More Than Paradise (29 page)

They had a carefully mapped-out plan for the day the weather looked like changing. There were ß ares set aside. Nitro thought at least some of them would work. An array of brightly colored items was piled up ready to be laid out in the middle of the boggy landing area. Nitro said Ash would need some markers if she had to come down in thin mist.

And they’d drawn straws to see who would leave on the Þ rst shuttle.

Planning their departure and discussing what they were all going to do when they got back to civilization kept their spirits up. Several of the team had also evolved a scheme for walking out of the Fojas if they had to. Kwerba was a twenty-day hike, they’d calculated, perhaps

• 197 •

JENNIFER FULTON

thirty, and Jared Diamond had done it all those years ago. Maybe they could, too. Whenever they got carried away with that conversation, Miles reminded them that Diamond had guides with him, whereas theirs had ß own back to Kwerba once they’d established the camp and mapped out their research area.

The post-ß ood camp had been rebuilt on the original site Ash had chosen. One of the large tents had been recovered and the men had rigged up bivouacs for everyone who could not be accommodated.

Charlotte and Renee slept side by side in the tent. They didn’t talk much. Everyone was in mourning, Charlotte thought. For the men lost and for the expedition itself. They had plans to regroup and start again, but this journey of discovery was over. When people died, it was time to go home.

Charlotte got despondent every time she thought about returning empty-handed to Sealy-Weiss. Of course, she had some basic data and there was a good deal she could bring together from memory. She could conÞ rm the existence of the
Ficus
they were seeking and she intended to collect a new set of specimens today. But there was so much more she wanted to do. She couldn’t help but imagine how she would be received if she took back the prize she really wanted. The orchid of life.

The more she thought about it, the more desperate she became to make contact with Bruce again and get back to that cave. The rain had Þ nally stopped and a heady optimism had seized the breakfast crowd.

The sky seemed brighter, the clouds thinner. Maybe they would have liftoff tomorrow.

Charlotte was both thrilled and alarmed by the prospect. She would see Ash. At last. But she would be leaving the Fojas before she could gather the evidence she needed to announce the discovery of a lifetime. What if Bruce was murdered by one of the various parties he claimed to be hiding from? The Indonesian military. The big mining companies. The timber barons. His ex-wife.

She paced the perimeter of the camp, conscious of Renee’s watchful regard. She usually kept a discreet distance but she was always there. Today’s digging parties were setting off, all in high spirits for a change. The few people remaining were on latrine and maintenance duty. Among them was Miles, whose heart seemed to have gone out of him since the catastrophe. His face had thinned and he had let his goatee run amok. His wispy brown hair was weighed down with mud.

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MORE THAN PARADISE

Charlotte watched him drag his feet as he transported buckets of fresh leaf mulch and twigs around the camp to spread over the pathways, their attempt to prevent their thoroughfares becoming slippery mud trails. An idea took root as he worked, and with a nonchalant smile at Renee, she strolled toward him.

“Miles, hey. How are you doing?”

He straightened up and regarded her uncertainly. Charlotte could understand his apprehension. He blamed himself for Simon’s death, and she was the supposed girlfriend.

“I have a favor to ask,” she said.

He seemed cheered by this, perhaps seeing an olive branch.

“Anything to help.”

Charlotte decided her plan was a win/win. Miles would get to feel good about helping her and she would get the chance to see Bruce, if he was still around. She had a feeling he was.

“As you know, I lost all my data and specimens in the ß ood. And my camera. And microscope.” She kept her tone soft, not wanting to sound accusatory. “But I believe I can still gather some extremely useful specimens of one key species I’m here to research. It would probably be in both our interests to provide Belton Pharmaceuticals with a reason to fund another expedition.”

“Do you see that happening?” He sounded dubious.

“Absolutely. But we don’t have much time if the weather is going to clear, so I thought if I had some help…” Charlotte cast a pointed look toward Renee and lowered her voice. “The problem is, she slows me down in the Þ eld and right now, time is of the essence. I was hoping you might be able to work with me.”

Miles, as Charlotte had expected, relished the chance to score a few points against the Nagle crew. “I’m your man,” he said. “Let’s lose the guard dog.”

