Spalko swung out of the jeep and shouldered her pack, breathing in the familiar muggy air. After flying into Iquitos, they'd taken the jeeps as far into the jungle as possible. Just ahead, the rough trail disappeared, swallowed up by shadowy trees and mud. The drivers would take the vehicles back to the American compound in Iquitos, while she and Jones would go on ahead. Ross had provided scientific equipment, weapons, and six footsoldiers, who were currently disembarking behind her. She joined Jones at the edge of the jungle, already sweating in the tropical heat.

One soldier carried a cutlass, and he walked a few meters ahead, clearing a path. She heard the grumble of an engine as the vehicles departed. Jones, outfitted in hiking boots and a worn leather hat, followed the man into the trees. Spalko followed quietly, and the rest of the men took their places at the rear. They estimated that it would take a week to reach Akator, then another few days to collect additional samples. By the tight set of his jaw, Spalko guessed that Jones wasn't happy about being back in the Amazon. His face was red with sunburn, and the back of his neck was shielded by a tattered bandana.

She matched his stride. "I doubt we'll find anything of interest at Akator. The ruins have been exposed to the elements for nearly a year."

He squinted at her. "That's pessimistic..."

She hummed noncommittally, placing her feet carefully on the muddy ground. "Perhaps. But it's wise to temper our expectations."

He shook his head. "You're not excited to be returning to Akator?"

"Of course I am." She hadn't entirely let go of the notion that, if they found something significant at Akator, she could use this knowledge to reingratiate herself with the politburo. Relieved as she was that her attempt to return to the gulag had failed, she still hoped to reconcile with the USSR.

"When we met, you were obsessed with the place."

Spalko shrugged. She supposed it was a fair characterization – Akator had been the culmination of her life's work, and she had been fiercely determined to seize its treasures. But the past few months had made her cynical, and now she cared about nothing more than regaining what she had lost.

"It was meant to be my crowning achievement-"

Jones cut her off with a wave of his hand, stopping abruptly. There was a rush of air above her head, then one of the men dropped to the ground, clutching his throat. Spalko dropped to a crouch, instinctively reaching for her pistol. A second later, a barrage of arrows began raining from the trees, and she heard shouts from the soldiers arrayed behind her. She fired a few shots into the forest, scanning the underbrush for the source of the arrows. The shadows made it difficult to distinguish anything, and there was another scream as the cutlass-wielding soldier collapsed, bleeding from the side.

"Get down!"

She felt a rough push, and she stumbled, face hitting the dirt. Above her, Jones yelped, then muttered a string of curses. She felt the displacement of air as arrows landed around her, then lifted her head, firing a round in the direction of the shots. There was a rustle in the treetops, and she wondered if her bullets had found their mark.

Jones was still standing, hand clamped over his forearm. Blood leaked from under his fingers and dribbled onto the ground. She grimaced.

Springing to her feet, she spun around, still unable to spot their attackers. She fired a final shot into the trees, and the arrows seemed to taper off. Waving her hands in the air, she bellowed for the men to regroup.

The soldier who had been shot in the neck was dead, and the other was doubled over in pain, hands pressed to his side. Spalko approached.

"Radio the jeeps," she ordered. "This one isn't fit for travel."

Kneeling, she inspected the soldier. His face was white, and his hand was wrapped around the arrow protruding from his abdomen. He whimpered under his breath.

"Keep him conscious, and do not attempt to remove the arrow. You-" she pointed to another soldier "—Watch the trees. If you spot anything, start firing."

She heard the squawk of the radio, and she turned back to Jones, brushing mud from her face. The return trip to Akator was off to an inauspicious start.


By the time they made camp, it was raining torrentially, and Indy was soaked to the skin. His forearm stung beneath the bandages, and he was sunk to his ankles in mud. They didn't bother with a fire, instead handing out MREs and dismissing the remaining men to their tents. Indy slipped off his waterlogged boots before going inside, stooping to pass through the tent flap.

