I’m a biology student and aspiring naturalist who has always had a love of the natural world. My parents are super supportive of my dream, so when I told them I wanted to take a gap year abroad to get some field experience, they were happy to give me some financial support for the trip.

I went back and forth on where I wanted to spend my gap year. I dreamed about safaris in the African savannas and expeditions into the deepest pockets of the Amazon. I thought about the animals I could study or rescue, and tried to make a decision based on where the needs were.

I finally landed on the Indonesian island of Borneo. It’s one of the largest islands in the world with an incredible amount of biodiversity. The dense jungles are everything my suburban hometown isn’t, so there was this feeling that I could truly experience nature like I never had before.

Of course, the biggest selling point was the chance to work with Orangutans, which had always been a dream of mine. Ever since I was a kid, I was fascinated by these animals. The bright red hair, lanky body, and intelligent, almost human eyes made them feel larger than life. They just seem more “human” than the other Great Apes, if that makes sense. Even the word “orangutan” lends credence to that feeling. It comes from the Malay phrase Orang Hutan, which literally translates to “Forest People”. 

Unfortunately, the situation for Borneo’s Forest People is dire. Habitat loss has had a devastating impact on their population, with poaching and the exotic pet trade also threatening their well-being. There was even one case where an orangutan was abducted, shaved, and forced to work in a brothel… I really, really wish I didn’t know that, but it just goes to show how truly vile humans can be…

There’s a very real threat that these animals could disappear in my lifetime, so dedicating some of my time to helping them in any way I could seemed like a no brainer. After doing some research, I found a sanctuary dedicated to rehabbing injured and orphaned orangutans.

After a long and uncomfortable flight, I was met at the airport by Raya, a permanent staffer at the sanctuary. She had a kind but tired expression, and I wondered if the trip to the airport was a hassle for her. We introduced ourselves and she took me to her ojek (motorcycle taxi). She said that sometimes she would come into the city and do some rides for extra money, but that I didn’t need to pay for this one. I felt a little guilty about that and tried to offer some cash for the effort, but she was polite yet firm about her refusal to take my money.

I was a little nervous about riding on the bike, if I’m being honest. It was a rusty, rickety little thing that was probably older than I was. The left side had a deep gash on the chassis, which looked to me like some kind of claw mark. I had a vision of Raya and I outrunning a leopard on this thing like a couple of badasses, and was secretly hoping something like that might actually happen. Would have made for a cool story.

Fortunately (or unfortunately) our ride out of Kota Kinabalu was pretty uneventful. Pretty quickly we were out of the city and surrounded by dense jungle. It felt amazing to be out in the wild, and I couldn’t help myself from trying to identify every animal we drove past. Just from the road I could spot bloated pythons sagging from the tree branches, hornbills and flowerpeckers tending to their nests, and even a troop of macaques play-fighting on the roof of a gas station.

At one point, I noticed a stain on Raya’s jacket that looked like it could have been dried blood. I tried to ask her about it, but she couldn’t hear me over the rushing wind. That was the first time I got a bit anxious. I realized just how far away from home I was, and that if anything were to go wrong I would be relying on complete strangers to come to my rescue.

It was hard to stay nervous with all the beautiful nature surrounding me though. By the time we reached the sanctuary I was in good spirits and ready to see the orangutans. We pulled up and were greeted by a short, slender man named Rahmat – the general manager and overseer of the sanctuary. He was polite but I could tell he was wary of me, and I got it. I was a young white girl who didn’t speak the language and had naive dreams of “saving” the orangutans. I knew then that proving my worth was going to be an uphill battle. Still, he offered to give me a tour of the sanctuary and I eagerly accepted.

It was beautiful, everything I dreamed it would be. Seeing the juvenile orangutans with the caretakers brought such joy to my heart and I knew I was in the right place. Rahmat showed me the play areas, veterinary clinic, and the shelters where the orangutans slept at night. I noticed that the orangutans seemed to be wary of Rahmat, which I thought was a little odd. Most of the caretakers were women, so maybe they were just uncomfortable around men? A lot of these animals had experienced violence before they arrived, often perpetrated by men, so I assumed this was an unfortunate result of past trauma.

Eventually, Rahmat excused himself and left me with Raya to start my training. That’s when I met Lucy. She was an adult female orangutan who was unable to be released due to the fact that she was missing her right arm. Raya explained that she lost it to a hunter’s trap, a fact that made my blood boil. What kind of animal could do this to another living creature and still sleep at night?

She was timid during our first meeting, but she never tried to get away from me. She had a powerful gaze and looked me dead in my eyes as Raya introduced us. There was something a little chilling about the way she stared at me. Sometimes staring can be a sign of aggression in primates, but I didn’t feel threatened by her. It was more like she was trying to communicate something to me, a warning of some kind. This might sound a little woo woo, but I felt like I could almost hear her voice in my head.

When the sun began to set, Raya took me to the staff quarters. I briefly clocked a deadbolt on the outside of the building, which struck me as odd and even a bit sinister. I was mid-conversation with Raya however and the thought left my mind before I could ask about it. 

