He spun. “Why don’t you hoist a flag above the trees while you’re at it? Just in case they missed your voice.” She peered at him angrily through the darkness. “We will rest soon,” he said and turned back down the hill.

They had traveled seven or eight miles from the mission when Casius found the cave. Overgrown vines coated with moss covered its mouth but the lay of the rock clearly suggested a break. He walked past it twice before pulling the matted brush aside enough to make out a small cavern. He pried the covering aside to create a hole for them to crawl through. “Crawl in,” he said, waving them forward.

The woman came close, her mouth wide, gazing into the damp darkness. “In there?” she asked.

“You wanted to rest. You can’t just flop on the ground and fall asleep. They’d find you for sure. We’ll be safe in there.” He jabbed a finger into the blackness.

“It’ll be safe? What if something else is in there?” Her voice came ragged and breathy; her cold was worsening.

“Just don’t threaten it. Go in slow,” he said.

She pulled back and shifted her hazel eyes to his.

Father Petrus stepped up, looked up at him, and slid into the cave without a word.

“You go,” Sherry said. “I’ll hold this for you.” She slid behind him and grabbed the tangle of vines at his hand, gripping his forefinger with them.

He pulled himself free and shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he returned and slipped through the opening. The cave immediately opened up to a small enclave, perhaps seven feet square. A damp moss blanketed the ground, providing for a fairly comfortable bed. The sound of critters scurrying confirmed that they were not alone—spiders by their light ticking. But most spiders would scatter, not attack. They would be safe enough. He could barely see her outline against the dark sky as she entered haltingly.

“As long as we’re stopped, we should sleep,” he said matter-of-factly. “In the morning I’ll try to get you something to eat. As soon as we’re sure the jungle is clear, we’ll leave.”

“I want to thank you for what you did back there,” Father Petrus said.

“I wouldn’t thank me just yet, Father. We’re not exactly in the Hilton yet.”

“Actually, I’m not thinking of my own comfort. But God—”

“This has nothing to do with God.”

That shut the man up. Casius found himself wishing he’d left the priest in his bungalow.

“Get some sleep,” he said.

Sherry sat cross-legged, quiet for a moment, peering around in the darkness. “I’m not sure I can sleep,” she finally rasped. “I said I was tired and bruised, not sleepy. I’m not sure if you happened to notice with all of that testosterone floating through your veins, but we’ve been just a bit traumatized here.”