"Did she run out of the hospital herself because she didn't want to see me again? I don't know. Maybe. When we find her, we'll get the answer."
"The truth is," Savich said, "we don't have a clue about what the long-term effects of the drug are."
"I'm afraid that even Paul doesn't know that," I said. I saw a beetle, black and orange and green, pause a moment, wiggle its antennae at me, then hurry behind some small orange leaves. I saw several other leaves move. Critters everywhere, I thought, all of them hungry. Everything was alive in this place, everything was hungry, everything was hunted by something else, that or dead and instantly rotting or eaten.
I turned to Laura and lightly stroked my fingers over her mouth. "Since you've been cooperative, I'll give you some more water."
She drank down a good bit. I looked at the half-dozen bottles. Should we conserve? I wondered how long we'd have to survive in this place. Laura was shivering. I started to take off my shirt, but she stopped me. "Not here, Mac. You've got to keep as much of you covered as possible. There are lots of nasty things around here to bite you. And there are leeches too."
Leeches. Good lord. She was right. I doubled one sex-scented blanket and tucked it around her chest and neck.
"We've got to be very careful," she said. She paused, then frowned. I knew she was trying to get her thoughts together.
"It's okay, Laura. Take your time. We're not going anywhere."
"I was just thinking about my boss, Richard Atherton, wondering if the DBA is all over Edgerton." She stopped then. I knew she was in pain. I couldn't stand it. I gave her another pain pill.
After a few minutes, she opened her eyes, smiled at me, but her face was flushed. From fever or the heat or the tremendous weight of the humidity, I didn't know. "Breathe deeply, Laura," I said. "Think about that mar-garita I'm going to make for you. Think of me rubbing oil on your back, massaging your shoulders until all the knots are out. Now won't that feel good?" I lightly stroked my fingers over her cheek.
I smoothed the hair back from her face. After a few minutes she looked woozy. I didn't want to kill her with too many pain pills. I looked down at my watch. Nearly eight o'clock in the morning. No more pills until noon. I said, "Just be quiet for a while, Laura. You can tell us all this stuff later, after you feel better. Are you warm enough?"
She thought about it but didn't say anything.
Sherlock was far off in a stupor, no doubt troubled by visions of Marlin Jones.
"How long has it been since they drugged her the last time, Savich?"
He thought a moment. "Actually, she was back with me only about thirty minutes before you and Laura arrived with Molinas."
"So it's only been about six hours."
Savich was staring up into the canopy of trees over our heads. I heard monkeys shrieking, a bird's wings flapping wildly, and other sounds I'd never heard before.
"What is it?" I asked him.
"I hear something," Savich mouthed to me. "Someone's coming this way. We knew they'd come after us. I wonder if they found Molinas."
I squeezed Laura's hand to keep her quiet and listened. Yes, someone was coming, several someones. They were searching blind, not too far away now. Savich had lifted one of the AK-47s. I eased the Bren Ten out of my waistband. "Don't move," I whispered against Laura's ear. She looked at once alarmed, then almost instantly quite calm again. "I might be down, Mac, but I'm not out. Give me a gun."
"Not on your life. You're a patient. You're not to move. Just think about that shoulder opening. It wouldn't be good, Laura. We've got to survive. Now, just lie still and-"
"I don't want Sherlock or me to die because I'm helpless, Mac. Sherlock's out of it. I'm all she's got. Give me the Bren Ten."
I gave it to her without another word.
"They're close, Mac," said Savich. "Let's go."
I slung the other AK-47 over my shoulder, slid the machete through my belt, checked the other magazine in my waistband, and fell in behind Savich. If something happened to us, Laura had the Bren Ten. No, I wouldn't think about that, but I still took one backward look. Laura's fingers were curled around the pistol. I gave her a thumbs-up.
We were nearly on their heels fifty steps later. They weren't trying to be quiet. They were speaking loudly in Spanish, cursing, from what I could make out.
We waited, crouched down beneath some broad green leaves larger than my chest. The heat was rising. The air was becoming so heavy, so filled with water that moving through it was like carrying weights. It was tough to breathe. Thank God for that water I'd found in the Apache. The men kept complaining, coming within a dozen feet of where we were crouched on the floor of the forest.