Eye of the Storm Page 3

  They picked their way through the plants, saplings, and roots. An unfamiliar creaking sounded in the jungle’s symphony of insects and animals.

  As they approached with caution, Hannah bent to the ground twice, once right in front of Mari. The second time, she’d veered off course, checking beneath the vegetation around a larger tree. Both times, she’d straightened with a long, fairly thick, and almost-straight branch in her hand.

  Mari’s brows rose when Hannah turned and pressed one of them into her hand. She waited, wanting an explanation.

  “For a stretcher.”

  No way. We have to carry someone? In these conditions?

  The wind continued to increase, and tiny hairs that’d escaped her ponytail tickled her face. It was October, and the wet season was in full swing. Soon, the rain would come. She practically tasted the water in the air.

  Mari picked her way over the raised roots of the huge tree, their destination. When they arrived under it, her mouth dropped open. This is the favor Hannah wants?

  Several feet off the ground, a fairly undistinguishable man twisted upside down, strung up by a torn and tangled parachute. From their vantage point, she couldn’t make out his features, just that he looked to be large, which meant he’d be heavy. Blood dripped from a wound, and something dangled from a chain around his neck. What worried her the most was the dark camouflage that he wore.

  “Oh, God.” Mari took a step back. Her warring emotions churned inside of her at the sight above them. “No.” I’m not getting involved in this. “I won’t.”

  Hannah’s hand clamped over Mari’s mouth, and her eyes went wide. “Yes, you will. Get him well, and he will get you out. Safely.”

  Her muscles locked from the shock and tension, and she stood rooted to the spot. Out. Safe. Those little words meant everything. They snared her, and she didn’t run. More than anything, Mari wanted out. That’d been her plan all along. All the fire and pent-up agitation inside her deflated. She tilted her head back and looked up at the man once more. If there was the slightest chance he was her answer, maybe she could do it.

  Her past was catching up with her in more ways than one. “He’s... military.” She skimmed over the dark-green camouflage. She didn’t quite recognize the specific uniform, but its meaning—what she’d experienced over the years—held. Without meaning to, she’d solidified her fear of all and any people of power in South America in that simple statement.

  More often than not, the police were on the take from the drug lords, and they chose to look the other way when it benefited them. The cartels ruled the streets, and the guerrillas, who opposed the government, worked in tandem with the cartels. Then there were the border police she planned to avoid when she neared Panama. Even though there were good people on the police force and in the military, she had witnessed too much bloodshed to blindly trust anyone in a uniform. Her experiences told her it wouldn’t bode well for her.

  Hannah’s face softened, and once more Mari had a fleeting thought of how it was a miracle this woman was alive. A woman alone out there was a prime target for every powerful man in the area. If they could stick together, even with Hannah’s cold, often clipped tone and standoffish nature, her company was preferable to a man she didn’t know.

  “He won’t hurt you. I’m sure of it.” Glancing back at the tree, Hannah motioned for Mari to stand beneath it. “We don’t have a lot of time. In fact, I’m surprised he’s still here.” With the thick branch she held, she indicated for Mari to remove her bag. “We need to make a stretcher.”

  A sick feeling swirled in Mari’s stomach. She was serious. She dropped her branch, removed her pack, and tossed it near Hannah’s crouched form. “What are you doing with these?” All three packs were piled up around her.

  “Making a stretcher. It’s the best way I can come up with to carry him out. Help me. Just feed the straps through the branches and loop them once to secure them. It won’t be great, but it’s better than dragging him through the brush to the river.”

  It wasn’t a bad idea. Mari bent and helped Hannah with the awkwardness of the long sticks as she situated the bags evenly down the two poles. The man would be cradled, hopefully, with the backpacks and wood supporting him. We’ll have to grip the ends of the poles to transport him. That will suck. She glanced up at him and tried to determine how heavy he was. No matter how she looked at it, he’d be difficult to carry.

  Hannah gripped the base of the tree with one hand and a low branch with the other, hoisting herself up. The rough bark looked to Mari as though it scratched her palms.

