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Back Jungle Up Save as PDF
Chapters (63)
  1. 1
  2. 2
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  9. 9
  10. 10
  11. 11
  12. 12
  13. 13
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  29. 29
  30. 30
  31. 31
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  33. 33
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  38. 38
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  40. 40
  41. 41
  42. 42
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  46. 46
  47. 47
  48. 48
  49. 49
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  51. 51
  52. 52
  53. 53
  54. 54
  55. 55
  56. 56
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  63. Author’s Note

“Hey,” Gina said. She wasn’t sure what her next words would be, whether she was going to ask him what made him come or to apologize for leaving him or to tell him how much she still loved him, that she’d never stopped. But she could tell that although Thomas was holding her hand, she knew it was Lacy who preoccupied his thoughts.

She tuned back to the conversation going on around her, just in time to hear Daniel say, “I’m fairly certain that, at least for a large percentage of sufferers, it will improve symptoms dramatically, if not cure them outright.”

He went on to describe how he had gone a month now without drinking the tea and that none of his symptoms had returned. He theorized that after the autobiotic strain was introduced to a person’s microbiome for a period of longer than two weeks, it would remain in their system.

Bill asked, “So all the millions of rheumatoid arthritis sufferers, psoriasis sufferers, and Crohn’s disease sufferers—they can pop a few of these autobiotics for two weeks, and they’re healed?”

“A lot of research still needs to be done,” Daniel said with a smile, “but I’d say the prospects are good.”

Bill took a deep breath, then nodded at the soldiers. All four of them brought pistols up and trained them on their group.

“I’m sorry,” Bill said. “But I can’t allow that to happen.”

54

54

tribal village
august 23, 3:39 p.m.
days since abduction: 18

While we’d been listening to Daniel’s story, I’d stupidly lowered the shotgun. And at some point, the soldiers had slipped pistols out from ankle holsters—or somewhere else they’d been hiding them—and snuck up behind our group.

Rix, too, had been so entranced by Daniel’s story that he’d lowered his weapon. But unlike me, he wasn’t going down without a fight.

He twirled next to me and popped off a shot, but it missed its mark. Before he could pull the trigger a second time, one of the soldiers shot him twice: once in the arm and once in the leg.

The rifle fell from Rix’s hand and he crumpled to the ground.

“Put it down!” Bill shouted at me as I considered what to do. “Or you’re going to end up like your friend.”

I could probably get off one shot before I met the same fate as Rix. For now, I’d live to fight another day. Or, more likely, another hour. I lowered my weapon, then tossed it onto the soft earth. Behind me, Diego had done the same.

“You too,” Bill said to Patrick. “Hand it over.”

Patrick Sewall spun to face his longtime friend and colleague and shouted, “Have you lost your fucking mind?”

“The gun,” Bill said. “Now.”