The Edge

Chapter Twenty-Nine

That was well done, Laura," I said. She laid the Bren Ten back against her stomach. "One minute we were alone, the next, he just appeared. You rattled him. It gave me the chance I needed."

We took his weapon and three candy bars from his pants pocket. Soon Savich was stamping his feet into new boots. "They fit perfectly," he said. "And he has water too."

I said, "That shot could attract anyone else out there. Savich and I should look around. We shouldn't be much longer than ten minutes."

Laura said, "Go. We'll be all right."

Savich and I went together, back toward where they'd come from. We saw a green boa wrapped at least three times around a tree we had just passed. I felt a chill slide over my flesh. "There are too many things alive in this place. Every step you take you've got to look everywhere, up and down and sideways, all the time. I just touched a tree that was covered with spikes. It's all so bloody wild and we're not in control here."

"If Laura hadn't taken that machete," Savich said, "we wouldn't be here at all."

I traced the flight of a scarlet macaw, its brilliant red feathers blending down its back into yellow, then blue. He landed, hovering on the very end of a branch not three feet from us that pumped up and down with the bird's weight. I wondered what Nolan would think of this otherworldly bird.

"A trail or two might be nice," Savich said. "There's no sign of anyone else. Let's get back."

It was so hot now it was hard to breathe. The humidity was crushing. Our shirts were soaked with sweat.

The sweat was so deep on my forearm I could see insects drowning before they could bite me.

"It's still morning," Savich said. "I can't wait to see how much hotter it gets by this afternoon. Look at this damned soil-it's clay. I don't want it to rain. Maybe it's not the rainy season, you think?" He laughed, shaking his head at himself.

I said to Savich, "It's not even ten o'clock yet, but we shouldn't stay here. What do you think? Carrying Sher-lock and Laura and all the supplies, can we make maybe half a mile before collapsing under a tree?"

"At most," Savich said. "If we have to use the machete to get through, we might not make more than a couple of miles all day."

"Better the women are down than us. I can just see Laura trying to tote my carcass over her shoulder."

Savich laughed, then sobered. "If Laura's wound gets infected, she's in major trouble."

"We've got some more shirts. We'll cover every naked bit of her. The shirts might not smell real sweet, but they're blessed protection against the filth and the bugs."

I looked up at the dense canopy overhead, saw a big reddish monkey staring down at us. "There are so many colors," I said, "everywhere. Look, Savich, mangoes. They're even ripe. We can eat our Baby Ruths, then have mangoes for dessert." I picked about half a dozen of the best. I was surprised that some of the critters hadn't already nabbed them.

At one o'clock in the afternoon, we broke into a small clearing, maybe two square meters, that wasn't overflowing with growing green things. The canopy wasn't as thick here and more light came through.

That light brought us some breathing space, literally. I stood a moment, Laura in my arms, under a thick shaft of hot, clear sunlight. I laid her on a blanket right beneath that blessed shaft of light. "Soak it up," I told her. "Let it dry you to your toes."

I dragged the thick net that held the water bottles over the last thirty or so yards. Two snakes flashed across the ground so fast I couldn't imagine any predator catching them. I had no idea if they'd kill you with a bite or not.

I spread out the blankets, then scraped away more foliage to create a small perimeter. Laura had been largely silent for the past two hours. I think she'd slept part of the time, so drugged that she couldn't stay awake. I laid my palm across her forehead. She was hot as hell, but maybe that was normal in this hellhole. It had to be near one hundred percent humidity on the floor of the rain forest. At least her skin didn't feel clammy.

Sherlock was finally awake. She was sitting cross-legged in the middle of a blanket, staring over at Laura. "Don't let her die," she said to me, and began shredding the ragged edge of one of the shirts she was wearing.-She'd torn off a strip of shirt and tied her thick red hair back from her face. Still, strands were curling haphazardly around her ears. "I couldn't have imagined a place like this. I just saw a frog that flew from one tree to another tree. They were at least ten feet apart. It was long and skinny and just about the ugliest thing I've ever seen. I think it was red, maybe orange, I can't be sure, it flew so fast. This place isn't meant for people, you know?"

