“Gideon, swing!”
With a terrific effort he swung his body, once, then again. The improvised vine-rope groaned under the weight of them both and, with a sudden jerk, dropped a few inches, starting to unravel.
Gideon threw himself onto the rock face, grabbing at a single pocket handhold, taking the weight off the rope. In a panicked scrabble he managed to find a hold for his feet. He looked back at the rope. With the excessive weight gone, the unraveling had stopped.
He climbed back up, the muscles of his arms jerking and quivering with both strain and anxiety. Making it to the top — just barely — he rested only a moment, then resumed the slow work of bringing up Amiko and the sling. Finally, just as dawn was breaking in the east, he managed to haul her up over the lip of rock and into the protection of the jungle.
Amiko stumbled over and collapsed on the ground. She tried to sit up, coughed, lay down again. “You…saved my life.”
“That makes us even,” he gasped. “Rest. Don’t talk.”
She lay back, her breathing shallow, her face pale and bathed in sweat. Gideon looked around the dripping jungle, so thick it enveloped them in twilight despite the rising sun.
He would have to build a shelter.
49
Kneeling on the ground, Gideon went through the drysacks, emptying out all the contents he’d managed to salvage and spreading them out to dry. The granola bars were gone, but there were two pieces of pemmican left, both damp. A single handgun, some ammo, knives, cups, lighters, four liters of water, med kit. And the sat phone. He would call Glinn as soon as possible — there might be just enough juice left for one more communication. But for now, he had to make sure Amiko was taken care of.
Struggling to his feet, he grasped a knife and began cutting down some large, flat, glossy leaves, spreading them out to make a dry ground cover. He helped Amiko onto it, making her a pillow out of a bundle of leaves.
He lit a small fire — with great difficulty, as everything was damp — and used a Sierra cup to boil a small amount of water.
“We’re going to change your bandage,” he said.
She nodded her thanks. She was flushed, her eyes bloodshot, her fever high.
He unbuttoned her shirts, pulled them aside. The bandage was soaked with blood. He removed both it and the dressing underneath, exposing the wound. It was no longer closed, the tape having come loose in the struggle up the cliff. The wound was bleeding.
Using clean gauze pads from the medical kit, dipped in the boiled water, Gideon cleaned the wound, rinsed it with sterile water and some Betadine, then applied antibiotic ointment and reclosed the wound with surgical tape. He bandaged it, then crushed an amoxicillin tablet in water, along with a tablet of the second antibiotic. Amiko took them both.
“You need to eat,” he said.
“Not hungry.”
Gideon took out the two pieces of pemmican, which Amiko finally ate.
“We made it,” she said, struggling to smile. “We’re here. You saved my life. And I’m feeling a lot better.”
“Good.” She did look better — but the wound was awful. She had to get to a hospital.
He picked up the sat phone. “I’m calling Glinn. We need a rescue.”
She struggled to sit up. “Wait, Gideon. We made it. Let’s explore the island first.”
Gideon shook his head. She really was half crazy. “You’re injured and you need a doctor.”
“We’ve got bandages, antibiotics, all we need.”
“No way. I’m making the call.” He picked up the cell phone and unlatched the box. Amiko watched as he opened it, checked the battery. Still at one percent.
He turned it on.
It took a while, searching for satellites, while the battery meter blinked red. As soon as it locked on, he made the call.
It was answered instantly.
“Gideon?” It was Glinn.
Gideon interrupted him. “Battery’s almost dead. We need to talk fast.”
“I told you this mission was aborted and ordered you—”
“Enough! We need a rescue. Amiko is hurt.”
“Badly?”
“She needs immediate medical attention.”
“Very well. Give me your coordinates.”
“We’re on an island about twenty miles offshore,” he said. “I’m not sure exactly where.”
“I’m locking in on your satellite signal. I’ll have it in a minute.”
“We succeeded. We found the medicine. It grows here, on this island group. Another thing: this area was once inhabited by large, one-eyed hominids — Cyclopes. The natives worship its skull. It all backs up Amiko’s theory about the Odyssey.”
A brief silence. “Extraordinary. We’re almost there with your coordinates…”
Amiko held out her hand. “Let me talk to him. Now.”
Gideon handed the phone over. She grabbed the phone box, turned it upside down.
“What are you—?”
She yanked out the battery and gave it a mighty heave over the cliff.
50
What the fuck!” Gideon jumped up in time to see the battery go sailing off into blue space. “Are you nuts?”
She stared back at him, her eyes glittering with defiance. “I will not walk away from this. Not now. Not ever.”
Gideon stared at her. He could think of nothing to say. He should never have given her the phone. She was crazy, feverish — not in her right mind.
“Do you really think Glinn will let us finish what we started? No. He’ll put together a new team. The government of Nicaragua will have to be involved, because I’m pretty sure this is part of their territory. It’ll turn into a scientific circus. There won’t be any role for us.”
“You need medical attention. You could die.”
“I’m recovering. We need to see this through.”
He stared at her. She really did seem better. Or maybe it was just the flush of determination.
“We’re almost there,” she said softly. “We need to explore this island, identify the lotus plant — and bring it back. Only then will we be done.” She lay back, gazing at him intently, her face flushed and beaded with sweat, but her eyes clear. She was rational and serious.
Gideon stared back at her. What she said was undoubtedly true — if Glinn pulled them out now, their role would be over. And they were so close. All that remained was finding the plant, and how difficult could that be? He realized that he, too, wanted to see it through. More than that: he wanted to save his own life. How long would it take for the lotus to be developed into a drug and reach the market? The process took years. He didn’t have the luxury of time. It was a long shot, but why not? He had nothing to lose.
“All right.”
She smiled. “I knew you’d come around. You and I — we’re not so different.”
He shrugged. “I’ll see what I can do about finding us some grub. You rest and recover.” He picked up the .45, checked it, then stood up, shoving it into his waistband. He had to grasp a vine while a wave of dizziness washed over him. The top of the island, seen in the dark from below, looked like it might be a few miles across. There seemed to be a lot of wildlife — he could hear birds calling and flitting about in the trees above, along with noises and cries he couldn’t begin to identify.
He picked up an empty drysack, thrust in a canteen and the ammo, and then set off, pushing into the jungle. It was incredibly thick, dense leaves and forest litter underfoot, along with an almost impenetrable understory of big green leafy plants. All around, tall, smooth tree trunks reached upward. And yet, when he looked up, he couldn’t see the sky — just a shifting green dome flecked with gold and brown.
It would be easy to get lost. But as he slashed his way through the jungle with the inadequate knife, he realized he would be able to follow his trail back. Progress was agonizingly slow. He stopped from time to time to scrutinize a plant, pluck a leaf off, and crush it in his hand to check its scent. But there was nothing remotely like the smell of the lotus, either the pod or the root.