by Becky Wicks
‘That’s one hell of a fall from grace,’ someone said, and people started twittering amongst themselves again.
Ryan noticed Madeline still wasn’t laughing. He also noticed tears in her eyes, and the way she was glancing at the camera, which was pointed straight at her.
‘That’s enough,’ he said quickly, stepping forward and putting his palm over the lens.
Jake stepped backwards, his face popping out from behind the viewfinder. ‘Ryan, that was gold!’
‘She doesn’t want to be on film. We discussed this, didn’t we?’
‘I was told to film everything.’
‘Well, I’m telling you not to.’
He turned around, but Madeline was gone.
‘Don’t follow me,’ he said gruffly to the cameraman. He nodded at the tarantulas, still stationary. ‘And get rid of those...before their friends come looking for them.’
He marched out of the dining hall into the rain, spun around, but couldn’t see her. Then he spotted a blur of white tank top heading towards her tent.
Pulling his shirt up over his head, he sprinted across the grass. The sound of frogs and cicadas was almost as loud as the rain. He watched her unzip the door hurriedly, getting it stuck halfway.
But before he could reach her he saw the two local kids who’d been sitting with Maria running up to her.
‘Miss! Miss!’ they were calling.
‘Oh, hi,’ he heard her say in surprise as he moved closer.
He watched her swiping at her face to clear away what was obviously embarrassment and tears as much as rain. One of the kids in a yellow shirt threw his arms around her waist and she stood there for a moment, seemingly unsure of what to do.
‘Can we see?’ he heard the boy ask, pointing to her tent.
‘Curious, are you?’ Ryan said, walking up to them.
The kids thought nothing of running around in the rain—they were used to it.
Madeline looked at him. The kids’ arms were still locked around her.
‘You can see inside,’ she said kindly, untangling the arms from around her and finishing unzipping the door. ‘Actually, I have something for you.’
Madeline got to her knees and crawled to her backpack. The kids followed after her.
‘Room for one more?’ Ryan asked, squeezing inside. He reached for one of the boys—the one in the yellow shirt—tickling his feet until he was giggling wildly.
Madeline handed them each a colouring book, and a set of pencils between them. They looked elated.
Ryan was touched. He leaned on one elbow on the groundsheet beside her. ‘You OK?’
She lifted her swollen eyes to the canvas ceiling, let out a long sigh and watched the kids roll onto their tummies and start to colour. ‘He got all that on camera. I almost made a tree fall down with that scream.’
‘He won’t use it.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I told him not to.’
She met his eyes, and mouthed Thank you over the kids’ heads.
The little boy looked up. ‘Why you cry, miss?’ he asked.
Madeline put a hand out to touch his damp hair. ‘I saw something scary,’ she said.
‘A tarantula,’ Ryan followed up.
The boy beamed, showing gappy teeth. ‘Tarantula not scary.’
‘To me they are,’ Madeline said. She looked at Ryan, ‘Especially when they fall an inch from your dinner plate.’
The kid put his pencil down, got to his feet and pulled his friend up. ‘Vamos!’
‘What?’ Madeline laughed now.
‘Vamos!’
She got to her feet, followed him outside, and Ryan went with them. The light was fading fast but he had a vague idea what the boys were going to show her.
They took her hands, one on either side of her, and led her to the same area where he’d strung up his hammock. The rain was still falling, but covered by the trees it was less noticeable.
They pulled Madeline to a thick tree trunk and dropped her hands, busying themselves walking around the tree, peering at it closely.
‘Home!’ one of them exclaimed after a moment. ‘Look!’
Ryan put a hand to Madeline’s elbow gently, throwing her a warning look. She frowned and turned to where they were pointing, then walked as close as she could to the tree and peered into a hole in the bark.
‘Wow!’ She stepped backwards, then seemed to compose herself.
The kids were giggling again, pointing to another hole in the bark. ‘Spider house!’ The youngest one giggled, tugging on her shirt.
Each hole in the tree was indeed a house. Ryan knew it well. Nestled inside each cosy mossy crevice was a giant tarantula, just waiting for nightfall.
‘They come out when it’s dark and hang out on the tree,’ he explained.
Madeline scrunched her face up just long enough for him to note her disdain, but he admired how she tried to look excited for the boys.
‘Wow, that’s great,’ she said.
‘They’re not so scary when you see them like this, are they?’ Ryan replied.
He couldn’t help the smile stretching out his face.
CHAPTER EIGHT
MADELINE DISAGREED. THEY were tarantulas. They were terrifying wherever they were—not that she wanted to make even more of a fool of herself than she already had. She half expected the kids to reach into the holes and grab a few, start stroking them like cuddly toys just to prove a point.
She backed away and was surprised when Ryan held his shirt above their heads to shelter them both as he led them back to their tents.
‘Probably should have brought an umbrella,’ he said, catching her glance.
