Page 69 of Final Approach

Like the lollipops. Huh. Must be a prison hoarding thing. Relieved they were still available, I trounced as fast as I could out of the rainforest canopy, back onto the riverbed, toward camp.

Diaz’s behavior was more than concerning, but he’d been fearful enough to give answers. I had to believe they were true. Right now, he had no gun and no evidence as leverage. As much as it pained me to admit it, asking Madman to keep a sharp, threatening eye on the man was likely the easiest path to take until rescue.

After rescue … well, we had no control over that. A part of me wished Maddox would escape into the jungle and never return, to live out his days with some semblance of freedom, away from civilization where he couldn’t hurt people.

And I wished Diaz would get eaten by a bear. Or miss the rescue helicopter. Or die of dysentery. All excellent ways to die without it living on my conscience.

Ambrose was staring at me as I approached, a suspicious glare marring his normally pretty face. “You spend an awful lot of time with that guy,” he muttered when I approached my mat just on the other side of where he was weaving what appeared to be a curved canopy.

“He’s not an insufferable meathead,” I quipped, gripping the soft earth between my hands to find the small package of ginger chews. I used to get nausea every time I flew during my first year of flight training. A similar candy helped. I could only hope it would help Vanessa’s pain, even if they weren’t remotely close.

“Is it the tattoos?” He posed the question flippantly, like I was a teenage girl with a crush. “I have tattoos too—is that what gets your attention?”

He was teasing me, surely. This man, who hated me one minute, helped me with fruit the next, wanted attention? And where were his tattoos? On his ass? Somehow, I doubted our proper businessman had tattooed his cock.

Blinking rapidly, I shook my head to clear it. Where in the fuck had that come from?

“You want attention, my little meathead?” I cooed, standing with the pack to go find Tessa. “Ask Nikki to give you another scalp massage.”

Bright pink tinged the perfect glass skin of his cheeks, and I split my lip with my teeth to hold back my grin. Turning on my heel, I went to find Tessa and Vanessa, grabbing my water bottle along the way.

Vanessa would need the extra hydration. I could go another day—just one more.

Tomorrow, rescue would come.

Day 5 - After Crash

I’d watched the skies all morning. Every bird in flight held a promise in the distance, before the collapse of wings against the breeze dashed every hope I had.

Our rations were gone. We were solely relying on the fruits of the rainforest for our sustenance, save for Madman’s hidden candy stash he’d likely kill a man for touching. The rainwater I’d painstakingly collected and boiled for our water rations barely had a sip left for each person, and yesterday, the storm that had hovered over our heads like a violent threat had somehow held off, making the air far heavier today.

I clung to the probability of rain like a lifeline, like each humid dewdrop clinging to my skin. Without rain or rescue today, we were fucked. Thunder rolled in the distance upriver, fueling the little hope I had left.

I’d been prepared to keep our passengers as safe as I could in the window of rescue, and I’d convinced myself it would take five days to do it. Was that even Aileron’s established timeline, or had I made it up?

I couldn’t remember anymore.

Shifting from my position on my mat, my hands trailed over the usually bumpy earth where Maddox had buried his treats, only to find it perfectly smooth. Clawing my fingers into the dirt, expecting the plastic ridges of suckers or other sweets, I found it empty.

So, the candy was gone, too. We’d survive off of fruit and our own sweat until we faded away to oblivion.

Come to think of it, I hadn’t seen Madman all morning. Where was he?

A wounded retch echoed across the dusty sand. Wincing, I stood from my mat in search of Vanessa. She’d shed at least ten pounds since we’d crashed, and she didn’t have ten pounds to lose. Her thin body was now a frail bag of bones. She wasn’t keeping anything down, and Tessa had desperately tried to get her to suck on small pieces of mango all morning.

“You should probably leave her be,” Ambrose mused from the other side of me, who’d laid on his mat after he and Nikki collected more fruit for the day. He’d checked his laptop three times, and all three times he’d viciously snapped it closed, as if expecting his battery to survive the steam room we’d been trapped in was perfectly reasonable.

“What?” I snapped, my patience frayed as much as my sanity.

“Vanessa.” He motioned toward the tree line along the river where I’d last seen her and Tessa. “There’s nothing you can do for her. Let Tessa take care of her friend.”

But there was something I could have done for her. I’d chosen not to use antibiotic cream on her wounds, to save it for people I’d deemed more important, and now this woman was near death.

She would die because of me.

“Tessa isn’t responsible for our passengers,” I mumbled, taking a step in that direction before Ambrose’s hand clasped around my ankle, his grip hot and tight against my sweaty skin.

“Why are you torturing yourself?” The question was quiet. I slowly met his gaze. The somber amber looked lost and sad, but I couldn’t tell if it was for me or for him.