by Nate Granzow
She felt him smile. He kissed her hair.
"I like you more and more all the time."
The muted sound of stone scraping and tumbling against stone came from behind them. Light, though dim and broken as it streamed through trees at the bottom of a valley carpeted in ferns, came flooding into the space. A face appeared.
Christian.
The young man, sweating heavily as he continued to move rocks, shouted over his shoulder, "They're over here! Guys, they're both here!" Turning back toward Olivia and Austin, the researcher asked, "Are you two okay?"
"A great deal better now, lad."
*******
Christian shambled along the maintenance tunnel, rewinding and replaying the scene of him professing his love for Olivia, kicking himself for how clumsily he'd articulated his attraction. No wonder she turned him down, he thought. He'd acted like a nervous teenager asking for a prom date. How could she take that seriously?
The cries of the hekura shook him from his reverie. Turning to look for the others, he saw only darkness and a murky haze of fog riding the tunnel floor. So he ran. Breath coming hard in the dank air, the sound of his feet stamping the shallow muck echoing behind him. He envisioned the mercenary from the night before, an enormous bear of a man, being dragged into the brush as if he'd been a small child. Then, Bisari—ripped from the door before he could utter a cry. Christian didn't want to face a creature capable of that. Especially not by himself.
The tunnel suddenly banked downwards at a 90-degree angle, spitting him into a pool of stagnant water covered in a thin layer of algae. Scrambling up a nearby embankment, Christian took in his surroundings. He had no idea where he was. Worse, none of the crew seemed to have followed him. Had they been killed? Was he completely alone, here, in the middle of the world's largest jungle? He began to feel a tension in his chest accompanied by a dizzying anxiety he'd felt only once before in his life.
The night he'd spent in prison.
What began with a misappropriated bottle of tequila in a friend's basement ended with a drunk and disorderly charge and Christian's ass in the back of a squad car. The police called his parents and threw him in a cell to sober up. Cold. Alone.
But it was only after he'd trudged home the next day to an empty house—his father at work, his mother at the stables—that he realized how alone he really was.
That night, Christian was given only a stern, if distracted, warning as his father waited on a conference call with a business partner. Though odd, Christian wished his father had been infuriated, had yelled, and had grounded him until eternity, if only to prove that what Christian did in his life mattered to him.
He hadn't felt lonely when he'd walked out of his father's study that day. The emotion was more akin to what he felt now—forsaken.
Recounting a survival show he'd once seen, Christian began wondering if he'd be left to wander the jungle for days until he lost his mind from dehydration or starvation. He had no GPS, no compass, and no sense of what direction to travel even if he did. If he miraculously found a way to return to the airplane, he couldn't pilot it. And with no food and no sense of what water was safe to drink, he wouldn't last very long.
Leaning against a tree, Christian slid to the dirt and began to cry. Choking sobs. Any other time he would have been ashamed.
Looking at his watch through a blur of tears, he gave himself two minutes—just two minutes—to finish feeling bad for himself. Crying solved nothing.
He didn't make it to two minutes.
The deep thrump of a suppressed explosion rolled through the trees.
Wiping his eyes, Christian stood and began sprinting toward the sound. Stumbling down a steep decline into a valley faced on one side with crumbled stones, he covered his mouth with his shirtsleeve. A haze of fine dust hung on the air.
A rockslide? A cave collapsing?
What if the others had taken a different route out of the compound than he had? What if they'd survived the hekuras' onslaught?
And what if they'd triggered the explosion?
Digging wildly at the stones until exhaustion left him breathless, muscles screaming, sweat pouring down his brow and stinging the corners of his eyes, the young researcher finally broke through to a small cavern. A voice resonated from within.
"Kid? Holy shit I'm glad to see you." Jeremy, covered from head to toe in rock dust, crawled his way through the small aperture Christian had created. "You saved the day, man."
The tears came again, but these were different. The young man was overjoyed to know he wouldn't have to face death alone. He hugged the pilot tightly.
