I let him explore the small clearing, pacing its length, before I bent and retrieved the paper upon which I had drawn the markings from the statue’s base. If anyone could get us a translation, Booke could. If he didn’t know, I was sure one of his online cronies could put him in touch with the right person. For a few moments more, I watched him drink in the feeling of standing in a jungle. When he faced me at last, his expression glowed with wonder.
“Anywhere you’d like me to,” I said softly, “I’ll go for you. And we’ll share it.”
He froze, like a child afraid of reaching for a treat. “Egypt?”
“Certainly.”
“That would be so
brilliant
.” His smile cut his cheeks so wide that I thought they’d crack with the strain.
Yes, he was my friend, after all. I’d hardly make such an offer if I didn’t care. What the hell—I’d always wanted to travel. I could see a lot of sights on Escobar’s money, as well as rebuild my shop—which would take time.
“I promise.”
He reached for the paper. We took care not to brush fingers as we made the exchange. If everything went well, it would disappear from the camp in the real world. I wondered what Kel would make of that.
Booke hesitated, as if weighing the risk of what he might say against its possible value. “If we go to my house, I might be able to find the information right now. I know the place well enough to re-create it, including every book and scrap of paper.” Bitterness colored his voice.
He hated his captivity with a ferocity I could only imagine. If nothing else, since I hitchhiked out of Kilmer when I was eighteen, I had at least been free. Frequently, I had been alone, frightened, hunted, and desperate—or some combination thereof—but I’d never been trapped the way he seemed to be. I wished there were something I could do, but right then I had problems of my own.
But research within the dream . . . Well, it would certainly be easier than trying to find him again. I wasn’t sure how long it had taken this time. Even with Kel keeping watch, I couldn’t sleep the days away. Escobar had made it clear we had a deadline.
“Do I need to do anything?” Both times we’d worked the translocation, I’d taken care of constructing the new environment.
He shook his head. “Just keep your mind clear, please.”
“Okay, tell me when you’re done.”
To make that easier, I sat down and closed my eyes. I blanked my brain, which was harder than it sounded. Though Booke seemed capable of watching me build the new environment without exerting any influence, I didn’t think I had that much mental control. Better to let him finish.
Despite my pressing need to wrap up here and move on with my challenge, anticipation spiked through my veins. He was going to show me where he lived. I wondered whether he would show me his true appearance as well.
“All set.”
When I opened my eyes, the world had changed. Though I expected as much, I was rocked by how wrong I’d been. I sat on a plain hardwood floor. From the exposed stonework and the weathered beams, I guessed the cottage was a couple of centuries old, at least. Directly across from me a fireplace heated the property. The furniture—a chair and a settee—was faded and threadbare; it might’ve been fashionable in the thirties or forties. Books and papers surrounded me in piles, the sort of disarray born of a restless but brilliant mind.
“May I look around?” I asked quietly.
The question was far more significant than it seemed, and we both knew it. If he said no, I’d never try to get to know him any better. Since I’d promised, I would still go to Egypt, but he could keep his secrets. Booke studied me, his stance wary. After a moment, he nodded. He looked the same as I imagined, so I wouldn’t be receiving further revelations tonight.
It didn’t take long to explore the cottage. He had a sitting room, a bedroom, a kitchen, and a bathroom—hopelessly dated, tiles crumbling, and an old-fashioned slipper tub. The enamel showed scratches, but he kept everything clean.
In the bedroom, I found his computer, the only new item in the place. Whatever money he earned, he clearly spent it on technology. He had so many gadgets and gizmos attached to it that I didn’t know what they all did. This room, too, was buried in books and documents, some of which looked to be ancient, as if they should be on display in some museum and might crumble at a touch. His kitchen was tiny and likewise outdated. The whole cottage held a wretched, melancholy air, as if it had slipped through a crack in time. Even the pictures on the walls looked tired, depicting dated scenes and people long dead.
Once I thoroughly scoped out the place, I returned to the sitting room, where a fire crackled in the hearth. I could even smell the wood smoke; oh, but he was
good
. I sat in the chair because on the settee we risked an accidental touch.