"Good evening." In the fading light, Spalko looked as bedraggled as he did, hair wet and sticking to her forehead, clothes spattered with mud. She had taken off her jacket, and her exposed shoulders were mottled with mosquito bites. She waved a roll of bandages in his direction.

"Let me see your wound."

Indy dropped down obediently, sitting on his heels. "It's barely a scratch."

"Nevertheless, it's important to avoid infection."

She carefully unknotted the bandage and discarded it, staring critically at the jagged hole in his arm. Retrieving a bottle of sterile alcohol, she poured a little into the cap and let it drip over his forearm. Indy winced at the sting. Finally, she covered the wound with a layer of gauze and replaced the bandages.

"It's finished." Her hand lingered on his arm.

"Thanks."

The light had dwindled to nothing, and Indy retrieved his bedroll, careful to arrange the mosquito net over his head. Outside was the faint flash of a lantern and the heavy steps of the soldier on watch. A light rain hissed against the tarp above their heads, and Indy could feel the temperature dropping. Pulling the blanket over his legs, he set his hat aside.

Spalko had returned the medical supplies to her pack, and she stretched out beneath her own mosquito net. Without a word, she reached out and found his hand, and he wove his fingers with hers.

"I'm concerned about the possibility of more attacks," she said quietly. "We can't afford to lose additional men."

Indy nodded in agreement, then realized she probably couldn't see him in the darkness. "The local tribes don't appreciate trespassers," he supplied. "The best thing to do is to pass through as quickly as possible."

"—And make sure we have superior firepower," she said drily.

Indy winced. "I'd like this expedition to be as bloodless as possible."

"Too late for that." There was a silence, and he felt her hand go slack.

"Irina?"

She exhaled heavily. "What if we find nothing at Akator?"

"Then it's back to square one, I suppose."

"Not for me. Ross will not forgive my failure." Her voice dropped to an uneasy whisper.

"Shh," he murmured, inching closer until their shoulders touched. "I'm sure Ross understands that you can't just snap your fingers-"

"—And I need to succeed for other reasons. Reasons I cannot share."

Indy shrugged one shoulder and stared at the canvas above his head. He suspected Spalko would attempt to bring any findings back to the USSR, and he assumed that Ross was expecting the same. He wished fervently that Irina would give up the idea of returning to Russia. The labor camp would kill her, either through cold or malnutrition or random violence. Indy wasn't ready to admit that he loved her, not with Marion's ghost still lingering in his thoughts, but the thought of harm befalling Irina was heart-wrenching.

"I already know."

"Prove it," she challenged.

"You want to bring your findings back to the Soviet Union."

When she didn't respond, he continued. "However, Ross has to know that you will attempt this. He'll try to stop you."

"Let him try," she spat.

The determination in her voice was frightening. Indy squeezed her hand. "Irina, please. You have nothing left in the Soviet Union. A few lab reports won't dissuade them from killing you."

The words were harsh, and Indy almost regretted them. He waited for Spalko to raise her voice, to storm out of the tent. But she only muttered:

"I am afraid of that outcome."

"I know. When I lost my position at the university, when I tried to flee the country, I felt gutted. I'd served my country in the war, I'd recited the Pledge of Allegiance every goddamn day. But as soon as those agents showed up at my door, everything was obliterated. It's a horrible feeling."

She nodded, and the motion was barely visible in the dimness. After a moment, she patted his hand. "For you, Jones, I will consider it."

Indy supposed that was enough. Ducking back under his mosquito net, he shut his eyes and let sleep overtake him.


Spalko awoke to a bright light against her closed eyelids. The air was heavy and acrid, and she struggled for breath, batting the mosquito net away from her face. She opened her eyes to see the flicker of flames just outside the tent, and a haze of smoke hanging in the air. Jones was snoring loudly, and she reached out to shake his shoulder, snatching up her jacket from the ground. Shoving her feet into her boots, she ducked through the door, Jones following groggily behind.

