What Happened to Atrid?

In March 2025, Helen took a trip to Machu Picchu and the Galápagos Islands. When we arrived at the meeting point beside a coffee shop at Lima Airport, our guide for the next two weeks called out all our names. “Astrid,” he shouted. We all looked at each other. Some shrugged their shoulders, others said “No.” While sitting on the tour bus heading to our first hotel, he asked again, “Astrid, has anyone seen Astrid?” Once more, the answer was “No.”

I decided to write my version of what I believe could have happened to Astrid.

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Astrid arrives in Lima after a long flight but can not find her luggage. The tour guide, Mr Adoo DeWalt, is frustrated by her absence as the group prepares to leave. Meanwhile, Astrid is dealing with a customer support representative named Juliet, who informs her that her bag is still in Amsterdam and offers aid for essentials.

 

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The tour guide, Mr Adoo DeWalt, was standing at the assigned spot near the coffee house. In his left hand, he held a printed sheet of A4, and in his other hand, a pen.

 

“Astrid! Has anyone seen Astrid?” he asked for the second time. He was now becoming frustrated. He had a schedule to keep and was known in the company for being punctual.

 

The thirteen who had never met before were exhausted after their twelve-hour flight from Amsterdam to Lima. Their heads swivelled from side to side as they glanced at one another. Some made faces, others shrugged their shoulders, and some said “No.”

 

“OK, I expect she has not turned up. Right, let us make our way to the bus. 

Outside the Terminal was a Minibus with a company name written down the side in Blue and Red, asking each passenger again their name as they entered the bus, and ticking them off. He had thirteen ticks on one space next to the name Astrid. 

 

Mr Adoo made a note on the manifest next to her name and made a mental note to contact the head office when the bus set off.

 

The thirteen had climbed the stairs and found seats. With the engine running, the air conditioner blew freezing air above their heads and under the seats over their legs. It was thirty-seven degrees outside, and the chilly air felt refreshing.

 

Jane, a solo traveller, turned to the person sitting on the other side of the aisle, “Hi, I'm Jane,” putting out her hand.

 

“Hi, I’m Peter.” They shook hands. When Peter pulled his hand back, he took out some sanitiser, squirted some on his hands, and rubbed them together. “Sorry, I have allergies,” he said, smiling.

 

Inside the airport terminal, passengers were running around like worker bees protecting the hive. 

 

A young girl dressed in baggy trousers, flip-flops, and her dad's old college sweatshirt was waiting for her case to come around the carousel. “Come on, come on,” looking at her watch, “They'll go without me.”

 

Walking down the carousel, she spotted Red, blue, loads of black, but no green. “Maybe I should ask someone…, yes, yes, ask someone.”  Getting agitated, she turned, looking for someone in a uniform. Astrid saw a woman in blue trousers, a matching waistcoat with silver braiding around the shoulders. A badge read Juliet, Customer Support. “Excuse me,” Astrid called over.

 

“Yes, how can I help?” Juliet answers.

 

“Erm, I can't find my bag and time is getting on,” tapping her watch to verify what she was saying.

 

“Ok, where have you flown in from?” Juliet opened the Samsung tablet she was holding.

 

We were on KLM flight 3636. We landed over an hour ago, everyone else has gone, and I am still here.”

 

“Give me a minute,” Julie typed on her tablet. “Do you have your boarding pass?” 

 

“Yes, Erm, just a minute,” she rummaged through her rucksack and pulled it out. “Here”

“Thanks,” Juliet said, taking it and typing in the details. “Erm, just give me a minute,” she asked, walking away from Astrid.

 

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“Ok, my friends,” Mr Adoo DeWalt, the tour guide, said with a raised voice. “It seems like you are all getting to know each other,” he paused and looked at all thirteen passengers on his bus. “Well, that is good, as you will be together for the next fourteen nights. Cheers and shouts of Yeah came from the group.

 

“What happened to Astrid?” came from someone at the back of the bus.

 

“I do not know, according to the manifest, she was on the flight. I have contacted my head office because we must get on with our adventure”

 

More cheers, a few stood and pumped their fists in the air, shouting Whoop Whoop. Mr Adoo DeWalt turned to the driver, spoke in Spanish. The driver replied with “Si,” locked the door and drove off. 

