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10
SAMUEL
Shit. Shit. Shit.Samuel has mere seconds to think.
Thank God, he found her, but her strength is fading, and time isn’t on his side. His heart is racing as quick as his thoughts because he has no clue if their plan will work. He can’t panic, not now when Eden needs him to get her out of here. Before they do anything, he has to first assess her and determine what she needs to stay alive.
“You’re going to be okay,” he tells her and kisses the top of her head. Eden is limp in his arms, and he needs to get her somewhere safe.
Wayara is puffing when he enters the doorway. Samuel asks Wayara to speak to the shaman, as he is a better communicator—calm and powerful. He listens for the right moment to make his exit. Samuel stands with Eden in his arms, and Wayara explains to the shaman that Samuel is tending to her wounds.
He carries Eden to a stream close to the village, and he assumes it’s why they chose this location. Several Watache warriors maintain a safe distance behind them, all with spears pointed and primed to kill. The small stream is the Watache’s water source since the main river is a half-mile from their makeshift village. Hidden under palms and with no crops, he assumes they plan to move on since these huts won’t last the next rainy season.
“We’re at a stream, and I’m going to carry you in,” he tells Eden.
She hasn’t opened her eyes since he lifted her into his arms. The water takes her weight so he releases one hand and strokes her cheek to calm her. “You’re going to be okay, my love. Just hold on a little longer.” He can’t lose her. He just can’t.
She clutches the water bottle as though it’s a lifeline. It is for now. One reason he didn’t want her to stay in Ulara was the high risk of dehydration when he had no adequate place to store intravenous fluids. He’s thankful Asoo delivered extra water bottles last week, the ones he ordered in case of an emergency. Before rushing into the jungle, he packed antibiotics and other drugs in his small backpack. He was prepared for the worst. Now he’s counting on Wayara’s negotiating skills, so when he returns, they can get the hell out of here.
“Tilt your head back,” he whispers to wash the funky smell from her hair. She has slept in the dirt and God knows what else. He needs to clean her skin to treat her bites and inspect her for possible skin infections. It’s what he can’t see that stirs concern. Gastroenteritis, he expects—a possible cause of her dehydration. There’s the risk of mosquito-transmitted diseases other than the ones for which she is vaccinated. The list grows. His thoughts wander to their baby and her mindset. Eden’s life has to come first, and much of it relies on Wayara getting them out safe and fast. He’s aware they are being watched and prays nothing spooks the warriors to react and come charging while he attends to Eden.
Samuel assists her up onto the rocky bank and sits her on a boulder, so he can retrieve the leaves from a nearby plant. The foliage soothes the skin and acts as a natural repellent. In gentle swirls, he massages her back, arms, and shoulders in the sap. “Thank you,” she murmurs. “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”
“Of course, I’d find you.” His voice finds strength within his fear. “I had Wayara to guide me.”
Her lips curl. It’s slight, yet he sees it. She opens her eyes, and a single tear falls to her cheek. “I don’t think I’ll make it home,” she croaks. “I can’t walk. I’m too weak… and my throat.” Her hands go to her neck.
“Open your mouth.” He angles her chin and notices the yellow dots at the back of her mouth.
He ruffles through his waist pouch, grabs a high-energy bar, and rips open the wrapper. “Little bites, Eden. You’ll feel better soon. And you won’t have to do anything because we’ll help you.” He has one antibiotic blister pack in his pouch. Punching out two tablets, he holds them in front of her face. “Can you swallow these?”
“What is it?” she croaks.
“Penicillin. Take them, and then we can get out of here.”
Her brow furrows. “I don’t want to go back there,” she says in a stronger voice.
Only now he hears the chants and turns to the trees where bodies camouflaged in paint hold their spears like javelins. “No one is going to hurt you.” Regardless of the underlying threat, she’s in his arms, and he’s not letting her go.
“We have to go back. You’re with me and are safe.”
She pushes up, and he helps her to stand. Together, they inch their way back to the village. By the time they reach the shaman’s hut, Eden has slumped forward.
“I can’t…” she moans, “… take another step.”
“Wayara,” Samuel shouts.
Wayara steps out of the hut, the shaman keeping watch.
Samuel tells him they need to get Eden out of the village.
Wayara has negotiated a trade and calls to Tïmenneng. “Bring the wild pig and Samuel’s hammock,” he says in Ularan.
“What’s happening?” Eden groans. “I’m scared,” she whispers.
Samuel tightens his arms around her shoulders. “There’s no need to be afraid. Focus your energy on you. Just rest, my love.”
“I can’t relax here. I’m tired. So tired, but I’m scared to fall asleep. What if—”
