100 Hours
Page 39
Suddenly I’m aware that there’s mud on my cheek and moss beneath my nails. “I’m wearing half the jungle,” I say as I scrub my face.
He takes my hand, then holds it. “It works. You look fierce.”
I can’t resist a smile.
Indiana spreads out his sleeping bag next to mine, and as our captors settle in for the night—except a couple of armed men on patrol—I realize that beneath the normal jungle noises, I hear a steady pulsing sound I’ve known all my life.
I grab Indiana’s arm. “Do you hear that?”
He closes his eyes, listening. “The ocean.”
“Yeah,” I whisper. “I think the beach is just down that footpath.”
Indiana opens his eyes, and he looks as hopeful as I feel.
Where there’s coastline, there will be boats, and where there are boats, there’s a way to escape.
MADDIE
I wake up screaming in the middle of the night. “Maddie!”
I open my eyes and find a man’s silhouette hunched over me, two shades darker than the night itself, and my screaming intensifies.
“Maddie!” He shakes me by both shoulders. “Shhh! Please wake up and be quiet. You’re going to draw every predator in the jungle!”
I recognize Luke’s voice and realize the shadowy silhouette makes him look much bigger and more threatening than he actually is.
“You’re okay,” he says as I sit up. “It’s just a dream.”
“Yeah. I . . .” I don’t realize I’ve been crying until I wipe my face with both hands and find it wet. “I dreamed my brother got shot, and I dug a grave for him, but my dad was already buried there.”
“That’s messed up,” Luke whispers, and in reply, I fall back onto the shirt-pillow. He lies next to me with his hands folded beneath his head and stares up at the sky through the top of the tent. “It’s still early. We can get more sleep.”
But I’m not sure I want any more sleep, after dreaming about my brother’s murder. “Sorry I woke you up,” I whisper.
“You didn’t. I had my own nightmare.”
I roll onto my side, facing him, and Luke tenses beside me. “What happened in yours?”
“It’s stupid. You don’t want to hear it.”
“I told you mine.”
“Yeah, but your subconscious fears have merit. Mine are just . . . dumb,” he insists, and though I can’t see much more than his outline in the dark, I’m pretty sure he’s blushing again.
“No fear is dumb. What happened in your nightmare, Luke?”
He takes a deep breath, still staring up at the trees. “I dreamed I woke up and you were gone. But you weren’t missing. You just left me here and took all the supplies.”
My hand goes to my heart. I feel like someone just kicked me in the chest.
I think for a minute, trying to figure out how to respond. I’ve never been the subject of someone else’s abandonment issues. “Luke, I can’t even carry all the supplies on my own. I need you as a pack animal, if for no other reason.”
Finally he rolls over to face me, and my eyes have adjusted to the dark well enough to see his scowl. “I’m starting to think you and your cousin are cut from the same—”
I laugh, and his eyes widen.
“Oh. You’re kidding.”
“Of course I’m kidding. I’m not going to leave you alone in the jungle. Though you may actually be better off without me.”
Luke smiles as he rolls onto his back again. “Neither of us is better off alone.”
22 HOURS EARLIER
GENESIS
It’s hardly even light yet when a boot digs into my side hard enough that I wake up gasping. The pain is disorienting, and at first I can’t remember where I am. Then Silvana’s outline comes into focus. “Get up, princesa.” Her sneer turns my father’s nickname for me into an insult, yet makes me ache with homesickness. “It’s time to boil water.”
“¡Arriba! ¡Es hora de levantarse!” She wakes the other hostages with a shouted order to rise and shine. No one else gets a boot to the ribs.
I sit up and groan at the soreness in my arms and legs. No amount of jogging down suburban streets or working with my personal trainer could have prepared me for a twelve-hour hike through the foothills of the Sierra Nevada. In the rain.
“Morning,” Indiana says, and I turn to see him looking up at me from his sleeping bag with both hands folded beneath his head. As if he were stretched out on a towel at the beach.
How the hell does he make being taken hostage look sexy?
Indiana unzips his sleeping bag and pulls a small plastic pouch from his backpack.
“Where are you going?” I ask as he stands.
“To brush my teeth. I might decide to kiss you later.”
I don’t realize I’m smiling until I see Domenica grinning at me. She heard every word.
I dig my toiletry kit from my pack, and when my compact falls out, I remember that I haven’t looked in a mirror in more than two days. Nor have I brushed my teeth or truly washed my face.
I pluck a camping wipe from my packet and wipe down my face, neck, and arms, but before I can find my toothbrush, Silvana shouts at me from across the clearing.
“¡Princesa! ¡Agua!”
Which is just as well. I can’t brush my teeth without clean water.
While I collect every kettle and empty tin can that will hold water, Julian gives each of the other hostages an MRE—military-style meals ready to eat in thick brown envelopes—and a piece of fruit picked straight from the jungle.
Penelope giggles and I turn to find her feeding bites of her oatmeal to Holden. They pretend they don’t see me, but I know exactly what Holden looks like when he’s playing to his audience.
I hope the water she used in that oatmeal gives them some kind of parasite.
On my way to the stream, I notice that all the rifle-carrying, camo-wearing terrorists—including Julian and Álvaro—are gathered around one fire pit with Silvana. At the other pit, all the unarmed men in dirty tees and cargo pants—including several Americans—sit with Sebastián. Óscar and Natalia stand on the fringes of Sebastián’s circle, and the three of them are the only ones in the group who are armed.
