Prism - By Rachel Moschell Page 0,41
almost to the stream!” Stalin insisted, seemingly shocked by the sight of a gringa stripping off her footwear in the middle of the cloud forest. “You’re going to get cut on the rocks!”
“Well apparently I might die today anyway, so I might as well enjoy my last day, right? Am I supposed to be afraid of dying with a few cuts on my feet?” She wadded the damp socks up into her shoes and began walking again, picking her way over broken sticks and squishy moss. Stalin and Gabriel walked alongside her in morose silence, until the gurgling of water told Wara that Stalin had been right. A shallow, rushing stream cut its way through a dirt patch of the forest just ahead, tripping over small stones in its path. Stalin set her backpack down on a flat rock by the stream, and then motioned to Gabriel.
“Ok, so we’re going to leave you here for a while, but don’t do anything foolish because we’ll be close by.” Stalin cocked his head to one side and then said, “We won’t be peeking, though. I mean, we’ll be far enough away…”
Gabriel looked mortified and glared at Stalin, who grinned lopsidedly and let Gabriel lead him away. Gabriel turned back towards her with a cool grin. “Don’t even think about disappearing, ok? I’ve got equipment up here you’ve never even heard of, and I’ll find you like that.” He snapped his long fingers, and then whirled back to continue off to some point in the banana plants where they would be waiting.
Shivering in the coolness of the mountain air, Wara quickly unzipped her backpack and dug out a change of clothes. She pulled on black pants and a green tank top, then knelt next to the stream to try to wash the dried blood from her cheek and hair.
“Still there?” A masculine voice hollered from somewhere in the bushes.
“Yes!” she answered, biting her lip. “Just a second, ok?”
“Just making sure!” a different voice called back.
The frigid water burned her scalp and she realized she probably did have some cuts. She remembered the side of her head smacking against something in the bus as she saw the wall of silver fire go spinning over her like a ceiling.
I must have gotten thrown out the window, she realized with a shiver. But I hardly have any cuts. Maybe the explosion blew the glass away first.
Nausea filled her as she imagined Noah, arm ripped away from her shoulder as he was thrown further into the fiery bus by the explosion, while she was tossed out the window in the opposite direction, to safety.
“I know women take a long time, but we really have to get back.” Wara thought the too-cheerful voice was skinny Gabriel’s. She slogged across the spiky grass on her bare feet and scooped up her backpack.
"Ok, you can take me back now,” she called sadly. In a way, she wished they would just tie her up out here instead of bringing her back to the clearing. Here, sapphire blue butterflies were flitting across the racing surface of the stream, licking up crystal drops, dipping their spindly black legs into the water.
Stalin and Gabriel crunched their way out of the foliage, staring at her standing there in bare feet. Obviously deciding not to mention the feet again, Stalin wordlessly took her backpack and motioned for her to follow them back to the camp. Sunshine hit her damp hair with a welcome warmth as she stepped out of the shade and into the clearing. The sight of all the olive green tents quickly brought the chill back. Alejo was sitting on a rock, talking to a short guy with wire rim glasses and a little brown goatee.
“Take care of things for me a while, will you Benjamin?” Alejo told him and Wara was not happy with the way Alejo’s eyes ran over her as Stalin and Gabriel passed her over to him. Alejo’s lips curved into a wry smile and he grabbed her arm, half-dragging her with him towards his tent. She really had to focus on keeping her feet under her as Alejo marched her along, then pushed her through the door of the tent. Inside, her dropped her arm and latched the tent door shut.
“Bad news,” Alejo frowned at her, then immediately began to pace. Wara blinked, noticing the bead of sweat that had popped out on his forehead just then. What was going on? She started to ask, but Alejo held up