by Amy McKinley
He was dead. But he was a member of the guerrilla force, and Chris wondered how quickly others would arrive.
Time moved slowly. Chris got to his feet and edged over to her then pushed her gun down and snapped the safety back into place. Her eyes were glazed. As he spoke to her, she made no response, his words failing to penetrate as a shiver shook her body. With practiced movements, he slipped the gun from her hands. She swayed, and he wrapped an arm around her and maneuvered her out of sight of the dead man.
Over and over, he talked to her. He reassured her that it was all right, she was safe, and they were okay. She gave several slow blinks then flinched. It seemed as if the world came back to her full force in that second, and he breathed a sigh of relief.
“I killed him.”
“It was self-defense. He planned on shooting me. You did the right thing.”
“I know.” Her dull voice alarmed him.
“Are you okay?”
“No. It’s just… They found me—us.” Mari’s eyes widened as she shook her head. “Killing isn’t what terrifies me. It’s what’s coming next.”
“Shhh, Mari.” What’s coming next? Her cryptic words alerted him to a problem. She was withholding information.
Her unfocused gaze pulled at him, and he coaxed her back. “Come back to me.” His hand brushed against her cheek, and the dampness of the ground seeped into their clothes. She lifted a hand, brushing it against her leg. It seemed as though her awareness of the moisture was another step in grounding her. In slow increments, her color returned.
Leaning into him, she shuddered. “I-I-I—”
“Shhh. You did what you had to do. Don’t beat yourself up. Later, we can talk. Right now, I need you to snap out of it.” He shoved the lighter of the three packs into her hands. Absently, Mari slung the bag over her shoulders.
Part of him would have preferred that the man’s death was what freaked her out. Instead, she feared something else—but what? Despite her despondent attitude, as long as she was walking, he’d give her space, at least for the time being. They’d revisit whatever was causing her so much anxiety once they were relatively safe.
Chris emerged from their fort, and she followed him. He went to one man then the other, relieving them of any gear or weapons they could use and stowing what he found in his pack. He picked up the man he’d beaten. He then slung him over his shoulder and headed to the river. Rather than standing by the guy she’d shot, Mari followed, stopping when they reached the bank and he launched the guy into the water. Mouth hanging open, she stood there while he went back and repeated the process with the other man.
“Why?”
He turned to her fully, understanding that her sluggish mind refused to make the connections—she was in shock. The manhunt, or woman-hunt, she assumed they’d face most likely ran through her brain on a mind-numbing loop.
“Crocodiles. They’ll get rid of the bodies and buy us a little more time.”
Gagging, she lurched after him, revulsion etched across her features.
“This extra pack we’ve been using is from their camp, isn’t it?” He turned and leveled a look at her. At her nod, he continued. “And the canoe you have partially hidden?”
“Do you think that’s how they found us?”
He shrugged. “Could have been, but they didn’t come from the direction of the river. My guess is they’ve been combing the area, looking for the two women who raided their camp for a pack and transportation. Someone could have seen you both, or when you killed the guy who chased you. Either way, we need to move out of here.”
Her expression turned hopeful. “Are we?”
“Going for the border?” He met her questioning gaze with a distracted one of his own. “We’ll head that way.”
She cleared her throat. “Hannah was right.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Ah… I… It’s just this hellhole. It messes with your head. Everything is uncertain, and I’ve been submerged in this jungle for too long. You’re so good to me. I just—” She shook her head. “Nothing. Forget what I said. I’m just trying to process right now.”
Mari took Chris’s proffered hand and stepped onto the canoe, which bobbed in the gentle current. When they were settled in their seats, he pulled out a map from his pack, studied it, then shoved it back inside. Without the looming storm, the water wasn’t as insistent in pushing them where it wanted them to go. Their packs rested in the bed of the skiff, and he dislodged them from the bank and used the paddle to manipulate their path.
“Why are we going this way?” Mari’s voice sounded shrill and laced with anxiety.
He cast his gaze to her and noticed she was fighting tears, which was very unlike the woman he was coming to know.
“Why are we going away from the border?” Mari reached forward and gripped his arm. “Or is my sense of direction off?”
They were still headed farther away from where she wanted to go. “Just a bit farther down the river, there should be a stream we can access. After we make our way a few miles down that, we can set up a new camp. It’d be best if we travel at night as much as possible. The moon is still full enough to give us some light.”
Rolling her lips, she pressed them into a firm line. His sympathy for her stirred as he watched emotions play across her features. Even though she’d taken time to ensure he was healthy, he’d noticed her agitation growing with every day that passed. And he hadn’t forgotten that she was crossing the jungle to the border before they were reunited. He’d like to think she was searching for him. But she’d told him that she was making the trek on her own, that she had to. He knew that her need to get out of Colombia and away from the jungles of the Darien Gap was a desperate flame that burned hot inside her.
“Eyes here, Mari.”
She didn’t listen. A shudder coursed through her body as they caught up to one of the dead men floating and bobbing in the water. The other was nowhere to be found. Maybe his lungs had filled with water and he’d sunk, or the crocs had already gotten to him. They continued down the river in silence, each listening to the sounds of nature and searching for those that didn’t belong. Out in the open like that, they were taking a risk.
