Primitive Nights (22 page)

Michelle said something to Seiret, and he jumped to his feet, shaking his head. Myla tried to push past him but he blocked her path.

“Michelle, tell him I must go for help or everyone could die.”

Michelle’s eyes closed. “Take him with you. He will be able to get you there and back much faster by canoe.”

Myla knew she was right, and as much as she hated to endanger Damon’s friend, alternate options were nonexistent. Knowing she might regret her choice, she closed her eyes for a moment. “Ask him if he is willing.”

Michelle did as she asked, and when Seiret nodded, Myla slid the bucket closer to the cot. “Drink, Michelle. You have to keep drinking. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

The trip down the river seemed to last forever. Myla helped paddle through the calm areas in the river and Seiret turned out to be a very effective communicator, using signs with his hands. Several hours later, with Seiret’s help, Myla had mastered the basics of the small wooden canoe.

The rapids they encountered still scared her, but with each drop and dip through the turbulent water, she became more certain of her skill. Hour after hour passed. She lost track of time as the water fought them, threatening to end their journey numerous times through the day. They stopped only when necessary, and Seiret stayed alert, his body tense until they were in motion again. Every muscle in her body hurt. The blisters on her palms had ruptured but she welcomed the pain. It helped force her through the exhaustion swallowing her.

She was near to screaming with frustration when Seiret grunted. He pointed ahead, and through the growing darkness she could make out the subtle flicker of lights.

So close. Now all she needed to do was get to the E.I. storage building and load up with emergency provisions. If they started out again immediately, they would arrive back at the camp sometime late the next day. Later than she would have liked, but it would have to do.

An hour later Seiret stood next to the canoe, his eyes wide. He stared at Myla as though she’d grown an extra head. She tried to make him understand. “Seiret, please. You—” she pointed at him, “—stay here.” She pointed at the canoe then held her hands out, palms toward him. “Stay.”

She backed up a bit and again he stepped forward as if to follow. The sounds he uttered meant nothing to her, though the frustration in his voice broke any language barrier. Words fell in rapid succession from his thick lips, and he pressed a fist to his chest before pointing at her.

She assumed he meant to protect her. She’d recognized the words leader and brave, but that was all. His intent seemed to be to protect her in Damon’s place. She shook her head and pointed at the lights. “Bad. Danger.”

He smiled, plainly misunderstanding her. She sat down on a rock near the river and dropped her head into her hand. This was a waste of valuable time. There had to be a way…

Then an idea formed in her mind.

She stood and walked toward the bushes. When he called out, she smiled and held a hand to her lower abdomen. Crossing her legs at the ankles, she imitated a child’s pee pee dance and pointed to the bushes, squashing the small voice in her head that said she was an idiot. She waited. After a moment, he nodded, his brows knit with skepticism. But it gained her the distance she needed. As soon as she was far enough away to make a break for it, she did, praying that he wouldn’t be brave—or foolish—enough to follow.

“Thank you so much, sir.”

The gentleman who’d stopped to offer her a ride smiled as she closed the door of his V.W. Bug. “You’re very welcome, my dear. I hope all works out for you now.”

“I’m certain it will.”

“Very good. Off to find my hotel. Left after the embassy, correct?”

“That’ll take you right past Upton Suites. Have a wonderful vacation.”

“This heat is going to send me back to New York sooner than I’d planned.” He chuckled. “Good luck, then.”

She waved as he pulled away then ran up the steps to her small apartment. The door hung open, the ancient deadbolt ripped through the rotted wooden frame. She gave the door a nudge and it swung farther, crashing into a huge bookshelf lying in the middle of the floor. Her heart skipped.

She shimmied inside, flipping on the light. Stepping over the shelf to survey the destroyed interior of her apartment, she shivered. Every piece of furniture was overturned, the cushions ripped and pulled apart. Curtains lay in heaps near the windows, and not a single picture or painting remained on the walls.

Her books and files were scattered across the room, and she rushed to the small desk where her computer sat. Not a single disk remained. The drawers of the desk were empty as well. They’d found her backup drives. Damn. They’d taken everything!

The stench of unrefrigerated food hung heavy in the air, and she pulled her shirt over her nose as she bypassed the mess that was the kitchen. Her bedroom matched the rest of the house, and after stuffing a bag with clean clothes, she grabbed her toothbrush and toothpaste from the bathroom on her way back to the front door. A shower and change of clothing would have to wait. She didn’t dare stay any longer.

She walked to the door and glanced back at the remains of her apartment. The small red light on the answering machine caught her attention. She didn’t have the time to bother. But the blinking light drew her. She stared at it, an oddly disconnected sensation pouring through her mind.

She was home.

It wouldn’t be unreasonable for her to want to stay. Would it? The jungle held nothing but danger. Hadn’t she nearly died, several times? Who would blame her for staying right where she was?

Her hand tightened on the doorknob. She could call someone at E.I. to help. The danger of Damon’s world was far more than she’d bargained for, after all. And the proof of InterCorp’s illegal drilling and scouting was gone with her journal. If her suspicions were correct, and her apartment affirmed such, Intercorp had discovered her real purpose and destroyed any evidence she’d gathered.

With nothing remaining to prove InterCorp did anything wrong, her life could go back to normal. She could walk away now, go back home to her mother, to the calm and safety that waited in her cozy childhood home. She could get a plane ticket today and by the end of the week, wake safe in her bed. Far away from all this violence.

Go about her life as if all of this were nothing more than a dream…

She pushed the thought away. What was she thinking? She wasn’t dreaming. The threat was real. InterCorp’s crimes were real. Damon was real. The way she felt about him—that was as real as it got.

