DARK JUNGLE

By Jo

PART TEN:
 

Marshall listened. Someone was humming softly not far away.

"Who...who's there?"

Ryan had awakened and was passing the time just before dawn by humming some of the old songs his mom always played. "Marsh?" He leaned forward, touching Marshall's leg.

Marshall licked his lips. It wasn't Terry. Vaguely he recalled something about someone wanting him to get up, someone giving him some foul- tasting medicine. He'd thought he'd imagined it. Terry was in no shape to come out here and there was no one else for more miles around than
he cared to think about.

"Wh...who?"

"It's me, Marsh. Ryan Malone."

"Ry...Ryan?" He could barely breathe. Oh, God, don't let this be delirium.

"Yeah, Marsh. It's me. Didn't think I could let you be carried off into the wilds of Yucatan and not come after you, did ya?"

"Ryan?" he repeated.

"In the flesh. Which, alas, does happen to be a bit mosquito-eaten at the moment."

Marshall, still on his side, held out his right hand in the direction of the voice. Ryan took it, and got on his knees close to Marshall. "It's really me."

Marshall started to shake again. He couldn't help himself. "Ryan," he whispered, the word no longer a question. How this could be, he had no idea.

"Help's coming, buddy. First light. We'll get you back to Eden."

"Ter...Terry?  Still alive?"

"Last I heard. I've got a friend in the ruin with him. Think you can walk? I'd like to get you

over where they are. You've been out here all night."

"Here?"

"Yeah. You were sick. Green bananas and raw eggs. Looks like you came out here to be sick."

"Oh," he breathed. "Yes, I remember."

"You want to give it a try? I'll help." But no matter what he did, Marshall was so drained he simply didn't have the strength to stand.

"Sor...sorry," he gasped.

"Hey, not your fault. It's ok. The guys should be here soon. Skies lightening just a bit."

"I'm worried about Terry, Ryan. He's only hurt because he came for me."

"Butch is in there with him. Says you did a good job with the bandaging. Guess he's still got a bullet in him, though."

"No."

"No? You didn't...?"

"I did. Had to."

Ryan whistled. "Marsh, you are somethin' else!"

"Afraid I'm not much of anything right now." He let his eyes close. "So tired."

It was getting light enough that Ryan could get his first really good look at him. His cheeks were hollow, beard longer, and large, dark smudges completely encircled his eyes. He was dirty, his face scratched and bruised, his lips terribly cracked. He was still gripping Ryan's hand as though if he let go, Ryan might turn out not to be really there after all. A large part of Marshall's brain did still think he'd made him up. Hadn't Terry been talking to people who weren't there yesterday evening?

Ryan wasn't sure just how the rescue team would go about it. Would they land the helicopter

on the road and come through the jungle like he and Butch had done? Butch came back out. "How's he doing?" he asked.

"Think he's sleeping again. He's worn to the bone and beyond." He looked up at the standing Butch. "Do you know he took the bullet out of Thorne?"

"Didn't know. Thought it was still in there. Didn't know someone like him...."

"Blind?"

"Yeah. Didn't know a blind man could do stuff like that."

A loud noise began to roar over the jungle and a large red and yellow helicopter hovered over them. A man in a red jumpsuit slid down a line, followed by two more. "This Thorne?" the first man asked, looking at Marshall.

"No, this is Sinclair. Thorne's over there." Ryan pointed at the ruin.

One of the men knelt beside Marshall while the other two sprinted toward the ruin. After a few minutes they reappeared with Terry snugly down in a Bauman bag, a red sack-like device. They proceeded to fasten a single-point suspension system around it.

"You're going to lift him?" Ryan shouted over the copter noise.

 
"Faster, and better than trying to get him through the jungle."

Ryan watched as the helicopter's winch began raising Terry, one of the men riding the line beside him as he was slowly raised above the canopy.

A few moments more and Marshall was also in a Bauman bag, being lifted while Wadsworth danced around on the ground, barking frantically.

(Ok, so it's a different copter, but it's red and yellow, too, and this one is the size I wanted.)

"Look," Ryan said to the remaining man, "he's blind and that's his dog. Any way to take him on the copter, too?"

The man got on his radio, speaking with someone in the large Aerospatiale Squirrel. Soon a special black harness was lowered. Wadsworth, who was used to being buckled in his guide harness, held very still." Just before he was hoisted, Ryan asked, "What about me? Room for me? I'm...family."

Again the man got on the radio. "Captain says ok. Let's get the dog up and then we'll see about you."

While that was going on, Ryan turned to Butch, who would have to get back to his own plane and fly it out. "I'll see you in the city, all right. I hope you know you've got my undying thanks, man. You are the best of the best."

Butch smiled. "We found them, found them alive. That's all that matters, all the thanks I need, my friend."

When Ryan was on the big air ambulance, tucked in a back corner, holding Wadsworth's leash, he tried to watch what the medics were doing for Terry and Marshall. IV's had been started on them both and they were being carefully checked and monitored. They were flying back to Campeche as there wasn't a proper facility in the area. The copter landed on the hospital's roof and both men were whisked away on gurneys.

Ryan took Wadsworth down to a waiting area, looking for Eden and Connie. Both women turned at the clicking of dog nails on tile. Ryan was walking toward them, dirty, sweaty, pretty
much a mess himself, but Connie threw herself into his arms, kissing all over his face. Eden waited a moment, then when Ryan smiled tiredly at her, she said, "Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you." Tears were welling in her eyes.

Ryan put his arms gently around her. "He's going to be all right. They're cleaning him up, giving him stuff through an IV. He's pretty well wiped out, but he's ok."

It was an hour before they let her in to see him. He lay in the bed, his eyes closed, several monitors and the IV attached to him. Sitting beside him, she lifted his hand, sliding his wedding ring back on his finger. He turned his head, smiling, not opening his eyes. Her chin was trembling at the sight of his face. "I...I could really use a kiss," he whispered.

"I do believe I just may have one of those around here somewhere," she replied softly, obliging him. Then her tears of relief overbrimmed, wetting his face.

"I'm fine," he said.

"I know," she sighed. "You're always fine."

"Because of you. You make me fine."

She kissed him more, being extremely gentle because his lips were so cracked.

 
"How's our Horatio?" he asked.

"Horatio is...fine."

EPILOG:

"Where's the god dammed fuckin' son-of-a-bitch?"

"In here," Terry called, smiling as the door to his hospital room flew open and a wild-eyed,

red-headed man burst in.

"Damn your blasted fuckin' hide!" Dino growled. "Turn my fuckin' back on you for a fuckin'

couple of days, think you're fuckin' safe hittin' the fuckin' bars in Mexico Fuckin' City and

what do you do, fuckin' idiot that you are? You go and get yourself fuckin' sliced and diced

in some fuckin' jungle."

"That's about it," Terry grinned. "Glad to see you, too."

ON TO TUSCAN BYWAYS, THE DIRECT SEQUEL TO DARK JUNGLE

BACK TO PART 9

BACK TO PART 8

BACK TO PART 7

BACK TO PART 6

BACK TO PART 5

BACK TO PART 4

BACK TO PART 3

BACK TO PART 2

BACK TO PART 1

BACK TO LIBRISCROWE

BACK TO MARSHALL'S STORY, THE CAVERN OF DEEP HARMONY