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“Ow,” he muttered as he scrambled up, limping away.

Thiago was nearly on him by then, his face red and blotchy with anger.

José tore down the narrow dirt path that led from the bar to the river, the leather scroll case tucked underneath one arm. Sweat stung his eyes. Behind him, heavy boots pounded the ground.

“You little thief!” Thiago roared.

“Technically, you stole it first!” José shot back as he willed his legs to go faster.

A fist crashed into the back of his shoulder. José stumbled forward with a startled cry, windmilling his arms as best he could without losing his grip on the case. For one glorious moment he managed to stay upright…until his foot found a tree root.

Once again he fell, his world tipping sideways before his face landed dangerously close to a puddle of reddish mud. The case flew from his grasp.

“No!”

It bounced once, twice…

And rolled straight toward the river.

José repeated the bartender’s shocking curse as he launched himself after it on hands and knees. That case wasn’t waterproof. If it fell into the current, it would be gone forever. He stretched his hand out, fingers reaching desperately. They closed around the tube barely an inch before it fell into the brown river.

Before he could rejoice, he was hauled up by the back of his shirt.

“You think you’re clever?” Thiago yelled, spittle landing on José’s cheek.

“I mean, I’ve been told.”

Thiago punched him. He was too close to get a proper swing in, but stars still exploded behind José’s eyes.

“Fuck, that hurt.”

Thiago reached for the case, and José reacted without thinking. He smashed the entire tube into the man’s face.

Thiago recoiled, his hand flying up to the blood pouring from his nose. José braced himself, then slammed his shoulder upward into Tiago’s solar plexus, pushing him into the river.

Thiago fell with an enormous splash, blood momentarily mixing with water. They were on the riverbank, though, so he sank into the sticky muck rather than being swept away.

But it was enough of a distraction for José to sprint toward the dock. After a moment, it burst into view.

No, no, no!

The peque peque was pulling away.

“I waited!” the driver called out with a shrug. “Too late.”

“Not too late, not too late!” José yelled. “I’m here!”

“I already started her,” the boatman yelled over the grinding engine. “Can’t circle back now.”

The gap widened, and behind him came another furious bellow.

José didn’t dare turn to look. He only ran faster.

The dock rattled beneath his feet, old planks groaning with every pounding step. Halfway down, one board cracked beneath him. His leg plunged through dozswn to the knee.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!”

He pulled frantically, but the wood clasped his leg like a bear trap.