Within three minutes, the Americans had reached the side of the mountain. Their eyes took only a moment to adjust to the darkness; they then commenced their lengthy walk down the mountain. Suddenly, Amy began to moan.
"Ohhh.
"What's the matter, Amy?" Gil asked in a quiet tone.
"I'm just getting dizzy. I'm okay, though." Gil reached out to steady his friend. "Thanks, Gil," Amy replied. "I don't know—it's a weird feeling."
"Well, do think you want to take a rest, Amy?" Sergeant Smith asked gently. "We don't have a lot of time to spare, but we could take a break for a minute if you think you have to."
"No, I suppose I'll be alright. Just need to…" She then sucked in a deep breath of air. "Whew. Yeah, I think I'll be fine."
"Well, okay, but you let us know if you begin to feel badly again," John answered.
"Thank you. Sorry about that," Amy smiled.
The group of Americans commenced to shimmy their way back down the mountain. Sergeant Smith made sure that at least two of the trekkers held tightly to Amy, guaranteeing her safety. The young woman did not object. When they had reached a small platform they rested on it for a moment. Now, Amy began to complain of her head hurting.
"Ohhh, I'm getting a headache!" Amy moaned.
"Where does it hurt?" the sergeant asked.
"Right here," the girl answered, pointing to her left temple.
Sergeant Smith reached over and massaged the point which Amy had signified as being in pain. The dirt and dust on his hand scratched the girl's smooth skin, but Amy did not appear to notice this. A smile even crept onto her face.
"Oh, thank you. Thank you so much."
Gil slipped his arm around Amy's slim waist. She glanced over at him, and smiled. It was amazing to him how his female friend could smile in any situation, even ones that threatened her very life.
"Come on, Amy. Let's go. I'll help you."
Suddenly, the contented smile left her face as quickly as it had come. In its place rose a terrified, pained expression. Gil stared back at his friend.
"What?" he whispered.
"Oh, Gil!" Amy mumbled hoarsely. "It hurts!"
"What hurts? Your head?" John asked.
"My whole body!" the girl continued, her voice growing slightly louder and more panicked.
"Well, can you go on?" Gil inquired.
Instead of a verbal answer, quick, shallow breathing was Amy's reply. Her green eyes darted around at nothing in particular.
"Oh, my! Oh, my!" Amy managed to exclaim between gasps.
"What's the matter with you, Amy?" the sergeant asked.
"Gosh, I'll bet it's because of that mission I sent her on," Gil shook his head. "She's probably having repercussions from it."
"No, no," John answered quickly. "It's not that."
"Maybe it's another vision!" Gil suggested.
"What vision?" Specialist Howard inquired.
"Amy, is it another vision?" Gil asked his friend, ignoring the military man's question.
"No! Something's gripping me!"
The younger Marino brother glanced down at his own arm, still holding Amy's waist. He quickly pulled his arm away.
"Sorry, I think that was me," he replied sheepishly.
"No, Gil! Hold me! Hold me tight!" Amy pleaded hysterically.
She firmly clutched her friend's wrists. Gil glanced toward his partners with a confused shake of his head. His companions only returned the expression.
"Oh, Gil!"
The young man, in return, pulled her close to him, but Amy continued breathing frantically.
"Is she hyperventilating?" Specialist Howard asked.
"I don't know. I can't tell." Gil answered. "Amy, what's the matter?"
"I… I'm…"
Without warning, she crumpled to the rocky floor. Even with Gil holding solidly to her, Amy hit hard. She had released her unusual iron grip from her friend's wrists, and landed on the ground on all fours. Hanging her head low, she then began coughing uncontrollably, spitting on the ground directly below her. For a second, the coughs seemed to subside, and Amy sucked in breaths of the dusty, polluted air, her chest shaking from the abnormally strong heaves. Tears began rolling down her cheeks—tears of fear and of anxiety. The drops began to fall from her face, splashing onto the rocks below.
The group of Americans just watched, not knowing exactly what could relieve Amy of her astonishing behavior. Although both of the military men had been thoroughly trained on what actions to use to the event of an emergency, this behavior utterly stumped them. Gil began to reach out to comfort his companion, but John lightly placed his left hand on his brother's shoulder, silently signaling him to leave Amy alone. The former nodded slightly to indicate his recognition of his brother's command to withdraw.
Amy again entered a fit of terrifying coughs. Her body shook with each and every sputter, causing her to grip the loose stones that had been littered on the ground. Then, with one cough, small droplets of blood appeared on the rocks, creating red splotches. Gil blinked his eyes at the sight before him. What in the world could have caused this sudden outbreak? His companions reflected his baffled appearance; not one member of the quartet could identify her illness.
From this point, each cough that she emitted splattered drops of crimson blood on the dirt-coated stones. Finally, Gil could not stand watching this ghastly scene any longer. He dropped to his knees beside his beloved friend and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, attempting to hold her up. Amy answered this action by throwing her arms around his neck and sobbing into his shirt. A single line of blood flowed from her mouth, staining Gil's sweaty t-shirt.
"Oh, Gil! What is happening to me?" Amy moaned.
"I don't know. Just hold on to me, and don't let go!"
"I will never let go!" Amy responded. The tears that streamed down her face mingled with the small amount of blood trailing from her mouth. "Never!"
Suddenly, her firm grasp weakened strangely, and small shakes rippled throughout her entire body. The young man only held her tighter, attempting to steady her, but it was in vain. The tremors only grew more violent, until Amy trembled uncontrollably.
"Oh, God! Somebody help me!" Her voice had escalated to a shrill scream. The frantic tone seemed to breathe life into the frozen figures standing in the darkness in front of her. At simultaneous moments, they sprang into action, rushing toward the thrashing girl. With a quick wave of his hand, Gil signaled for his fellow Americans to remain behind him. They obeyed. Still gasping for air, Amy again opened her mouth to scream.
"You're going away!" Amy began to shriek. "Lord, help me! You're all going away!"
Gil glanced in confusion at his brother, then grabbed Amy's wrists.
"No, Amy! I'm right here!"
"No, no, no!" the girl continued to scream. "You're leaving me. All of you! John. Sergeant Smith. Specialist Howard. Even you, Gil. I didn't think you would forsake me! But you are! You're going away!"
Gil gritted his teeth and squeezed the crazed girl close to him.
"I will not let you go! Do you understand me?"
"Gil! Gil!" Amy sobbed, her eyes shining as if on fire.
Suddenly, the frightened glow left her eyes as they began to shut. Her grip on her friend's wrists weakened, but Gil reached around and held her by the waist. He could feel Amy beginning to go limp. She slowly crumpled backward, her head collapsing awkwardly back. All was silent. Again, Gil slowly looked toward his companions, knowing neither what to think nor what to do. And again, his friends returned the empty stare.