  “I’m going to have to cut him down. You’ll need to be lower so you can slow his fall. Leave the stretcher on the ground and climb up behind me.”

  Leaves rustled as the hot wind continued to pick up in intensity. There would be a storm, not just the typical afternoon rain. Hannah managed to get halfway up, and Mari stood below, weighing her option to run back to the canoe and try to get out on her own. Could I make it? Being alone in the jungle had proved to be equally dangerous for her as this, if not more so. Traveling alone was no longer her best option.

  Shit, I should have called Hannah’s bluff and grabbed a weapon from the guerrilla she had killed.

  Hannah looked down. “Hurry up.”

  Mari shifted from foot to foot. That was a long way up to climb, and she didn’t see how they were supposed to get him out of there without falling themselves.

  “I know you’re tired. We both are. But there are worse things out there that’ll surely find us if you don’t climb up here. Trust me, he’s your best chance.”

  “Are you sure he’s alive?” She peered at the dark-haired soldier, whose blood fell in a steady drip. Flies and other winged insects buzzed around his wounds. Even if he was alive, he would have an infection for sure, and quite possibly botfly larva in that gash. She shuddered at the thought.

  “He’s breathing. Looks like the blood is mainly coming from a head wound. We won’t know if anything’s broken until we get somewhere safe.”

  Pushing out a breath in resignation, Mari rose to her tiptoes and grasped the lowest branch. Scraping her exposed skin on the bark, she climbed until Hannah told her to stop. Why am I doing this?

  “Move under him and wait for me to toss one of the lines from his parachute.” Hannah edged over to the mess of tangled cords, tested them, then selected two to cut. She dropped them down to Mari. “Tie these tightly to the branch you’re on. Make sure it’s secure, or he’ll fall all the way, and that won’t help you. Trust me.”

  With a glance above, Mari scrutinized the parachute caught among the branches. The tears were expected, but what looked like several sprays of bullets were not. Then again, they were in the Darien Gap, and she probably shouldn’t have been surprised at his—or his equipment’s—condition.

  Mari curled her hands around the ropes, inched closer to the base, and squatted down so she could lean against it for leverage while she secured the ends to the branch she stood on. Her fingers ached from pulling the rope taut, testing the knot she tied.

  “Ready?” Hannah whispered from overhead.

  “As much as I’ll ever be.” Mari wrapped her arms around the tree while Hannah cut through the tangled parachute lines. With each one that fell her heart thudded. There weren’t many left, and the man’s body jerked, putting even more strain on the last couple tethers.

  “Here goes,” Hannah warned as her knife sawed through the last one.

  Dead weight, he dropped. He crashed into the branch above her head, and Mari winced. She pressed as flat as she could against the base of the tree, staying out of the way of his drop. Holy hell, this is bad.

  A deep male groan sent a tremor through her tense body. She looked down. The ropes she’d tied held. A few feet from the ground, he dangled, twisting and bleeding, with his face obscured from her view.

  “Go.”

  The harsh command kick-started Mari into moving, and she mimicked Hannah’s frantic descent. Once her feet we
re back on solid ground, she looked up to Hannah, who perched on the limb she’d just vacated.

  “Reach up and grab his shoulders. I’m going to cut him down. Try to slow his drop so we don’t add to his injuries.”

  “Right.” Her queasy stomach rolled and cramped once more.

  Hannah shimmied along the branch until she was in position. Grabbing the first rope, she looked down at Mari. “Hold him steady.”

  On her toes, Mari strained to stop him from swinging, which was brought on from his descent and the wind. Twisting the rough material of his camouflage jacket in her fingers, she steadied him as best as she could. She pushed the heels of her hands into him and prepared for the impact of his weight once Hannah cut him loose.

  “All set?”

  “I think so.”

  Hannah leaned over enough to get a good view of what Mari was doing to prepare. “You might want to turn so that you’re facing out. That way, when he drops he can sort of roll onto your back and ease his landing. Pull him forward a little so he doesn’t drop straight down on you, but angles instead. Less impact for both of you.”