After I was settled in, she informed me of the sanctuary rules. Mostly normal stuff to consider in the wild, like don’t leave food out overnight, don’t invite strangers to the sanctuary without getting permission, etc. But then she told me about the curfew.

“You are not to leave your quarters after 9:00 PM under any circumstances.”

That seemed a bit strict, but I could tell she was deadly serious. My surprise must have been visible on my face, because she launched into an explanation right away. She told me Rahmat was a superstitious man, and that this rule was in place to protect the staff from the Orang Bawah Tanah.

“The what?”

She looked reluctant to tell me more, almost embarrassed. I think she was hoping I would take the rule at face value, but I’m naturally inquisitive (and a little rebellious, if I’m being honest). She took a deep breath, then told me the legend of the Orang Bawah Tanah.

The legend goes that the orangutans once dwelled on the forest floors in peaceful harmony with nature, until one day a group of monstrous creatures emerged from underneath the ground. These creatures would grab sleeping orangutans and drag them down into the earth, so they began to build their nests in the trees and out of the reach of the Orang Bawah Tanah. She warned me that even today, some locals refuse to wander the jungles at night out of fear of these subterranean demons…

I laughed, and then immediately regretted it when I saw the look on Raya’s face. “Shit,” I thought, “I’ve offended her.” I quickly apologized, but she smiled and reiterated that this was just a local superstition and that I was completely safe. Apparently Rahmat was the type to believe in ghost stories, whatever. I didn’t like the idea of being locked in my room at night, but if I wanted to work with the orangutans then I’d have to follow the rules.

When I laid down for bed that evening, I heard the distinctive CLICK of the deadbolt locking and it sent a shiver down my spine. Visions of human trafficking victims and worse flashed in my mind. I didn’t listen to my gut, and now I was trapped. It was hard to convince myself that I wasn’t an idiot who just gave myself willingly to a crazy monkey cult. I spent most of the night fighting dark thoughts, tossing and turning as if rolling onto my side would allow these horrible thoughts to spill out of my head. I don’t know when I actually fell asleep, just that the next thing I remembered were warm rays of relief falling on my face. The sun shone through my window, revealing a thin veil of dust hanging in the air, and with it the fresh scent of overturned earth. It was morning, I had survived, and it was time to visit the orangutans.

Those first few weeks were some of the most fulfilling of my life. I learned so much and made some real connections with both the staff and the animals. Lucy in particular grew very attached to me and would follow me around the property wherever I went. She had a habit of holding my hand and taking me on little tours around the sanctuary. I couldn’t say no even if I wanted to. Orangutans may be peaceful, but they are also incredibly strong. Lucy’s iron grip was a constant reminder that these animals deserve our respect.

I look fondly back on those days, on our walks together in the jungle. I was so naive, completely unaware that my blissful daydream was about to be warped into a nightmare…

On one particularly hot summer night, I woke up to a cacophony of screeching. I shot up in my bed, the fear so intense that I thought I was having a heart attack. The screeches pierced the air, like the screams of a thousand pigs being slaughtered all at once.

I had never heard the sound before, but I could tell it was coming from the orangutan enclosure. I threw on some clothes and went to check on them, thinking a snake – or something worse – had worked its way into their shelter. I was stopped by the deadbolt on the door, and a rush of panic and dread filled my body. My fight or flight instincts kicked in, and I knew I had to do something – and fast. So I did the same thing I did whenever my parents grounded me as a teenager – I snuck out the window.

It was pitch black, but my phone light was just strong enough to help me navigate toward the shelter. I didn’t have time to put my shoes on before I left, and something about the feeling of wet grass sticking to my soles was making me deeply uncomfortable. I pushed the thought from my mind and focused on getting to the orangutans.

I could hear the rattle of the shelter’s steel bars as the orangutans raced around the perimeter, keeping themselves as far away from the ground as they could. When I finally reached the pen, I flashed my light in the direction of the noise and was horrified by what I saw.

Citra, a young female, was screaming. Her fur was matted with blood, and her right arm was half-buried in the dirt as if she’d stuck her hand in a hole and couldn’t get it out. She was desperately trying to yank herself free when I heard a loud crack, audible even over the panic of the orangutans. Her screeches reached a fever pitch, something I had never heard before or since. Not only was she unable to pull her arm out, something was pulling her deeper into the ground.

I quickly unlatched the enclosure and rushed to her aid. She was sinking more quickly, with her arm so deep in the ground that her head was pressed against the dirt. She looked at me, begging for help with those pained green eyes. I grabbed her from behind and pulled as hard as I could, but the thing pulling her was stronger. 

I screamed for help, wondering where the rest of the staff was. Suddenly, a ghostly hand erupted from the dirt. It was covered in coarse, white hair with long black claws – almost like those of a sloth. The claws dug into Citra’s neck. Fresh blood oozed from the wound and stained the creature’s white fur. I’m ashamed to admit that I staggered back, letting go of Citra in my terror. The creature pulled harder, and then I heard a distinctive pop and crack as Citra’s head bent and folded against the pressure of the dirt. Her screams stopped abruptly and her body crumpled. All I could do was watch as she was dragged below the surface, the ground swallowing her like a deadly serpent.

