Between the paranoia of an animal entering her hut and the cacophony of noise at night, Cynthia had had to teach herself how to relax and sleep when she first got to Katangela. As the sun set, the noises in the jungle increased, as if the insects, birds, and animals had to make up for the lack of light. Frogs croaked louder than she could have ever thought possible, insects trilled, night hunters squawked from overhead, and animal sounds she didn’t even recognize harmonized with the din. Over time, her brain had conditioned itself to start shutting down and relaxing as the noise increased.

Not so tonight.

Clouds obscured the moon, removing her ability to see anything beyond her hand. She’d never quite gotten used to the blackness of night here. Back home, there was always some streetlight or appliance light or some other kind of light pollution to cut the darkness. Here, there were only the stars and moon.

Ozzy lay in the back of the truck, stretched out on a bed they’d built with their gear. At his request, she’d loaded him up with morphine. They didn’t know how rough the roads would be between here and the pickup location, and they had to get him from the truck to the helicopter somehow.

Sanders sat in the seat next to her. For all appearances, he looked fine. He had minimum pain, good blood pressure readings, and a normal temperature. He didn’t mind sitting up, though he’d partially reclined the seat. He held a weapon ready, and they had all four windows down so nothing would obstruct his vision or hearing. She couldn’t believe she had put her life into the hands of a man whose chest she’d cracked open just two days before.

She did not speak because she didn’t want to distract the only guard she had. When she’d taken the driver’s seat, she’d promised Sanders and Rick that she would follow all directions immediately when given to her, without question or argument.

Earlier, to her utter shame and embarrassment, she’d stalled out three times trying to drive them to this location. She hadn’t driven a standard vehicle since college, and the clutch on this one slipped like hot butter on cold ice. Finally, her muscle memory returned, and she had driven them smoothly here.

Before she could mentally go over the route she’d memorized this afternoon, the sound of gunshots broke through the discord of animal and insect noises. Her mouth went dry and her vision tunneled. She took slow, deep breaths, periodically shaking her hands because they’d started tingling from the rush of adrenaline. She had a hard time sitting still in the truck. Her body wanted to move! To run and jump or hide!