Taken aback, Jeremy mumbled, "It's all right, amigo." We're still here. They haven't beaten us yet."
THIRTY-SEVEN
Jeremy extended his hand to Austin as he emerged from the rubble. The Englishman ignored the outstretched hand and moved in to embrace his friend.
"Thought we'd had it, old chap."
"Glad you made it out, cofrade," the Brazilian said, slapping the Brit's back heartily.
"How'd you get out?"
Jeremy pointed at Christian and raised his eyebrows. I know, I was surprised, too.
Olivia hugged the young researcher, who looked unusually timid in her arms.
"Thank you, Christian."
"You're welcome, Dr. Dover. I'm glad I found you. I thought for a minute that I was the only one who'd escaped."
"Not to prematurely cut short this very touching reunion, but just because the sun's out and the hekura are stuck in the dark for the moment, we've got some serious marching to do if we're going to make it back to your plane before nightfall," Clayton reminded. "Maybe we should start moving in that direction." He wiped at the sludge on his bare chest, formed by the dust from the explosion as it mixed with his sweat.
"Sorry, jackass, but the rest of us need a minute to process all this, okay?" Jeremy said, wiping the dust from the GPS and attempting to power it on. The screen sported a large crack, the device battered by the rubble.
"That minute could mean the difference between survival and death. The longer we sit around circle-jerking and 'processing', the less time we have to get the fuck out of here," he replied, his voice lowering.
Tossing the broken GPS into the dirt and gripping the round knob on his weapon's slide, Jeremy snapped back the bolt threateningly, ejecting a live round. "You're here only because we were too compassionate to feed you to the hekura, even if you deserved it. But you're pushing my limits, soldier boy."
Hurling his M1A into the brush and unclasping his battle belt, Clayton stepped forward menacingly.
"Did you just call me 'boy'?"
Austin stepped forward to stop the confrontation when Christian's toy dinosaur let out a loud snarl. Both Clayton and Jeremy looked over at the young researcher. The intern smirked, his finger on the toy's button.
"You two need to chill out. Don't make me push it again. I'm tired of hearing the world's most unlucky charm play, but I'll do it."
Everyone smiled at the young man's attempt at levity.
Wiping his mouth and sighing loudly, Clayton mumbled, "You guys have taken all this better than I would if I'd been in your shoes. I appreciate that. But we really do have to get moving. I'm sorry if I'm coming off as a hard-ass, but I want to live, and I don't care if it hurts your feelings so long as I get out of this jungle."
Jeremy ignored the man's unapologetic attempt at reconciliation. Spitting, he stared the mercenary down as he set out into the jungle.
THIRTY-EIGHT
The morning brought with it a reassuring calm: warm flecks of sunshine dancing through openings in the jungle canopy, playful exclamations of birds and monkeys overhead, and the fresh perfume of flowers and citrus drifting on the air. It was a misleading picture of a serene paradise, one that would have left skeptical anyone listening to expedition's tale of near-annihilation.
"So our only hope without a GPS or Bisari is that we run into the river and it funnels us toward the bridge, because w
e'll never find our trail in this mess," Jeremy complained, stamping the base of a sapling palm tree as he pushed aside thick vines blockading his path. "Even hauling ass, it's gonna take us just as long to get back to the plane as it did to get here in the first place,"
"Yeah, well now you've got something to coax you along," Clayton said. "Just think about coming face to face with those hekura things again; should give you just the boost you need. Certainly works for me. With one of those critters on my ass, I could knock out an 80-mile ruck march in record time."
"Oh, I've got all the encouragement I need. I just don't know where the hell I'm going. We'll have to be careful not to get turned around. Without being able to see the sun, and with no obvious landmarks, it's easier to do than you might think." Jeremy slowed his pace, and then frowned at Clayton. "You had a GPS in your vest back at the outpost. What'd you do with it?"
The mercenary looked as though he'd just remembered leaving the stove on after locking up his house and leaving for vacation.
"I left it behind."
"You left it behind?" Jeremy shouted.
