"... Oops, I did it again. I played with your heart, got lost in the game. Oh baby, baby..."
The angelic voice of Brittney Spears, with Alejandro's special brand of accompaniment, echoed off the trees, as the yellow jeep, sheared a path through the verdant vegetation, and advanced down the trail to their position. Seeing the two girls lying on the ground, Alejandro immediately stopped singing, and turned off the engine, jumping out of the cab to help them both up.
"Woah, Seniorita... what in God's name happened to the two of you? Where is Senior Ruiz?"
Layla looked up, and said, weakly, "Alejandro, please. She needs a doctor! Just trust me on this... she's lost a lot of blood, and..."
Alejandro, looking puzzled, but still concerned, inquired, "But what about the rest of your team? Senior Ruiz?"
Layla looked down at Becca's still unconscious face, and then past the thick grove of trees, through the half-hidden stone pillar gateway, and to the massive stone pyramid that lay beyond. "Just... just go. Please."
Alejandro shrugged, and helped them both inside the cab of the jeep, before climbing in himself, and saying, in an uncertain voice, "it's... as you wish, Seniorita."
As the engine revved, and they began to drive away in the direction Alejandro had just come, Layla turned, to take one last look at the jungle behind. She held tight to the Saint Christopher medallion around her neck, rhythmically tracing the tarnished lines and ridges with her thumb. She closed her eyes and turned to face forward, to the wild, overgrown trail that lay ahead. And at that moment, her instincts told her that she would never turn back again.
Epilogue
Layla awoke with a start. The sheets and her top clinging to her sweaty, exhausted form. Just another dream. Just another stupid dream, you stupid girl. Her rapid, anxious panting slowly began to subside, as it always did, and she laid back down onto her damp pillow and stared at the ceiling. The plain, white ceiling. She let a deep sigh escape her trembling lips, and rolled over to face her nightstand. She pushed aside the silver Saint Christopher medallion and chain, and grasp the scuffed Garmin watch, illuminating the dial.
3:09 AM.
The sickly green light that had just flooded the cramped studio apartment faded out and Layla let out another sigh and sunk back into the creaking mattress. She'd have to get ready for her shift in just a few hours. There was no way she was getting back to sleep now. She adjusted her mussed blonde hair, before sitting up, and yawning, looked over to notice the flashing blue light on her phone, plugged in on the nightstand as well. A voicemail? I... I must not have seen that before I went to bed. Hesitantly, she hit the button that dialed her voicemail box, and set the phone back down on the nightstand, with the speakerphone activated.
"You have... one... new message, and... six... saved messages... new message..."
Beep.
"Hey, Layla. It's... It's Becca, again. It's been a long time, since... well, since Guatemala... I know you're not really returning my calls anymore, and that's fine, but I was just thinking about you, y' know? How are things going in New York? I heard you're doing pretty okay out there. Maybe you could come back out to New Mexico for a visit sometime. We could go for margaritas or karaoke, or... or maybe... maybe we could just hang out and talk, ya? Catch up... I... I miss you, Layla... Don't shut me out... Call me, okay?"
Beep.
Layla hit the button that hung up the phone and let out a held breath, feeling instantly more than a little guilty. She knew she wouldn't be calling the concerned girl back. Becca was another unfortunate casualty. A constant, and painful reminder of a part of her life she had just wanted desperately to run away from. To just forget. Like before.
Layla walked over to the open window, and stretched her shoulders awake, as the muggy, summer air flooded into space. She listened to the cars and the sounds of the never-sleeping city far below. When she moved out here, it seemed crucial that she find a place as high up as possible. She didn't even look at anything below the tenth floor, which made apartment hunting more than a little difficult. But here she was. In a cramped, and old studio apartment, on the 16th floor. The top floor. As far away from the ground and whatever lay beneath it as she could possibly get.
But really, it was no use. Layla closed her eyes, and she was right back in that damn jungle. She could still see the faces of James... poor, sweet little Lanie... and those eyes, those glowing, evil, yellow eyes! Layla shuddered and took a deep, centering breath to bring her back to reality. Back to now.
Layla groaned, to nobody but herself, and decided that she might as well fix herself a cup of coffee, and start waking up in some capacity. She walked over to the tiny kitchenette area, occupied by a hotplate style electric range top, and only a handful of small appliances, and was just getting ready to rinse out the coffee carafe, and the remaining liquid from the previous day when she heard a series of loud and aggressive knocks on her door. Startled, the glass carafe slipped out of her already shaking hand, causing it to shatter into the sink.
"Dammit!" Layla mouthed to herself in a hushed tone, more startled and bewildered, really than upset. "H...hello?" She called out, as deafening silence once again flooded the empty apartment. No answer. "It's kinda late... can you come back during the day?" Nothing. Silence. "O...Okay... thanks!" She called out to the void, in a nervous voice.
Layla grabbed what she considered to be a heavy coffee mug from next to the sink, and gripped it tightly in her hand, in case she'd have to use
