Fever Dreams

by Laura Resnick

  So Madeleine returned the old man's grip with a firm squeeze and heartfelt thanks. Then she hung onto Ransom as the motor scooter rolled unsteadily into the muddy road.

  Ransom turned away from the town and the battle, going back along the road they had originally taken into Doragua. How long ago that now seemed; so much had happened since then. Not the least of which, she mused, was the change in her relationship with Ransom. Well, there was nothing like imminent death to break down social restrictions, inhibitions, and good intentions, she supposed wryly.

  And they weren't safe yet, she acknowledged, as they fled into the dark night of the Montedoran jungle.

  * * * *

  They'd been on the road for about twenty minutes when they came to a stretch of such vast, muddy holes that even the little motor scooter couldn't safely skirt them. Ransom stopped the sputtering motor, and they got off and walked, pushing the scooter along the very edge of the jungle.

  The absence of human habitation and the canopy of trees made it very dark here. Ransom had turned off the scooter's headlight to conserve the battery, and Madeleine stumbled along wearily, unable to see where she was going.

  The jungle was full of noises at night, noises she had never before noticed or seriously thought about. Shrieks, screams, grumbles, rumbling, shuffling, scurrying, and snapping. Increasingly uneasy, she edged closer to Ransom.

  “You all right?” he asked softly, keeping up a fast pace as he pushed the motor scooter.

  “Nerves,” she admitted.

  “Still got your gun?”

  That didn't help her nerves. “Yes.” She felt the weight of it in the small of her back, tucked into her belt.

  A sudden stomping on their right made them both jump. Then Ransom said, “Just an animal. Running away.”

  “A very ... big animal, do you think?”

  “Nah. Most of the big animals are extinct, very rare, or too smart to come near people. Nobody in Montedora has ever opened up a nature reserve, you know; they shot most of their wildlife years ago. The rest of it hides deep in the jungles and mountains.”

  The chattering of a monkey made her jump again. “Are you sure?”

  “Monkeys won't bother you,” he said calmly.

  She suspected he didn't know what he was talking about and was just trying to reassure her. So she changed the subject. “Where are we going?”

  “Well...” She heard his sigh and realized he had been thinking about this non-stop. “We can't reach the western border unless we go back through Doragua, so that's out. Besides, it's probably too far away, and we'd have to cross too much open territory to get there.”

  “Okay.” She considered their other options. “And as long as Escalante is in control of Montedora City, I suppose we can't go back there.”

  “Right. And since there's no border there, there's nothing for us there anyhow. We can't fly out of the airport without passports.”

  “Can we cross a border without passports, though?”

  “I figure we'll have to sneak past the Montedoran border guards, then fling ourselves on the mercy of either the Brazilians—”

  “To the north.”

  “Or the Argentines.”

  “To the south.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Meaning we have to go through the mountains, one direction or another.” It wouldn't be easy.

  “Las Lunas or Las Verdes. I favor going south.”

  “Las Verdes,” she said. “Bandits.”

  “I know.” She could hear that he was still wrestling with this problem, looking for another alternative. “But the Doristas are based in the Luna Mountains. Even before tonight, those mountains were thick with army patrols searching for Dorista groups. After tonight, it'll be a warzone.”

  “What about the Verde Mountains?”

  “Banditry is a concern, but it's an old story in those hills. The army may even divert some of their forces from there to fight the Doristas, and since we want to avoid the army...”

  “I see.” She thought about his prediction. More troops sent to fight the Doristas? “You think this attack tonight is the start of a civil war?”

  “Yes, Maddie,” he admitted reluctantly. “That's what I think.”

  “Oh.” She stepped in some mud. He caught her arm before she could fall. Abandoning her pride, she slumped against him, her arms around his neck, her belly pressed against him despite the discomfort of his gun poking into her abdomen.

  “I hope I'm wrong,” he murmured against her hair, holding her tightly with one arm.

  “But you don't think so.”

  “No,” he agreed. “And it'll only get worse when the country finds out Escalante has staged a coup. The Seguridores will have even more power than ever, the army will split up into factions with divided loyalties, and the rebels will see a chance that may never come again.”

  “But didn't Escalante guess this would happen?”

  Ransom shook his head. “He must have underestimated the Doristas’ strength. No one knows for sure how many of them there are, how much support they have, or how well armed they are. Until tonight, I'd have said they weren't ready to attack a town with an army garrison.”

  “Civil war,” she repeated, frightened. Their fate was even more uncertain than it had been a few hours ago. If the country was plunged into chaos, there wouldn't even be anyone for her father, or Marino, or even the State Department to contact about their disappearance. She ground her teeth and sought some measure of courage. “All right,” she said at last, drawing away from Ransom. “All right. We go south. Through Las Verdes. To the Argentine border.”

  She felt him reach up to touch her cheek. Then he turned and started pushing the scooter forward again. His voice was slightly husky when he spoke. “We should stay off the main roads, so we'll be less likely to encounter military checkpoints.”

  “Right.”

