Andrew Klavan - If We Survive

I went after them. I felt the roots and bushes close over my legs. I felt wet fronds slapping at my already soaking face and clothes. I felt the uneven ground under my feet and when I looked down, I couldn’t see where I was stepping. And, yes, that made me worry about snakes—about stepping on some gigantic jungle snake I’d never heard of that could take off a man’s entire leg with a single bite. Or something.

But Palmer was moving so quickly—and the others were keeping pace. There was no time to think about it. So I didn’t think about it. I just charged on.

This time when Palmer vanished, he vanished right before my eyes. I could see him up ahead through the jungle foliage, moving fast, bent low. Then he seemed to stoop even lower. Then he was gone.

The others went after him—down, down, and gone. And as I caught up I saw what was happening.

There was a ravine here: a steep-sided groove running along the ground, with a stream burbling along rapidly at the bottom of it. Palmer had dropped over the ravine’s side. He was leaning against the dirt wall, his feet and ankles braced against rocks in the running water. He gestured to us and we got down too, leaning in a line against the wall. Down there, I realized, we would be hidden from the sight of anyone above us standing more than a yard or two away.

I looked along the line. Palmer was down at the other end. Then Jim next to him. Then Nicki, then Meredith, then me. Each of us was pressed against the mud of the wall. Each of us had our feet down in the stream at the bottom of the ravine. We all had dirt splattering our faces. Our clothes and hair were soaked. The cold water of the stream was running through our shoes.

We waited. It was noisy here—really noisy. The rain on the forest roof and the sound of the rushing water covered up every other noise. The air was getting darker by the second. Colder too, it felt like.

I shivered. My teeth chattered. I clamped my jaw tight to get them to stop. I glanced down the line and saw Meredith with her arm around Nicki, holding her close, keeping her warm. But Meredith herself, always pale-skinned, was incredibly white under the mud that splotched her cheeks. She always reminded me a little of a statue and now, in the freezing cold, she really did look like she was turning to white marble.

After a while, Palmer moved. He edged up the wall of the ravine until he could just peek over the top. I watched him as he watched the jungle. Then he turned to me. Pointed at me. Pointed at his eyes. Pointed at the wall.

I got it. He wanted me to look too. He wanted me to be ready for whatever happened, because I had the other gun.

I did what he did. I edged up the side of the wall. It was slippery and cold, the mud scraping against me. I got my eyes up over the side of the ravine and looked into the jungle.

I caught my breath. There they were, the rebels. I could make them out through the jungle foliage. They were marching over the trail. They were right alongside us, going steadily by. They thought we must be still on the trail up ahead of them. Another minute and they would go right past us.

I smiled grimly. I began to have some hope again. I began to think, Hey, maybe we could get around behind these guys, sneak back to the airstrip and steal one of their trucks and make a run for it…

The rebels went marching by on the trail—and then they were past.

All except one of them.

All except Mendoza.

Wouldn’t you know it? Just as I was about to breathe a sigh of relief, I saw that the rebel leader had not joined the others as they marched on. He had stopped. I peered through the trees, trying to see exactly what he was up to. After a moment, I understood: he was looking around him. He was studying the ground and the leaves to either side of him.

He knows we’ve left the trail! I thought.

Mendoza had been paying more attention to his surroundings than his rebels had. Sure, I thought. He’s their Palmer . He’s the one they counted on to think and plan and keep them alive—and to track us down and kill us.

Even over the pounding rain and the rushing stream, I heard him shout an order to his gunmen—who were still marching forward on the trail.

“Alto!”

I guessed it meant stop, because they all stopped. Then Mendoza said something else—and the rebels started coming back toward him.

I lay against the mud wall, peeking over the top. My teeth had started chattering again and I couldn’t stop them now. I was just too cold. I watched as the rebels gathered around their leader. I heard the low murmur of Mendoza’s voice but couldn’t make out the words. I could pretty well guess what they meant, though.

I glanced over at Palmer. He was already looking my way, as if he’d been waiting for me to turn to him. He gestured to me with his open hand: Stay cool .

Good advice.

I looked out over the top of the ravine again. What I saw made my heart sink.

Mendoza was coming our way, pushing off the trail into the jungle just as we had, following the path we had taken through the trees. The other rebels followed him, pushing the big leaves and branches aside with the butts of their rifles.

There was a loud crash of thunder. That made the rebels pause a moment. Even Mendoza. They all looked up into the rain.

The darkness seemed to be gathering around us quickly. I couldn’t tell if it was nightfall or simply the storm. The rain fell more heavily, the leaves around us bending and dripping. The mud of the jungle floor churned up and spattered as the water struck.

Still, Mendoza came on, came closer, studying the ground, waving the rebels to follow. They followed. Closer.

“Sst!”

That was Palmer, hissing to me. I glanced his way. He gestured for me to get down, to hide. Mendoza was almost close enough to see us.

I slid back down the side of the wall.

I saw Palmer slide down too. He leaned close to Jim and whispered in his ear. I got it. I leaned close to Meredith and she leaned close to me so she could hear.

“They’re coming,” I whispered to her in the quietest voice I could. “Keep down, keep quiet.”

Meredith nodded. She leaned away from me and leaned close to Nicki and passed the message on.

We lay pressed tight against the mud wall as the rebels kept coming toward us. I knew they were getting close because I could hear their footsteps over the sound of the rainfall and the running stream. I could hear Mendoza speaking to the others in a low, gruff voice. He was close enough now so I could make out the words, but I didn’t understand them.

Meredith caught my eye, motioned to me. I leaned close to her. She whispered in my ear: “He’s cursing the rain because it’s washed out our tracks.”

I nodded. Well, that was something, anyway. But the rebels were still coming. I could still hear their footsteps in the mud, the wet sounds getting closer. Mendoza’s voice grew steadily louder. They must be right above us, I thought. I figured it would be a matter of seconds before they took the fatal step and saw the ravine and looked down into it and found us.

A flash of lightning—the brightness muted by the leaf cover. A guttural roll of thunder like a great beast growling for its food.

A tremor went through my entire body. I was so cold I could no longer keep myself still. I lay there shivering and listened.

The rebels’ footsteps had stopped. Had they seen us? No, it couldn’t have been that. There would have been shouting— and shooting—if they had. They must be standing still, looking around, taking stock. They must be right above us, a step or two away.

Mendoza started talking again. I could tell he was just above me. I couldn’t understand his low, swift Spanish, but the tone of his voice had changed. He sounded discouraged now—even disgusted—as if he couldn’t believe he had been foiled in his hunt by the rain and the gathering darkness.