Dangerous Journey (18 page)

He waited, as if understanding every nuance of her feelings. When his lips found hers, the fire in the kiss kindled and grew. There was no more she could want, no more she could hope for. He made love to her with perfect gentleness, until she was lost in another world, another plane. Then, together, they slowly floated back down to earth.

Darius didn’t move for a long time. Finally, he propped himself up on his elbows, leaned forward and kissed her. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“All right?” She turned her head away from him, wondering what he must be thinking. A woman of her age…

He moved to her side then, his arms still around her, his body still pressed against hers.

“Of course, I’m all right,” she said. Then, her heart heavy, she asked the question that was torturing her. “Are you sorry for having anything to do with me? Someone with no experience, no—”

“Stop, C.J.” He lightly kissed her as if in quiet dismay at her pain. “I’m not sorry, never that. But you could have told me.”

“I wasn’t totally ignorant was I? I’ve read books, seen movies. I know I’m plain but—”

“Plain?! You’re the least plain woman I’ve ever known. You’re beautiful, in body and soul.”

If he kept saying such nice words to her, he was going to make her cry again. And hadn’t she already revealed enough of herself to him? She sat up. “I’m getting pretty old, you see.” She spoke quickly, forcefully as she quickly pulled on her wet clothes. “And I did want to experience…You’re not without some physical attraction. Just think of it as research. To help my artwork.”

He was standing, jeans on, trying to untwist his wet pullover, when her words hit. “Research? Is that all it was? Really?”

His question surprised her. Not only had he not laughed at her inexperience, but he seemed genuinely to care about her. “Perhaps…there was more. A bit.”

He said nothing for a long time, and slowly, she felt his tension ease. “C.J. Perkins, you are such a sham. Someday maybe you’ll learn to trust me.”

And then, as quickly as it began, the storm ended. The village lay not far away.

Chapter 16

Once they were back in the village, C.J. told the Peace Corpsmen that they planned to go out the next day to take some pictures. That was the usual pastime for visitors, and since Darius was obviously a man who knew how to take care of himself, no objections were raised. Some native women offered to fill their knapsacks with provisions for the next day’s trek as soon as they finished packing food for some villagers who were going hunting for a few days.

Back in C.J.’s room, Darius removed her notebook from his hip pocket. Before he gave it back to her, he tore out Alan’s map, blotted it dry as best he could and put it in his own pocket. She saw, but didn’t say anything. Too much had already been left unsaid between them.

“I should go,” Darius said. “I’m sure the missionaries are watching the door to room.”

She nodded, her heart beating hard and fast. “I’m sure.”

He looked at her a long moment without moving, then walked to the door. “Will you paint this, C.J.?” His voice was choked, husky. “Will you paint Sarawak for me?”

She wanted to go to him then, wanted to hold him again, to find out if making love could be as magical the second time as it had been the first. But something held her back. “Of course,” she whispered. She would never forget being here with him.

“Promise?”

What’s wrong?
She wanted to cry out, but only said, “Yes.”

He nodded and left.

o0o

Darius was back before the sun was up. “Get dressed, we’ve got to get going.”

“Why so early?” she mumbled, turning over to go to sleep again.

“The fewer people who see us, the less likely we are to be followed.”

They put on khakis, heavy boots and helmet-like safari hats, then set out, entering the jungle with caution. She struggled not to scream every time she saw some huge, unnamable creature slither by. Soon they left the path the villagers had made. The jungle closed in around them. It held an amazing amount of life: birds, lizards and bugs of all shapes, sizes and colors. Most of the larger jungle animals were nocturnal, for which C.J. was grateful. In the distance, she heard cries and caws—a constant hum—from the jungle’s denizens, but where they walked the noise stopped, as if every living creature sensed the strangers in their midst and stayed still until they passed.

Darius pointed out landmarks along the way. He made it very clear that she was to pay close attention to every little detail, because if anything were to happen to him, she would have to make it back alone. The thought made her shudder, but she nodded, and hoped he didn’t see how terrified the notion made her.