Oppressive heat blanketed him from all sides. The late afternoon sunlight blasted them, and temperatures rose to extreme discomfort. Yet, he saw her shivering. As they coasted along the rolling river, his unease at her pensive silence ate at him. “Are you okay?”
“No. They’re coming.”
“Come here, Mari. Move the packs to help balance where you were and sit in front of me.”
She did as he asked and settled back down, leaning against his chest. “We can handle whatever we come across. Trust me.” They’d be fine. With her close to him, their skin brushing against one another, he felt her tension ease ever so slightly. Each time they’d touched, kissed, and held one another, she let down her guard more. No matter what scared her so, he’d catch her. They’d developed a fragile trust, which blossomed in the daily chores, in her nursing him back to health, and in the desire that simmered between them.
Their direction shifted, and he angled toward the narrow stream just to their left. He turned their canoe and got them further into the canal before setting the paddle inside and grasping an overhanging branch to hold them in place. They remained bobbing in the gentle water, and he could tell that she waited to see what he’d do next.
One of his arms snaked around her stomach and held her tight. Tears rolled down her face, and she shook. He’d do what he had to do to keep her safe.
He wanted to fix things for her. At least, he could try to ease her conscience for the only thing that made sense as an explanation for her tears so far. “Mari, I’ll protect you.” He hoped his whispered words would find their way inside her, and that she would know he spoke the truth. “We did what we had to do.”
“Maybe.”
“Things will work out. We’ll camp out for a few hours then continue to the border. We
’ll be free of this place soon.”
“Okay.” She leaned into him, her head shifting ever so slightly as she searched the vegetation along the sides of the river for people. “What’s the first thing you think you’ll want once you get home?” He stiffened behind her, and she sighed. “I didn’t forget about your memory loss. Just, what do you think, or what comes to mind? Like air conditioning.”
“That’d be nice, but it’s probably not at the top of my list. You naked and both of us in a real bed would be the first thing I’d want, and definitely more than once. When we’re ready to let the world back in? Grilling a steak, potatoes, a cold beer, and good company. That sounds right.”
Her face heated at his words. “Nice.”
“What about you?”
“Safety. You.” She glanced back at him. “A life where you’re a permanent fixture by my side. Those would be top contenders. Also, I’d like a place to stay where I’d be protected. I could do without a lot, so long as I had that.” A shiver coursed through her as she pressed against him. The thickness to her voice told him she was overwhelmed, even though her words rang with truth. Her tone hinted that what they discussed had a high probability of being unattainable, because the guerillas had found them.
His arm tightened around her stomach. “While you’re by my side, you don’t need to worry, Mari. I’ll take care of you.”
The sky had already begun to darken, and for a moment, her nails dug into his legs. “I know you’ll try, Chris. I just hope we have that chance, that we make it out of the jungle alive.”
Chapter 11
Mari
Secure between Chris’s legs in the canoe, Mari let her mind wander. She’d started her journey through the treacherous Darien Gap with the intent to cross the border and eventually make her way to the States—alone. Now that Chris was by her side, she couldn’t imagine doing it any other way than with him. He offered her stability, safety, and a tether to sanity in the dangerous swampland that was rife with killers.
If the need arose, she was one, too. It had been necessary—it was Chris’s life or that man’s. That’s what she understood.
She wasn’t a stranger to death or to killing—she’d grown up in a tough environment and mingled with dangerous people in her youth. This was her first time pulling the trigger and ending a life, but it wasn’t a foreign experience. Death came in all forms, and who wielded the death blow depended on the situation. It could be from a disease, such as her aunt’s, or a senseless slaughter, which was what happened to her parents, or what she and Chris had done to ensure their own survival.
Mere inches from the narrow bank on either side of their canoe, Mari kept a vigilant lookout for both people and dangerous wildlife. Risking a quick glance behind her, she caught Chris’s intent predator-like expression in the glow of the moon, and her breath hitched. Fierce, single-minded focus radiated from him. With his jaw clenched, he scanned the surrounding area and the trees, all while keeping them on course. If there was a threat, she had no doubt he’d neutralize it.
Still, she wanted an additional reassurance. Keeping her voice low so it didn’t travel and put them in further danger, she asked him, again, the question that was most on her mind. “Are we heading in the right direction to the border?”
“Yes, in a roundabout way. We’ll follow the stream several miles until we find a good place to rest, preferably closer to morning.”
Leaning back into Chris once more, Mari pulled her gun out, getting ready in case they were ambushed. They weren’t terribly far from the guerrilla camp, and she had no idea if they would come across more insurgents or others with dark intent. They could very well be outnumbered. Chris moved silently through the jungle and navigated the canoe in the same manner. In the time she’d known him, he never ceased to amaze her. She craved him. He’d hacked away at the barrier she’d tried to keep intact between them, and more often than not, she found herself brushing her hand along his hard body or leaning in for a breathless kiss.
She nibbled on her lip as she contemplated the differences between him and the other men she knew. There was no comparison. He trumped them all.
“How is it that you move like a ghost?”