“Now you know,” he said quietly. “I am not distinguished or a man of means. As you can see, it is all rather wretched.”
I shrugged. “You saw where I stayed in Kilmer. Growing up, I lived in places that were much worse.”
“With an important distinction. You left. Because you
could
.”
“Did you want to discuss the why of that?”
His face closed. “No.”
“Then you should begin the research. There’s no guarantee how long I’ll sleep before Kel feels compelled to wake me.”
“Of course.” He opened a book and read a bit before adding, “It appears to be Aymara, very old. Just give me a while.”
Once he started, it was simply a matter of waiting. I perused a few of his tomes, not that I expected to be much help. As it turned out, I laid hands on the one he needed and placed it beside him so he could make notes on the paper. I couldn’t be certain how long the translation took, but I felt a tug, as if I might soon rouse naturally.
“Hurry,” I murmured.
“And that’s got it.”
Intellectual diversion burnt away his bitterness, so he was smiling when he handed me the sketch with the notes on the back. This time, the endeavor felt more natural, less an act of will and more a function of our shared reality. Because we were sure this worked, we were sure we had the power, it grew easier with each execution.
“Thank you.”
“Corine,” he said, as I felt a stronger tug. I had only seconds before I woke. “I
will
tell you. Someday.”
And then I opened my eyes to find myself on the ground, damp with morning dew. Kel had not slept. I could see it in the shadows beneath his eyes and the weary slope of his shoulders. Despite his great ability, his resources were not infinite. Tonight, I would keep watch over him.
Smiling, I sat up and examined the paper I held—translation on the back, as I’d known it would be. I read the words aloud. “ ‘Follow the serpent until fire eats the sky. In the hollow of the lady, unearth her bones.’ ”
“Directions,” he said.
“Can you walk?”
He cut me a scathing look, his gaze on my feet. “Can you?”
I dug up a clean pair of socks. As I’d noted prior, there were no clothes in my pack, just socks and underwear. Escobar’s test qualified as cruel and unusual in my book. Not that I wanted to haul a wardrobe through the jungle, so maybe his intentions were good. He was lean enough to have spent some time hiking around out here.
“You healed me, remember?” I could hardly forget.
My feet were filthy now, but they weren’t bleeding or blistered, and my boots had softened up enough that they shouldn’t inflict more damage. I put them on and laced them up. Maybe lucid dreaming was better than common sleep, because I felt stronger today, less sore and beaten down, even though our predicament was every bit as dire, and the day threatened the same swelter. I tightened up my braid, trying not to consider how badly I needed to wash my hair, and pushed to my feet.
Kel leveled an assessing look on me. “Don’t you want breakfast?”
“Not really.”
“Eat,” he insisted. “And take some water.”
God save me. Well, since he had to know more about this stuff than I did, I obeyed, downing a protein bar and some water from the canteen. “How are our supplies holding out?”
Finding clean water was going to be a concern if we went much deeper. Already I had no clue where we were, other than surrounded by wild animals and heavy green trees. I trusted Kel to guide us in, and he’d have to get us out again. If I focused on how isolated we were, how much danger stalked our every move, I’d freeze into a womanshaped lump.
“We have one more day, if we’re careful.”
Shit.
I sweated like mad in this wet heat, which led to dehydration. “There are plants you can cut open, right? I’ve seen a few survival shows.”
He nodded. “I’ll look as we go.”
“Have you had anything today?”
“I can go without.” His tone made it clear the point was not up for discussion, and as I didn’t know his personal limits, he could judge that for himself. He wasn’t human.
Not
human. I couldn’t afford to forget that, no matter how his secrets drew me.
“I’m guessing the river is the serpent. I think we should follow it for a day. ‘Fire eating the sky’ sounds like sunset to me, and I’d say the hollow is a valley.”
“The
lady’s
hollow.”
“We’ll have to watch for a marker of some kind once we leave the river. Maybe you can go up and take a look around.” God, this was so far outside my usual purview it wasn’t even funny.
