Nico shrugs at Genesis. “You said you wanted remote and private.” And again, she’s gotten exactly what she wanted. But unlike soldiers and park staff, snakes and caiman can’t be bribed.
Still, Nico is a real tour guide. Right? He knew most of the soldiers on patrol at the park.
“We’ll be fine,” I insist as I pull my water bottle frommy pack and charge ahead.
When the trail flattens out a few minutes later, our hike develops its own rhythm. We actually make decent progress until we come to a stream rushing quickly downhill. Sunlight gleams on the surface from overhead.
“It’s not very deep, but the rocks get slippery,” Nico says. “So set your feet carefully.”
The rocks are actually a series of small boulders sticking up from the water, forming a crooked, perilous path to dry—er, muddy—land on the other side.
“Youhaveto be kidding,” Neda groans.
“Come on, Neda, this is an adventure!” My brother slides his arm around her and winks at me over her head.
Nico re-centers his pack on his shoulders and ventures onto the first rock. He makes it across with a series of nimble steps.
“Come on!” Penelope shows him up with the skill of a retired Olympic gymnast, and once Rog and the bros have crossed, I suck in a deep breath and go for it.
Water splatters my calves as I step carefully from rock to rock, resisting the urge to slap at mosquitoes and upset my balance. My foot slides a little on the third boulder, but two steps later I’m across, grinning like an idiot from the adrenaline rush.
Neda and Ryan are the last ones left on the other side. “You got this,” my brother says as Neda steps onto the first rock.
She takes the first four boulders slowly, listening asGenesis and Pen encourage her. Basking in the attention. When she’s down to the last step, arrogance shines in her eyes. Indiana reaches out to steady her, and she clings to him as she makes a bold hop from the last boulder into the mud.
Her couture sandal slides out from under her. Her foot folds at an awkward angle.
Neda’s shrill scream sends birds fleeing from a treetop to our west.
I roll my eyes, sure she’s exaggerating for attention. But before Ryan can make it across the stream, her ankle has swollen so badly that she’s openly lamenting the tragic and premature end of her (nonexistent) career on the runway.
“I need ice!” she cries, while Nico kneels to palpate her injury.
“Lucky for us, this jungle is famously situated over the very last of the Caribbean glaciers,” I tell her.
Indiana and Luke laugh, but Neda only moans louder.
Ryan kneels next to Nico and gently lifts her mud-coated foot. “I’m sure it’s just a sprain, but we’ll wrap it. I have an Ace bandage in my pack.”
She looks at him with actual tears shining in her eyes as he wraps her muddy ankle. “I need to call my orthopedist.”
“Neda,” I snap. “We don’t have ice or cell service. Those are the hallmark traits of ‘off the grid.’”
“Come on, beautiful.” Ryan winks at Domenica as he reaches down to pull Neda up. She flinches when her foot touches the ground. “I’ll give you a ride, and when wemake camp, you can put your foot up.” He hands his bag to me. Then my brother actually kneels in the mud so the spoiled heiress can climb onto his back as if he were a beast of burden!
“Who are you trying to be?” I mumble as I trudge past him. “Prince Charming, or Cinderella’s horse and carriage?”
61 HOURS EARLIER
GENESIS
The first real tears come during Holden’s piggyback shift. “I can feel my ankle expanding by the second,” Neda moans, practically choking him with her arms wrapped around his neck. “What if that’s permanent? They won’t let a girl with jiggly ankles anywhereneara runway.”
“The swelling will go down,” I assure her, before Holden can tell her that it won’t be her ankle keeping her off the runway.
“Are you sure? How far is it to these ruins?” She clutches Holden tighter as he veers around a big rock, and a branch snags in her hair. “I can’t take any more of this jostling. Did anyone pick up my sandal?”
“We have to get rid of her,” I whisper to Nico, while I ignore Penelope’s millionth attempt to catch my gaze. “Or at least shut her up.” I would gag Neda with the strap from her Tom Ford calf-hair clutch, if that wouldn’t be a waste of a damn fine bag.