He didn’t answer, and she felt his body tense behind her. A slight tremor ran through him.
“Chris? Are you alright?”
Silence met her question.
Cautiously, she turned around and caught the haunted look that seized his features. “What is it?”
He winced. “Just a flash of moving through the jungle with some others. Nothing clear.” With a shake of his head, he resumed the same sure motions with the paddle, moving them swiftly downstream. “About another hour, and we’ll break.”
They’d traveled a good distance, and from the look of the sky, morning would lighten the horizon in a few hours. She wanted to get their camp set up and put up their hammocks to catch a little sleep. She hoped they’d find something as camouflaged as their former campsite.
A few chunga palm trees were on their right. Several drops of sap glistened from the bright moonbeams and made her glad they weren’t stopping there. The palms were covered in long, sharp spines, laden with bacteria, and deadly in the jungle. One scrape was all it would take for an infection to set in, which was definitely not wanted in the hot and humid environment. Bacteria thrived there.
Monkeys and birds called to each other from the canopy of trees as the sky continued to lighten. Soft rays peeked through the break in the leaves overhead. Her grip stayed tight on the gun while she let the serenity of the wild sink into her. If the jungle hadn’t been infested with drug trafficking, guerrillas, kidnapping, and deadly wildlife, its appeal would have been greater. Well, without the intense heat and insects, too.
They quietly glided through the water, with the jungle’s symphony their only company. Silence generally meant danger of the human variety. Aside from their mishap with the men who’d attacked them, things looked good.
In time, she would confess her secret about their relationship, but it wasn’t the right moment. They’d found a rhythm together, a chemistry that burned bright, and a mutual goal—to escape the rough terrain.
“The area right before the bend looks good, with lots of vegetation.” Chris pointed. “If we can make our way through the plants and bushes without having to use the machete, we can camp here for a few hours.”
Her spirits lifted. They could rest, eat, and hydrate before beginning their travels again in the morning. She knew he’d push on, forgoing sleep. He was probably stopping for her, but she was grateful.
With a shove on the bed of the shallow stream, Chris brought them against the bank. “Hold the paddle here, Mari. I’ll get out then help you.”
Her fingers curled around the wooden handle, the end of which was still shoved into the riverbed. The current pulled, and she strained to keep them in place.
Once off the canoe, Chris bent down and gripped the side of it. “You can lift the paddle up now. Just put it inside, then grab my shoulder to steady yourself as you get out.”
Before she stepped out, she slipped her pack on, dragged the other two closer, then tossed each of them onto the ground near where he stood. She did as he’d instructed, pleased at how much easier it was to get out of the canoe this time than it had been when she was with Hannah.
“Move back a little,” he said. When she complied, he pulled the canoe out of the water and dragged it over to a thicket of plants. He picked up a branch he’d found by the canoe’s hideout then arranged it to cover their tracks. “That’ll hopefully keep us hidden.” He slung the remaining two packs over his back then moved around her, deeper into the jungle. “We’ll find somewhere close, but out of range of a flood if it rains tonight.”
If heavy rains came, there would be risk of the waterways flooding, and waking to that would suck. Mari tried to place her feet where he did. The forest floor was wet, and it sucked at her boots, making it hard to walk. Falling behind Chris, she found it diffi
cult to match his much larger stride. Forcing a burst of energy, she took a large step forward, but her back foot caught on a root, and the slick ground slid out from under her. She went down hard. Her palms smashed into a plant before sinking into mud. Something moved, and she felt a burning sensation crawl up her arm in a succession of fiery bites. Whipping her hand up, she scurried back from the spot. A line of red ants—fire ants—moved up her arm, attacking her. She cried out before clamping her lips together.
Chris lunged at her and brushed her off with his hand. When he got them off, he lifted her to her feet, and she moaned. The back of her right hand and arm throbbed and burned.
“Are you being bitten anywhere else?” He tightened his hold on her and pressed her against his chest.
She shook her head then raised her arm so he could see the trail of bites, along with the instant redness and swelling. “I can’t believe this.”
“At least it was isolated to your hand and arm. Could have been a lot worse.” He slipped an arm around her waist and led her to sit at the base of a tree.
She whimpered as her injury burned in painful pinpricks. Her fingers went numb. Chris unzipped his backpack and rummaged through it before pulling out some pills and a canteen. She took the medicine from his hand and swallowed them with a gulp of water.
“I know it hurts like a bitch. Is anything swelling? Your tongue? Any difficulty breathing?”
A few tears leaked from her eyes, and she shook her head. “No, it just burns and itches like crazy.” She worried that the welts would open and become infected. Stabbing pain rode her nerves like a rollercoaster. “I’m not allergic. I can breathe okay at least.”
“Let’s get you down by the water, and you can put your hand in there for a while. It’s the best we can do without ice.”
He picked her up—why, she wasn’t sure, but she didn’t complain—and carried her to the edge of the stream, helping her to rest comfortably with her arm dangling in the water. It was dark enough that she didn’t worry much about enemies sneaking up on them. They still could, but she was well hidden by the tall grass around her. They’d have to come right up on her to see where she sat.