Charlotte gave him a big smile. “Okay, here’s the plan. You’re going to tell her you’re walking me up to the dig. We’ll say we’re really bored down here and we want to see if they’ve found our laptops. Then I’m going to suggest she takes the morning off since I’ll be up there with Nitro and everyone else.”

“You think she’ll go for that?”

“She has period cramps and there’s no Motrin. She’ll go for it.”

Miles beamed. “That’s very resourceful.”

• 199 •

JENNIFER FULTON

Charlotte offered her hand and he got emotional shaking it.

“I just wanted to say,” he stammered as they approached Renee,

“I’m terribly sorry about Simon.”

“It was a tragic accident. Try to stop beating yourself up about it.

Okay?”

He nodded effusively.

Renee greeted them with a suspicious stare, but she didn’t put up much resistance. The cramps, Charlotte surmised, must be really bad.

v

Miles got with the program immediately. His backpack had survived the storm and he offered up its contents the moment they arrived at the
Ficus
tree. Specimen bags. Energy bars. Pocket knife.

And best of all, sanitary wipes.

These he handed her, saying, “Take the whole box. It’s not like I ever use them.”

Charlotte shuddered to think she’d shaken his hand. She stared down at the unopened box. Two hundred lightly perfumed antibacterial towelettes. All to herself. She’d died and gone to heaven.

“If you’re Þ ne starting with the bark samples, I think I’ll take a walk and go clean myself up,” she said, beyond thrilled. Clean, good-smelling skin. She’d almost forgotten what it felt like.

“Knock yourself out.” He was already labeling a stack of bags, looking as happy as a clam. “I’ll be right here.”

Charlotte couldn’t believe her luck. She’d been wondering how she was going to Þ nd an excuse to vanish for a reasonable period.

Having her own private sponge bath would buy her as much time as she needed. Miles wasn’t going to do anything to undermine their new rapport. He would not have the temerity to come looking for her while she was having the next best thing to a shower. She could probably take hours if she wanted to.

Humming to herself, she waltzed along the route east of the
Ficus
until she came to a pleasant little clearing about Þ ve minutes away. On one side, large buttress roots provided a natural screen. On the other, liana creepers formed a tangled curtain between two broken branches.

Charlotte discarded the T-shirt she’d been wearing since the storm and ß inched at the smell of her armpits. Disgusting. She opened a wipe and inhaled the sharp citrus promise of germ-free skin. Languorously,

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MORE THAN PARADISE

she ran the wet fabric all the way down one arm. Oh, God. When had anything felt so good?

She lathered it up and down a few times before setting it aside. Two hundred wipes. She could use Þ fty now and have another hundred and Þ fty to last her until they were picked up. At least, when she Þ nally got to be in Ash’s arms, she would smell clean, DEET notwithstanding.

Charlotte tore open several packets and whipped out the towelettes, ß ipping them open and bunching them into a luxuriously large wipe.

She Þ nished cleaning her arm, then continued with the back of her neck, and her other arm. If Bruce came now, she would tell him to go wait behind one of the trees until she’d Þ nished. She opened more wipes and got started on her chest, sighing with pleasure as her skin prickled at the slight astringent. This, she decided, was the best bathing experience she’d ever had.

She knotted a couple of wipes together so she could clean her back using a seesaw motion. Her Þ lthy skin thrilled to the cool liquid and Charlotte heaved a huge sigh. She would never take plumbing for granted again. Stretching, she gave the center of her back some extra attention, then undid her pants. She was about to lower them when the snap of a twig made her freeze.

“Don’t stop on my account.” The voice came from the other side of the broken branches, the accent unmistakable.

Billy Bob Woodcock stepped out from behind the creepers, smiling with beady-eyed threat. He had a gun in his hand. Stroking the barrel suggestively, he said, “Well look at you, all naked, and no one around to appreciate the pretty picture.”

Charlotte snatched up her T-shirt and held it to her breasts.

He chuckled. “Aw, don’t go getting shy on me now.”

Charlotte tried to slow her breathing. With polite authority, she said, “I’m not sure what you’re doing out here, Billy Bob, but I think it’s time you went back to the camp. I’m willing to forget all about this.”