  She did as Hannah advised, worrying about getting hurt but doing it anyway. His body jerked as Hannah sawed through the ropes. With each millimeter Hannah severed, the threads stretched, and her body strained and shook as she took on the burden of some of his weight.

  Mari grunted when he slammed into her. Her knees gave out, and she fell to the ground. Then his weight shifted—he rolled off of her, and she followed, landing partly on top of him.

  Shit! Scrambling away, she sucked in air and froze when she took her first good look at his camo-paint-and-blood-covered face. The coppery tang of blood hit her, and she inched away, pushing up onto her heels. In a crouch, she waited for Hannah to drop to the ground.

  Doing this—helping him—will cost me more than I can probably give.

  Hannah dropped with a light thump, but Mari never shifted. Can he really help me, and how do I return the favor? His condition would mean her stay would be elongated. His dog tags captured her focus. “I can’t do this.” Intense fear rolled through her coiled body along with an instinctive need to survive. Lying at her feet, he represented one of the people from whom she’d been running, and the whole scene caused her to question her past mistakes, even though his identification and uniform told her he wasn’t from here. Her stomach churned the more she took in every military inch of him.

  Chapter 4

  Mari

  “No way, Hannah.” Mari’s heart pounded while Hannah bent to inspect his injuries. She paced back and forth, her obsessive gaze straying to him time and again. His features were nearly indistinguishable through the blood and camo paint. His short brown hair was matted and filthy. Even so, a trail of worry burned through her when she contemplated who he was, especially given that there were still men after her, bent on returning her against her will—or killing her. “He’ll kill me. Why’d you save me, only to set me up for certain death?”

  Lifting her gaze from the man’s prone figure, Hannah pinched her features into an annoyed grimace. “He is your best bet to stay safe and get out. I can’t help you, and you obviously need it.”

  Wow, just wow. Hannah was right, but it still aggravated Mari to hear it. She pushed herself to her feet then peered at what Hannah was doing. She poked at his cut then moved on to his eyes, pulling back one of the lids and looking. She did the same with the other.

  “He most likely has a concussion.” Hannah waved her hand at the blood on his head. “The head injury will need to be cleaned and bandaged. It doesn’t look too bad.”

  “You’re kidding, right?” Crimson seeped from the ugly wound, and a rainbow of bruising bloomed around it and spread across his forehead. Part of her worried deeply for him, but the part that wanted to flee—on her own and for survival—couldn’t afford to.

  “Could have been much worse.” Jumping up, Hannah rushed over to the makeshift stretcher. “Give me a hand. We need to prop this branch under him and roll him onto the wide part.”

  Mari shifted her weight from one foot to the other. A question burned on the edge of her tongue, something she could not ignore. “How do you know him?” It could cost her to show interest, but she’d fought to keep the menace from her question.

  “Hurry up. There’s no time for questions. We’ve got to move!”

  Reacting to the urgency ringing through her voice, Mari bent and helped Hannah roll him. Hannah had mentioned that someone was searching for him, and that was enough to force Mari’s hand. Once they had him situated as best as they could, Hannah squatted down, faced away, and took the front ends of the stretcher in her hands. With her gaze glued on Hannah’s back, and not on him, Mari grasped the other end of the stretcher.

  Every muscle in her body screamed as they pushed off the ground and rose with him supported between them. Even with his weight distributed relatively evenly, he was incredibly large and heavy. His body was cradled well enough from his head to his knees, which bent to allow his lower legs to dangle from the DIY gurney. Mari hoped that his thick hiking boots wouldn’t slow them down by catching along the ground.

  Hannah glanced back. “Ready?”

  Her body shook, but Mari gave a quick nod. They took a slow step forward. Hannah increased the pace, and Mari worked to stay with her, taking care not to trip on any exposed roots or rotting vegetation in their way.

  They made it a good distance from the tree when Mari’s arms, shoulders, and back began to burn from the strain. “We’ve got to stop.”

  “No, not yet. Keep pushing yourself. If we stop, it’ll be even harder to pick him up again and get to the river.” Hannah’s hoarse voice cut through the birds calling to each other. Both sounds competed with the internal screaming of her fatigued mind.

