The scene streamed through her mind, pulling her heart to her throat, and for a brief instant she wondered if she was in one of her nightmares, only in three dimensions.

“Boy, this brings back memories,” she said, bending for her bag.

“I’m sure it does. Here, let me take that.”

Sherry followed him toward a long structure she assumed was the station house, although it reminded her more of a dormitory. A simple tin roof covered the creosote-darkened building. The father turned to her. “I don’t get much farther north, actually. Most of my work is with the southern Indians. Your parents worked among the Yanamamo up north, Helen tells me. I heard what happened. I’m so sorry.”

She glanced at him and saw that he was indeed sorry. She smiled. The noises about her still rapped at her memories, and for the hundredth time since leaving the Denver airport, she wondered if this whole idea had been misguided. What could she possibly do in the jungle? Oh, yes, the vision. She had come because of the vision.

But the vision seemed a thousand miles away. It struck her as an absurd whisper barely remembered. Flying over the endless forest in the helicopter, she had decided she would leave when the chopper returned to the station again in three days. She would give this whole dream thing three days. And only because she had no choice in the matter. She could not very well step from the cockpit, glance about the mission, and climb back in, could she? That would look ridiculous. No, she would have to wait until the next trip.

She swallowed and willed her heart to lower from her throat. “And what did you hear, Father?”

“I heard that drug bandits attacked your mission. And if what the Indians say is correct, the valley is still occupied.”

She looked up, surprised. “Now? You mean these people have never been brought to justice? I was told that they were!”

“It’s not necessarily occupied by the same people who destroyed the mission compound, but drug merchants work in the area. The law isn’t exactly swift in the jungle. Neither is the government. Half of them are partners with the drug lords. It’s a sizable portion of the economy. I imagine the church raised some noise in the beginning, but memories pass quickly. Some battles are hardly worth fighting.”

They came to the house and the father veered to the door on the far right. “Here we are.” He went in ahead of her and set the bag in the room. “This is where you’ll stay. It’s not much, but it’s all we have, I’m afraid.”