"What-"

The encampment was on fire. Two tents were completely engulfed in flames, while their food stores – hoisted between two trees to deter animals – were a pile of ash. One soldier appeared out of the darkness, clothes singed and eyes red and watering.

"Fire!" He shouted, doubling over to cough into his hands.

Jones stepped towards him. "How did it start?"

"I don't know, sir. Rossi and I woke up to the smoke, and he dragged me out right before the whole thing went up—"

"Spalko! Can you do a headcount?" Jones sounded calm and authoritative, and she nodded.

Rossi was standing near the burning tents, tossing buckets of water towards the flames. A moment later, another man appeared at the edge of the clearing, dragging another bucket from the nearby creek. Spalko took it from him and threw it over the tent.

"Soldier! Where are the others?"

"All accounted for but Novak."

She spun around, scanning the clearing for the missing soldier. Finding nothing, she jogged back to Jones, keeping her sleeve over her mouth.

"All but one are accounted for-" she shouted, looking over her shoulder at the conflagration. "Is anyone-"

"-No one is inside the tents, ma'am."

Spalko felt a chill creeping up her back. Something was suspicious here, but she had no time to reflect. Returning to the tents, she took her place beside Rossi, throwing water over the flames.

By sunrise, the fire had been extinguished, and ash floated through the air like snow. Jones was covered head to toe in soot, and his face was streaked with sweat. The remaining three soldiers were similarly unkempt, and their faces displayed their exhaustion. Spalko gestured for them to sit.

"At ease."

They settled on the ground, and Jones clapped his hands. "Who was the last person to see Novak?"

"Me, sir." A slim, dark eyed man lifted his chin. "Last night. We were sharing a tent. I woke up when I smelled smoke, and he was already gone."

Spalko glanced at Jones, and he shook his head slightly.

"I find it a little suspicious, sir," Rossi interjected, brushing the ask from his palms.

"How so?" Spalko questioned, feeling the same shiver of unease.

"The tents were still damp from the rain last night. No one brought cigarettes. We didn't even light a campfire."

"Your reasoning is sound, Private Rossi."

Jones raised a finger. "Spalko and I will discuss this further. For now, please see what's salvageable from the tents. We'll move out in an hour."

"Aren't we going to look for Novak, sir?" The skinny man protested.

"No. It seems he's deserted."

"But-"

"—We will not tolerate insubordination," Spalko snapped, waving her hand to silence him. "Prepare to move out."


Indy walked a few yards ahead of the men, Spalko close behind him. After the previous day's attack, they both held loaded pistols, and Indy scanned the trees automatically, looking for the rustle of leaves or the glint of an arrowhead. The mission was off to a disastrous start, and the circumstances of the fire weighed heavily on his mind. His lungs ached from smoke inhalation, and his fatigues were covered in a gray film of ash. Idly clicking the safety of his handgun, he turned to Spalko.

"How much more can go wrong?" He sighed.

She scowled. Her face and hair were caked with soot. "This isn't a matter of bad luck or poor planning. I believe Novak set that fire."

Indy had the same feeling, but he reminded himself to be skeptical. "The timing of his disappearance is suspicious, yes. But what motive would he have?"

Spalko shrugged. "Perhaps he witnessed someone else setting the fire and was killed to keep him quiet."

"Who?"

"The tribe that fired on us yesterday?"

"Maybe. But why not just shoot a few arrows? They're quieter and arguably more deadly."

She looked thoughtful. "That is a fair point."

Indy returned his gun to the holster. "Until we get to the bottom of this, I think we should assign watches. Make the soldiers double up, just in case there's another traitor in the ranks."

"That's wise." She nodded approvingly.

"Y'know, we make a pretty good team."

She looked down, but Indy didn't miss her grin. He resisted the urge to take her hand, instead letting his fingers brush her arm for a moment.

"It's better than being enemies, as during our previous trip to Akator."

This time, he was the one who smiled. "I wholeheartedly agree."