I was stunned silent. I may have stood there forever if not for the sensation of something wrapping around my arm. I tried to recoil and nearly fell over, then turned to see Lucy staring at me. She was hanging like a bat from the ceiling grates, holding herself up with her feet while gripping me tight with her arm. It felt like she was staring into my soul, silent but communicating a grave message. 

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Without warning, another hand burst from the ground and sunk its claws into my ankle. The pain was instant and excruciating. My animal brain wanted to run, to go anywhere but here. Again, I felt like an idiot. I was going to die because I wanted to go on a stupid “adventure”. I thought about my parents, my sister, my friends, all the people I loved as this thing was pulling me toward my death.

The orangutans around me went into an even deeper state of panic, desperately reaching through the ceiling bars and trying to force their bodies through the gaps.

But not Lucy. She held on tight and used all her strength to pull me up and away from the ground. Between her and the creature below, it felt like I was going to be ripped in half. I could barely breathe, and I felt my joints straining and ready to pop. Lucy screamed defiantly, and I was suddenly filled with the will to fight back. I started kicking at the hand with my free leg, but its claws just dug deeper into my flesh. I used my free arm to grab Lucy’s arm and started pulling myself up.

It was working. Our combined strength was enough so that I was slowly starting to rise away from the ground. The creature’s claws slipped, tearing the flesh of my ankle as they scraped against my bones. I nearly blacked out from the pain, but somehow found the strength to keep fighting. I looked down and saw that we were pulling hard enough that the creature was beginning to rise out of the ground. Its head emerged from the dirt like a zombie out of the grave, and I’ll never forget what I saw.

It was an ape, but not like one I had ever seen or even heard of. It was covered in coarse white hair, with pinprick eyes that glowed like a cat’s eyes in the dark. It had a pointed muzzle with writhing, pink tendrils on its nose and let out a deep, bassy rumble that I felt more than heard. It was a marvel of evolution, something I could have never imagined in my wildest dreams. For a moment I lost my fear, and was instead overtaken by pure fascination.

That quickly changed once it opened its mouth, revealing a set of massive, dripping fangs. Thinking fast, I kicked the fleshy tendrils on the creature’s snout. I figured they were some sort of sensory organ, like that of the star-nosed mole, and therefore might be sensitive.

I was correct. The beast let out a howl of pain and let go of my ankle, retreating back under the broken soil. Lucy pulled me as hard as she could, and I managed to grab hold of the top of the cage. I could feel my strength fading, but Lucy wrapped her body around mine and held me up against the barred ceiling. I could feel my weight was nothing to her, and I started sobbing quietly as she cradled me. I thanked her for saving my life. I don’t know why I expected a response, but she just silently held me for the rest of the night.

I woke up the next morning, still wrapped in Lucy’s life-saving embrace. I had left the enclosure door open, and the shelter was empty except for me and Lucy. I had lost a lot of blood, and was barely holding onto consciousness when Raya found me. She took me to the veterinary clinic where they cleaned my wound. Nobody spoke. I saw Rahmat in the doorway at one point, and I’ve never seen such anger in a man’s eyes. I eventually passed out, only to wake up in a hospital in the city. 

They told me that one of the orangutans had attacked me in the night after I recklessly unlocked the enclosure. They accused me of being an eco-extremist who only volunteered so that I could set the apes free. I told them the truth, about the screaming in the night, Citra, the white ape from Hell. I told them they were real, the Orang Bawah Tanah, but they dismissed it all as the mad ravings of a hysterical foreigner. They made it very clear that they’d never even heard of the “Orang Bawah Tanah”, but I’m not sure I believed them.

My parents arrived that evening and put me on the next flight to the states. They said the sanctuary called and threatened to have me arrested if I didn’t leave the country immediately. I didn’t even have a chance to get my things, much less say goodbye to Lucy. I don’t know what happened to her, if she fled the sanctuary with the rest of the orangutans or if she’s still there, silently waiting for me to return. I hope she’s at peace, wherever she is. I wish I could have done more for her, for all the apes at the sanctuary. 

On the flight home, I kept replaying the events over in my head, wondering if I had missed something. The blood on the jacket, the deadbolt, Rahmat’s insistence on following his “rules”. I started to doubt whether or not that place really was a sanctuary for orangutans at all, or if it was all a ruse to protect something else, something much more sinister.

After a lot of physical therapy, I’m walking pretty much normally again. I’ll have a slight limp for the rest of my life, but I don’t think anyone would notice if they weren’t actively looking for it. The scar is cool, so I’ve got that going for me I guess.

I’m back at school now, still studying biology, but I haven’t felt like myself since I came back from Borneo. I can’t stop seeing its face in my mind – not that I’m scared of it. Truth be told, I’m fascinated by it. I have so many questions, and I’m not sure that anyone has the answers. I’m certainly not going to find any in these overpriced textbooks.

I saw something I never could have imagined, something I can’t explain. I’ve seen them, the Underground People, and I wonder – what else is lurking in the dark corners of the world?