He gazed up at the canopy. “I can free-climb.”
“Then let’s go.”
And we headed deeper into the jungle.
Where Fire Eats the Sky
The river wound in slow undulations like a snake, bearing out my hypothesis about our path. Scarlet macaws and wild yellow-ridged toucans watched from the trees. As we walked, I kept an eye on the rippling water, watching for anacondas. It could also be alligators, I supposed, though that didn’t improve the situation.
Shannon liked to watch the nature channels, so after she moved in, I got cable TV. While I was okay living in the Dark Ages, I wanted more for her, knowing she’d grown up in Kilmer; I understood all too well what that was like. We’d seen a show one afternoon last month about how alligators stalked their prey, watching from beneath the murky water and learning their habits. Sometimes they would take days about it and then strike when the hapless campers were bathing or drawing water. I never dreamt I’d find myself in a situation like this one, where facts gleaned on Animal Planet could be useful. Unfortunately, it was also terrifying.
A few times I started at some small amphibian hopping in or out of the river.
Pygmy marmosets chattered in the trees. As long as they were around, I knew we didn’t have to worry about hunting cats . . . jaguars and ocelots mostly. If the monkeys scrambled away, we needed to worry. Along the route, I saw a capybara rump in distant undergrowth, but it lumbered away from us as only a giant rodent could. By clinging to the river’s edge, we avoided a lot of the need to cut our way through the jungle. Still, Kel had to swing the machete now and then. It would be easier if we had a boat, but that offered other risks.
By midday—or what I guessed was midday—my clothes stuck to my skin, sodden with sweat, and my whole body felt like fungus grew out of every pore. We paused for food and drink. Wading in the water would cool me off, but walking in wet clothes afterward sounded hellish, and I didn’t feel sanguine about stripping.
As I weighed the pros and cons, a weird cry rang out and then a creature launched from the branches above. I caught only a glimpse of striped, spotted dun fur, and I scrambled backward. My arms windmilled and I tumbled into the river. Kel called out, but the current snagged me and knocked me off my feet. Fear of what lurked beneath the surface had me thrashing wildly before reason reasserted itself. Sailing along, I assessed my predicament.
I’d managed to get farther from land with the flailing, so I oriented myself and tried not to think about piranhas. On Animal Planet, I’d also watched a special about how struggling, injured prey incited their feeding frenzy.
Smooth, strong movements. Show no fear, no weakness.
That mantra in mind, I angled toward shore, though I sped along faster than I liked. The river pulled against me, but I swam until my arms burned and my thighs hurt, concentrating on keeping my head above water. I passed a fallen tree and skinned my hands grabbing onto it. Using it as leverage I pulled myself into the shallows, where I could crawl back onto the banks. The ground was slippery with mud and moss, but I just lay down and flopped over onto my back. My breath came in heavy gulps. Christ, I’d
never
liked swimming in lakes or rivers, where the water was dark and muddy. I preferred the ocean.
I heard footsteps, and then Kel loomed over me. “I was right behind you.”
“Good to know.” But I was proud; I’d handled the situation without screaming, no helplessness. This success set a strong precedent for the challenges to come.
“You might want to rinse your hair.”
Well, yeah. It had all kinds of crud in it—dead leaves, bugs, moss, fungus, and mud—from my sojourn on the bank. By comparison even river water sounded fantastic. I took his proffered hand and felt a pinch as I stood; there was something on my stomach. Now that the terror had subsided to manageable levels, I felt the pressure. A shudder rolled through me.
Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look, don’t look—
I raised my shirt and looked. A flat gray-black blob stuck to my skin. “Please tell me that’s not what I think it is.”
“It’s a leech. You likely stirred it when you crawled past the dead tree.”
With some effort, I spoke through clenched teeth. “Get it off.”
Get it off, get it off, get it off.
Some people feared insects; spiders and snakes topped the list for others. For me, it was any water-dwelling critter that lacked arms, legs, or fins, which encompassed a large spectrum of creepy crawlies.