"I was trying to cut down on weight. A second GPS seemed extraneous," Clayton said, biting his lower lip and looking away.
"You still think so?"
"Obviously not."
"Gentlemen, this is no time for petty quarreling. We're fighting for our very lives; we need to rely on one another," Henri reminded.
Christian stumbled, putting a hand against a tree trunk. "I don’t feel very good." He'd become pale, and his skin chalky.
"When was the last time you drank any water?" Olivia asked.
"A couple hours, I guess. I ran out."
"Here." She reached inside Austin's bag to retrieve his canteen and said, "Just drink it slowly. A couple sips a few times an hour. It’s got to last you, and if you guzzle it you’ll puke it back up again and be worse off."
"Thanks, Dr. Dover."
She stood beside him as the others continued on.
Looking at her through his matted curls of hair after taking a sip, Christian said, "I never apologized to you about my conduct back at the outpost."
"It's okay, Christian. We understand one another better, now, right?"
"Right." He gave her a disingenuous smile. One look told her his feelings for her hadn't changed much since they'd first embarked. They might have been tempered by her refusal, but the harrowing experiences they'd undergone together had undoubtedly bolstered them, too. Olivia expected Christian still viewed her with more than professional respect.
"Okay. Come on—let's catch up to the others. We haven't got too much farther to go. Just think how good it'll feel to get back on the plane and leave all this behind."
"I am ready to go home," he agreed. "Don't take this the wrong way, Doctor Dover, but after all this, I'm thinking of pursuing a different career."
Dripping sweat and covered in fresh mud, the expedition marched on. Hours passed.
Henri sighed, massaging his crudely bandaged hand. He'd become unusually quiet following their escape from the cavern. Olivia could tell he was physically and emotionally exhausted, and though stubbornly forging ahead, there wasn't much more the elder researcher could take. Olivia increased her pace to walk alongside him, but slowed as Austin stepped beside her and asked, "How are you holding up?" Plucking a large red orchid from a low-hanging branch, he tucked it behind her ear playfully. She smiled.
"I'm terrified and exhausted. But I'm alive, so I can't complain. You?"
"About the same. You want me to take a go with that pack?" he asked, gesturing toward the bag on her back.
"No, it's fine. It doesn't weigh much at all. I just hope…I hope these plants were worth it."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean this expedition. The deaths of that tribesman, Bisari, Clayton's team, your airplane's crew…there have been a lot of lost lives for the sake of this plant. I only hope it proves to have been worth the sacrifice."
"I hope so, too. But it was worth it to me even if we don't make it out of here."
"What do you mean?"
Austin gave her a quizzical look. "I met you, didn't I?"
He reached his hand to her side. She took it and squeezed.
"I don't remember this being here," Jeremy shouted, halting the procession as he stopped before a deep, water-filled corixo—a flood channel twisting across their path.
"Let's just go around," Clayton offered.
"This could go on for miles, and we don't have any real idea of how far off course we've gotten. We're heading in the right direction as far as I can tell, so let's just figure a way across," Jeremy countered.
Exhausted and unwilling to argue with the hotheaded Brazilian anymore, Clayton asked, "How deep is it?"
"Not really worried about the depth," Austin said, stepping close to the edge and staring into the thick weave of lianas on both banks of the narrow creek. "It's the piranhas I'm concerned about. You get caught up in those vines, the movement will have the little buggers feasting on your nether regions in short order."
"I don't like that idea," Christian said, swallowing and glancing down at the crotch of his pants.
"I don't think anyone does. But Jeremy's right—you can get turned around quickly trying to keep your feet dry. We need to ford it. Its success will come in its execution."
The others stared at him, bewildered.
"Well, we're wasting daylight. Henri, keep that injured hand out of the water, right?"
One by one, with Jeremy leading, they carefully waded into the water. No one spoke; they all focused on making the least amount of turbulence possible. Henri closed his eyes and bit his lips as he ventured across. Clayton stared daggers at the water, refusing to allow the finned carnivores to get the jump on him. Arriving on the opposite shore and scrambling up the steep bank, Olivia gasped. They were all covered in liver-colored leeches the size of sausages.