There had to be a way to prove the oil company’s misdeeds. And more importantly, there had to be a way to protect Damon and his tribe. They could die.

He could die.

Even if he wasn’t sick when she’d left, he might be now. And the others. There was no telling how far the sickness would spread. If she did nothing, there was no one else who would. “Get a hold of yourself.”

She’d run away from her father’s violence. Gone away to college, not for the education, but to hide from his dangerous temper. She’d abandoned her mother then, just as her brother had abandoned them to run from their father’s temper. She’d never blamed him. But she blamed herself. She wouldn’t do that to someone again. With a firm nod, the determination that had pushed her down the river returned. She had to get back. It was up to her to do what she could. The door slammed behind her as she made her way back down the steps and out onto the sidewalk.

The streetlights cast her shadow out in several directions. The buildings blocked out the starry sky, and for the first time in a long time, she realized how much natural beauty she’d missed living in cities. She couldn’t wait to get back to it. To him.

Glancing at the empty streets, she forced herself to focus. It would take less time to travel the back alleys through the streets than to try to get a cab, so she pulled the bag over her shoulder and headed for the E.I. storage buildings. Her boots thumped against the sidewalk, echoing against the walls of the buildings and homes around her.

The alleys were pitch-black with only an occasional light from a window to brighten her path. For the first time since she’d tricked Seiret and left him waiting at the canoe, she wished he was with her. More than that, she wished Damon was by her side. He would make her feel safe.

But Damon wouldn’t fit into her world. After only a few brief days in the jungle, the buildings and noise that filled the city made her want to run for the peace found under the canopy of the rainforest. Damon would find it hard to conform to her way of life.

She sighed and pulled the bag farther up on her shoulder. Hard probably didn’t quite cover how much his life would have to change. The clothing alone would do him in. She smiled then. It didn’t seem right to cover such a perfect body anyway.

It was no use considering a future with Damon. When she went back to him, no matter how much she wished things could be different, it would be better to end their wilderness romance. Hanging on, savoring his touch and the taste of his lips wouldn’t do either of them any good.

The sad thoughts carried her through the streets, and when she finally turned the corner that opened up to the main street, some of the pressure crushing in on her chest alleviated. The two-story storage building across the street stood like a beacon of hope.

It took a few minutes to key herself into the coded doors that led to the pharmaceutical closet, but once she was inside she filled a large bag with any medical equipment she thought might be helpful. Then she turned to stare at the medication cabinet. This was a problem. She had no idea what medications would be needed.

Her eyes settled on the phone hanging next to the door. Carrie would know, but it was a risk calling her. The less people who knew she’d returned, the better. At this point, she wasn’t sure who she could trust. It was possible someone connected with E.I. had blown her cover.

But there really weren’t any other options.

Her hands shook as she picked up the phone and dialed the number. The phone rang twice before Carrie picked up. “Hello.”

Myla took a deep breath. “Carrie, it’s Myla—”

Carrie’s cry of pleasure reverberated through the phone. “Oh, my God. InterCorp did a press release saying you were dead. A helicopter crash. Where are you? Where have you been?”

Myla rubbed a hand over the back of her neck. “Carrie, listen. I need your help.”

“Sure. What can I do?”

“I need to know what medications are needed for the flu.”

Carrie was silent for a minute. “Well, I’d start with ibuprofen and Tylenol to help with the fever, but the viral meds might be the most effective.” She paused briefly, then added, “If you’re sick, go to the clinic. You never know what you may have picked up if you’ve been out in the jungle.”

Myla cringed. “It’s not for me.”

“Then—who?”

“Carrie, I need you to tell me what the doctors take along when treating epidemics in the tribes. I’m at the storage building now. Which ones are the viral meds?”

“Upper left hand corner, top three shelves, but I’m confused. What’s going on?” Another voice drifted through the phone from Carrie’s line.

Myla’s heart skipped. Someone was with her. “Are you alone?”

“No. But it doesn’t matter. Tell me what you’re doing. Let me help.”

“Never mind. I’ll figure it out.” With a heavy sigh, she leaned back against the wall. “Don’t tell anyone you heard from me, okay?”

She didn’t wait for an answer and hung up the phone. Shit! Grabbing the viral meds and fever reducers, she finished loading the bags and ran down the steps to the front entrance.

Myla tapped her foot impatiently. She’d called the cab more than fifteen minutes ago and it still hadn’t arrived. There was no way she could haul the heavy bags through the streets, loaded as they were with all the supplies she’d taken. Hopefully, it would be enough.

Ideally, taking a team of doctors and medical personnel back with her would be the best option. But with the tribe’s fear already at a fevered state, the appearance of more men and women could produce adverse consequences. Taking armed guards was the only certain way to secure the doctors’ safety. Neither option seemed viable.

No. She’d have to do what she could until the elders agreed to accept help. With an exhausted sigh, she sat down on the curb and pulled the bags close. Where was that damn cab? As if in answer, the distant squeal of tires reached out through the dimly lit streets. Finally!

The cab pulled up a few moments later, and she threw the bags on the seat before climbing in. Ugh, her grasp on Spanish was tentative at best. “
La iglesia antigua roja, por el rio. Por favor, date prisa
,” she attempted, hoping she’d conveyed a description of the old red church near the river.

The driver glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “
Si
.”

Resting her head against the seat, she closed her eyes. The motion of the vehicle lulled her into relaxation. She took a moment to center herself, weigh what must be done when she returned. Depending on the numbers sick, she would have to find others to help. The medical masks she’d brought would help protect anyone who hadn’t become sick and…