As if Ethan had read her mind, he said, “I hate to say it, but we’d better get moving. That wreck is going to look like a bulls-eye from above.”
They reluctantly scrambled up. Ethan went back to the burned-out plane to see if he could salvage anything useful. While he was cautiously poking through the wreckage, Destiny did an inventory of what remained in the backpack. She still had several changes of clothes—the least important thing in it, though she couldn’t help being glad that she wouldn’t have to wear filthy rags around Ethan—a survival blanket, a compass, a lighter, a tiny sewing kit, a canteen, some granola bars, and a lightweight tin pot for boiling water. The medical kit was still there, but it had come open and most of the supplies were gone.
That was it. She’d lost her cell phone, most of her food and water, and her ammo box. The only bullets she had left were the ones remaining in the magazine.
And she’d lost her box of pills.
Her hand flew to her bra, where she always kept a few days’ emergency supply in a watertight packet. Her shirt had been ripped open, and her bra was torn as well. Fiona’s GPS transmitter was gone. And so were her pills.
The fear Destiny had felt at the thought that the plane would crash was nothing to the fear she felt now. She frantically patted herself all over, then retraced their steps from the plane at a crawl, searching for the little packet of gray-green capsules in the dark green moss. But it was nowhere to be found. It and the transmitter must have fallen to the floor of the plane when Ethan had dragged her from the wreckage, and been consumed in the fireball. Just like the box that had fallen from her backpack.
They were lost in the wilderness, probably being pursued by deadly enemies, and the one way her team could have found her had just been destroyed. And now the time bomb inside her had begun to tick.
Ethan looked up from his search of the wreckage. All he’d found that had survived the fireball was the crowbar and a hammer.
“Think we can use this?” he asked, holding up the hammer.
“I guess we could hit someone over the head with it.” She was amazed at how normal her voice sounded. Maybe she wasn’t such a bad liar after all…
He frowned. “Destiny? Is something wrong? I mean apart from, well, everything.”
She bit her lip. The absolute last thing she wanted him to know was what a freak she was—a literal freak, a freak of nature. But if she didn’t tell him, he’d find out for himself, and that would be worse. She might even become a danger to him.
“I… I lost something.” She indicated her torn shirt, only belatedly realizing that she was displaying quite a lot of cleavage. Ethan grinned. “Not my bra. My medication. I had some in my duffel bag, but it fell out. And some in my shirt, but that’s gone too.”
His smile faded. “Was that the, uh, female problem stuff? Is it dangerous for you to not take it? Or just unpleasant?”
He was probably imagining horrible cramps or nonstop bleeding. She wished it was just that. And she really didn’t want to have to explain then and there. She could wait another day, at least. Probably a couple. Maybe by then they’d be able to radio for help, and he’d never need to know. “It won’t kill me. Let’s not talk about it, it’s embarrassing.”
“No problem. But let me know if you need, I don’t know, a massage or a hot pack or anything. I promise not to ask any questions.”
Good, he did think it was cramps. And also, how sweet of him to offer! She was tempted to request a massage, just because. “Thanks. Where are you going to find a hot pack in the jungle, jarhead?”
“A Marine can improvise. Got any MREs in your backpack? I could use the heating element.”
“Ugh, no. I had some actual food, but most of it fell out. Want a granola bar?”
“I’m okay. I had a country captain chicken MRE earlier.”
“Yecch. Better you than me. Want some aspirin?”
“Yes, please.”
He looked over her half-empty medical kit with mild dismay, then shrugged and swallowed a few aspirin.
“The medical tape’s still there,” she said. “Shall I tape your ribs?”
He looked tempted, but shook his head. “Later. Let’s get some distance between us and the plane first. The last time I tried to hide out from Apex, I didn’t go far enough. And look what happened.” He held up his bloody, swollen left hand.
Destiny inwardly renewed her vow to kill the bastard who had tortured him.
They began to make their way through the forest, not heading in any particular direction other than “away from the very conspicuous crash site.” The jungle terrain wasn’t easy to walk in. They kept having to step over fallen trees, walk around bushes, and shove through thick vines that hung from the trees like spiderwebs. Monkeys chattered and swung from the vines, birds chirped and sang in the trees, and black millipedes the size of snakes scuttled away from their feet.
Normally she would have enjoyed a good hike through rough and interesting terrain, especially with Ethan. But she had no attention to spare for anything but looking out for danger, worrying about the loss of her pills, and trying to get as far away from the crash site as fast as possible so they could stop and she could tend to his injuries as best she could with her limited supplies. From Ethan’s silence, she suspected that he was equally wrapped up in worries, probably over his buddies.
After about an hour, she saw that he was pale beneath his tan, and had his jaw clenched so tight that it was probably giving him a headache. Despite the aspirin, he was obviously still in a lot of pain.
“Let’s take a rest,” she said. “Just a short one. Take off your shirt.”