 

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Astrid tried to listen but couldn’t understand Spanish, so she stopped trying.

 

“Right, we have found your bag, it is in Amsterdam” 

 

“What, I've just come from there, how can this be so”?

 

“We can compensate you for the delay so you can purchase some essentials,” Juliet said, looking up and down at Astrid's attire. “And some new clothing.”

 

“What about my trip. I'm supposed to be on a bus going to Machu Picchu.”

 

“Do you have your Itinerary?”

 

“Yes,” Astrid once again pulled papers from her rucksack, “Here” 

 

“Arr, I see you are stopping here in Lima tonight. OK, we can get you a taxi. No problem” 

Astrid’s temper was rising. “When will it get here? We are only in Lima for two nights” 

 

Tapping on the tablet and reading her findings, Juliet answered, “Well, the next available flight from Amsterdam is tomorrow, it will arrive here…, the day after…, tomorrow.”

 

Astrid could feel her anxiety rising higher, “But we’ll be gone by then”

 

Opening the manifest, Juliet quizzes. “So on Wednesday you will be in Cusco. We will send it on to your hotel. She typed the name on her tablet. 

 

“What about me? I need to meet up with the others on the tour.”

 

Juliet took out her phone. “I will contact a taxi firm, don’t worry, it is not far, you will be there…soon.”

 

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Outside the airport, parked in the Taxi rank, Carlos was watching. He was a forbidding man; he went through life taking what he wanted, by any means he felt fit. He had been watching all the rich people coming here from all over the world, flashing the cash, jumping in taxis, limousines, and minibuses, spending a few nights in Lima in their five-star hotels, then off somewhere else to spend more money when he had none.

 

This was not the first time. He thought back. Five years ago, he needed money for his rent and some gambling debts. A young lad one of the hundreds of back packers that arrive here to take a year off from their busy lives, anyway, the lad stuck his hand up in the air thinking Carlos was a taxi so he stopped, the lad opened the door threw his rucksack on the back seat and followed it “The Airport and quick if you don’t mind” he shouted, and dropped about one hundred US dollars on the front passenger seat. Carlos looked down, smiled, and drove as fast as he could. Stopping at the Airport, the Lad got out, thanked him, and was gone. One hundred and twenty dollars, “Bloody Hell,” Carlos thought. While thinking about how to split it between his rent and the casino, a couple jumped in his car, one on each side, gave him the name of a hotel and started to kiss each other. He shook his head, started the car, and drove to the Hotel. “Twenty-five dollars,” he said. They paid and got out. 

 

The next day, he was sitting near the Airport. A European woman in her thirties asked him, “Los toros del escultor” 

 

He replied “Si,” knowing it was a distance, he said “One Hundred Dollars” 

 

“OK,” she replied. 

 

On the way, he positioned the rear-view mirror so he could see what she was doing. He noticed her open a bag inside he could see money, lots of money; there must have been thousands of dollars. He quickly thought of a plan. Turning left, he was heading into the hills. Finding a suitable spot, he stopped at the side of the road. He turned around, he pointed his knife at her and shouted, “Get out, leave the bags,” pointing the knife closer.

 

“She put her hands up and cried, “Don’t hurt me, please”

 

“Get out, now,” he shouted.

 

She grabbed her purse, opened the door, and fell to the floor, scraping her knees. Carlos swung the knife, but his size restricted him; he could not turn quickly enough to grab it. Slamming it into first gear, he shot off, leaving the woman in his dust. About two miles into the mountains, he stopped to check what was in the bags. Throwing them into a ditch, laughed at what she had, “Dirty clothes, make-up, books, and a map. Now he found the bag with the money, smiling, he counted it out, Five Thousand, Four Hundred Dollars. He danced in the street, singing to himself. The engine of a Blue and Red Minibus driving past brought him back to today. 

 

Watching the backpackers and business people exiting the airport, he saw her sitting, drinking coffee, talking to herself. He knew “That’s the one,” he said to himself. He threw his cigarette on the floor, did not bother to stub it out, and walked over to her.

 

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Astrid was sitting in an office waiting for her taxi. They had supplied her with water and a biscuit. She had been given a voucher to get some sandwiches from one of the airport vendors. 