She smiled at the gentleman emerging in him now, with the more time they spent together, and walked close to him, letting the kids back into her tent with her to collect their colouring books and promising she would see them again tomorrow. Then she watched them scurry off into the jungle as Ryan took their place in the tiny space.
‘Amazing,’ she said wistfully, aware that he was filling up pretty much every inch of spare room in her tent; it was a thin canvas bubble for the two of them. His shirt was wet, as was hers, and the sound of the rain on the canvas was louder now than ever. ‘The kids, I mean.’
‘They’re pretty amazing, yes,’ he said, leaning on one arm and stretching out.
His feet were almost touching the door. He looked as though he was making himself comfortable...as though he had no intention of leaving just yet. Madeline hadn’t laid out her bed sheets yet—which she was now pretty glad about. Otherwise he would literally be lying on her bed alongside her. The thought made her nervous.
‘Extremely resilient. They literally have no fear. Sometimes gets them in trouble, though.’
‘I can imagine.’ She swallowed.
‘It was great of you to bring the colouring books. You’re going to be pretty popular round here if you’re planning on pulling moves like that.’
‘I bought a few in Rio.’ She reached for her pack and pulled out her notebook. She didn’t want to admit—even to herself—how she’d frozen the moment that little kid’s arms had wrapped around her. All she’d seen was Toby. But she couldn’t think about Toby now. She couldn’t think about his little arms around her on the ward at the hospital, his big brown eyes, the look on his mother’s face when...
She took a deep breath. While Ryan was here she was determined to get some more answers from him. She was pretty up to speed on his youth now, but the closer they got to the present day, the more he seemed to skate awkwardly around her questions. She’d warm him up, she decided, by asking him something easy.
But he was looking at her quizzically. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked.
‘Nothing,’ she said, too quickly. I was just thinking...about the spiders. Being on camera
looking like an idiot.’
‘I told you—they won’t use the footage. What else is on your mind?’
She looked at him and shrugged, flummoxed. How could he tell she had been thinking about more than the spiders? Was it because he could read the pain in her eyes the way she could sometimes read it in his?
‘Nothing. So—I’m guessing you’re a bit better prepared for this kind of adventure than me. What do you bring with you in your pack? Aside from the usual equipment and your hammock, I mean? You must need a different kit wherever you go...mountains, desert, jungle...’
She watched him stroke a hand across his chin, then take his hat off. He was literally three inches from her damp skin, and in the silence the symphony of crickets, frogs and raindrops seemed to rush through her like another pulse. Everything around them and between them was alive.
‘You’re right—it’s different every time. But some things stay the same. I never go anywhere without my multi-tool.’
‘What’s that?’ she asked, scribbling it down.
‘Only the manliest tool in the world!’ He reached into one of his pockets and pulled out something that looked like a penknife, flipped out one of the blades. ‘It has a million features—the manufacturers sponsored Season Two of the show, didn’t you see that?’
‘I wasn’t watching it for the sponsors.’
She could hear the smile in his voice when he carried on with his answer. ‘And I carry anti-venom, of course.’
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘Over one hundred thousand people die every year from snakebites. I saw that on one of your shows, I think.’
‘Impressive memory. Wait one second.’
He crawled back out of the tent, and seconds later crawled back in again holding another fabric case. He opened it, revealing a vial and two long, plastic tubes.
‘I always keep these around. Hope to God I never need them, but you should know how to use this kit if you don’t already.’
‘That’s OK. I’m sure plenty of people here know how to use it,’ she said, eyeing the tubes warily.
‘You’re right, but still... We have anti-venom for most snakes out here. Simple to use—just get as much info as possible about what bit, then inject the right anti-venom into the elbow crease right here.’
He squeezed her in the spot he’d indicated, gently, making her pulse quicken again.
‘You’ve done that before, I’m sure.’
‘Yes, but like I’ve already said I’m not here to—’
‘I’m sure you wouldn’t worry too much about making excuses if someone urgently needed your help.’ He put the vial and tubes down and rested on his elbow next to her. ‘You haven’t so far, at least.’
She bit her tongue.
‘I also have a fire stick and a sharpener somewhere—oh, and we all get given a sat phone push-to-talk in case we ever get separated. I have a roll of gaffer tape, too—you never know when you’ll need that—and a water purifier. Someone usually has rice and a stove in their pack in case we have to stray from camp—takes no time to use, plus it’s light.’
‘You’re literally prepared for everything?’
He nodded. ‘Have to be. Here in the jungle, though, a good knife and my British army boots are compulsory.’ He motioned to the heavy black boots on his feet. ‘These are something you Brits do very well. Oh, and my hammock. Naturally.’
‘Everything but an umbrella,’ she teased.
‘And the kitchen sink.’
‘Ryan...’
She put her pen down, sat cross-legged and faced him. He was playing with his penknife now, flipping things open and closed absent-mindedly...the bottle-opener, the wire-cutter. She felt as if the tent was closing in—as though a flame had just been lit inside...one that could at any moment become a fire.
