“Nooooo!” He let the cry run out and he gasped. “No, you sick spineless worm. I love her!” Sobs robbed his breath. He sucked in a lungful of air, tilted his head back, and screamed full throated at the sky.

“I love her!”

His cry echoed, silencing the jungle.

And then the ball of pain ripped up through his skull. His muscles tensed in a seizure and then released him. He groaned and sagged to a huddle.

For an endless moment, the world was blank to him. The river stopped rushing by, the ground no longer pressed into his knees, the breeze seemed to freeze. And then slowly his mind began to crawl out of its hole.

“ . . . when I say something, I mean what I say!” The Arab was screaming and his face was red. Shannon turned to Tanya beyond him.

Tanya? He felt oddly as though he had stepped into a new world. Or out of one.

Tanya! What was she doing? She was smiling at him.

He began to sob softly. “I . . . I love you, Tanya,” he said. He knelt there lost, like a child. “I love you. I love you so much. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Shut up!” Abdullah screamed.

She began to cry. “Shh . . . no, don’t cry, Shannon. We’re together again. It’s okay now. Everything will be okay now.”

“Tanya,” he sobbed. The forest echoed with his cry. “Oh, God!” he wailed. “Forgive me. I’ve been so wrong. Oh, God, help me!”

And what have you done, Shannon? What have you gone and done? Panic skirted through his mind. I’ve got to stop— Boom!

The gunshot echoed through the trees and Shannon snapped his eyes open. Father Petrus lay on his side, blood leaking from a head wound. Oh, dear God, what have I done?

Tanya was crying.

“Shut up!” Abdullah said as his face twisted with rage, and he leapt for Shannon. A knife glistened in his right hand. He slashed forcefully, slicing Shannon’s chest to the ribs.

Shannon sat back to his haunches. His head swam.

The Arab trembled from head to foot. His eyes shone black and eager. He stood like a rabid dog over a rabbit. He reached down and cut again—across Shannon’s shoulder.

Shannon moaned. Nausea swept through his gut. He looked at Tanya, pleading. Not for her help. For her love.

“I love you, Tanya,” he said.

Tears streamed silently down her face as she mouthed her answer. I love you, Shannon.

The Arab slashed again, spittle flying from his lips. The blade flashed across Shannon’s chest, forming a cross of sorts. He brought his arm back for another thrust.

“Sula!” Tanya’s voice cut across the clearing.

The Arab spun, arm still cocked. Shannon’s mind was only half here, at the river. The other half was thinking that he had to stop something. Something only he could stop.