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“You better get moving then,” Booker said.
“How long do you reckon I have?” I asked.
“Charlie wouldn’t worry about us for another six hours,” Booker said. “It’ll be too dark to send a search party himself. That’s when he’ll call Hank. Hank will pull a team together and they’ll need to repeat our route into the jungle. All up, I reckon you have between sixteen and twenty hours. After that, you may miss them.”
“I’ll make it. Don’t you worry. Make sure you have your flares handy. You guys got water? My bottle is nearly full. And I have four protein bars.”
Both Wyatt and Booker had the same.
“We’re good. Now get going or you’ll miss our ride home.” Wyatt met my gaze.
“Take care of yourself, brother.” Booker managed a crooked grin.
“Always. Whatever you do . . . don’t fall out of this chopper.”
With a final nod at the pair of them, I swept my rifle over my shoulder and turned my attention to getting out of this death trap.
As I scrambled out of the wreckage and onto the massive branch that we’d crashed into, the weight of my decision to leave them nearly killed me.
But I forced myself to concentrate.
One wrong step and I’d be no fucking help to anyone.
CHAPTER 8
LAYLA
Pain rippedthrough me as I blinked my eyes open. My body throbbed and stung, and my head pounded like it would rather explode. Sharp pains zipped across my back and legs. Above me, lush trees swayed in the breeze.
Where am I?
The jungle around me was dense and overwhelming, and the thick foliage seemed to press in on me from all sides. I tried to move but I was somehow stuck, and my muscles burned in protest.
“Help.” I forced the word from my dry throat.
I pushed on the ground to sit up, and when my elbows plunged into thick mud, memories flashed across my mind. The helicopter. Falling from the sky. Hunter.
Hunter? Where is he?
“Hunter.” My voice was barely a whisper.
Oh, Jesus.Am I alone? Did he think I died in that fall?
“Hunter! Help.” My voice was swallowed by the oppressive vegetation around me.
Maybe he’d been forced away by those gunmen.
Oh God. Maybe . . . maybe he’s dead. No. No. No.Please, don't let anything happen to Hunter. Or Cody or Wyatt.
A massive knot swelled in my throat.
Gritting my teeth to block the pain, I focused on the jungle sounds around me, straining to hear Hunter or Cody or the others.
The thick air was so humid, breathing was painful and my heart pounded like a drum. I tried to move and call out again, but my battered body refused to obey.
A sting pierced my arm and pain flared through me like wildfire. I gasped at the army of ants crawling over my skin.
“Shit. Shit.”