Giving the morphine to Ozzy had made him uncomfortable, but he’d had to do it. Fisher and Peña got on either side of Ozzy, and he used them like crutches. They entered the jungle.

Rick glanced at Sanders, who had his eyes closed. He directed his attention to Doctor Myers. “We need to walk carefully. Clearly animals use the path. We’re going to try to avoid doing anything that looks like a human came this way.”

She looked at the path and back at him.

“You good to carry him?” he asked as he tied a bandanna around his forehead.

She laid her medical bag gently across Sanders’s legs and nodded. He walked to the head of the stretcher and she stood at the foot. They both crouched and gripped the handles.

“On my count,” she said. “One, two, three.” On three, they both lifted.

Rick shortened his stride to accommodate her shorter legs. He glanced over his shoulder, noticing that she appeared to handle Sanders’s weight with ease. As they entered the jungle, he said softly, “Speak up if you need help. I’ll keep the pace slow.”

“I’m good. It’s not far.” Despite her words and her bravado, he could hear the strain in her voice.

His boots sank into thousands of years of jungle floor as the leaves on the trail enfolded them. Despite the cooler air under the canopy, sweat slid down his back. If he hadn’t thought to put on the bandanna, salty sweat would blind him right now. He glanced at the ground, not able to identify boot marks in the thick blanket of leaves. Maybe the tire marks he left would be enough of a red herring to send any scouts in the wrong direction.

He didn’t like the idea of making their way to the LZ via the river. The exposure out on the water made him think of the shooting-ducks game at the county fair. But if the enemy thought his team had stayed with the truck and turned around, maybe they would waste precious minutes or hours looking for them in the wrong direction.

A mosquito buzzed in his ear, but he couldn’t swat at it. He carefully took one measured step at a time, praying for God’s protective hand over their little foray into the wilderness.

The strain of carrying Sanders first numbed Cynthia’s muscles and then made them burn like she had acid in her veins. Leaves brushed her face. Birds whistled above them, calling out to each other as the party of humans passed. She tried not to think about the critters and creatures that watched them walk through their territory and hoped that Captain Norton would be the one to break through any spiderwebs. She could handle a lot of jungle life, but the spiders sent her into a panic.