always thought that was strange, but never paid much attention. I was too busy trying to make a living out of the meager amount of money I got paid every hour.

“What...how? Y-you’re the one cutting down the trees? *Are you?*” Sasha sputtered.

“Are you the owner of that hut?” I squeaked, my voice an octave higher than usual.

Mr. Ortega exhaled and clenched his fists. “You are *fired*.” He looked at the both of us coldly. “Both of you. The VIPs couldn’t be found, you *left* the tractor, you *severely injured* many of my workers. I’m trying to make more money by helping a lumber organization cut down trees.”

“You’re cutting down trees, sure, but you’re cutting alive ones! Alive trees that *animals* live in! Trees that might grow and die, and *then* you can cut them down! Don’t you understand what you’re *doing?*” I nearly screamed.

“You can fire us. There is no way that we’ll work for a horrible, mischievous guy like you Mr. Ortega!” shouted Sasha.

Mr. Ortega blinked. Repeatedly. “I am sorry. You must have misunderstood.”

“I think not.” I lowered my voice to a whisper to match his calm demeanor. “Don’t you make enough money from Wild Savannah? Isn’t it *enough* for you? *No,* of course not, because you’re *heartless* and you don’t have any sympathy for the world!” I turned away from him, disgusted.

“What about the workers? Did you force them, or did they agree too?” Sasha asked fiercely.

“That’s none of your business,” he snapped. Then his gaze turned on me but said nothing.

“Fine,” I said icily, turning back. “But if you ever step a foot on this land with the intention of cutting down trees? You’ll regret every single decision you made up to this point...” I paused, then continued scathingly, “and your ‘organization’ will go down with you.”

“I agree. But answer my question, or it will go down anyway.” Sasha said darkly. “NOW!”

“What... what is it?” he said quietly.

“You didn’t hear? Are you deaf? Did the workers agree to work with you, or did you force them to? I want to know.”

Mr. Ortega coughed and rasped, “They didn’t want to, but I persuaded them to. I gave them higher wages.” He looked down. “Technically... I did force them to.”

She turned to me. “I now feel terrible for hurting them now. Don’t you?”

“But they agreed anyway, even though they knew what they did was wrong. They agreed because of the salary,” I said bitterly.

“I guess so. Listen Mr. Ortega. You will answer every question we ask truthfully... Right?”

“Uh. Right,” he answered slowly, drawing out each word.

“Delta, do you want to ask something?” Sasha asked after a moment’s silence.

“Well... why, exactly, are you cutting down the trees? Is it *fun* to you?”

“It’s... it’s because about 10 years ago, my brother was hit by a falling tree. He got a severe concussion. A few days later, I was told that he had asthma. The next day when I went to visit him in the hospital, he was...” he coughed, wiping a tear from his eyes. “Gone. Disappeared. And that’s why I cut down the trees. I never really thought about what it would do to the animals’ habitat. I love animals, that’s why I started the Wild Savannah program...” he started sobbing and me and Sasha exchanged a look. Why was he getting so emotional suddenly?

“Wait. Delta,” Sasha said slowly, her eyes comically wide, “what if that strange man we met in the springs is his brother?”

“Let’s see,” I answered shakily, stunned. “Um... Mr. Ortega. What does your brother look like exactly?”

“Dirty blonde hair,” he answered immediately, as if he’d been recited his brother’s appearance by heart. “Dark brown eyes. His eye shape always made me think of almonds. He’s also very skinny.”

“Oh.” she shivered. “I think we saw your brother a day or two ago.”

My hand clamped over my mouth, I managed to get out a sentence. “Yes... Mr. Ortega, we know where your brother is.”

We went in the direction of when we saw the strange man. When we got there, we found out a frustrating surprise.

I wiped sweat from my forehead with the heel of my hand. “What... he’s not here! Sasha, he must be. We must look for him.”

We looked everywhere, but we couldn’t see him anywhere.

“This is all a lie!” Mr. Ortega huffed. “My brother is probably dead for all I know.”

“Please Mr. Ortega. He is here! I think we didn’t look everywhere. This desert is huge!”

Mr. Ortega stamped his foot in frustration, his fingers curling into his palms. “No. I’m going back to the savannah.” With that, he stormed off, leaving us at the springs where we’d last seen his brother.