"I know," Savich said. "Maybe we should think of our little sojourn here as a bizarre sort of vacation.

Maybe Club Med would be interested. Mac and I saw a jaguar. You rarely see them, even here. Drink this, sweetheart. No, don't just give me ladylike sips. Gulp it down. That's right."

When she'd drunk her fill, Savich wiped her mouth. She raised her hand and touched his fingers as they lay against her cheek. "Dillon, my brain feels like it's coming back to me. Is that a lemon I see?"

"Good," he said. "That's good. Yep, Mac and I found some lemon and lime trees. We picked both. If we run out of water or need to wash up, we can use them."

"We can use the lime in Laura's margaritas. I can see you now, Dillon, see exactly who you are. I didn't like being away from you like that."

"I didn't like it either," Savich said.

"You don't have to carry me anymore now."

He leaned over and kissed her hard and quick. "Good. That means you can help carry the water bottles."

She laughed, a real Sherlock laugh, and again, it made me wish I'd killed Molinas for what he'd done to her. And what he'd done to me.

Laura's eyes were closed. I knew she was in pain, but I needed to ration the pain pills. I gave her water, antibiotics, and two aspirin.

"It's time for lunch," I said. "It's all sugar and fat. My two most favorite things in the world. We'll be on such highs, we'll be jumping around up there in the trees with the monkeys."

Savich said, "I saw half a dozen red howler monkeys about seventy-five paces behind us. They were swinging around, high above us, interested but not going crazy at the sight of us. It was like we were neighbors they just didn't like. It made me think they've seen a number of people here in their territory.

Maybe we aren't deep in a rain forest in the bowels of Colombia, a hundred miles from civilization.

Maybe we're close to a village or a town. Though I don't know who would live in a place where taking a breath feels like sucking on a blast furnace."

I frowned over at him, nodding. "You're right. That jaguar we saw just seemed bored, like we were no big deal. Like he'd keep an eye on us because it was part of his job but he wasn't at all worried."

"That's probably how they look just before they spring," Savich said, laughing at my expression. "Nah, I wouldn't worry about the cats. Who knows? Hey, are you guys ready for some lunch?"

"I want my margarita," Laura said, her voice slurred. "I know you picked some limes. I heard Sherlock talk about it." I opened her two shirts and looked at the bandage. No blood, thank God. What should I do for it now? I'd been through some basic survival training, but that was it. I saw a small pool of dried blood on her right breast that I'd missed when I'd cleaned her with the alcohol. I didn't think, just lightly scratched up the dried blood. Her eyes opened.

"Blood," I said. "I couldn't bear to see it on you, Laura."

"How do I look?"

I wanted to tell her that despite everything I was still a guy, with guy thoughts, and I wanted to look at her breasts and smooth my fingers over them while my eyes were closed, and tell her she was beautiful. I felt an insect bite the base of my index ringer. "No new bleeding. The bandage is nice and clean. You're sweating and that's good. A nice dry, hot sweat from the sun. I think the best thing is just to leave everything alone. Tomorrow morning I'll change the bandage and see how the wound looks. Now, since you're such a good patient, you get a reward." I peeled a Baby Ruth candy bar and broke off a small chunk. I waved it under Laura's nose. She didn't say a word, just opened her mouth. She smiled while she chewed. I fed her the entire bar. "You're going to want to start dancing from this sugar high," I said.

"She can dance with Sherlock," Savich said. He was sitting on Sherlock's blanket, licking chocolate from his fingers.

"Sherlock, you okay now?"

"I'm a lot better than you are, Laura. Is the pain bad?"

"I can control it. I'm forced to lie here and watch Mac eat one of my candy bars. It's tough. My mouth is watering. If I had the strength, I'd rip it out of his mouth."

I broke off a little piece and put it in her mouth. She closed her eyes in bliss and chewed.