  “A few more miles down this road, we'll come to a crossroads. According to Gutierrez, we can head south from there.”

  “Do you think...”

  “What?” he prodded.

  “I was wondering if we might have any luck after sun-up. Finding a telephone, I mean.”

  “To call the States?”

  “Yes.”

  “It's worth a try. I don't think anyone can help us much while we're here, but maybe they could make things easier for us when we reach the border.”

  “What about trying the US Embassy here?” she asked.

  “We'd have to go back to Montedora City to get to the embassy,” he pointed out. “Or call them and then find some place to hide while we waited for them to pick us up and try to sneak us back to the embassy for asylum—or out of the country somehow—if they don't evacuate as soon as they realize what's happening. Escalante hates Americans so much that the embassy staff may be no safer than we are by this time tomorrow.”

  It didn't sound any more promising than their heading for the border on their own, so she let it drop.

  He added after a moment, “There must be Catholic missions out here, Red Cross workers, flocks of foreign journalists, UN observers ... if only we could find out where.”

  “I take it Gutierrez had no idea?”

  “No. He only knew of one Catholic mission, right in Doragua.”

  “Oh.”

  She tried to keep the fear out of her voice. She wanted him to respect her. He didn't need a hysterical client on his hands. And his honesty about their situation meant a lot to her, because she knew he didn't like telling her all this any more than she liked hearing it.

  Walking through the dark, they suddenly seemed terribly, terribly alone in the world.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  He looked terrible in the daylight. He needed a shave, one eye was blackened, his jaw was bruised and a little swollen, and the cut on his forehead stood out angrily. Since Madeleine's own cut feet and scraped knees were now feeling the unpleasant sting of infection, thanks to filth and the prolific bacteria of this hot, humid climat
e, she decided that they must buy some antiseptic today. That cut on his forehead looked bad enough without becoming infected, too.

  Ransom's eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot. His hair was more unkempt than usual, and she could tell by the way he held himself that his ribs hurt. How this man had made passionate love to her—twice—after the beating he'd taken baffled her.

  She added aspirin or some other mild form of painkiller to the mental grocery list she was preparing. Considering how much cash they were carrying, shopping shouldn't be a problem when they finally reached a town. Whether the supplies she wanted would be available was another matter.

  Bottled water was high on her list of requirements. They were drinking sparingly, but they'd need more than the single bottle they'd taken with them upon fleeing Doragua. They obviously mustn't drink from rivers and ponds, and she was also reluctant to risk amoebic dysentery or worse by drinking untreated water from pumps and wells. But plenty of drinking water was essential in this climate. Dehydration could set in fast, and it would weaken them more than anything they had so far endured.

  The scooter labored slowly as it carried them up into the Verde Mountains. Listening to it squeal and grind, Madeleine wondered how long the sorry-looking thing would last; and would they walk the rest of the way to Argentina after it died on them?

  When they reached a ridge overlooking a village, Ransom drew the scooter to a halt and stared down at the town.

  “We need to buy some things,” Madeleine said instantly, getting straight down to business. “Water, some kind of antiseptic, aspirin or something for you—”

  “I don't need—”

  “Yes, you do,” she insisted. “More gasoline, a flashlight, jackets or ponchos or something, since it'll get colder at night now that we're higher up—”

  “Jesus, you'd think they had a K-Mart down in that village. Anything else on your shopping list, milady?”

  “Food. I'm hungry.”

  “So am I,” he admitted.

  “So what are we waiting for? Let's go.”

  He didn't start the motor again, just kept staring down at the village. Something was worrying him.

  “What is it?” she asked at last.

  “I don't know.” He shrugged. “Maybe it just seems too quiet, after everything else we've seen. Stay close to me, keep your gun handy, don't talk to strangers, keep your eyes open, and don't leave the scooter alone.”

  “Anything else?”

  He didn't answer her. Instead, he pulled the stolen Colt .45 out of his belt and checked it. The he bent over and checked the engraved .38 which was concealed beneath his pant leg, strapped to his ankle—she saw with amused surprise—by his wine-colored necktie.

  “Why are you even bothering with that gun?” she asked impatiently. “It's pretty, but it's broken, Ransom.”

  “No, it's not.”

  “But it didn't fire when Morena tried to shoot you!”

  “It's my back-up gun,” he said absently, tightening the makeshift ankle holster. “For when things go wrong. I'm not going to carry a back-up gun that can be used on me.”

  “I don't understand.”

  He gripped the barrel of the gun in his right hand. “The ring,” he said cryptically. She glanced briefly at the simple ring she had noticed before, remembering that he had first worn it after arming himself at the Montedoran airport.

  “The ring?” she repeated blankly.

  “I had a Magna-Trigger safety installed on this revolver. It only fires when the user is wearing a special magnetic ring.”

  She stared at him. “You're putting me on.”

  He grinned at her expression. “No. It's something built into the grip. Customized.”

  “It sounds like some toy on the back of a cereal box.”

  “It saved my life last night,” he pointed out.

