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The sound is slowly returning to the jungle around us. That, as much as anything, rouses me back to action.
I am only human, so I take a tiny little lick of his throat before pushing myself away and figuring out how to sit upright in my own space again.
Charlie is still on guard on the other side of the porch, shotgun in hand, resolutely looking at anything but us.
Vaughn remains kneeling before me. His blue eyes are concerned, but also dark with other emotion.
“You okay?” he asks at last, his voice husky.
“I will be.”
“Another unfortunate camping trip?”
“Something like that. You?”
His throat works. “I don’t need to see that ever again.”
“I didn’t deliver the spaghetti. I failed.”
“We’ll come up with another plan.”
“It’s dark out.”
“Yes.”
“Nothing good happens in the dark.”
“There’s that.”
A rap on the wooden frame of the screened doors. MacManus stands on the other side, taking in our tightly huddled form, Vaughn’s hands upon my knees.
“Brent killed Jason?” he asks.
“Keahi killed Jason,” I correct him.
“How can you possibly know—”
“It involved a knife.” Or machete. I shiver again.
MacManus nods shortly. His gaze goes to Vaughn. “We have another problem—people need to use the facilities. Except…”
We all turn to the total darkness now surrounding the mess hall. The kind of pitch black that hides just about anything and anyone.
“All right.” Vaughn pulls away, rises to standing. “You’ll be okay?” he asks me.
“I’ll be okay.”
“Well, then. Let’s figure this out.” He strides back into the kitchen, once again the project manager extraordinaire.
I take another moment to sit on the back porch with Charlie.
“What do you put our odds at?” I ask him presently.
“This is when it all goes to shit,” he drawls.
“I think they’ll kill us all. Whatever their play is, they can’t afford any witnesses.”
He doesn’t disagree.
