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Sitting up, she did as he said, then lay down again. Her eyes strained open so widely that they burned. Her body stiff with dread, she listened to him stretch and yawn and make himself comfortable.
Moments later the silence became nearly as unbearable as the darkness. “A collapsible tent comes in handy, doesn’t it?” she blurted nervously. “What is it made out of?”
“Nylon,” he replied, yawning again. “It’s nearly indestructible.”
“How much does it weigh?”
“Three pounds and eight ounces.”
“Is it waterproof?”
“Yes, it’s waterproof.”
“And bug proof?”
“Bug proof, too,” he muttered.
“Do you think a jaguar could—”
“Look, it’s jaguar proof, mildew proof, fire proof and snake proof. I personally guarantee you that it’s proof against everything except elephants, and I don’t think we’re going to be stomped on by an elephant in Costa Rica! Is there any other damned thing you’re worried about?” he exploded. “If not, why don’t you be quiet and let me get some sleep?”
Jane lay tensely, and silence fell again. She clenched her fists in an effort to control her nervousness, listening to the growing cacophony of the jungle night. Monkeys howled and chattered; insects squeaked their calls; underbrush rustled. She was exhausted but she had no real hope of sleeping, at least not until dawn, and at dawn this devil beside her would want to start another day of marathon travel.
He was totally silent in that unnerving way of his. She couldn’t even hear him breathe. The old fear began to rise in her chest, making her own breathing difficult. She might as well be alone, and that was the one thing she absolutely couldn’t bear.
“Where are you from?”
He heaved a sigh. “Georgia.”
That explained his drawl. She swallowed, trying to ease the constriction of her dry throat. If she could just keep him talking, then she wouldn’t feel so alone. She’d know he was there.
“What part of Georgia?”
“South. Ever hear of the Okefenokee?”
“Yes. It’s a swamp.”
“I grew up in it. My folks own a farm just on the edge of it.” It had been a normal boyhood, except for the skills he’d learned automatically in the swamp, those skills, which had eventually changed his life by shaping him into something not quite human. He willed the memories away, pulling a mental shade down over them, isolating himself. There was no use in thinking about what had been.
“Are you an only child?”
“Why all the questions?” he snapped, edgy at revealing any information about himself.
“I’m just interested, that’s all.”
He paused, suddenly alert. There was something in her voice, a tone that he couldn’t quite place. It was dark, so he couldn’t see her face; he had to go entirely by what his ears told him. If he kept her talking, he might be able to figure it out.
“I’ve got a sister,” he finally said reluctantly.
“I’ll bet she’s younger. You’re so bossy, you must be an older brother.”
He let the dig pass and said only, “She’s four years younger.”
“I’m an only child,” she volunteered.
“I know.”
She searched frantically for something else to say, but the darkness was making her panic. She felt herself move to grab for him, then remembered what he’d said about startling him, and about not making offers she didn’t mean. She ground her teeth together and stilled her reaching hands, the effort so intense that tears actually welled in her eyes. She blinked them away. “Grant,” she said in a shaking voice.
