Deadly Twist, page 17
part #2 of Maximum Exposure Series
The monkeys were active at dawn, but now, in the heat of the day, the only sounds she heard were the tumbling water and the occasional bird. Her grumbling stomach added to the noise, as did her ragged breathing.
She kept up the pattern; fifty paces, blow the whistle. Fifty paces, blow the whistle.
It was mind-numbingly repetitive. The scenery barely changed too—river on her right, jungle on her left, blue sky above.
A flash of yellow halfway up a tree caught her eye, and she nearly melted at the sight. Papaya fruits hung heavily off a tall, thin plant. With her mouth already salivating, she charged at the tree as fast as her bruised ankle would take her.
It didn’t surprise her that the fruit was too high to reach. Nor that the tree was a tall, skinny pole and impossible to climb. The surrounding trees offered no solution to reach the fruit either. Furious at the evil torment the plump fruits presented, she grabbed the stalk, as high as she could, and dropped her weight. It bent over, but the moment she tried to reach the fruit it sprang back upright.
She launched at it again. This time she grabbed the stalk and when it bent over, she crawled hand over hand along the trunk toward her meal. A loud crack resonated, and the plant snapped and toppled over. Lily fell to her knees at the fruit, plucked the one with the most amount of yellow skin, and twisted it free. She sniffed it first, inhaling the fresh, tropical lusciousness.
She drilled her thumbs into the outer skin and kept digging until the fruit split open. After she scooped out the seeds, she held the papaya to her mouth and devoured it in seconds.
Two juicy fruits later, her stomach was painfully full, and she lay back on the ground and stared up to the treetops. A light breeze caught the leaves and shimmered them in the filtered sunshine. She raised her right foot and placed it on the trunk of a tree. The throbbing in her ankle had become her constant companion, and elevating it did little to ease the painful beat.
She rolled her head from side to side and attempting to release a knot in her neck, she held the stretch. Her eyes settled on a straight piece of wood in the distance. She eased up on her elbow, peered at it and gasped as she realized what it was. A cross.
Lily rose to her feet and hobbled over to it. The cross was tilted on an angle, rustic and weathered. She knelt down and tried to read the inscription carved into the wood, but nature had obliterated the words. It was a strange sight, out here all by itself, in the middle of nowhere.
Her brain went into overdrive as she tried to understand why someone was buried in this remote location. A horrid thought barreled through her brain. Should she die out here, no one would bury her. Am I destined to become animal food? Her mind hit overdrive as she pictured her poor family, never finding out what happened to her. Her quest to the middle of the Mexican jungle suddenly seemed incredibly foolish.
For a fleeting second, she thought of abandoning her search for Carter and continuing on downstream. But as quickly as the idea entered her mind, she dismissed it. She had no doubt Carter wouldn’t stop looking for her, and she was determined to do the same.
Saddened by the isolation of the lone cross, she restored it upright. Satisfied it was secure again, she glanced around, searching for a reason for the grave to be there, and her heart nearly stopped at what she saw. Another cross, also tilted on an angle, was just six feet away. This one had a small necklace draped across the middle bar. She limped over and ran her fingers beneath the small turquoise beads that’d been threaded along a leather strap. The necklace was tiny—too small to fit her neck at least. Her heart squeezed as she contemplated whether it was a child’s necklace.
Her hand went to her throat as she saw yet another cross to her left. She scanned the area more thoroughly and spied cross after cross, dotted among the vegetation.
“What on earth happened here?” The words whispered off her lips as she went to study the next cross. This one had a miniature cross carved into the top of the wood, but other than that, there were no other discernable carvings.
The next one had wire wrapped around the two pieces of wood, holding the cross in place. Each cross was slightly different. All looked handmade. She found one under the shelter of a large, sprawling tree. It had remnants of flakey blue paint on the cross bar, and as she leaned in closer, she noticed chunky letters engraved into the wood. The paint, trapped in the carving, made it legible.
She deciphered it as Rosa Maria 4 Augusta 1980.
