A Fierce and Subtle Poison - Samantha Mabry Page 0,66

was not a single cloud in sight. The lightest of breezes came through, carrying with it the smell of salt water.

Twenty-one

A FEW MILES outside of Arecibo, the landscape started to ripple gently; then it rose and fell like two great tides. The chirps of the tiny tree frogs and the cackles of tropical birds, once soothing, were now roars and shrieks. The clear sky above was puckering, then wrinkling, then turning colors: ink blue, white, burgundy. I was losing my ability to steer the scooter, but I was hoping that Isabel wouldn’t notice. The asphalt road underneath the tires was turning to oil. I was certain we would sink any minute.

My head was chiming. I could hear the swish of blood behind my ears.

Isabel tapped me on the shoulder and pointed up ahead to a slice of gravel road that led into the trees. She spoke. Her words came out too slow.

I maneuvered the scooter to the left. Even in the middle of the day, it was dark under the canopy of trees; only bits of sky burned through the gaps between the leaves high above our heads. It was quiet, but not quiet. Of course, there was the constant sputtering of the scooter’s engine, but in addition to that, I could hear the movement of things large and small scampering through the underbrush and leaping from limb to limb. Those large and small things had sharp eyes that watched us with distrust and wondered who we were to come this way.

The gravel road eventually narrowed until it was little more than a dirt path not three feet wide.

The air in the forest was thick, made thicker by the mosquitoes. I swished the saliva in my mouth then swallowed. It tasted wrong, like rust.

Dry as a bone. Mad as a hatter.

The scenery wasn’t changing: I was. Isabel had been too close for too long.

“I need to stop,” I said. My voice boomed against my eardrums.

“We’re almost there!” Isabel threw one arm out from under the blanket to point into a gap in the trees up ahead, and her thumbnail grazed my cheek. It felt like a razor blade. I had to bite the inside of my mouth to keep from crying out.

“There’s a field up ahead.” Her breath hit my ear. It burned. “There should be a cabin just on the far side of it.”

I narrowed my eyes and saw only a shimmering expanse of green. I’d remembered something like this happening before, when I’d fallen into Isabel’s courtyard. The plants were breathing. I could hear them, taking in a collective, sucking breath and letting out a huge, hot sigh. Icy beads of sweat trickled down my face from my hairline to my jaw. The trails they left sizzled against my skin.

Hot as a hare.

I couldn’t steer anymore. I mumbled an apology as the scooter veered to the side into the high grass, where it almost immediately ground to halt. Isabel’s hands were around my waist, pulling me away from the falling scooter by my belt loops. Together we tumbled into the mud. I landed faceup, staring at a blazing yellow sky. Isabel’s arms were around me again. She was trying to turn me over and position me onto my hands and knees.

“Put your finger down your throat!” she demanded.

I did as I was told, placing the tip of my pointer finger against the very back crest of my tongue. My stomach heaved violently, but nothing came out. In my blurry peripheral vision, I could see the white corners of Isabel’s blanket. They were fluttering. The trees continued to breathe: in, out, in, out.

Some . . . thing appeared in front of my face. I blinked. That didn’t help.

Blind as a bat.

“It’s water,” I heard Isabel say. “Drink.”

With trembling, mud-caked fingers, I gently took the bottle as if it was a newborn creature. I drank and immediately spit. The water tasted bitter and thick. Isabel cursed in Spanish.

“Lucas, can you stand?”

Before waiting for an answer, she wrapped her arms around my waist from behind and hauled me to my feet.

“I can see the cabin,” she shouted. “It’s just a little ways up. Walk. Walk!”

The command made sense, but I had no idea how to put it into action. Isabel latched on to the folds of my jeans and started tugging. Oh, yeah: walk.

I took a couple of awkward steps before turning my face to hers. What looked like small white bugs were walking down her cheeks, leaving nearly invisible trails