He takes my hand, then holds it. “It works. You look fierce.”
I can’t resist a smile.
Indiana spreads out his sleeping bag next to mine, and as our captors settle in for the night—except a couple of armed men on patrol—I realize that beneath the normal jungle noises, I hear a steady pulsing sound I’ve known all my life.
I grab Indiana’s arm. “Do you hear that?”
He closes his eyes, listening. “The ocean.”
“Yeah,” I whisper. “I think the beach is just down that footpath.”
Indiana opens his eyes, and he looks as hopeful as I feel.
Where there’s coastline, there will be boats, and where there are boats, there’s a way to escape.
MADDIE
I wake up screaming in the middle of the night. “Maddie!”
I open my eyes and find a man’s silhouette hunched over me, two shades darker than the night itself, and my screaming intensifies.
“Maddie!” He shakes me by both shoulders. “Shhh! Please wake up and be quiet. You’re going to draw every predator in the jungle!”
I recognize Luke’s voice and realize the shadowy silhouette makes him look much bigger and more threatening than he actually is.
“You’re okay,” he says as I sit up. “It’s just a dream.”
“Yeah. I . . .” I don’t realize I’ve been crying until I wipe my face with both hands and find it wet. “I dreamed my brother got shot, and I dug a grave for him, but my dad was already buried there.”
“That’s messed up,” Luke whispers, and in reply, I fall back onto the shirt-pillow. He lies next to me with his hands folded beneath his head and stares up at the sky through the top of the tent. “It’s still early. We can get more sleep.”
But I’m not sure I want any more sleep, after dreaming about my brother’s murder. “Sorry I woke you up,” I whisper.
“You didn’t. I had my own nightmare.”
I roll onto my side, facing him, and Luke tenses beside me. “What happened in yours?”
“It’s stupid. You don’t want to hear it.”
“I told you mine.”
“Yeah, but your subconscious fears have merit. Mine are just . . . dumb,” he insists, and though I can’t see much more than his outline in the dark, I’m pretty sure he’s blushing again.
“No fear is dumb. What happened in your nightmare, Luke?”
He takes a deep breath, still staring up at the trees. “I dreamed I woke up and you were gone. But you weren’t missing. You just left me here and took all the supplies.”
My hand goes to my heart. I feel like someone just kicked me in the chest.
I think for a minute, trying to figure out how to respond. I’ve never been the subject of someone else’s abandonment issues. “Luke, I can’t even carry all the supplies on my own. I need you as a pack animal, if for no other reason.”
Finally he rolls over to face me, and my eyes have adjusted to the dark well enough to see his scowl. “I’m starting to think you and your cousin are cut from the same—”
I laugh, and his eyes widen.
“Oh. You’re kidding.”
“Of course I’m kidding. I’m not going to leave you alone in the jungle. Though you may actually be better off without me.”
Luke smiles as he rolls onto his back again. “Neither of us is better off alone.”
22 HOURS EARLIER
GENESIS
It’s hardly even light yet when a boot digs into my side hard enough that I wake up gasping. The pain is disorienting, and at first I can’t remember where I am. Then Silvana’s outline comes into focus. “Get up, princesa.” Her sneer turns my father’s nickname for me into an insult, yet makes me ache with homesickness. “It’s time to boil water.”
“¡Arriba! ¡Es hora de levantarse!” She wakes the other hostages with a shouted order to rise and shine. No one else gets a boot to the ribs.
I sit up and groan at the soreness in my arms and legs. No amount of jogging down suburban streets or working with my personal trainer could have prepared me for a twelve-hour hike through the foothills of the Sierra Nevada. In the rain.
“Morning,” Indiana says, and I turn to see him looking up at me from his sleeping bag with both hands folded beneath his head. As if he were stretched out on a towel at the beach.
How the hell does he make being taken hostage look sexy?
Indiana unzips his sleeping bag and pulls a small plastic pouch from his backpack.
“Where are you going?” I ask as he stands.
“To brush my teeth. I might decide to kiss you later.”
I don’t realize I’m smiling until I see Domenica grinning at me. She heard every word.
I dig my toiletry kit from my pack, and when my compact falls out, I remember that I haven’t looked in a mirror in more than two days. Nor have I brushed my teeth or truly washed my face.
I pluck a camping wipe from my packet and wipe down my face, neck, and arms, but before I can find my toothbrush, Silvana shouts at me from across the clearing.
“¡Princesa! ¡Agua!”
Which is just as well. I can’t brush my teeth without clean water.
While I collect every kettle and empty tin can that will hold water, Julian gives each of the other hostages an MRE—military-style meals ready to eat in thick brown envelopes—and a piece of fruit picked straight from the jungle.
Penelope giggles and I turn to find her feeding bites of her oatmeal to Holden. They pretend they don’t see me, but I know exactly what Holden looks like when he’s playing to his audience.
I hope the water she used in that oatmeal gives them some kind of parasite.
On my way to the stream, I notice that all the rifle-carrying, camo-wearing terrorists—including Julian and Álvaro—are gathered around one fire pit with Silvana. At the other pit, all the unarmed men in dirty tees and cargo pants—including several Americans—sit with Sebastián. Óscar and Natalia stand on the fringes of Sebastián’s circle, and the three of them are the only ones in the group who are armed.
