Ginger streaked through the tropical foliage, not stopping to notice its beauty. She was too angry.
I should have hit him. How dare he leave Mary Ann to die, just like a half crushed ant…
Shading her eyes against the pounding rain, she stepped up her pace a bit. She stole another glance at the inky sky. If this kept up…
She never got a chance to finish the thought.
She felt herself go flying, and then her face hit the soaked ground. Pain streaked throughout her head, and for a moment she was unable to get to her feet. When she did, her vision swirled with all different colors. Still, she turned around, wondering what on earth she'd tripped on.
The answer was not difficult to find.
"Skipper!" she exclaimed, dropping to her knees. The portly man was pinned under an enormous tree trunk, his face betraying exhaustion and strain.
"Ginger?" he asked weakly.
"Yes. How did this happen?"
"I…I was headed back to camp and lightening struck that tree." His shaking finger pointed to a stump nearby. "This is the rest of it." He shook his head ask if to clear it, then inquired, "Did you have any luck?"
She sighed. "I found the Professor, but he refuses to come. You see…" she paused for a moment, wondering if she ought to tell him the teacher's reason. "He was very close to a girl who died from appendicitis, in the wilderness, under the attempted surgery of an amateur."
Those words hung in the air for a few moments, almost, it seemed to Ginger, out of respect for Katie.
"Well," the captain wiped some rain out of his eyes, "I guess I'd better get out of here if I expect to do anything for Mary Ann."
She inclined her head in agreement, even though he'd obviously failed at doing just that since he'd been trapped.
They say you can have a burst of strength when you're trying to save someone you love. I wonder…
"Skipper, I'll pull and you push."
The man was hesitant, as if he didn't know whether a lady ought to be involved in such activity, but finally gave his silent consent.
"One, two, three!" She yanked up on the edge of the branch.
It must weigh a ton. Literally…
"Ginger, please, a little slower?"
She bit her lip but nodded, waiting until he was ready before beginning again.
"One…two…three!"
Despite a slight strain on her arms, the branch seemed to rise with greater ease. She climbed under the gap between it and the ground to offer a bit more support. Slowly it rose another inch. Her companion grunted.
Just a little more Skipper, and then you're home free…
But then, without warning, the wood collapsed onto her hands alone as his arms gave out. The strength he'd had was gone.
Unable to keep it in place by herself, it slipped out of her grasp. She fell to the ground in a fetal position, the very image of pain, as the heavy trunk snared her too.
###
"Thurston?"
"Yes, Lovey?"
"How…how much time do we have left?"
Mr. Howell pulled out his pocket watch and sheltered it from the rain with his hand as he opened it.
"Four minutes."
His wife sighed. "I'm worried. Desperately worried. What if no one finds the Professor?"
"The Skipper said he'd do it if that happened." The millionaire's voice was sharper than he'd intended, but it did mask the fact that he was just as worried as his better half.
"I know what he said. But…what if something goes wrong and the captain doesn't know what to do?"
He sighed and put his arm around her shoulders as they turned in the direction of camp. "All we can do is hope, Lovey."
It was a rare sentiment for him to express, but they'd long since stopped calling for the Professor to come out and claim his reward if he operated. They'd come to terms with the fact that it wasn't doing any good.
And they barely knew any coaxing tactics that didn't require money.
Suddenly, Mrs. Howell came to a halt. It was as though her ears practically perked up. Her husband stopped alongside her.
"Lovey? Lovey, do you hear something?"
She nodded, a slight smile painted on her lips. She extended her hand and pointed to a cave ahead.
"I think the Professor is rustling around in there." She took his hand and began tiptoeing toward it. He matched her pace.
Slowly they edged up to the side and looked in. They were faced with what seemed to be a never-ending darkness.
"He's probably trying to catch up on lost sleep." Lovey whispered. "Come on, darling. Let's go in."
"But Lovey, you know I'm afraid of the dark."
She sighed dramatically. "Alright. If you want to tarnish the Howell name…"
Her husband went red in the face. "Of course, unless it's cave darkness. I love cave darkness."
The two of them made their way in. The rustling continued, much more loudly now, and with each step the darkness seemed to grow blacker and blacker.
"Lovey, are you sure this was the cave?"
"Of course I'm sure. Why…" She paused as she felt something tug on her leg. Her hand tightened on her husband's.
"Professor? Is that you?"
"No, it's me. Whose hand do you think you've been holding this entire time?"
"I didn't mean that, Thurston, I meant…" The both drew in a gasp as several pairs of flickering yellow dots surfaced about a meter above the ground. The light just vaguely illuminated a dog-like figure.
"That?" The millionaire asked.
"Exactly. I think he pulled on my leg."
They backed off quietly, hoping not to advance the dog's interest in them any further.
But the canine was not so easily fooled. He darted forward, an army of those yellow dots—eyes, they supposed—behind him. His own glowed blood red.
"Easy, boy." Mr. Howell soothed, in the same tone as he would speak to his polo ponies.
It didn't work nearly as well.
Before they knew what was happening they'd been knocked off their feet, teeth clamped around their extremities as the creatures dragged them into the back of their lair. After a journey that seemed to last for miles, the dogs seemed happy with their location and thrust them upon what almost seemed to be a natural stone altar. They were both winded and frightened but, miraculously, for the most part seemed unhurt.
"Thurston, what are those things?"
"I don't know, Lovey. Here, take my hand."
She did, and that was how they sat, alone and afraid as the giant beasts began a nightmarish dance around the altar.