"Bloody hell," Austin swore as he ripped the worm-like creatures from his clothes.
"Don't rip them off if they're on your skin," Olivia warned, jogging over to Austin and sliding a finger up his exposed arm, beneath a leech's body, and carefully dislodging the sucker from the wound. "If you rip them off, they'll leave their teeth embedded and it'll become infected. Slip them off like this."
"You learn that from your extensive experience in the jungle?" Austin teased, gazing into her eyes.
She smiled and shook her head. "I'm just a green wonk, remember? I read it in a book."
The others followed Olivia's example, plucking the bloodsuckers off.
"They're feisty little bastards, aren't they?" Clayton said as one of the leeches twisted and tried to reseat itself on his hand.
"What do you think, Christian, you going to come back here to vacation someday?" Jeremy laughed as he flung one of the bloated leeches at the young man's feet.
"I'll probably pass on this part of the world for a while," Christian replied, sidestepping the bloodsucker. He felt a smile coming to his lips. They'd been under such duress for so long, the levity was appreciated.
"I think we should continue on," Henri said, glancing nervously at the rapidly darkening sky.
They agreed, and set out with renewed urgency.
"How close are we to the plane?" Christian asked half an hour later between winded gasps for breath.
"We've got to be getting close to the bridge," Jeremy said, looking at the tree canopy with a frown.
Clayton suddenly stopped and knelt—motioning to the others to do the same.
Calling out from nearby, a familiar voice yelled, "Mr. British, come out and see your old friend Raul."
THIRTY-NINE
Shocked, Austin turned to Jeremy, who looked down and cursed. They'd gotten so close to escaping cleanly.
"Bugger. How the hell did that duffer find us?" Motioning to the others to stay put, Austin stayed low and shifted fifty yards to the left before standing up and calling out, "Alvarez, I thought we'd talked about this already. You give
me a week, and we'll make good on the shipment."
Christian whispered, "What's going on? Who's that guy?"
Jeremy stayed silent, grinding his teeth.
Henri repeated the young man's question.
The copilot just hushed them as he listened to the conversation between his friend and the drug lord. His eyes met Olivia's. She nodded knowingly.
"Well, I felt another meeting was appropriate," Alvarez said. "We waited for you at your airstrip, you never showed. So we came looking." Alvarez stepped out of hiding and approached, his Smith & Wesson held to his side. Austin instinctively withdrew his Webley—the weapon dwarfed by the Colombian's hand cannon.
"Put your gun away," Alvarez said dismissively. A vee of sweat darkened the neckline of his tee shirt, his inflated pectorals twitching as he hefted his sidearm level with the pilot's face. "Don't fool yourself into thinking you can fight back. I brought all my boys along, and they're just itching for a chance to do some shooting. I wouldn't give them that chance, if I were you."
"Why would I need to fight you?" Austin asked calmly. "I told you we'd pay you as soon as we returned this shipment to the labs. This can still work out amiably for both of us."
Licking his lips as he ran a hand through his slicked-back hair, Alvarez said, "You have that plant—you know, the cancer-curing one—and I want it. You see, it occurred to me that if it was worth so much money to your company, maybe I should just take it from you. Cut out the middleman, you know? Hand it over and I'll let your friends live."
Holding his arms out casually, Austin asked, "What are you going to do with a plant, Alvarez? You sell cocaine, not pharmaceuticals. Your 'technicians' can't even read."
Chuckling sadistically, the drug lord replied, "Yeah, but it's not so hard to call up a competitor of yours, is it? I'm sure they'd know what to do with it, and what it's worth. I bet they'd pay handsomely for a shot at it. I might even be able to pit a few companies against each other in a bidding war. Yeah, I like that idea more and more. Now I'm fucking serious, Mr. British, bring me the plant or I light you fuckers up. You know me, man. I'll do it gladly."