“Keep away from those,” he said, pointing off in the distance.

Her eye followed his finger’s direction and she saw, under a large fern, an enormous lizard. She grimaced. “I wouldn’t dream of going near one.”

“They’re poisonous.”

“I didn’t need to know that.”

A short while later he held out his arm. “Stop,” he said.

“Let’s go this way.” He took her arm to lead her around the area they had been approaching.

“Why?” she asked. All she saw was a tree ahead of them, just another tree. And they were already completely surrounded by trees, so what was the difference? Then she looked up. The limbs of the tree seemed to be moving. She stopped walking, fascinated, and peered closer as Darius tried to lead her away.

“Baby pythons,” he said.

“Oh, my God!” she cried as the slithering, pulsating tree limbs suddenly made sense to her. Little snakes were swarming everywhere. Her blood turned to ice, and her stomach rolled over. All she wanted was to run, but Darius held her firmly by his side.

“It’s okay. No need to run,” he advised.

She gripped his hand tightly and walked along, her legs shaking, trying to still the pounding of her heart, realizing now that she not only had to worry about what was at her feet, but also what was lurking overhead. For the first time, the heavy hat she wore made sense to her. She knew there were pythons in Sarawak, as well as cobras, but she had irrationally hoped they weren’t in this part of the jungle. No such luck. She felt cold beads of perspiration on her brow.

They walked on for another hour, since the morning was still young and relatively cool, until they came to an open area with a few boulders. “Are you hungry?” he asked.

“Starved.”

“Let’s have breakfast here.” He poured coffee from the thermos, then brought out the beef jerky the missionaries had provided, and rice balls and dried-fish from the Malays.

“I’ll pass on the fish,” C.J. said.

“Do you still know the way back?” he asked.

“Of course.”

“Where?”

She looked around then consulted the compass Darius insisted she not only carry but also use. “That way,” she said, pointing. “Straight south until you come to the stream. Then you cross it, walk up—no, downstream until you find a slight clearing, find the tallest mountain in the distance and walk in the exact opposite direction, in other words east, until you find the high embankment with three large boulders, turn, hmm, left, and keep going. Eventually you’ll find the village—or at least the sea, and from there you can find the village. But I don’t know why you’re so insistent. I wouldn’t dream of going anywhere without you, believe me!”

“The jungle can turn into your enemy in the twinkling of an eye. You always have to know the way out, an exit strategy. I call it the ‘backdoor,’ and when I enter something new, strange and potentially dangerous, I always try to figure out the backdoor first. Remember that, C.J. It will do you good in life.”

They were finishing the meal when they heard a terrible crashing noise. C.J. nearly jumped out of her skin.

The world stood still as she looked around.

Darius grabbed her hand and began to run across the open area toward the trees. A man leaped in front of them with an unearthly cry. His skin was the color of wet earth, and he wore only a loincloth, tooth-laden necklace, and black sooty designs across his face and chest. His spear seemed at least eight feet tall.

C.J. screamed and stopped running, but Darius didn’t. His grip tightened as he pulled her after him into the trees and then kept going. She had never moved so fast, and all but flew through the jungle. He pointed towards a massive boulder, and they ran towards it.

Darius flung her behind it, raised his shotgun and fired. She sat, huddling on the ground beside the granite, trying to catch her breath and listening to the pounding of what sounded like hundreds of feet crashing through the jungle after them.

Tears stung her eyes. Could they be headhunters? They’re not supposed to be here, not this close to civilization.

Darius fired again, and the noise of running stopped. The jungle became absolutely quiet.

“Let’s go,” she whispered, desperate, barely able to get the words out of her mouth.

“You go. I’ll hold them off.”

She couldn’t believe what she’d heard and swallowed hard. “No! Please, let’s run, before they come back.” She grabbed his sleeve, wanting to pull him after her.

“They haven’t gone.” He crouched behind the rock, looking at her intently. “They’re still there, waiting. We can’t outrun them, and if they circle us, that’s it. Our only hope is for me to keep them here while you get away and bring help.”