  She sobered as she realized how true that was. “Yes. Yes, it did.” She stared at the ornate little gun with new respect. “My God, Ransom, I thought I'd die on the spot when he pulled that trigger.”

  “I thought you thought I'd die on the spot.”

  “Well ... despite our personal differences, I'm rather glad you didn't,” she admitted.

  “Aw, now don't go all mushy on me, Maddie,” he chided wryly.

  Their eyes met, and she was glad to see him look briefly amused and energized. She felt a sudden impulse to kiss him, to lavish a little affection on him. It was an unfamiliar urge, outside of her normal range of emotional expression. She was a reserved woman—or had been, until she met him. And she felt ... shy, too. They'd been sexually intimate, true, but their strange relationship hadn't provided for the usual physical contact most couples experience before they start having sex—casual kisses, hand holding, snuggling, discreet caresses. She suddenly felt as shy about touching him as she would about taking off her clothes right then and there. And with Ransom, one thing tended to lead to the other so quickly...

  Realizing the silence between them was thickening, she finally said coolly, “You're not planning to shoot anyone this morning, are you?”

  “It wouldn't be my first choice, no.” His smile had disappeared and his expression was blank and unreadable. “Remember what I said and stay out of trouble.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  * * * *

  Strangers in a tiny, isolated village like this couldn't avoid attracting attention. The way the men ogled Madeleine bothered Ransom even more than the fact that they'd definitely remember the two of them if any Seguridores came by to ask about the missing americanos. Even in the sensible shirt and slacks she was wearing, with a scarf covering her glorious moon-spun hair, Madeleine looked as out of place here as an orchid among weeds. Nothing could hide the sculpted elegance of her face, the fairness of her skin, or her unconsciously aristocratic manner.

  It was the same manner which had automatically clicked into place the moment he had thought about kissing her while they were sitting on the scooter and overlooking this village an hour ago. Damn her, she didn't need to disappear in order to slip away from him. She was doing it even now.

  He knew she needed him too much to go back to their former, hostile relationship. Anyhow, they knew each other too well now. Even when he didn't like her, he still liked her (for all the sense that made), and he had a feeling she rather liked him, too. But her ladyship was apparently regretting that she had succumbed to her anguished last-meal mentality before facing death last night and had had sex with him again. Really shameless, wild, animalistic, mind-blowing sex. At first; later, it had been so tender and gentle he had trembled like a virgin discovering passion for the first time.

  Shit. He knew he shouldn't have done it. He knew it even while he was doing it. He'd recognized her mental state. She wasn't trained to face situations like last night, and he was. She had lost all judgement by the time they reached for each other. His judgement had been perfectly intact, and he never even once suggested she might want to look before she leapt.

  His father had always warned him that sooner or later you pay for everything, and the old man was right, as usual. Because now Ransom was going to pay all over again for sleeping with that damned woman. And he wasn't gentlemanly enough to endure this torture with good grace, either. Why the hell couldn't Madeleine just drive some other man crazy when she had these emotional crises, and leave him alone?

  Of course, like the dog in the manger, he'd kill any other man who tried to touch her when she was feeling weak and irrational—or even strong and rational. Yeah, he'd still like to get his hands on her fiance, he admitted to himself. Ex-fiance. Never-was-fiance. Christ, Ransom thought with redoubled irritation, that poor schmuck was probably as hopelessly bewildered by Madeleine as he was. Maybe he should just let these horny Montedoran villagers have her.

  Recognizing that he was being a trifle bad-tempered, Ransom pulled out the money Madeleine had given him, paid for the supplies he had been able to gather in this pitifully poor town, and carried them back to where Madeleine waited in the
road with the scooter. He was feeling the full effects of yesterday's beating now, and the ache which began in his toes and continued straight up through his body until it reached the tips of his hair didn't improve his rapidly deteriorating mood. Nor did the frustrations of the Montedoran telephone system. He hadn't been able to get a phone call through to Montedora City, let alone the USA. It didn't surprise him, since rumors were already spreading through this isolated village that there was fighting in the capital today. No one seemed to know any more than that, though.

  He was scared. Gut-churning scared. Right now, there was no one in the whole world but him to protect Madeleine. If anything happened to him, she'd be alone and helpless here. At the rate they were going, he couldn't get her across the border for two more days. God, if anything happened to her ... He couldn't even let himself think about that, any more than he could afford to let himself wonder what was going on in her mind right now when she thought about last night. And he knew she thought about it. He could see her thinking about it.

  Dammit, he had to stay focused. He'd never lost his focus before meeting Madeleine. But now, when it mattered more than it ever had before, emotion was clouding his judgement and dulling his instincts. He must concentrate and keep her safe.

  Tired and in pain, hungry and thirsty, frightened and afraid of his fear, and feeling rejected by the one woman who could really make it hurt, he was spoiling for a fight by the time he reached the scooter and met Madeleine's appraising gaze. Gritting his teeth with growing fury, he silently dared this impossible woman to make just one comment about the supplies he'd scrounged up, and he'd—