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“Okay, give these to him.” I press the antibiotic pills into his hand. “But careful the guard doesn’t spot you.”
Tucker lifts his tied-up hands to Archie’s mouth and forces the pills in, while I keep to the side and out of sight of the sentry. A low moan escapes our friend’s lips.
“Make him swallow them,” I hiss.
“I can’t lift his head.” Tucker shows me his bound wrists as an explanation. “You’ll have to give him the water.”
Hands shaking with fear of getting caught, I retrieve the canteen from the folds of my shirt, unscrew the top and, keeping as much to the side as I can—I’m basically straddling poor Tucker—I gently lift Archie’s head. When his chin is tilted up at the right angle, I press the bottle to his lips. He’s still unconscious, but some primordial survival instinct must prompt him to drink. Like a baby sucking at the bottle, in a few deep gulps he finishes the water. As soon as I let go, Archie’s chin slumps back to his chest with a slight loll. But at least he’s taken the pills.
Crouching back on the ground, I give Tucker the remaining antibiotics and paracetamol.
“I don’t have any more water. Sorry.”
Tucker nods.
“I have to go now. But hold tight.” I squeeze his knee in an encouraging gesture. “Reinforcements will come soon.”
We exchange another, more meaning-loaded nod, and I scamper away.
I find Logan waiting in our spot, evidently going mad with worry.
“What took you so long?” he demands, the moment I step out of the darkness.
“Sorry, I had a couple of snafus—”
“Shut up,” he interrupts, pulling me into a bone-crushing hug that lets me know how much he’d been worried.
Still hugging, we sink to the ground and lie down to sleep, not bothering to even lay a blanket before sheer exhaustion makes both of us pass out in each other’s arms.
19
LOGAN
The pain in my back wakes me up the next morning even before the first sunrays filter through the jungle’s dense canopy. But dawn is close, and the day promises to be another scorcher in this blasted furnace of a jungle.
As I stir, my body hurts even more than yesterday, if that’s possible. Lactic acid is attacking my every joint, and every muscle in my limbs is screaming in protest. Sleeping on the humid ground hasn’t helped either, I bet.
I shake Winter awake, and from the way she winces in pain before she even opens her eyes, I can tell she’s not faring much better.
We don’t have any food or water left, and the stomach cramps just add to our general state of misery. But at least we’re free, and we have each other.
Winter smiles at me. Last night we fell asleep before we even had time to discuss our respective missions. I assume she succeeded, or she would have said something, but I still want to hear it from her lips.
“Did you manage to get to Archie?”
“Yeah, and I gave Tucker some extra pills, too. Did you call for help?”
“Yep, Smith’s coup should be over soon. The good guys are on the way.”
“So, what now? We just wait?”
“I guess. And we should keep an eye on the camp, although I’m not sure how we can stop Smith if he decides to hurt our friends.”
“I’m sure we can think of something. Did they say how long before the police get here?”
“No. I talked with a clerk at the embassy, but the phone died halfway through the conversation. I managed to give them our exact position before the line got cut off, and also stressed the direness of the situation. They should arrive soon. But I want to check on Archie anyway, make sure the drugs worked.”
Winter nods. “Let’s go.”
