“No. Robert, how are you going to do this?”
He repeated the instructions Dan had given and glanced back to see Dan giving him a thumbs-up sign.
“And if a grenade falls out?” she asked.
“We’ll have ten seconds to grab it and throw it away. You don’t do that. I’ll dive in to do it.”
A small monkey skittered by and stopped to look at Robert, sending a shiver up his back until he saw what it was. The monkey jumped onto a nearby tree and watched him. Robert kept his concentration on Britta, ignoring the chattering of the small primate, which was quickly joined by a second and third.
“I think,” Britta said, “that there must be three or four of these grenade cans hanging on my back. They all whacked me when I stumbled in here.”
Eight feet separated Robert from Britta, most of it fairly clear of deep underbrush. He looked carefully at one of the cans hanging in front. There was something — perhaps a shadow — at the bottom. As he looked, the picture coalesced.
Oh, God, the bottom is protruding! The retention line at the bottom of the can must be gone. That one could drop at any second.
He ran his eyes over the other cans he could see. On all the others, a small-gauge piece of fishing line was still in place, giving each grenade something to rest on, but each line was now taut and running off into the underbrush, waiting to be yanked away. If he so much as touched one the wrong way…
“All right, Britta, I need for you to actually hold one of those things in its can. Now, very carefully and very slowly, move your right hand up an inch at a time until you’re touching the bottom of the can that’s hanging on your stomach. Cup your hand around the bottom and make sure the grenade stays in.”
“Okay,” Britta said, trying to stay in control. Slowly, gingerly, she did as directed until her shaking hand had secured the errant grenade.
“Well done, Britta! That’s one down. When I get to you, I’ll get the others.”
There was more chattering from the left as a small race broke out among the three monkeys. They dashed along the pathway left to right in front of Britta and clambered up an adjacent tree.
“Damn things!” Dan said. “They taste terrible, too.”
“I don’t really want to know,” Britta said. “I’ve sort of lost my appetite.”
The distant sound of a helicopter reached their ears, the chillingly familiar whump-whump sound rising slowly in volume.
“Ignore that chopper, Britta,” Robert ordered. He stopped, his foot in midair, feeling an obstruction. He looked closely, seeing only a vine, and pushed his foot past it to the ground. “Just a little bit more, Britta,” he said as confidently as he could manage. “And then I can start pulling them away.”
As Robert continued to move in slow motion toward her, Britta’s eyes fixed on Dan. Dallas had come up quietly behind him.
“Dallas?” Britta said. “Are you there?”
“I sure am, Britta,” she replied, causing Dan to jump slightly.
“I thought I told you to stay back?” Dan hissed at her.
“Sh-h-h!” Dallas told him.
“Dallas, would you do something for me?” Britta asked.
“Sure will, Honey.”
“If… something happens, could you take a message to my daughter, Carly?”
“Of course I will, Britta, but you’re gonna be able to do it yourself.”
Britta’s face was glistening with tears. She bit her lip. “I hope so! But… I’ve got these things all over me. Down my back, between my breasts, on my shoulder… there’s even one between my legs. Oh, God!” Her body was shaking visibly.
“Britta!” Robert said. “Calm down! You’re going to be fine. No defeatist thinking, okay? But you’ve got to be still.”
“I don’t want to die this way,” Britta said in a small, strained voice. “But I think you’d better get back, Robert. I’m too tangled up.”
“Bull! I’m getting you out of there. We’ve just got to do it methodically.”
Robert worked on planning his next step forward as Britta shut her eyes, holding still for a few moments until a sudden gasp racked her body.
“Dallas… if I’m… gone, tell Carly… her mother loved her endlessly.”
“Britta—” Dallas began, but Britta stopped her. “No!” she said, her voice tremulous but insistent. “Tell — tell her I love her, and… I’m proud of the strong young woman she’s become… and…” There was a choked sob and a shudder through her body that alarmed Robert.
“Britta! Please stay still! Please!”
“And tell her I’m so… very sorry”—she was trying to keep from moving but the sobs were racking her body—“we had so little time. That was always my fault.”
Dallas had to fight back a growing lump in her throat to answer. “Britta, it’s gonna work, Honey. Hang in there. Robert’s gonna get you out.”
Britta was shaking her head slightly. “No. No, he’s not. Robert, get out of here. I feel one slipping down my back. Please! Go.”
“Britta, stop that!” Robert ordered.
“This isn’t going to work, Robert, and I don’t want to take any of you with me. I can feel it slipping.”
“If one slips out, I can throw it far enough away. Calm down.”
A sudden round of chattering and screeching broke out from the three monkeys on the right, sending chills down Robert’s back. He struggled to ignore the primates as they jumped back to the floor of the trail without warning and scampered off into the brush at high speed, one of them running headlong into a thirty-year old cord now stretched taut across the trail from Britta’s collision with the daisy chain.
Robert glanced to the right, sensing the sudden motion. He was helpless to stop the movement as the monkey’s impact yanked the aging release lines from the bottom of each can, leaving the six heavy objects inside free to thud onto the trail at Britta’s feet.
There was an endless second of stunned silence before Britta’s voice cut through the moment, surprisingly strong. “Run, Robert! Don’t argue. Run!”
“Hell NO!” he replied. Time seemed to dilate as his mind raced through the possibilities. He could dive for the grenades and scoop up a few, but how many? Four? Five? Could he find them all in time? Could he heave six away in time? No! Get her out! If he could yank her away from the cords…
“BRITTA!” Dallas yelled. “PULL YOURSELF LOOSE AND RUN THIS WAY!”
Robert crouched to spring toward Britta, but Dallas had already leaped across the path and grabbed his collar with surprising force, yanking him backward. Britta shook off her stupor and started fighting to disentangle herself, thrashing and pulling against the cords. She lunged almost two feet away, but one of the lines around her waist was anchored to a tree. She turned to wrench it loose without success, acutely aware that the seconds were passing.
“NO!” Robert yelled helplessly as he fell backward in Dallas’s grip, furiously trying to break away from her as she dragged him over the top of a large log and fought his efforts to break away. Robert could still see Britta across the path. She was giving up! Turning and shaking her head and mouthing the word “go” at him.
One more time she tried to pull loose, tears streaming down her face. He saw her shake her head finally and stand, her shoulders slumping. She turned toward them and calmly closed her eyes, taking a deep breath before lowering her head.
“KEEP TRYING, BRITTA! TRY!” Dallas’s voice was a shriek in his ear, but it was too late.
“LET GO OF ME!” Robert yelled.
“DOWN, DAMN YOU!” Dallas snarled, jerking him behind the log into the moist dirt and falling on top of him at the very moment the first trigger completed its deadly work.