A space fifty feet in diameter had been cleared of brush. Holland and Rixby each had a machete—their blades painted bright pink—and were continuing to widen the swath.

Hanging from the low branches of several of the skyscraper-high trees were two enormous blue tarps. The industrial-sized tarps were each twenty feet square and they were angled upward, creating a large makeshift canopy tent.

Libby and Roth were sitting in collapsible chairs under the tent and working on laptops. Both cameramen were busy recording the action. Sean walked around with a camera on his shoulder, while Darnell had set his camera on a tripod at the edge of the clearing. Darnell swiveled his camera toward Andy and the others as they emerged from the surrounding vegetation.

Holland, who was carrying a load of branches, nodded at them and said, “’Bout bloody time.” He tossed the branches in a large pile at the far end of the clearing and wiped his hands. “First things first: if you haven’t already, spray yourself down with DEET. Head to toe; skin, clothes, head, face, hair, shoes—everything. There aren’t a whole lot of bugs right now, but it only takes one to send you packing.”

Andy had sprayed himself twice already: once that morning, then again at the airstrip.

“Then put on your snake gaiters,” Holland continued.

Andy glanced down at the polyurethane-coated guards strapped to his shins and flapping out over half of his boots. He had put his snake gaiters on before they boarded the flight from La Paz and had no intention of taking them off until he was back in Illinois.

“Then grab a machete and some gloves and find somewhere in the close vicinity to fix up your campsite.” Holland nodded at a pile of machetes, each in a leather scabbard. Next to the machetes was a pile of black scuba-diving gloves. “Try to stay within fifteen meters. Somewhere you’ll be able to get to in the dark. Look for two trees eight to ten feet apart where you can string your hammock. If you have trouble setting up, grab me or Rix, and we’ll get you squared away.”

There was a third pile of red nylon bags, which Andy assumed were the hammocks.

Andy looked around at the others. Only Nathan Buxton had the same look of confusion on his face.

“Um,” Andy said. “I thought we’d be in tents.”

“Not tonight,” Holland said, matter-of-factly. “Tents are coming with everything else tomorrow. The hammocks have mosquito netting and rain flies. Personally, I prefer a hammock, but come tomorrow if you want a tent, you got one.”

“Oh, okay,” Andy replied, wishing he’d kept his mouth shut.