Cass chews on her lower lip.
“Is it your head?”
She nods, winces. “It’s splitting open.”
Sometimes a patient will seem fine.
I push away my mom’s no-nonsense voice. Maybe it’s the cut. But what can I do if it is infected? We don’t have any antibiotics.
A patient will appear lucid, but over time have migraines, become confused, lose balance, ask repetitive questions or have seizures.
“How’s your vision?” When I had migraines my already-narrow vision would close in. Each time it happened, I was terrified that I’d gone blind and a panic attack would hit hard. My mom would take off work, sit in my bedroom, read case studies aloud because watching TV made it worse but I needed a distraction, one long enough to put me to sleep.
“My vision?” Cass giggles. “Better than yours.”
I don’t laugh. “Good one.”
Gingerly, Cass shakes her head. “You think this is going to change things.” She stares into the fire. “Quit trying so hard. The sooner you get it, the sooner I can stop feeling guilty.”
“I’m not—”
“There’s no room for you. He doesn’t even have space for perfect people.”
It’s like being stabbed, then having the knife twisted.
“Do you want to grab a coffee? Coffee is my umbilical cord.”
Despite the fire’s heat, goose bumps break along my arms. “Cass, what’s your last name?”
Firelight stains the whites of her eyes orange. She frowns. “You asked me that before. I told you.”
“I forgot. Can you tell me again?”
Cass crawls back to the shelter, taking my spot between Cougar and Jupiter. I stay by the fire, keep it alive.
If there’s bleeding or swelling in the brain it creates so much pressure inside the skull that it damages the brain tissue, sometimes irreparably...
How long does it take until the patient dies?
Minutes to days... But they don’t always if a surgeon can put in a shunt to drain the fluid or remove a piece of the patient’s skull to give their swollen brain room.
We need to get out of this rain forest, bring Cass to a hospital. I consider waking my dad. What good would it do?
I tend the fire until dawn. I could wake someone else to take over, but I can’t sleep anyway. “Hey, Danny? Got a minute?” Cass asks after everyone has woken, crept away to do their morning business, eaten a half piece of licorice and started packing to leave camp.
Taking a swallow of water, I don’t choke, so that’s a win. My dad is showing Gus how to make the bamboo container to carry an ember. “Sure,” I say. She looks a little less wrecked. Maybe she just needed sleep. I follow her out of earshot of the rest of our group.
“So. I’m pretty sure last night I said some things that were none of my business?”
Cass hesitates, like she’s waiting for confirmation. I don’t give it to her.
“Anyway, I don’t want you to think I’m ungrateful...for your dad’s support, or my job.”
No apology. She’s just covering her ass. “I know what you did,” I quietly say, then walk away. Let her worry about what I mean; that I’m going to cry to Cougar; that she might lose her job. The thing with Gus was really cruel. So is what she said about my dad not having room in his life for me. But I won’t tell my dad. No one likes a snitch.
Before we leave camp, Cougar hands everyone a twig and tells us to peel the bark off one end with our teeth and then chew that end until it looks like the bottom of a broom.
“Why?” Gus asks.
Cougar says, “I don’t know about you, but my teeth are growing fur. These are hibiscus tree twigs—a natural toothbrush. They even make your breath smell sweet.”
The twig actually works well once the end is the right consistency. I pocket mine to use again later. We pack up our things and head out single file—Cougar, then Cass followed by Jupiter, me, then Gus in the rear. For the next few hours I focus on not getting stung, bitten, pierced by a thorn or taking any number of opportunities to embarrass myself. The gnats and mosquitos are a constant drone in my ears. There are moments when the sound is so maddening that I want to scream. But I don’t. I won’t.
When Gus touches my shoulder I jump. As usual he’s approached on my left. To stifle a yelp, I bite my lip hard enough to draw blood.
Gus asks, “Danny, can we talk about it?”
I’m a popular girl today. “There’s nothing to talk about. I get it.”
“I don’t think you do.”
Jupiter turns around and asks, “Everything okay, Danny?”