“Oh, no. You’re never gonna forget, and that’s a promise. When I show a lady a good time, she remembers.”

Charlotte considered her options. Miles was just a few minutes away. If she ran she might make it. Or she could attempt to reason with this hormone-driven creep. It was important not to show fear, she decided. Men like him got off on it. They counted on their power to intimidate.

• 201 •

JENNIFER FULTON

“Billy Bob, we’ll probably be leaving here tomorrow,” she said reasonably. “Let’s not do something we might regret. It’s been a stressful time. I understand that. But an episode like this can follow you around.”

He shrugged. “The way I see it, I got nothing to lose. I’m out of here anyway, real soon. Going to Iraq.” Incredibly, he wheedled,

“Don’t you want to give me something hot to remember?”

“No. I’m not attracted to you.”

Billy Bob seemed to Þ nd that funny. As he chortled, Charlotte started walking, glancing over her shoulder.

“Hard to get. How did I guess?” He caught up to her in a couple of quick strides and grabbed her arm.

Charlotte yelled, “Miles!”

Billy Bob laughed harder. “Last I seen, your buddy Miles wasn’t moving.”

Charlotte felt winded. “What did you do to him?”

“He’s okay. He’ll just have a sore head tomorrow. Now, are you gonna be nice to me or do I have to make you?” This time he aimed the gun.

Shaking, Charlotte begged, “Let me go. Please.”

Her mind seemed to be breaking into fragments, each one playing through different scenarios like movies on fast-forward. Incredible how fast the one dark question transcended all—could she stay alive? She was going to be raped. That was inevitable. Did he plan to get rid of the evidence, too? Would she be better off making nice, or would he see through her? Was killing her part of his fantasy?

In the trafÞ c jam of her thoughts she was jerked back in time to the ß oor of her kitchen. Crawling away from Britt, asking the same dark questions about how she would survive and whether, this time, Britt would go too far and kill her.

Making nice, being obedient, had never done a thing for her then.

Cold rage infused her. This nobody thought he could invade her world without her permission and violate her. He thought he was entitled to take what he wanted. Maybe she wouldn’t be able to stop him. Maybe she would be seriously injured. But she was damned if she was going to acquiesce. She would mark him. He wasn’t going to be able to walk back to into the camp like nothing had happened.

Billy Bob pushed her down onto the ground and ripped her T-shirt

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MORE THAN PARADISE

from her hands. She needed for him to put the gun down, just for a minute.

“Please,” she disguised her intent with a soft beg. “Don’t hurt me.

I’ll do what you want.”

His eyes glittered. He was pumped up now, feeling strong. He said, “You’re gonna love it.” He transferred the gun to his left hand, so he could get busy unfastening his pants. His eyes shifted from her to the task and he announced, “Look what I’ve got for you.”

She kept the gun in focus, watching it droop as her assailant distracted himself, admiring his own organ. It took her only a split second to move. Grabbing his left arm with both hands, she swung it across a tree root. The gun ß ew from his hand. Howling, off balance, he crashed down and she scrambled up, screaming ear-splitting screams.

Claiming the gun before he could get to it, she ran.

But he was bigger and faster, and tackled her around the neck.

She kicked back. He had her by the wrist, squeezing, preventing her from turning the gun. In her ear, he yelled Þ lth. She swung an elbow back, jabbing him in the gut. A hand covered her mouth to silence her.

Stinky, sweaty skin compressed her nostril and lips, Þ lling her with revulsion. Charlotte bit hard. He yelped and cursed and Charlotte knew she couldn’t hold on to the gun much longer.

She squeezed the trigger, announcing their human presence with a gunshot that splintered the ancient silence of the forest. He mashed the gun from her hand and threw her to the ground, pinning her with his weight. As he grappled to keep her still, she swung her elbow into his mouth. Blood drooled down his chin. She wanted to write his crime all over him, damage him so he would be branded with what he was doing.

With Þ erce determination she jerked her knee up and landed an inept shove to his groin, not enough to disable him.

Grunting and moaning, he choked out, “You wanna play rough, you fucking bitch? I’ll show you rough.”