This Green Hell

extra thirty feet. Be on its way down to you in two minutes.’

Alex nodded to Chaco and pointed to the hole in the ceiling. ‘Time to go, son.’

The boy wouldn’t move. Alex swore softly. He recognised shock when he saw it.

‘Was it that bad — was I that bad?’ He shook his head. ‘Sorry, kid. I guess I’m not a superhero, after all.’

Sam’s voice: ‘Heads!’

The rope, tied to a fist-sized stone, came hurtling into the pit. Alex shot out a hand and caught the rock before it hit the water.

‘Good work,’ he called back. ‘We’re coming up.’

The climb was harder than he’d anticipated. He had to bind Chaco to his back, as he kept trying to break from Alex’s grip. Now he hung there motionless, but continued to call to his brother. In addition, their combined weight caused a sawing motion on the broken edge of the roof. The rope started to smoke and fray, and pieces of stone rained down on them — some the size of a truck tyre. Alex tried to keep the debris from the boy’s exposed head, batting the stones away, but that meant having to suspend the climb and hang one-armed. As they got closer to the lip, more stones broke away, many striking Alex on the shoulders and face.

He felt the boy wriggling on his back, then the rope he had used to bind him loosened. The boy had freed himself. The fraying rope could not be used a second time, so Alex reached around quickly with his free arm and grabbed Chaco as he started to slide away. He flung him upwards and out through the opening.

As he no longer had to protect the boy, Alex could concentrate on climbing, and the slight loss of weight meant he reached the top of the hole almost immediately after Chaco. He saw the boy was already up and running to his brother, who grabbed and hugged him. The small boy cried and chattered rapidly, and Saqueo frowned and stared over his head at Alex.

Alex wiped his hands on his pants, then slowly bent to retrieve and wind up the rope. Another great day at the office, he thought, as he walked over to a grinning Sam Reid.

FIFTEEN

Aimee sat on the floor of her pre-built cabin and leaned back against the wall. She stared at the skirting board and the line of mould that had started to grow there. It hadn’t rained again last night, but she knew the respite wouldn’t last, and if the damp and humidity were bad now, just wait until it was bucketing down outside. Ugh, she thought, a heavy weariness settling over her.

She surveyed the room. Piles of soiled clothing created small islands on the floor, and a pair of very muddy boots with their tongues out lay beside the door like a pair of dirty sleeping dogs. She needed to urinate, but couldn’t bring herself to step outside. She looked up at the empty washbasin, considering it.

It was mid-morning and Francisco and the men still hadn’t returned. Deep in the pit of her stomach she knew they never would. The jungle ate them, she thought miserably. She lowered her head onto her arms. She was beyond tired and had a headache that extended from behind her eyes all the way down to her neck and shoulders. She closed her eyes and exhaled; sleep seemed like something that had happened to her in another life.

A loud bang on the door made her jump, and she laughed out loud. Perfect, I’m a nervous wreck as well as a physical wreck.

A voice in Spanish muttered an apology then the banging started again. Aimee placed the heels of her hands in the sockets of her eyes and rubbed hard until they ached. Get up, Aimee Louise Weir. She wondered what Alex would say if he saw her sitting on the floor in a giant lump of dirty clothing, mud and sweat. She stood slowly and groaned.

She looked out the window and saw a group of younger workers standing just beyond the door, apparently debating whether to knock again. It was hard to tell: nearly everything sounded like an argument in the rapid local language.

‘If you’ve brought me a cheeseburger and a soda, come on in,’ she muttered.

When the men spotted her, they waved and stood back from the door. She should have expected this to happen. With Alfraedo and Francisco missing, she was the remaining member of the gerencia, the management. She needed to tell them something, or at least be strong for the men who were sick and dying.

She lifted her water bottle and tipped it to her lips; its contents were warm and not refreshing at all. She tipped the rest of it over her face and let it run down the front of her T-shirt to mix with the perspiration that beaded between her breasts.

She sucked in a breath and pulled open the door.

‘Habla ingles?’ she asked.

Her Spanish was weak, and the thought of trying to keep up with the lightning-fast language made her feel even more exhausted. She needed someone to translate for her. ‘Uhhh, habla cualquiera ingles?’

Towards the back of the group, a small, wiry man tentatively put his hand up and smiled, displaying a mouth missing its front teeth.

‘Fantastico. Your name…?Aahhh, que es su namo?’

Blank stare; the men looked at each other.

‘Es su namo…su nombre?’ Ah, forget it. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Mi nombre es Tomas, senora Weir. Si…yes, I speak tiny English.’ He held his thumb and forefinger an inch apart and grinned broadly, seemingly oblivious of the vampire effect his lone canines had on his smile.

Aimee nodded in relief. ‘Thank you, Tomas. Can you please tell the men what I am saying?’

‘I try, senora Weir. But please, not fast for me.’

Tomas threaded his way through the small crowd towards Aimee. Some of the other men slapped him on the back, as though he had just been elected mayor, or had scored a date with her. Aimee couldn’t help grinning at the thought: she was the tallest person in the camp and towered above the locals.

She put out her hand for Tomas to shake. He looked at it for a moment, then grasped it, pumping it hard and turning to grin over his shoulder. Aimee was sure a small blush appeared on his weathered cheeks.

‘Tomas, please tell everyone that Alfraedo and Francisco are still out in the jungle scouting for the men who recently fled the camp. They wish to bring them back, or at least make sure they are all okay.’

She waited while he translated. He seemed to use unnecessarily long strings of words, but she had no reason not to trust his translation. A few of the men asked questions, and Tomas nodded and turned to Aimee. She already knew what he was going to say.

‘The men, they already know this, but they say to me, when will they be returning?’ He gazed up at her, waiting for an answer.

Returning? Never. The jungle ate them — didn’t you know?

Aimee smiled, or at least lifted her lips and cheeks into the semblance of a friendly and confident expression. She thought quickly. Best if she responded as she did in board meetings when asked a detailed question that she didn’t have an answer for: camouflage it by giving a bit of information then changing the subject.

‘Alfraedo and his men will only be in the jungle for as long as necessary. I believe this will only be for a short time. I’m sure he would not want you to worry about them. There is, however, another team of doctors arriving either this evening or tomorrow.’ Please be true, she thought. ‘They are coming to assist us and tell us when we can go home.’

She nodded at Tomas, signalling she had finished. He was quiet for a moment, obviously thinking over what she had said, then he turned to speak to the men. They talked among themselves, some looking at Aimee with expressions of disbelief or resignation, then the group started to break up and head back to their tents.

Aimee now noticed that the tents had been moved. The majority were packed tightly together, almost in a ring, at one end of the camp — close to one another for security, but as far away from the isolation cabins as they