have a helicopter engine pounding in my ears constantly, it’s a little bit louder.
But not all of being used was a bad thing, I answer, thinking of the rough sex that he meant to be punishing but I found thrilling and liberating. He took me, but I took it all and gave it back to him.
I’m stronger than I sometimes think. And this is going to be one of those moments. It has to be.
So, I take the first step, and then another. Following Caleb and Miguel into the jungle, I remind myself that this is for Nathan . . . and for the tenuous, undetermined future that is us.
My old college boots would’ve been damn near useless on this terrain. So I’m thankful for the boots Grant found for me and that Caleb insisted I change into on the jet, because the ground almost immediately proves challenging, slick but gripping the soles at the same time.
My cargo pants, tank top, open over shirt, and boonie cap aren’t cute or even flattering, but they are functional enough as we hike, avoiding the trees as best we can until we’re into the deep bush and the ground begins to open up. It’s like standing in a wooden palace of columns, a heavily leaved floor dominated by the towering behemoths all around us.
“Do you know where we’re going?” I ask Caleb after we’ve been walking for long enough that my calves are asking me why the hell I suddenly decided to take up ballet or something.
I know it’s mostly because it’s almost impossible to stay focused. The heat is all-encompassing, while the jungle is a consistent repetition of huge tree trunks, shadows, and animal cries. Even the screams of monkeys, which were fascinating at first, have started to be nothing more than annoying fingernails on the blackboard for me.
My partners aren’t exactly much better, Miguel saying nothing while Caleb’s black backpack bobs in front of me. He’ll pause from time to time, check his GPS receiver, put it away, and loop and repeat. He glances back at me every once in a while, making sure I’m still with him, I guess.
Though maybe it’s in hopes that I’ve been snatched away by a jungle cat. The one I heard sent chills down my spine, insanity and death wrapped up in one scream that pierced even the fog of my exhaustion.
Caleb looks oddly at home, like he’s more comfortable in the wild forest than he is back at home in the city. His every step is sure-footed, and the dirt already smudged on his cheek seems more like camouflage and less like an accidental smear.
Pausing, he takes out his canteen and swallows, the AK still in his free hand as he does. “Where you wanted to go . . . to find Nathan. And drink water. You don’t want to drop from dehydration just because you’re afraid of Montezuma’s Revenge.”
His easy, joking response gives me a bit of relief at the craziness my life has become, but I don’t tell him that. Instead, I stop and think about the stupidity of what I’m doing.
He takes two more steps before some sixth sense must alert him that I’m not immediately behind him.
“You okay?”
His eyes hold concern, actual concern for my well-being, and I don’t sense even a hint of sarcasm in his question. Up ahead of us, our guide stops, though I think Miguel could keep going for hours non-stop.
And just like that, I’m on the hill of the rollercoaster of emotions again, scared and then accepting, angry and then loving. It’s like on the helicopter, but this hill is dizzyingly high and I’m barely on the tracks.
“This is crazy, right?” I mutter, dropping to a knee and wiping at my face. “What are we doing? I should’ve just waited for him to come back. He doesn’t need us chasing him down in the Brazilian rainforest. Well, maybe you, but not me. I . . .”
My breath is gone, and I can’t catch it no matter how hard I try to suck wind into my collapsed lungs.
Caleb comes closer, putting a heavy hand on each of my shoulders and squatting down to meet my eyes. “Breathe, woman. In and out.” I do as he says, the sparkles at the edges of my vision fading slightly. “There you go. Again . . . in and out.”
He breathes with me, pacing my frantic panting into regular breaths.