 

Juliet put down the phone, smiled at Astrid, “Your Taxi will be here in twenty minutes, you can wait in here or outside in the sun”

 

Needing some air, Astrid stood up, thanked Juliet for her help, took a card with all her details, and walked out of the office. Her first stop was coffee. Ordering a double espresso, she took it outside, found a bench and sat. Astrid had never been the centre of attention; she always found it hard to take the first step in starting a conversation. Now, she thought everyone on the trip had been chatting and making friends; she would be the odd one out. Taking out the itinerary, she read it. Even though she had read it a hundred times, it felt good knowing she would be in Machu Picchu. And then on to the Galapagos Islands, she remembered sitting up with her dad watching the David Attenborough programs, which made her smile. “Ola,” she heard. Looking up, an oversized man in stained trousers and a shirt that could do with a wash was walking towards her, “Your Taxi is here, Miss,” he said.

 

Grabbing her Rucksack and dropping the empty cup in a bin, Astrid smiled. “Thank you”. Showing him the address, he nodded, walking back to his car, and leaving Astrid to carry her bag. Thinking that Juliet had sorted out the Taxi, she would not have to pay, so she kept her money belt hidden. 

 

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Leaving the Airport, Carlos passed a bottle of water to his passenger in the back. She took it, thanked him, and emptied half the bottle. Carlos smiled and thought. Not long now, she will be asleep, and I can take all her money. A few years ago, he had someone fight back, and he had to think of a way of knocking them out without hurting them, so he started using Rohypnol. He gave them some water within minutes, and they fell asleep. 

 

Astrid took the water and thanked him, twisting the cap. She thought it didn’t sound right, but it didn’t click, and she needed it. Emptying half the bottle, then leaning back and looking through the window, she started to get hotter than she already was. “Can I open a window?” she asked. He just ignored her. “Hey, Driver, it's getting hotter. Can I open a window?”  “Hey. I do not feel well,” tapping him on the shoulder, “Hey, what's happening to me, I…, don’t…., feel…!”

 

Carlos checked the rear-view mirror, seeing that his passenger was asleep, sprawled across the back seat, he smiled. Taking the expressway out of the city, he headed for the Hills, his favourite spot for dropping them off. Parking in a lay-by in the middle of nowhere, he pulled Astrid from his car, sat her against a tree in the shade, then he took her Rucksack, emptied the contents on the floor at her side, “Nothing, no money, nothing to sell,” he kicked out at the rucksack, checked the back seat, nothing. Getting back into his car, Carlos hit the steering wheel, “A wasted morning, wasted fuel” Ramming it into gear, he shot off, leaving Astrid at the side of the road with her belongings all around her.

 

When Astrid woke, it was getting dark, and she felt a chill in the air. Looking around, she could see her rucksack and clothes. Trying to stand, she fell over. ‘I must have been drugged, the water?’ she thought. Crawling over to her rucksack and grabbing all her belongings. It hit her quickly. Checking inside her trousers, she relaxed. Her money belt was still there; it held all her money, her passport, and her phone. If she had not been wearing baggy jeans, he would have noticed it. Then another thought struck her: he was only after her money. It could have ended up a lot differently. Putting all her clothes and the map back in the rucksack, she sat for a while and then took out her phone. “No signal,” Sixteen thirty, the clock said. Finally able to stand, she held on to a branch of a tree, looking up the road, then down, unsure which way to go. A light bulb moment came as she remembered you could use GPS maps even without a signal. Only limited, but they could still be used. Opening her phone and navigating the apps, she found it, pressing the blue circle, which took the map to where she was standing. “Junín was two hundred and thirty-six kilometres from Lima. How long had I been asleep? How long had he been driving? Firstly, I need water, something to eat, and then find some shelter. I will worry about getting back to Lima tomorrow.”

 

Hearing the running water, Astrid walked towards it. Climbing over roots and low branches, she soon became tired. It was flowing fast; this was a river, not a stream, she thought. Washing out the bottle that Carlos had given her in the car. She filled it with clear water, emptying two to quench her thirst. She filled it again and then fastened the lid, “Right now for food.”

