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Back Whirlwind Save as PDF
Chapters (95)
  1. Title Page
  2. 1
  3. 2
  4. 3
  5. 4
  6. 5
  7. 6
  8. 7
  9. 8
  10. 9
  11. 10
  12. 11
  13. 12
  14. 13
  15. 14
  16. 15
  17. 16
  18. 17
  19. 18
  20. 19
  21. 20
  22. 21
  23. 22
  24. 23
  25. 24
  26. 25
  27. 26
  28. 27
  29. 28
  30. 29
  31. 30
  32. 31
  33. 32
  34. 33
  35. 34
  36. 35
  37. 36
  38. 37
  39. 38
  40. 39
  41. 40
  42. 41
  43. 42
  44. 43
  45. 44
  46. 45
  47. 46
  48. 47
  49. 48
  50. 49
  51. 50
  52. 51
  53. 52
  54. 53
  55. 54
  56. 55
  57. 56
  58. 57
  59. 58
  60. 59
  61. 60
  62. 61
  63. 62
  64. 63
  65. 64
  66. 65
  67. 66
  68. 67
  69. 68
  70. 69
  71. 70
  72. 71
  73. 72
  74. 73
  75. 74
  76. 75
  77. 76
  78. 77
  79. 78
  80. 79
  81. 80
  82. 81
  83. 82
  84. 83
  85. 84
  86. 85
  87. 86
  88. 87
  89. 88
  90. 89
  91. 90
  92. 91
  93. 92
  94. Also by DAVID KLASS
  95. Copyright Page

Eko feels the shock of it and releases me. She watches silently as I reel back, stand up, and stagger away out of the bright ring of firelight.

66

66

The morning after our fireside embrace, Eko withdraws into herself. She becomes silent and, at the same time, extravigilant. I interpret her new mood to mean that we are nearing our journey’s end.

I can’t be sure because things are awkward between us. We don’t discuss the previous evening, but there are accidental slips when our hands brush, and moments when we look into each other’s eyes and then glance quickly away. Even steering the canoe is uncomfortable—as our paddles rise and fall in rhythm, I know we’re both thinking about what happened by the fire, and where it almost led.

My efforts to pull away and keep my emotional distance prevent me from pressing her too hard for information about our mission. I helped create this barrier between us, so I can’t break it down. But something is clearly wrong. Eko’s wary eyes sweep the thickly forested banks.

I steal glances at her face and try to figure out why she’s suddenly on high alert. Are we close to Kidah? Is there some hidden danger lurking? I completely trust Eko’s forest skills, but I’m bothered by a growing sense that she herself doesn’t know what she’s looking for, and that we’re now wandering aimlessly.

Eko has never told me exactly how we’ll know when we’re getting close to Kidah. Now, as we paddle silently into what feels like the pulsing auricle of the heart of darkness, I’m painfully aware of my own ignorance. I don’t know where we’re headed, and I have no idea what we’re looking for, or what we’re supposed to do if and when we find it.

The rain forest can’t possibly get any denser or wilder. When a ray of light somehow squeezes down between the leaves to the forest floor, it’s such a rare event that you can see it far off, like the stab of an usher’s pen-flashlight in a dark theater.

The birds and animals we encounter here are of an improbable variety and an otherworldly strangeness. It’s as if Noah’s ark docked in this patch of rain forest midway through its ancient cruise, and the most unusual passengers hopped off into these trees and pools two by two, and have remained ever since. I spot harpy eagles and giant anteaters with mouths like vacuum cleaners, spiny rats and tree frogs as bright as Christmas lights.

We pass a tree with distinctive, oblong green leaves, and Eko stops pensively scanning the forest long enough to give it a curious stare.

“What is it?” I ask.