When Mike arrives, I am in the river bathing. I wave at him wildly, excitement coursing through me. He hops down from his plane and by the time we reach one another we collide with such force that it takes my breath away.

“I’ve been so lonely.”

He kisses the side of my head. “Sorry, babe. I came as soon as I could.”

I inhale his scent and nuzzle my face into the spot where his neck and shoulder meet. He leans back just enough so that my feet are lifted from the ground and spins us around.

“What’s for dinner?” he asks setting me on the ground.

I jab my fists into my hips and glare at him. “Do I look like your cook?”

Mike laughs. The sound is deep and joyful and it almost makes me forget that while I cling to him here, alone in the jungle, I don’t know why I’m still here. I don’t know if Mike is truly my savior or just another captor. He works for the bad guys. Or, contracted for them. I’m free of harm but not free and my mind goes round and round with questions.

“Lucky for you, I brought some groceries.”

I roll my eyes and slip on my flip flops while Mike picks up the bags he brought. I can smell the bread even though it’s still packaged.

“I killed a spider yesterday all by myself,” I say. “It tried to attack me in the tent.”

Again, I’m graced with Mike’s laugh. “Another Daddy Long Legs?”

“No! I swear. It was brown and had a funny pattern on its fat ass. I grabbed my flip flop and beat it to death in a fit of fury.”

“Aubry, you have to be careful. That sounds like a poisonous spider. You have to be better about zipping up the tent all the way. What if it bit you when I wasn’t here?”

“Exactly,” I shout. “What if it did? Jesus, Mike, you can’t leave me out here alone forever. When are we going home?”

He kicks a pile of leaves, his big boots making a dust cloud at his motion. “Aubry, we’ve gone ‘round and round on this.”

“With no real answer. I want to go home.”

“I know.”

“Do you? You can’t know. You get to go home. I’m the one stuck here. Eating shitty camping food and shitting in the jungle and having God knows what kind of bugs attack me.”

He’s biting his bottom lip, stifling a laugh and I want to throttle him. I charge him, my flip flop clad feet kicking through a small leaf pile as I go.

“Ouch!”  I crumble to the ground and clutch my ankle before seeing the offending pain causer and screaming.  Mike’s eyes bug out of his head and in true hero form, he’s scooping me up and running us away from the creepiest little yellow and red snake I’ve ever seen. At the campsite he sits me down, propping my hurt ankle up on his knee.

“Are you okay?” He asks as he inspects. “It doesn’t look red or swollen.”

Too caught up in watching him worry over me I say nothing. “Aubry?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. It really just hurt when it happened. It feels fine now.”

He massages the area around the bite. “We should check to see if it was a poisonous snake.”

“And how do you propose we do that? Do you suddenly get internet out here?”

Mike blows out a breath, eyebrows drawn together as he bends over yet again to inspect my wound.

“Are you sure you feel okay?”

“Yeah. It just stung. It’s ok now. I swear.”

He drags a hand through his unruly curls. “God damn that freaked me out. I left the grocery bags.”

He stands and I grab his wrist. “Don’t go back.  What if it’s still there?”

“I can’t let all that food go to waste, Aub. Plus, snakes usually, only attack if provoked. You did kick it.” He shoots me a pointed look.

I pout, but release his wrist. He bends and kisses my forehead. “Maybe I should give you a crash course tonight on how to fly the plane just in case I kick something. It’d be a shame for you to let me die out here.”

I widen my eyes and stand up. “You? You?! What about me? If anyone’s going to potentially die out here, statistically speaking, it’s me.”

“Calm down, woman. I was just joking.”

He’s on his way back to the bags. “Would you teach me to fly, really?” I call out.

“Yeah. Sure.”

While he’s gone, a tiny seedling takes root in my mind. If I can fly the plane, I can go home. I can take charge.

We’re lying on the riverbed, staring up at the black, velvet sky, adorned by thousands of sparkling stars. My hand is in Mike’s. He let me sit in the cockpit after dinner. He showed me the flight deck and tried to explain what each gauge was on the instrument panel and how the various controls aided flight. The yoke, or as I wrongfully called it the steering wheel, and how to gently push or pull it. Listening to Mike teach me was fascinating. A side, a passionate side to him that I’d never really witnessed before. If anyone was meant to be in the sky flying, it’s him.

“Let’s head back,” he says.

I try to lift my head while answering, “Sure,” but the word comes out slurred and I think I’m still flat on my back in the sand.

“Aubry?” Mike face appears over mine. Two of them. I blink rapidly trying to clear my vision. I don’t feel right. I don’t feel right at all.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” I say. But the words are garbled, even to me, and I can’t sit up. I can’t move. Panic steals my breath as tears stream down my temples into the sand. Mike’s lifting me into his arms. I can’t move. I can’t see straight and it’s becoming harder and harder to breathe.