“What happened to you, Rosa Maria?”
There were seventeen crosses in total. Each one was different from the next and only one provided an inscription.
The scene was both creepy and serene at the same time. Her mind drifted to Carter; she was certain he’d love to photograph this. With that thought, she took one last glance at Rosa Maria’s grave and went back to the river’s edge to blow her leaf whistle.
Still no sign of Carter.
Lily plucked another papaya from the felled tree, but this time as she ate it, she savored every single bite. It was delicious and sweet, and exactly what she needed.
Ready to get moving again, she picked the remaining three papayas, and with no way to carry them, she tucked her shirt into her shorts and fed the fruits down her top. She distributed them evenly so they were placed around her torso.
She hobbled to the river’s edge, blew on her whistle again, and after listening for a response and receiving none, she continued counting her paces and traveled upstream.
The sun was high in the sky, beaming heat and light upon her with equal intensity. Stifling humidity had sweat trickling down her back and underarms, and she longed to stop and rest along the riverbank, but she pushed on regardless, eating the fruits as she went.
She’d only reached forty paces when the scenery did change. And dramatically too. A river of caked mud had long ago ploughed a brutal gash through the jungle, bringing with it fallen trees, giant rocks, and anything else that’d been in its path.
Lily climbed onto the dried mud and ate her last papaya as she trod across the rubble expanse. All sorts of bits and pieces had been caught in the mudslide. She found splintered planks of wood, twisted metal, and two coins, both dated 1972. She spied the remains of a mangled pushbike, shredded clothing, and heaps of other objects she didn’t recognize. The only item she kept was a bent fork that might come in handy later.
About halfway across, the sun, which was now far over the other side of the river, reflected off something on the ground. When she reached it, she was shocked to see the rays bouncing off the side mirror of an old car that was nearly fully submerged. The car’s roof was riddled with rust, underlining just how long it’d been buried there. It made her wonder if the graves she’d found were for those who’d died in this landslide.
It was highly unlikely that anybody who’d been swept up in the muddy avalanche would ever have been found. The remote location would’ve hampered search and rescue attempts too.
Seventeen people . . . lost without a trace. Is that to be my fate too?
Lily cast that ill-timed thought aside and stopped to blow on her leaf whistle.
A new sound echoed through the jungle and her heart skipped a beat.
She blew again and the reply was instant.
Yes. Her heart slammed into her chest as she considered it could be the men with guns. But it had to be Carter; she believed in her heart it was him.
“Carter. I’m here.”
She stumbled over in the rush to move forward and fell to her knees. Ignoring the new affront to her flesh, she cupped her hands to her mouth to project her voice, and yelled until her throat burned. “Carter!”
“Lily!”
Tears pooled in her eyes. “Carter. I’m here.” She climbed to her feet and waved her arms like crazy. “Carter.”
“Lily.” He sounded far away. “Lily.”
A flash of movement across the river caught her eye and she shielded the sun with her hand. “Carter. Carter, I’m over here.”
He stepped out from the tree line and his beaming smile, while welcome relief, failed to mask how pale and weak he looked. “Thank God. You’re alive,” he yelled across the river.
Something wasn’t right. The way he stood, gripping a branch, favoring one leg, made him look to be in agony. “You’re hurt.”
“I’m fine.” He shook his head. “Boy, am I glad to see you.”
“You too.” Tears tickled her cheeks and she flicked them away and hobbled to the river’s edge. “What do we do now?” Just the thought of getting in that water again made her stomach turn.
Carter dropped the pack off his back, and she nearly crumbled at the sight of it. She had entertained the notion that she’d never see it again.
He cupped his hands around his mouth. “I’ll swim to you. Okay?”
His weakened state was as clear as if he’d been standing right before her, and his plan didn’t seem like the best idea.
“Okay, Lily?”
“Are you sure? It’s dangerous.”
“I’m a strong swimmer. I’ll be fine.” He limped to the river, proving her suspicions that he wasn’t fine. She wanted to beg him not to do it, but at the same time couldn’t think of an alternative solution.