 

            Astrid had been planning this trip for months, years. She thought this wasn’t the Amazon, but the lake in the distance and all the vegetation she soon spotted berries and fruit. She looked around. Spotting 'Cuma Cuma' fruit, small reddish-purple berries by the riverside, she grabbed some and dropped them in her rucksack. With forty per cent more vitamin C than oranges, along with three fruit and nut protein bars, she had enough to eat for now. Next, she needed to find some shelter.

 

            A clearing in the distance, Astrid looked around, and she found the branches that would do. Hanging her bag on a branch, she took off her belt, which was made from ten lengths of Paracord. After searching the bag for her keys, she used the small penknife that was attached. Cutting eight lengths, the first, she tied a branch about six feet above the ground. The second was used to attach the other end a bit lower. Then, using the knife to cut her poncho from top to bottom, she spread it over the tied-up branch. Astrid then tied each corner to anything that would make it secure.

 

“Now, to make a fire, also on her key ring was a small flint. Picking up some dry leaves and a few small branches. It wasn’t long before Astrid had a good fire, and there were lots of fallen branches. Using some to make a bed and others to burn, Astrid settled down for the night.

 

The next morning brought hope and determination.  Packing all her things into the rucksack, she set of down the hill, checking the sat nav on her phone it was a Straight road to ‘La Cima’ the road number was 3N, hopefully I could get a lift or a signal so I could ring the authorities, setting off at a good pace, it wasn’t long before a car came, waving it down Astrid hoped it would stop, it did. It was a pickup; the old man driving must have been in his eighties, but there was no way of telling. “Hello”, Astrid offered, “Can you give me a lift to La Cima, please?”

 

The driver looked, spoke in Spanish, and waved his hands a few times. Astrid held up her phone, “Here”, pointing to La Cima, “Can..., you..., take..., me..., here”

 

“Arr, Si, La Cima, Si, Si, volver atrás”. He pointed with his thumb to the flatbed.

Astrid asumed ‘volver atrás’ meant to get in the back, so she did. 

The thirty-minute trip was bumpy, but the scenery was beautiful. They had driven out of the hills and into a small village. Stopping at a crossroads, the driver shouted, “La Cima” and banged the side of his door. Astrid jumped down, walked to the driver's side, and thanked him. Walking to a shaded spot and opening her phone, “Yes, a signal,” and then it was gone. Looking around, she could feel eyes on her, men watching her. A young boy walked towards her, “Hi, do you speak English?” 

 

“Yes, a little,” he replied,

“I need the Police, you understand.”     

“Yes, My Father is policía, come with me,” he said, and walked away down a side street.

 

Looking left and right, Astrid followed him. Then she noticed the sign atop the building: the Police Station. Upon entering, she soon felt at ease. After recounting all the details about the case mix-up at the airport, the man she believed to be a taxi driver dropped her off in an isolated area. The Chief of Police offered Astrid a bottle of water; she took it, ensuring the lid was securely fastened before opening it. “Thank you.” A policewoman asked Astrid a few questions while the Chief was on the phone to his counterpart in Lima.

 

“No, he didn’t touch me, or try, if he had, he would have found my money belt” Astrid lifted her shirt to show the officer. 

 

The Chief came back, “Right, Astrid, Inspector Gomez in Lima has been in touch with the Airport, and then spoke to the tour operators, we can take you back to Lima, where you will have to give a formal statement, then they will escort you to wherever your tour will be, I, think by the time all the investigations and statements are finished, you will meet the group in Ollantaytambo, ready for you trip to Machu Picchu. The Chief smiled.

 

Astrid smiled back, then reality hit her, “What about the man? The one who took me,” Astrid asked in a loud voice.

 

“The Police in Lima have him, from your description, they picked him up waiting for his next…” He thought about his next words, “Anyway, he is in custody and will not be taking anyone else”

 

The next morning at Ollantaytambo train Station stood a Policewoman and a young woman in baggy jeans and her father's sweatshirt, waiting for the group of thirteen to board the train to Machu Picchu.

The tour guide was walking past the vendors, selling multi-coloured hats, ponchos; he was holding a bright green suitcase.

Astrid smiled, and she knew she wasn’t going to be the odd one out; everyone wanted to know what happened to her.