She took another breath. Then she let the question slide off her tongue. ‘What’s the most dangerous situation you’ve ever been in?’
She knew it was brave. Reckless, even. She just had to see what he’d say.
He flipped the knife blade out and in again, loudly, looking as though he was mulling the question over in his mind. ‘Most dangerous?’
‘Yes.’
He smirked. ‘Being in the middle of the Amazon with amorous tarantulas falling from ceilings isn’t dangerous enough for you?’
‘I’ve seen you deal with worse,’ she said, feeling her heart thumping against her damp clothes.
‘Well, there was the pair of hikers we had to treat for hypothermia when they went off track in Iceland. Almost got screwed ourselves when the helicopter dropped us down on the winch and couldn’t lift us out again because of the wind.’
‘I saw that one,’ she said. ‘What about...?’ She paused, wondering how best to phrase it—how far she could push it. She was treading on eggshells now. ‘What about off-camera? Has there ever been anything so dangerous that you weren’t allowed to broadcast it on television? Or talk about it afterwards?’
Ryan snapped the blade on his penknife closed one final time, then shoved it into his pocket. His icy eyes looked dark when he met hers.
He got to his knees. ‘We show everything that happens, Madeline.’
‘Except when you say not to, right?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Like when women scream over falling spiders?’
He narrowed his eyes. ‘The producers and editors have the final say.’
‘Except when you’re adamant that something isn’t shown. Am I right?’
‘I knew this was a mistake.’
He turned from her, started unzipping the tent, his fingers an angry blur. Madeline got on all fours and crawled closer to the door.
‘Where are you going?’
‘To my tent. We’re done here.’
‘What just happened?’
Ryan moved to step out, but turned at the last minute, bringing his face right up to hers. The trees were swaying behind him and the wind rushed in with the rain, making her shiver in spite of the heat.
‘I told you we’d start at the beginning,’ he growled.
‘That’s what we’re doing!’
She’d blown it. She felt as if she was talking to a completely different person.
‘I don’t appreciate this hidden agenda. I know what you really want to ask me, Madeline, and I don’t want to talk about it.’
Her insides were twisting more and more by the second at his anger and at his words, thick and cold like ancient lava.
She forced her face to stay neutral and mirrored his stance, sitting on her haunches. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘But I’m writing your memoir, Ryan. You have to at least appreciate that your publishers are asking me questions about what happened that day...what you don’t want anyone to know...’
‘They’re asking you to call me out. They want you to prove that the perfect, selfless hero you see on the television isn’t real... They want it from the horse’s mouth, don’t they? So the world can get a kick out of how the mighty fall.’
Madeline was stunned. ‘What? Why would anyone do that?’
‘You tell me.’
‘I would never write anything to hurt you or compromise your integrity.’
‘We both know that’s what they want so they can get more sales!’
‘That doesn’t mean we can’t write it properly—say what you want to say...’
‘Damn it, Maddy, I don’t want to say anything at all!’
His hand was still on the tent’s doorway and she watched helplessly as he unzipped the rest of it roughly and crawled out.
‘Wait, Ryan—can we just talk about this?’ she pleaded, sticking her head out into the rain after him.
But he was walking through the expanding puddles of mud, back towards the dining hall. She looked at the vial of anti-snake venom in its pack, still on t
he floor. Through the rain now striking viciously at everything in its path, Madeline could barely even see Ryan any more.
CHAPTER NINE
THE JUNGLE, RYAN thought from his place in the hammock, was merely a microcosm of the world in its entirety—a giant muddle of monsters trying not to look as if they’d eat you alive if they had to.
He sipped his coffee from the warm metal mug and thought that this might be something he’d tell Madeline for the memoir—after all, he’d seen a lot of the world, battled to save many of those harmed by the monsters in it.
But then he remembered with a small sigh that he was going to steer clear of Madeline for a while.
He’d seen her at breakfast, talking to Evan, who was just back from the hospital in Manaus with good news, thankfully. She’d glanced up and their eyes had met over the dining bench. He swore he’d seen her hand rise in cautious greeting, but he’d turned from her, grabbed his caffeine fix and some fruit and headed straight here.
He didn’t want to make small talk and he damn well wasn’t going to apologise to her either; he wasn’t going to do anything with the cameras lurking like jaguars waiting to pounce.
‘Ryan!’
A voice calling his name almost made him spill his coffee. He sprung up from the hammock as Maria came into view, wearing her Medical Extremes uniform.
‘Sorry to interrupt, but could we have your assistance?’
He was already walking towards her, annoyed with himself for hiding away too long. ‘Of course, I was just finishing up. What’s happened?’
‘Skin condition and a fever with it. Evan and the other guys went back to the landing pad for the rest of the supplies.’
‘I’m on it,’ he said, walking faster with her towards the stations, kicking himself internally.
If he hadn’t left the dining hall when discussions about fetching more supplies were underway he’d have known to be there already. Annoyance made his brow crease—Madeline was already affecting his work. All the more reason to stay away from her.