“Yeah. Give us a minute?” Jupiter nods, walks ahead. Gus’s expression is pure sad dog. It’s the look Trix gives guys after she dumps them. My voice is shaky but pitched low so it won’t carry. “You were told to flirt with me, get an uncoordinated, homely, one-eyed girl to think you might like her—”
“You’re not—”
“Good job, it worked,” I interrupt. “Great acting, GP. You should be proud.”
Gus shakes his head. “It’s not what you think.”
Yes, it is. “Would you have kissed me on the lips at the end of the episode to give hope to all the losers out there who will never, ever get attention from someone as good-looking and famous as you?”
“Danny—”
“Stop.” I swallow hard, nails digging into my palms to keep from becoming even more pathetic. “Just drop it.”
“Can I explain?”
If he tells me I have a great personality my humiliation will be complete. “No.”
Gus sighs like I’m the one who did something mortifying to him. “Is there anything I can do?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say, unable to stop myself. “Cougar is my dad, not yours, so back off. And stop sneaking up on my left. I’m blind in that eye.”
Gus flinches. For a second I actually think I’ve hurt his feelings. Then I remember he’s an actor. I catch up with the rest of the group, face burning. For the next few hours I concentrate on the pain in my heel, the bite of mosquitos, gnats burrowing into the wet corners of my eyes and the sweat soaking my clothes.
Half a day into our hike, we see a trickle of brown water running beside a giant kapok tree. The trickle slowly widens. We follow it until it’s three feet across, a dark chocolate stream sluggishly moving downhill. Everyone walks more quickly. We’re thinking the same thing. This will point to a real river that’ll snake through the rain forest, lead away from the relentless bugs, into air conditioning, a bed, decent food.
I’ll never have to see Gus Price again.
Cougar says, “Fill your water bottles. We’ll boil the water tonight if we need to.” He starts whistling. Even Cass smiles. Gus and Jupiter start talking about their favorite college basketball teams.
“Georgetown,” Jupiter says.
Gus shakes his head. “So yesterday. Northwestern is the team.”
“Sad.” Jupiter glances over at me. “What about you, Danny?”
I don’t watch any sports. “Georgetown.”
Jupiter gives me a high five and says, “I knew you were smart.”
Cougar points at electric-blue parrots with bright yellow circles around their eyes that swoop overhead, their calls mingling with the constant babble of monkeys. “Macaws.”
I watch an iridescent purple-and-gold bird with long tail feathers wing by. “What’s that one?”
“Crimson topaz. See that one? Red wings, yellow tail, orange-and-black beak?”
I lean over my dad’s arm, looking where he’s pointing. “I see it.”
“Oropendolas. They make hanging nests for protection from snakes.”
A furry brown-and-white creature high up in a leafy tree catches my eye. It has long hair, curved claws, sloping eyes and a goofy smile beneath a button-shaped nose.
I point up.
Cougar smiles. “It’s a sloth.”
I’m transported back to being a little kid. Cougar and I are walking through the woods, hand in hand, as he tells me about the trees, animals and his next adventure. I study the sloth. “Its fur is sort of greenish.”
“Algae grow in the cracks of their hair. It’s a symbiotic relationship. The algae get a nice place to live, and the sloth is camouflaged from predators.”
We could have a symbiotic relationship, my dad and me, if I can figure out what I have that Cougar might need. “What do sloths eat?”
“They’re herbivores. The three-toed sloths in the wild are friendly. If I could reach that guy, he’d let me pick him up. But the two-toed sloths are dangerous. They can cut a predator’s throat open with the slash of a claw.”
I catch Gus looking at me. I’m a two-toed sloth as far as he’s concerned. “What?” I ask loud enough that Cougar can hear.
Gus turns away. “Nothing.”
Cougar asks, “You two getting along?”
“Sure. GP is supercool.” My dad smiles like he’s just another father who’s happy his daughter is having a good time. I’m sure that he doesn’t know what Cass did. This really was supposed to be the best sixteenth birthday present ever, a way for him to reconnect with the kid he believed didn’t want anything to do with him.