I counted. We had five more candy bars. We needed to find some fruit besides the mangoes. I thought bananas should be all over the place, but I hadn't seen any. I'd seen a small anteater scraping along on the floor, and I tried to imagine baking him over a fire. I said, "Everyone, keep your eyes open for some edible stuff, probably fruit, that we can pull off a tree, peel, and eat, okay?"

"We might as well start on the mangoes," Savich said, as he began peeling mangoes and handing them out. "Nice and ripe. Eat up."

"I've got matches," Sherlock said, mango juice dripping off her chin. "When we stop this afternoon, we'll build a fire. It'll keep the creepy things away."

"I know all about how to do that," Laura said. "I spent lots of my childhood at campgrounds being ordered around by Dad and an older brother. I've seen some birch and beech trees. Even some oak.

That's hard wood, good for burning in a fire."

Sherlock crawled over to Laura. "I've got another strip of shirt. Let me braid your hair, it's kind of all over the place."

I watched Sherlock try to make a French braid of Laura's long, very matted hair. She smoothed out most of the tangles and picked away half a dozen insects. The best I could say about the result was that her hair was away from her face.

"How is it?" Laura asked.

"You're gorgeous. Sherlock's got a real talent with hair, particularly really long hair like yours." I dabbed a piece of wet shirt over Laura's mouth to get rid of the sticky mango juice. I could just imagine how all the flying critters would love that stuff.

She smiled and closed her eyes.

I got to my feet and stretched. I packed everything up, then lifted Laura into my arms. I was used to her weight now. It felt good. I looked all around me, carefully. Nothing lethal in sight, man or beast.

Sherlock, thank God, was walking on her own. She kept up with Savich, right on his heels, carrying the first-aid kit and an AK-47. "Sleep, Laura," I said. "I won't tell any bad jokes to keep you up."

"That's good, Mac," she said against my shoulder. Her voice was weaker.

We kept moving. Laura seemed lighter than she had just an hour before. It was as if she were fading away, slowly, and there didn't seem to be anything I could do to stop it. Except find help.

Savich kept up a steady stride, chopping away the undergrowth ahead of us. We saw very little but we heard scurrying sounds all around us.

Suddenly we heard screaming and barking sounds, high above us. A family of spider monkeys, about ten of them, were jumping up and down, rattling branches. Savich got hit in the middle of his back with a shriveled piece of brown fruit we couldn't identify. They hurled other vegetation and small branches down at us, but nothing that hurt us. I hurried and got a thick, sharp-edged leaf in my face for my trouble. They weren't afraid of us, just pissed that we were in their territory. Once we had moved sufficiently on, they ignored us.

When the rain came in the middle of the afternoon, hot, thick sheets of rain, I would have given two of my candy bars for a big umbrella. Then we discovered that parts of the canopy overhead were so thick, we were able to stay relatively dry if we stayed in the right spots. I covered Laura as best I could. Steam rose off the ground when the deluge finally stopped. The humidity didn't lessen, it just wasn't liquid anymore. Steam rose from our clothes again.

We all smelled very ripe.

I eased Laura onto her feet, holding her upright against me.

"Can you imagine what a cold shower would feel like, Mac?" she asked.

"Right now," I said, and closed my eyes briefly, "it would be on my top-ten list. Maybe top three. I want you in that cold shower with me, Laura, laughing and fit again."

She didn't say anything and that scared me. We kept going.

Now, to add to the impenetrable undergrowth in front of us, the ground was mud. The nicely packed clay was slippery and wet through to a depth of a good six inches. Mud covered us to our knees. It made walking as hard as sucking one of our limes through a straw. I nearly fell once. It was Sherlock who steadied me.

Sweat poured off us. Savich was grunting with each swing of the machete. Monkeys and birds shrieked and howled above us. We couldn't see even one of them. The racket was nearly deafening at times.

Just when I wanted to stop, go down on my knees, and never move again, I saw butterflies sporting the most amazing colors-reds, yellows, greens. I just pointed at them. One followed us a good distance, gliding beside my face, wide-winged, the brightest blue imaginable, its wings rimmed with solid black.

