Casius motioned to the pile of clothes on the bed. “You’ll find those a bit large, but they’ll do until we can get some clothes from the market. Go ahead, clean up. The water’s hot and there are towels in the bathroom.”

Sherry nodded and took the clothes. A bit big indeed. She would float in his clothes. On the other hand, the white T-shirt hanging from her own body was literally falling apart. Her denim shorts had survived in remarkable condition, considering the jungle. A good wash and they would do. She tossed his pants back onto the bed and turned, holding his white cotton shirt.

“Thank you,” she said and stepped into the bathroom.

Sherry took a long shower, relishing the steaming water, scrubbing the dirt from her pores. She washed and wrung out the jeans, donned his shirt, and ran her fingers through her hair. Not exactly fit for a prom, but at least she was clean. She debated removing her colored contacts. They normally stayed in place for a month at a time, but the journey through the jungle had worn on her eyes and she decided to remove them despite the questions a sudden change in eye color might draw from the man.

“Thank God for hot water,” she said, stepping from the bathroom.

Casius kneeled at the dresser, writing on a tablet. “Good,” he said without looking up. His mind was obviously buried in that tablet. She plopped onto the bed and lay back, closing her eyes.

“I’m going to shower,” he said, and when she looked up, he was already gone.

Sherry lay back down and rested for a while. At the moment the man planting his little silver sphere in the sand seemed far away. Like a dream fogged by reality.

What was she to do now? Contact the authorities with her version of what had happened? Tell them that she had been captured by a terrorist holed up in the jungle? And there’s more, she’d say.

Really? And what would that be, miss?

He’s got a nuclear bomb that he’s going to blow up in the United States, she’d say.

A nuclear bomb, you say? Oh, heavens! We’ll activate the bat-signal right quick, miss. What did you say your address was?

She rolled to her side and groaned. Maybe she had read too much into the dream. Other than being taken hostage for a day, nothing concrete had happened to lead her to the conclusion that anything remotely similar to a bomb was involved. Only her dream. And really, it could mean that her life was about to blow up, rather than a real bomb.

Get a grip, Sherry.