  Fine. I can do this. The loose hairs around her face stuck to her like spiderwebs. The buzz of insects was as loud as the pounding of her heart. She panted as she strained her lungs to suck in more oxygen. No, I can’t do it. “I need to take a break.”

  “Fifty more steps and then we will. Count them in your head. Focus on the numbers.”

  The woman was relentless as she soldiered on. And Hannah was right about one thing: they did need to keep moving so Mari could reach her destination—out of the Darien Gap, out of Colombia, and far away from everything she was running from.

  Mari’s shoulders felt as if they were going to pop from their sockets, and her hands and elbows screamed in pain. Her back and legs were in agony. Channeling her focus, she worked to block everything out. With each painful movement forward, Mari did as Hannah suggested and counted her progress. Hannah was right. It helped a little. Anything to take her mind off how her body begged to collapse was worth a try. With single-minded concentration, Mari diligently counted, even when salty drops of sweat and black spots compromised her vision. “Fifty.” She wheezed.

  Hannah nodded, and they bent simultaneously, Mari falling down the last several inches and dropping him. Lying on the ground, she moaned. Faint shuffling sounds penetrated her exhausted state, and she forced her eyelids open when a shadow fell across her. Hannah stood over her, another slim plastic packet in her hand.

  “You need more electrolytes. Dump it into your canteen. Suck it down. We move in two minutes.” She tore the end open and handed it to Mari. “After you take this, you’ll start to feel better.”

  After swirling the contents around in her canteen, she clamped her lips around the opening and sucked every last drop of the sweet concoction down. She kept her eyes closed as she waited for it to take effect, hoping it would give her a little clarity and relief from the exhaustion. It didn’t take too long for her to begin to feel a bit more like herself.

  “Sit up.” Hannah grasped her hand and pulled. “Drink some more.”

  Mari took Hannah’s canteen, put it to her mouth, and gulped down as much water as she dared. She replaced the cap then handed it back. Things seemed bad, but they could be a whole hell of a lot worse.
If she’d been struck with heat exhaustion or severe dehydration, she’d have to take it easy and consume only a few sips at a time. She wasn’t that badly off, though she was depleted. The fluid stayed down. “What else is in those bags?” she asked, trying anything to keep them from lifting the stretcher again. With shaky hands, she pushed the annoying, sweat-drenched hairs from her face.

  “Everything from extra socks to antivenin injections for snake bites.” Hannah moved to the front and took her position as the lead. “Come on.”

  With effort, Mari got to her feet. She wrapped her hands around the two sticks then listened to Hannah count off when to lift. She grunted through it. He must have gotten heavier. Seriously.

  They trudged on for twenty painful minutes, his prostrate body swaying between them as they made slow but steady progress. “Hear that?” Hannah asked quietly.

  “The wind?” It was still gaining momentum. A storm would hit any minute now.

  “No. The water. We’re close.”

  That got her attention, and Mari perked up, moving a tiny bit faster. As soon as they were at the water, they could load their burden onto the canoe. It would carry his weight, and she could rest.

  She refused to entertain any thoughts about him other than the next steps. When the time came, she’d deal with the rest. His head wound could mean quite a few things, especially if it was serious, and it looked that way to her. Maybe somehow, she could increase her odds of getting him to help her.

  Both women pushed as hard as they could to get to the canoe. As they neared the water, the ground changed in consistency to mud, slicked with fallen vegetation and riddled with random roots, which made it harder to walk. Shifting leaves to the side offered peeks of churning water. We made it. At the bank, they set him down. Hannah turned to the water’s edge and yanked on the rope that secured their bobbing canoe to bring it closer. Rolling her shoulders, Mari bent and hovered over him, appearing to check his injury. What she was really doing was not taking any chances, should she need an advantage with him. With deft fingers, she yanked the dog tags from his neck and shoved them deep in her pocket. She straightened then rushed to help Hannah pull the canoe as close as they could. They lodged it partway onto the bank before they returned to their heavy burden to load him on.