“It’ll drag me downriver,” he yelled across the torrent. “So you walk downstream, and when I get there, I’ll walk upstream to you. Okay?”
She recalled the swirling water and being hurled along, completely at the mercy of its powerful force. Her heart leapt to her throat. She wanted to stop him. But they had no choice. “Okay,” she finally said.
When he picked up the backpack, she froze. It was an extra burden he didn’t need. As much as she wanted it, she wanted him more.
“Carter?” she yelled.
“Yo?”
“Leave the pack.”
He did a double take. “Are you fucking kidding me? I’ve dragged it this far. It’s coming with me now.”
“You don’t have to.” She couldn’t tell if he was angry or joking.
“I bloody well do. Now start walking that way.” He pointed downstream. “Go on, I’m watching.”
She chuckled at his bossiness. “You sound like one of my brothers.”
“Good.”
She reached for her makeshift crutch, clutched it with her fingers, and hobbled forward.
“Jesus, Lily, you’re hurt!”
“No, no. It’s nothing.”
“It doesn’t look like nothing.”
“Just a bruised ankle. I’ll be fine.”
“Wait there. I’ll come to you.”
“I’ll be okay.”
“For God’s sake, woman. Will you just do as you’re told?”
She clenched her jaw, and the two of them stared in a Mexican standoff until Lily succumbed to his demands. “Okay! Hurry up and get in the water before the sun sets.”
Even from this distance she heard him huff. “All right, Tiger Lily, keep your panties on.”
She chuckled but bit her tongue as he readied to slip into the river. Her heart leapt to her throat when he splashed into the water. He kicked once and the current whipped him away. Within seconds, he was gone.
Despite his instructions, Lily scurried to follow him, but fell to her hands and knees again. She howled at the pain. Her already battered knees stung with the agony, yet she got to her feet and carried on.
Each step was a rushed repeat of the one before, and it seemed like forever before she’d scrambled off the rubble and returned to the rotting jungle floor. She went back to counting her steps, but waited until she hit a hundred before she stopped to whistle.
As the sun slipped behind the trees on the opposite riverbank and darkness consumed what little light there was left, a niggling fear that Carter hadn’t made it ate at her like acid.
She didn’t stop for water.
She didn’t stop to rest.
It was just good foot in front of bad foot and repeat.
Suddenly Carter appeared, sodden, pale, and gaunt. She dropped her stick crutch and hopped to him. He dropped the backpack and hobbled to her.
She clutched her arms around him, and he pulled her to his chest. Both of them talked and cried at the same time.
“I thought I’d lost you,” he said.
“I was so scared,” she said.
Their mouths met in a heated kiss that said everything. I want. I need. She opened her lips and his tongue slipped into her mouth to dance a lustful tango. She tugged at his buttons, undoing them as quickly as her fingers could go. Her hands found his chest, and she glided her palms over his chiseled torso.
He pulled back, distress marring his face. “Sorry. Oh God.” His breathing was erratic. His wide eyes looked horrified. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“What?” She frowned. “Kissed me?”
“Yes, it’s . . . it’s . . .”
“It’s what, Carter? I wanted it too. We kissed each other.”
He blinked. Frowned. Looked completely lost for words.
“What? Tell me.” With her fists on her hips, she demanded what was wrong. She thought they had something. Something special. The question she’d asked at Agulinta flashed into her mind. “You’re married, aren’t you?” She thrust her chin at him.
His shoulders slumped.
“Answer me.”
He blinked at her. “It’s not that easy, Lily.”
“It’s a yes-or-no question.”
“Please, Lily, I promise I’ll tell you. Let’s get a campsite sorted for the night and then I’ll tell you my whole shitty story.”
His candid response and pleading eyes had her rage simmering. “Okay, but you promised.”
As he nodded, a pained look rippled across his face. She glanced down to his legs and noticed a dark stain on his shorts. “What’d you do to your hip?”
