Linda Howard - Reckless

She would have found it funny, if she hadn’t been so frightened.

CHAPTER FIVE

THEY MOVED DIRECTLY away from the stream at a forty-five-degree angle, and it wasn’t long before he stopped, looked around and unslung the packs from his shoulders. “We’ll camp here.”

Jane stood in silence, feeling awkward and useless, watching as he opened his pack and took out a small, rolled bundle. Under his skilled hands, the bundle was rapidly transformed into a small tent, complete with a polyethylene floor and a flap that could be zipped shut. When the tent was up he began stripping vines and limbs from the nearby trees to cover it, making it virtually invisible. He hadn’t so much as glanced in her direction, but after a moment she moved to help him. He did look at her then, and allowed her to gather more limbs while he positioned them over the tent.

When the job was completed, he said, “We can’t risk a fire, so we’ll just eat and turn in. After today, I’m ready for some sleep.”

Jane was, too, but she dreaded the thought of the night to come. The light was rapidly fading, and she knew that it would soon be completely dark. She remembered the total blackness of the night before and felt a cold finger of fear trace up her backbone. Well, there was nothing she could do about it; she’d have to tough it out.

She crouched beside her pack and dug out two more cans of orange juice, tossing one to him; he caught it deftly, and eyed her pack with growing irritation. “How many more cans of this do you have in that traveling supermarket?” he asked sarcastically.

“That’s it. We’ll have to drink water from now on. How about a granola bar?” She handed it to him, refusing to let herself respond to the irritation in his voice. She was tired, she ached, and she was faced with a long night in total darkness. Given that, his irritation didn’t seem very important. He’d get over it.

She ate her own granola bar, but was still hungry, so she rummaged for something else to eat. “Want some cheese and crackers?” she offered, dragging the items out of the depths of the pack.

She looked up to find him watching her with an expression of raw disbelief on his face. He held out his hand, and she divided the cheese and crackers between them. He looked at her again, shook his head and silently ate his share.

Jane saved a little of her orange juice, and when she finished eating she took a small bottle from the pack. Opening it, she shook a pill into the palm of her hand, glanced at Grant, then shook out another one. “Here,” she said.

He looked at it, but made no move to take it. “What the hell’s that?”

“It’s a yeast pill.”

“Why should I want to take a yeast pill?”

“So the mosquitoes and things won’t bite you.”

“Sure they won’t.”

“They won’t! Look at me. I don’t have any insect bites, and it’s because I take yeast pills. It does something to your skin chemistry. Come on, take it. It won’t hurt you.”

He took the pill from her hand and held it with a pained expression on his face while she took her own, washing it down with a sip of the orange juice she’d saved. She passed the can to him, and he muttered something obscene before he tossed the pill into his mouth and slugged down the rest of the juice.

“Okay, bedtime,” he said, rising to his feet. He jerked his head toward a tree. “There’s your bathroom, if you want to go before we turn in.”

Jane stepped behind the tree. He was crude, he was rude, he was a little cruel—and he had saved her life. She didn’t know what to expect from him. No matter how rough he was, he would eventually disarm her with an unexpected act of kindness. On the other hand, when things were going smoothly between them, he would say things that stung, as if deliberately trying to start a quarrel.

He was waiting for her by the opening of the tent. “I’ve already put the blanket down. Crawl in.”

She knelt down and crawled into the small tent. He had spread the blanket over the floor, and she sat on it. He shoved their packs inside. “Put these out of the way,” he instructed. “I’m going to take a quick look around.”

She shoved the packs into the far corners of the tent, then lay down on her back and stared tensely at the thin walls. The light was almost gone; only a glimmer entered through the translucent fabric. It wasn’t quite as dark outside yet, but the limbs he’d used as camouflage made it darker inside. The flap parted, and he crawled in, then zipped the opening shut.

“Take your boots off and put them in the corner next to your feet.”

Sitting up, she did as he said, then lay down again. Her eyes strained open so widely that they burned. Her body stiff with dread, she listened to him stretch and yawn and make himself comfortable.

Moments later the silence became nearly as unbearable as the darkness. “A collapsible tent comes in handy, doesn’t it?” she blurted nervously. “What is it made out of?”

“Nylon,” he replied, yawning again. “It’s nearly indestructible.”

“How much does it weigh?”

“Three pounds and eight ounces.”

“Is it waterproof?”

“Yes, it’s waterproof.”

“And bug proof?”

“Bug proof, too,” he muttered.

“Do you think a jaguar could—”

“Look, it’s jaguar proof, mildew proof, fireproof and snake proof. I personally guarantee you that it’s proof against everything except elephants, and I don’t think we’re going to be stomped on by an elephant in Costa Rica! Is there any other damned thing you’re worried about?” he exploded. “If not, why don’t you be quiet and let me get some sleep?”

Jane lay tensely, and silence fell again. She clenched her fists in an effort to control her nervousness, listening to the growing cacophony of the jungle night. Monkeys howled and chattered; insects squeaked their calls; underbrush rustled. She was exhausted but she had no real hope of sleeping, at least not until dawn, and at dawn this devil beside her would want to start another day of marathon travel.

He was totally silent in that unnerving way of his. She couldn’t even hear him breathe. The old fear began to rise in her chest, making her own breathing difficult. She might as well be alone, and that was the one thing she absolutely couldn’t bear.

“Where are you from?”

He heaved a sigh. “Georgia.”

That explained his drawl. She swallowed, trying to ease the constriction of her dry throat. If she could just keep him talking, then she wouldn’t feel so alone. She’d know he was there.

“What part of Georgia?”

“South. Ever hear of the Okefenokee?”

“Yes. It’s a swamp.”

“I grew up in it. My folks own a farm just on the edge of it.” It had been a normal boyhood, except for the skills he’d learned automatically in the swamp, those skills, which had eventually changed his life by shaping him into something not quite human. He willed the memories away, pulling a mental shade down over them, isolating himself. There was no use in thinking about what had been.

“Are you an only child?”

“Why all the questions?” he snapped, edgy at revealing any information about himself.

“I’m just interested, that’s all.”

He paused, suddenly alert. There was something in her voice, a tone that he couldn’t quite place. It was dark, so he couldn’t see her face; he had to go entirely by what his ears told him. If he kept her talking, he might be able to figure it out.

“I’ve got a sister,” he finally said reluctantly.

“I’ll bet she’s younger. You’re so bossy, you must be an older brother.”

He let the dig pass and said only, “She’s four years younger.”

“I’m an only child,” she volunteered.