When the butterflies disappeared, taking their beauty with them, I realized we'd moved at least another twenty feet west. The rain forest was deadly, horrific, and those butterflies were the most beautiful things I'd ever seen.

Sherlock spotted two coral snakes. She came to a stop and just stared two feet to her left into some undergrowth. There was no way a coral snake could go unnoticed. The vivid orange-and-white stripes slithered away from us and into deeper cover.

I checked to see that everyone's boots were tightly laced up, the ends of their pants firmly tucked inside the boots. It was hard to tell with all the mud covering everything. At least we didn't have any mud on our skin. Talk about itching. But no insects could get inside, and no snakes. I noticed bites on the backs of my hands. No hope for it.

Survival, I thought. We just had to survive. We didn't hear any helicopters for the rest of the afternoon, or the noise of any other humans. It was just the four of us, alone in this living oven.

"Hot damn," Savich shouted. "Look what I found. Ripe bananas, to go with our mangoes. Now the Baby Ruths can be our dessert."

We also found some pipas, a green coconut you can crack open and drink out of. Since Sherlock had taken one of those huge leaves and fashioned it into a funnel to catch rainwater during the downpour, both the empty water bottles were full again. We picked half a dozen pipas just in case.

I was doing the hacking now, Savich carrying Laura. I said over my shoulder, after I'd had to whack a welter of green intertwined leaves three times to get them apart, "I wonder if they found Molinas, the bastard. Maybe they didn't. Maybe a coral snake got him. Or maybe he's still lying there with insects crawling all over him."

"Or maybe," Savich said, "this Del Cabrizo character was so angry that we escaped, he killed him."

I didn't want to think about what could happen to Molinas's daughter.

We stopped to make camp when we came to another small clearing. When we stepped into the sunlight, we saw a flock of wild turkeys running through the deep grass to the other side. They disappeared into the forest. It was late in the afternoon, time to stop anyway.

Laura was getting weaker. It required too much energy for her to talk. I gave her more antibiotics, more aspirin, and two more pain pills. There were only four left. She didn't have a fever, and the bandages looked clean, but she was getting weaker.

Sherlock swept our small campsite clean with the thick net. The ground here was nearly dry because of the direct, hot sunlight. She managed to get it completely bare. "It's important that we leave room so lots of oxygen can circulate. Once we build a fire, it will stay brighter and hotter." I collected tinder: low, dead hanging branches, rotted pieces of tree that were dry. We managed to find some birch that Laura said was good for fires. Sherlock began digging a moat around our campsite. She said it would keep the critters out.

Savich used the scissors from the first-aid kit to make several fire sticks. He shaved the sticks with shallow cuts to "feather" them. "My granddaddy taught me how to do this," he said. "It'll make the wood catch fire more quickly."

We mixed birch bark and dried grass. I stood back and watched Sherlock build a teepee of kindling over a pile of tinder. I handed Savich the matches from the first-aid kit and watched him light one of his fire sticks, let it burn brightly, and touch it to the tinder. I couldn't believe it actually worked. It bloomed up bright and hot. It must have been ninety degrees, and there we were, sucking up toil.

"A hot dog might be nice," Sherlock said. "Potato chips, some dill pickles."

"Tortilla chips and hot salsa," Savich said, rubbing his hands together, and grinned. Behind him, a branch shimmied. A brown-spotted gecko poked its head around a tree, looked at us, then pressed itself flat against the bark. I swear it disappeared.

"Maybe some pickle relish on the hot dog," Sherlock said. "Forget the dills." As she spoke, she was looking over at Laura, who lay quietly.

We were trapped in a Hieronymus Bosch painting and we'd managed, for a moment, to superimpose normalcy.

As evening settled in, the beetles began to move around. You could hear them scuttling to and fro. So many of them, all hungry. I smiled over at Laura. "We're geniuses. Just look at that fire."

But Laura wasn't looking at either me or the fire. She was staring to her right, just beyond the perimeter of the campsite, just beyond Sherlock's moat. Her face was whiter than boiled rice. I heard her say my name, her voice just above a croak.

I pulled the Bren Ten out of my waistband and slowly turned.