Time seems to slow as he strides across the ground, reaches the lip of the overlook at a full sprint, and launches himself off the edge.
A few seconds later I arrive and come to a halt near the place where he jumped.
You can catch him. You’ve fallen farther than this, you’ve—
Yes, but that was onto a stunt pad, not in a jungle river.
My heart is slamming hard against the inside of my chest, not just from the run but from the thought of what I’m about to do.
Shivers are still running through me; everything around me seems to shrink and grow larger at the same time. I’ve never hallucinated before, but this must be what it’s like.
What is that? The venom? No, it can’t be. It’s—
Go!
After two decades of doing water escapes, I can hold my breath for close to three minutes.
But that’s when you’re sitting still, in calm water, not swimming through rapids!
In the fading light I can just barely make out Tomás’s head emerge thirty feet beyond the base of the falls. He’s moving toward shore. Still alive. Swimming. About to disappear into the jungle.
I take a deep breath.
No, you’re not going to do this.
Actually, I am.
I’m backing up to get a running start when Xavier arrives, gesturing wildly for me to stop, but all I can think of is Emilio lying in that coffin, struggling to breathe, that baby cobra writhing from between his bluish lips.
Tomás did that to him.
And now he’s getting away.
I dash forward and leap into the void.
Maelstrom
The cascading water envelops me as the world whips by.
My stomach seems to float up into my chest as the eternity of the fall wraps me in its drenching arms. Then I land, plunging into the water at the base of the waterfall, and everything is a swirl of black and I’m swimming hard, but it does no good. The rushing, tumbling river is tugging at me, dragging me down, holding me relentlessly under.
I should be able to hold my breath here without any problem, but whatever happened with that snakebite has affected my respiration and my pulse. The sense of apprehension is almost overwhelming. The water is shockingly cold and my lungs are already desperate for air.
Spinning.
Descending.
My left shin slams against a boulder, and a thick chug of pain pounds up my leg. The roiling water swivels me around but at least takes me to the surface briefly — just long enough for me to grab a breath before it sweeps me under again.
I try to swim up, but fail.
Calm.
Stay calm.
Just get to the surface.
I kick and stroke uselessly in the fearsome current, trying to make it to air, and at last the water spits me up, and I snatch another much-needed breath and swim hard toward the riverbank where Tomás headed a few moments ago.
But the river has hold of me and sweeps me swiftly downstream, past the clearing and toward the steep cliffs that tower high above me on both sides. Ahead of me, the water channels into another, smaller falls, but since the chute is so narrow, the current is even stronger here than it was at the base of the main falls.
Okay, this is where I need to get to shore.
Right.
Now.
I fight the current to get to a place on the right shoreline where a break in the cliffs just above the chute provides a spot that looks large enough to stand on. From there I’m not sure how I’ll get up the cliff, especially if I have to climb it in the dark. But that side of the river is within reach. That’s where I’m going.
It’s the wrong bank to catch Tomás, but right now I’m more concerned with just getting out of this river and staying alive than anything else.
I swim fiercely toward the riverbank, and just when I’m starting to think I won’t make it, the ground rises up beneath my feet, giving me enough footing to push off and propel myself toward the shallower water.
Chancing entrapping my foot between the rocks on the river bottom, I press off a boulder and scramble through the water that’s still trying to sweep me under, and make it to the rocky edge of the break in the cliffs.
Exhausted, I crawl out of the river and use an outcropping on the rock face for balance as I hoist myself to my feet.
From here I have no way of getting across the river, but even though I can’t get to Tomás, if I’m lucky I’ll be able to scale this cliff and then scramble back up the bank and make my way to the trail again. Not easy by any means, but doable.
As long as I have enough light.
Xavier. He knows you’re down here. He’ll find you.
But darkness is already beginning to ensnare the jungle. Still, I can make out Tomás staring at me from the far shore. His face is hidden by shadows, but his form is visible.
He stands stoically for a moment, then slowly steps back and disappears into the trees. I watch to see if he’ll reappear, but he does not. It’s quickly getting so dark that it’s tough to see across the river at all.
Leaning against the rock face, I close my eyes and try to catch my breath, but only find myself thinking of Emilio lying there struggling for breath himself — and of Charlene leaning over him, trying to save him.
I tell myself that my friend will be alright, that Charlene was able to get air past his swollen throat and into his lungs. I try my hardest to make myself believe it.
But right now I can’t do anything to help him, all I can do is try to get back up the slope to the trail before the jungle becomes completely one with the night.
I inspect my wounded shin. It’s bruised and already swollen, but passing my hand gently across it, I don’t feel any fractures or obvious deformities. When I put pressure on it, the leg doesn’t hurt like I imagine it would if there were any broken bones.
Taking off my shirt, I tie it tightly around my bleeding arm, study the darkening cliff for handholds, and begin to climb.
Dust to Dust
Emilio did not survive.
Xavier and three men from the village catch up with me as I’m picking my way through a narrow furrow in the trees, trying to locate the path. We don’t find out about Emilio until we make it back to the village, but when I see him lying motionless with a sheet pulled over his head, it’s clear what has happened.
Charlene approaches me silently as we emerge from the darkness and enter the uneven circle of light cast from the lanterns and torches that the villagers have left positioned throughout the cemetery and surrounding the body.
Her gaze lands on my arm, which is still wrapped with my shirt. Blood has stained the fabric dark red, and a question mark of deep concern crosses her face. I do my best to ease her worry, telling her I’m fine — and then I ask how she is and notice the trail of fresh tears on her cheeks.
She touches my shoulder lightly, then leans into my arms, and I feel her tremble as the shock of what has happened to our friend sweeps over her.
I don’t know how long we stand there, but by the time she eases back, Xavier and the villagers have walked off and left the two of us alone.
I brush my finger across Charlene’s cheek to press away the final tear that has slipped from her eye, but she shakes her head slightly and pulls away, as if suddenly my touch is disagreeable to her.
“What did you think you were doing?” Her tone is somewhat strained, but also delicate, like glass that’s too brittle to stand on its own. “Going after him like that? You might have…” She catches herself and leaves the rest unsaid, but I can fill in the blanks.