He was still two or three miles from the agreed-upon meeting place when his legs simply gave out. The ground rose up to meet him faster than he would have believed. As he toppled over, he thought he saw a tribesman standing just in front of him, the hallucination very vivid. The Indian carried a blowgun and was dressed in the more traditional loincloth to hunt in the rain forest. The absence of clothes was normal. Clothes only got in the way, growing damp, clinging to the skin and adding to the heat and humidity.

The tribesmen had it right, he decided, he shouldn’t have worn clothes. They were so heavy on his skin. What good were they? Conner smiled and gave an odd salute from where he lay on the ground to the vision of the Indian. Rio’s bulk weighed him down, nearly crushing his chest into the ground, but he didn’t have the energy to ease the man off of him. He just lay there, watching the tribesmen.

He looked familiar. Older. A worn face with faded eyes. The eyes crinkled and the tribesman came closer. He crouched beside Conner. “You don’t look so good.”

Conner didn’t like the idea of hallucinations speaking. Not when he was too weak to protect Rio. He tried to find the knife at his side, but the older man stopped him.

“It’s Adan, Conner. The men of our village met Isabeau and your team in the forest. There was a bit of a battle with those following them, but my men are very accurate. We’ve been backtracking them to find you.”

“The children?”

“All are alive and well.”

Several tribesmen lifted Rio gently from Conner’s back. Conner made a lunge for his partner, but Adan caught him in his strong grip. “They’ll take him to the helicopter. Both of you look a little worse for wear.”

“There’s a leopard dead a few miles from here,” Conner said. “The carcass has to be burned in a hot fire, enough to reduce the entire thing to ashes. Leave no evidence of our species.”

“It will be done. Let my men take you to the helicopter. And, Conner . . . don’t knife anyone. They’re on your side.” Adan grinned at him as his men laid Conner on a cot and began hurrying in the direction of the clearing.

Chapter 21

21

THE old wooden rocking chair creaked in time to the breeze blowing through the trees. Boughs shivered and leaves swirled in the air as the wind rushed through the valley. A second chair groaned and rasped in counterpoint to the first one. A third one added a slight squeak to the symphony. Conner leaned heavily on his cane and surveyed the three men rocking on Doc’s porch in the sturdy, hand-carved rocking chairs.