He cleared his throat but failed to elaborate, and she had a funny feeling he was debating whether to answer.
She huffed. “Forget it. You can tell me about that later too. Let’s find somewhere to camp.” Lily grabbed her pack, flung the strap over her shoulder, turned her back on Carter, hobbled to her makeshift crutch, collected it from the ground, and limped away.
She would’ve strode away if she could.
As the monkeys started their howling ritual to announce the onset of nightfall, she settled on an area a couple of feet away from the river. Its flat ground and broad expanse made it ideal for their overnight stay. She set about unpacking the contents of her bag and sighed with relief at the sight of her father’s journal. It was soaking wet but intact, and she was confident that once dry, it’d still be legible. As she plucked items from her pack and laid them around her, she wondered if Carter had looked through the journal, or her notebook. Once he turned up, she had every intention of asking him.
She unclipped the sodden sleeping bag from her pack, unrolled it, and was about to hang it over the branch of a nearby tree when she heard Carter’s heavy footfalls. Turning his way, she gasped at the sight of him.
Sweat flooded his forehead, a ghostly hue colored his skin, and the dark stain on his shorts could only be blood.
“Jesus, are you okay?” Lily limped to his side and the instant she touched his cheek, the fire burning beneath had her gasping. “You’re burning up. Come on, sit.”
Ignoring the pain in her ankle, she placed her hands on his shoulders and guided him to the clearing. His camera strap lay crossways over his shoulder; she unhooked it and put it down. Glancing around for a place for Carter to sit, she spied the sleeping bag. It was wet, but at least it’d be clean. She spread it out, then placed her hand on Carter’s elbow. “Hey, you can sit here.”
Tears glistened his eyes and he sucked the air through his teeth as she helped him to the ground. He curled to sit on his right buttock.
She knelt at his side. A trickle of sweat rolled from his temple down his cheek and disappeared into his beard. Carter, however, didn’t move.
A monkey screeched right overhead, making her jump. It also made her realize just how dark it was getting. She needed to get a fire going before she couldn’t see a damn thing.
She leaned forward and kissed Carter’s forehead. “Stay here and rest a bit. I’ll get a few things sorted.” She handed him the water bottle and stood.
Lily gathered a pile of sticks and dry grass and threw a fire together. The flames grabbed quickly and she dragged over a large log and rolled it onto the blaze.
Water was next. Clutching her water bottle, she hobbled to the river and filled it. But even as she pushed the bottle below the surface to fill, she realized she had a problem. Without their saucepan, she had no way to boil it.
She limped back to Carter, checked his forehead, and recoiled at the heat. A fever had taken hold. “I need to look at this wound. Can you lie back? I’ll have to take your pants off.”
He huffed. “No peeking.” He made a guttural sound but Lily couldn’t decide if it was a laugh or a whimper.
She cupped his cheek. “I won’t peek. I promise.”
After lowering him to the sleeping bag, she spied the hole in his shorts. Her breath caught. “Jesus, Carter, you’ve been shot!”
He blinked slowly and simply nodded, as if it were an everyday occurrence.
A cold sweat prickled her forehead as she unbuttoned his pants, lowered the zip and peeled them open. Her heart pounded at the sight of the blood-soaked bandage wrapped around his hip and thigh.
As much as she didn’t want to, she had to look at the wound to see how bad it was.
She touched his shoulder and their eyes met. The green in his irises had dulled, their usual spark gone, replaced instead with a blaze of fear that drove dread up her spine. “I’m going to take your shorts off now.”
“No peeking.” His gravelly words sounded painful, and she wondered if he knew he’d repeated himself.
She chuckled, attempting to lighten the mood. “I’ll peek if I want to.” Her joke went unanswered and his silence was as loud as if he was screaming.
Hooking her thumbs into the waistband of his shorts, she wriggled them down inch by inch. He worked with her, raising his hips slightly and pushing with his hands. Once removed, she didn’t peek as she positioned his shorts over his groin and he put his hand on top, holding them in place. That simple move had her believing he was going to be just fine.
