Rick spoke into the mic, giving directions to break down the boat camp and move everyone inland, then he made his way back to the shore where Cynthia waited for him. “We have to move them out of the boat,” he said.

Her wide blue eyes reflected every argument she must have thought but didn’t say. “Where are we putting them?”

“Just into the jungle for now. Get what you need out of the boat. We have to sink it.”

She jumped up and brushed off the back of her pants. “Sink it? It’s the best way to transport them!”

As someone who was used to his orders being followed immediately, without question, he clenched his teeth in irritation. “You think I don’t know that? That thing is too big to drag through the jungle, and it would leave an obvious trail. I have no way to secure it so that it won’t be found. If it’s found here, then all your friends in that village become extremely interesting to Chukuwereije’s men. So you tell me exactly what else I should do based on all your training, combat experience, and wisdom, Cynthia.”

As soon as he finished his tirade, he felt guilty. She carried none of the blame for their circumstances. Still, sometimes the way she spoke to him just irked him, generated a defensiveness in him that kept him responding. He sighed at the shocked look that crossed her face, then mentally deflected her fury.

“I know I’m not skilled in combat or evasive maneuvers, Rick.” She spat his name like it tasted bitter on her tongue. She lowered her voice to a breathy whisper. “But what I am is a doctor, and your medic is not going to last much longer. I am doing everything I can, but the ultimate goal is to wheel him into a sterile surgical room at the embassy sometime in the next twelve hours. Anything beyond that, I have no more control.”

He intentionally softened his countenance. “I know. Sorry. Shouldn’t take it out on you. I know you’re doing everything possible. Understand that I am too.” The sound of a branch moving made him say, “Go with Swanson here. He’ll take you to our campsite.”

She squared her jaw. “I can help transport the men.”

“No, Doctor. You’ll be in the way. Meet them at the campsite.” He turned, missing the neutral ground they’d enjoyed over lunch. He headed back down to the riverbank as McBride and Fisher carried Sanders out of the boat.

“I can walk,” Sanders said. “Help Ozzy.”

Instead of acquiescing, McBride looked at Rick.