Cougar swings the machete, cutting away the woody vines blocking our passage. He raises his arm again, then stops. The stream ends in a swamp stretching as far as we can see. It’s a flooded lattice of narrow passageways dotted with trees that grow half-submerged, clumps of thick brush, roots twisting out of the water like gnarled fingers and pockets of darkness where the swamp closes in.
All the beautiful birds, monkeys and sloths are forgotten, replaced by the unblinking eyes of a caiman swimming through tall grasses less than twenty yards away. I watch my dad take it in, square his shoulders, then turn with a smile that makes my insides collapse like a sandcastle obliterated by a wave.
21
“The good news,” Cougar says, “is that with this much water there’s almost definitely a wider stream that leads to a real river.”
I strain to see what he’s talking about. The soundtrack from Jaws fills my head. We have no idea what’s hidden in this swamp.
“Can we go around?” Jupiter asks.
Good idea! Otherwise, this feels like the part in a horror movie where the kids run and hide from their attacker in an attic or basement that has no exit.
Cougar scratches the stubble on his chin. “Diverting is an option. But who knows how far this swamp stretches? Could be miles. Everyone can swim, right?”
“We can’t go through it,” I say. Shut up. But that’s impossible. Panic is an express train pulling out of the station. Another caiman surfaces, snout first, its armored tail slowly lashing left and right; moss-colored eyes stare at us, unblinking. Its long jaw parts to reveal rows of curved teeth. My breath catches, skin shrinks, ribs compress inward...
Jupiter asks, “Danny, you good?”
Not good. Hands clutch knees. Nails dig into skin. My heartbeat struggles, dizziness creeps forward, sweat runs down my back...
Cougar says, “Look. That’s a spectacled caiman. See the bony ridge between its eyes that makes it look like it’s wearing glasses?”
I should be wearing my glasses! I have one eye! It’s unprotected! In the Amazon! Fingers wrap around my neck, squeeze. I’m about to be the biggest freaking liability my dad has ever seen. I drag down fistfuls of air but they don’t reach my lungs.
“I think she’s having some kind of anxiety attack,” Cass says.
No shit. Her voice sounds like it’s coming from far away. I’m sure she’s still filming. I struggle not to vomit...pass out...dissolve into hysteria...
“She’s fine,” Jupiter says. “It’s all good, Danny. We’re still on dry land. No caimans nearby. Haven’t seen a snake in at least fifteen minutes. The rain has stopped. Actually, it’s pretty pleasant out considering—high seventies, light breeze and only about ten thousand bugs in the vicinity. Fair to say that I wouldn’t want to buy a condo here, but it has its merits. For example...”
Jupiter drones on and on, like we’re kicking it at a local coffee shop. Like we’re on a vacation. Like everything is cool. I can’t hear much of what he’s saying, but his tone cuts through the static. My lungs struggle, my heart has compressed to a pebble, beating erratically, but I focus on Jupiter’s voice. It’s a rope that allows me to pull myself, inch by inch, back to the surface.
When I open my eyes, it’s unclear how much time has passed. Hands on my knees, I peer up at Jupiter, panting like I’ve just run a long-distance race. I’m afraid to meet anyone else’s eyes.
Jupiter smiles. “There you are.”
Every muscle in my body is overly wound, like those kids’ toys that twist rubber bands to propel plastic cars or jumping frogs. Slowly, I uncramp my torso until I’m standing up straight.
Cougar’s brow is scrunched, the picture of parental worry. “All good?”
The truth is that my body still teeters on the edge, but there’s a note of impatience in my dad’s tone that’s a warning. I’m dangerously close to being that little kid who made a scene at the beach. “All good,” I say.
Cougar looks from person to person. “Here’s the deal. Generally, caimans aren’t dangerous. They go for small prey—”
“What about black caimans?” I ask, unable to stop myself but trying to sound interested, not terrified. “In an episode you said that they drown animals and children by rolling, then stuffing them under a log until they’re waterlogged and easy to eat.”
