Page 39 of Final Approach

Marley lowered herself from Nikki’s back and held out a hand to the girl, who fell into her arms with wracking sobs instead. Our captain didn’t hesitate to wrap her tightly in a soothing embrace. How … compassionate.

“We’re okay,” she soothed, with a gentle hand across the woman’s shoulder blades. “I had to go back to the plane for my …” She floundered for a word. “Medication,” she finished.

Ambrose pushed at my chest with an elbow, indicating to let him down. I lowered the smaller man onto his mat by the fire and turned to face our audience. Several haunted eyes stared back at me, flicking back and forth in fear at Ambrose’s bandaged chest and my lack of clothing. No one was asleep.

And one man was absent.

“Where is the detective?” I glowered at the group in accusation.

Brooks cocked their head in confusion. “We thought he was with you?”

Ambrose’s form went rigid at my feet. Nikki’s gaze met mine through the one clear lens of his glasses, lips forming a grim line.

As if summoned from hell, the shadow of a man rounded the corner we’d just traveled. His form drew closer, the suit pants and jacket he’d worn for takeoff rumpled and clinging to his body in the sticky heat.

“Where were you?” Marley asked quietly when he stopped at the fire.

An insidious smirk crawled across his face as he leered at her in my tight T-shirt. I clenched my fists at my sides and swallowed my rage. I would peel the cocky smile off with a knife. Soon.

“Taking a piss.” His responding smile was a challenge, as if he knew all of her secrets. “Where were you?”

Was his cockiness a façade, or had he followed us and kept quiet? The need to know his purpose warred with the need to strip his skin from his bones.

“Surviving a fucking jaguar,” Ambrose spat from where he lay at my feet, having enough energy to throw hate in the detective’s direction. I approved.

The detective’s grin faltered with the retort, but his performance would not change my mind. He knew already. I was sure of it.

The sobbing woman released a small wail in Marley’s arms, and she squeezed her tighter.

“Daylight is coming, and it’ll be a safer time to rest. We’ll want to get some now before we burn to a crisp in the full sun,” Marley announced in English before repeating the sentiment in Portuguese and Spanish, coaxing the woman back to her mat. “A rescue is coming, and we need to be ready. I’ll take the first watch.”

“No.” The word came out as an order, harsh and demanding. I softened the tone. “I will take the first watch, Captain.”

She hesitated and opened her mouth as if to refuse the offer. Something in my stare stopped her. “Thank you, Madman.” She nodded with a hesitant smile and lowered to her mat. “I’ll swap with you in an hour or two. I trust you to keep us safe.”

I would keep her safe. Clube de Morte safe. And the pesky ants that survived alongside us—more to please her than for any care of my own.

Lowering to my mat, I glared daggers at the detective staring at me from across the fire. His attempts at intimidating me would not work. The bandaged man beside me had more raw power than the tiny-dicked detective.

Pulling out my package of candy, I unwrapped my savored treat and shoved it in my mouth, gaze never leaving my nemesis.

Rolling the powdery candy along my tongue, I made promises in my head to the man who stared at me like I was meat. Before our rescue came, I would find out who had purchased me like a dog. I would break every bone in the delivery boy’s body before leaving him to rot for another jungle cat to feed on. Prison was no longer in my future.

I would escape the shackles I had never deserved. I would ensure Clube de Morte remained safe. And I would walk away from this fate of fortune as a free man.

Perhaps no one had remembered; I still had the gun.

Day 2 – After Crash

The jungle was quiet in the heat of mid-morning.

Its lack of bustling sound felt ominous, as if every creature was holding its breath in the leaves beyond the riverbed. Watching. Waiting.

My back erupted in goosebumps, feeling each pair of unseen eyes, as I watched over our camp from my mat. Most of our passengers still slept, restlessly stirring in half-conscious slumbers. Even the detective had slumped down onto his weaves of grass.

The terror of the previous evening was a step away from completely drowning me in its despair. Letting the darkness in would be my end, and the end of everyone counting on me.

My memories hadn’t returned, save for a few glimpses of check-in. I’d given up on trying to retrieve them. Looking backward was a waste of precious energy. Whether it was sheer will or dissociation, I had to focus forward to survive. It was the only way to get our people home.