“But...” Tears did come this time, and she looked at him blankly, helplessly.

“Go!” he ordered. “Now.”

She shook her head. “I can’t!”

They heard the rustling of leaves. The headhunters were coming closer.

He stood, peering over the rock. “You’ve got to, Cleo! We have no choice.”

She was petrified. It was a joke, she thought. The Peace Corpsmen were having fun—or the villagers. It was a joke, or a nightmare.
Please, God, let me wake up.

Then she heard more movement, closer this time.

Quickly, he kissed her. “Trust me, C.J. I’ll be all right. Just trust me.”

Stunned, she nodded.

“When I shoot, you run,” he whispered. "Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Go!” he shouted, then began firing his rifle.

Somehow her legs moved. As if in a dream she plunged deeper into the jungle. The noises behind her told her that the headhunters were still there. The jungle closed between her and Darius. She was alone.

At first she ran crouched over, her legs wobbly as she hurried through the deep brush. After a while, she stood upright and let her feet fly over the rocks, snakes, nests—all these things she had so gingerly skirted before. Her only thought was to get help, to help Darius. She knew nothing about the people who had attacked them, who or what they were, and not knowing her enemy made them that much more frightening.

She thanked God that Darius had made sure she paid close attention to their route. It would have been easy to simply let him guide her, to pay no attention. But if she had, she would have been no help to him at all. She would have been lost herself, floundering until nightfall, when her misery would have been ended in any one of a number of truly horrible ways.

She didn’t think about the pain in her side that caused her to nearly double over, or that her lungs felt ready to burst, or that her legs hurt so badly that she could hardly move them. She concentrated on the words she’d heard in interviews after marathons in the U.S.—that you can run through the pain. Don’t give in, keep on going and eventually the pain is gone. You can put it past you; you can rise above it.

Her pace slowed, but she didn’t stop no matter how high the heat and humidity grew, or how loudly her body begged her to stop. Then, somehow, the pain did stop, and she continued on. Pretend you’re not here, her mind told her.

Pretend Darius is safe, and so are you. Pretend you’re together again, back in Hong Kong, high atop Victoria Peak.

There were no dangers, no worries. Only her and Darius. No more thoughts of Alan…Alan…

The pain came back; this time she had to stop. She dropped to her knees and held her stomach, bending over, her head nearly touching the ground. Perspiration dripped from her body in rivers. I’m almost there, she thought. Just a little farther.

She rose and stumbled forward, forcing her legs to move despite the pain, despite the perspiration in her eyes blinding her. .

Suddenly hands grabbed her from behind. She screamed and spun toward the headhunter, only to come face to face with one of the villagers from Bir Sakan.

“Darius,” she cried, scarcely recognizing the raspy sound of her voice. “We have to help him. Get help. Guns. Quickly, please. Quickly.”

The man ran off, and she sank to the ground, vomiting from pain, worry and fatigue. She rolled onto her back, trying to restore some strength. She needed to lead the party back to Darius.

Darius could protect himself; he could take care of himself. If there was anyone on earth who would be able to hold off that attack, it was Darius. Or so she tried to tell herself.

“Miss Perkins?”

She opened her eyes. Hank, John Carter, Kaloo and a number of other villagers were standing over her. Hank quickly knelt by her side and stroked her forehead. “Here, drink this.” He lifted a canteen to her lips.

She took it, then pulled herself to her feet. She looked at the men, and then at the guns in their hands.

“Follow me.” She began running toward the jungle, but Hank grabbed her arm and stopped her.

“What happened?”

“Men. Natives. Headhunters. I don’t know! They attacked us. They had spears. There were hundreds of them. Darius is back there. Please, let me show you. Hurry!”

The men gave each other looks of surprise and skepticism. Finally Hank spoke. “Okay, Miss Perkins. Don’t worry, we’ll find him. You lead the way.” His voice was calm and comforting.

Somehow she forced herself to run again, afraid that too much time had already passed. She hated her inability to run faster, she hated her weakness, the way her own body betrayed her when she needed it most, when she needed it to help her protect the one person who meant the world to her.