“Thanks for that image,” Cass snaps.
Cougar says, “We’re in an area where food is plentiful. If there are black caimans around, they’re well-fed and prefer jungle animals to us.”
“Prefer? Does that mean they look at a menu that says there’s a choice between wild pigs, sloths and Danny, and then choose pigs?” My dad laughs. Score one for me, but I want to go back. I’m not sure exactly where, but not here. Cass is filming this conversation. My weakness again recorded. But we can’t even freaking see where this swamp ends. We have no idea how deep it is. The water is dark brown, opaque. There are things beneath the surface that can kill us.
Gus peers into the swamp. “What about snakes?”
I actually forget to hate him for a split second.
“Good question. The great thing about snakes is that we can see them. Plus, it’s hard for them to bite you when they’re swimming.”
Jupiter snorts. “Is that even true?”
“Look, we’re doing fine out here,” Cougar says. “We could last a long time, safe, relatively well-fed, or someone could get hurt or sick and that’d be a game changer. I’d rather take a calculated risk, get us out of here more quickly. But if you want to go back, try to skirt the swamp, well, this is a group decision.”
Cougar wraps an arm around my waist, points to a bird at the edge of the swamp. It has a beak like a pelican’s, black head, red ring around its neck and a snow-white body. “Jabiru stork. He’s looking for insects and spiders but chances are the caimans are waiting for him to wade in and then he’ll be dinner.”
My dad is trying to make me feel better. Like I’m not the best food option. Two furry heads poke out of the water near the stork. They have tiny ears, beady eyes and square snouts. They’re the size of a Jack Russell terrier and look like monster rats. “They on the menu, too?”
Cougar chuckles. “Who knew you were such a funny kid? They’re capybaras, the world’s largest rodents. Fantastic swimmers. Today they’re the special on the menu for black caimans.”
I ask, “Do they bite people?”
“Nope. Scared to death of people, especially little girls.” A pack of monkeys chitters nearby. Cougar points up. “Bald uakaris. The
smallest monkeys in the rain forest.”
I watch the red-faced, brown-furred monkeys swing from liana to liana, then scamper up a tree and out of sight.
“Tell us the real risks,” Jupiter says.
Cougar sighs. “Aren’t you supposed to be a grown-up?”
“That’s exactly what I am. And I want all the facts so I can make a grown-up decision.”
“There could be electric eels. They won’t bother us if we shuffle our feet, move slowly. If you do get shocked, it’s a nasty jolt but usually not much more. Snakes are always a threat. Not the vipers in the water, the tree boas because if they drop, we’ll be as much of a surprise for them as they are for us. Good thing, though, is their bite isn’t poisonous. If they start to wrap around you, I can get them off.”
I ask, “What about anacondas?” Cougar saw one with Malcolm, the EDM DJ, in Brazil. It was almost twenty feet long. Drop it. I can’t. “You told Malcolm that they can stay underwater for up to ten minutes. That they kill their prey by coiling, squeezing it to death.”
“You’re like a Wikipedia page for my show,” Cougar says with a forced chuckle. “Anacondas won’t be a problem in this swamp because they only hunt at night.”
Jupiter says, “It’s always dark in here.”
“What do you do if one bites you?” Gus asks.
Cougar takes a deep breath. “Believe it or not, the first thing I’d do is bite its tail. They have supersensitive tails. A lot of times, that’ll be enough for them to release you. Regardless, fight like hell. No predator wants to struggle for its meal. I’ll use the machete to go after its head, and everyone will grab rocks to bludgeon it.” He looks from face to face. “Guys, they’re on land, too.”
Jupiter laughs. “That makes me feel so much better.”
Cougar rubs his left shoulder. “On land they move more slowly so they’re easy to outrun.”
Gus shakes his head. “This is a seriously f’d-up situation.”
“Look, there’s a lot of things out here that can kill you,” Cougar says. “That’s just the truth. My job is to get as many of us as possible out of here safely.”
The Speed of Falling Objects Page 12
