As soon as he throws open the door humidity bitch slaps me, making it hard to breathe. We’re floating on a river, the banks flanked with heavy vegetation and trees. It appears to go on forever ahead of the plane. It’s wide and murky and I definitely don’t want to wade through it. Mike exits first and then helps me down. His arms are gentle but firm around my waist. His breath at my collarbone a distraction. The shock of the water against my skin makes me tremble more than I am. We wade to the river bank. I shade my eyes against the glare of the sun and stare at the jungle before me. I look around through the thick vegetation but see nothing. There is no is no sign of civilization anywhere near. My feet are soundless on the earth. The trees are leafy and thick around us. The heat of the sun warms me but still, I tremble. I don’t feel warm. The underbrush is deep green, with fat leaves that fan out surrounding us.

“Where are we?” I ask rubbing my arms, trying to get warm.

Mike looks around at the vast, thick vegetation surrounding us. “Central America.”

Panic seizes me. We’re not in the country. I’m not near anything or anyone familiar. I let out a shaky breath and remind myself that I am okay. I am with Mike. I know him. He’s safe.

“Where in Central America?”

Mike keeps pushing forward, into the unfamiliar landscape. “Maybe Guatemala?”

“Maybe? You don’t know?” My voice comes out a little too high pitched to sound calm.

He turns and narrows his eyes but not in an irritated way, more a defeated manner. “Guatemala, Aub. We’re in Guatemala.”

“Why’d you say maybe?” He shrugs but I don’t let it rest. “Why?” I push. Was that an intentional omission? It had to be. He’s a pilot. Of course he knows where we are.

He shakes his head at me and hikes farther into the brush. He’s distracted and serious which are two things I’ve never witnessed from him before. Something is seriously wrong. I watch as he uses what little he pulled from the plane to make me a camp. He sets up a lean-to for us using big palm-like leaves and branches. While he works on that I change into the undershirt and boxers he laid out for me. The clearing is small but hidden and still near the water. I don’t know what might live out in the wild like this and the beasts my imagination conjures send a shiver up my spine. I watch him work in silence, my mind racing. My mind is still murky, but the drugs are wearing off.

“Go make that drop,” I say. “An empty crate is better than no crate.”

He stops what he’s doing to face me. He looks conflicted.

“No. I need to pretend to have flight trouble. So we buy some time.”

“Okay. Then what?” I ask. He resumes building a shelter.  I’m sitting near the lean-to watching his muscles flex as he layers more leaves on it. Does he expect me to live in this hut for any particular length of time? Alarm sweeps through me. He’s given me a backpack with what little provisions he had in the plane. I haven’t even bothered to look at what’s in it yet. I’m not thinking clearly.

“I have to leave you here, Aubry.” He stands at his full height looking down at me.

Shock claws inside my chest. “What? No.”

“Yes. I need to stage a crash or mechanical trouble. Radio it in, then get back home, or this whole thing is going to look really fucking suspicious.” He rakes a hand through his curls.

“I can’t be out here alone. Stage the crash right here. Go. Go radio it in now,” I blubber. Tears well in my eyes at the thought of being out here by myself.

“What if they come to check out the crash here? I can’t lead them right to you. Plus, I don’t have enough for us in the plane. I need to get to the nearest town and pick up supplies.”

Swallowing thickly, I let his words sink in and take root.

“Okay,” I say and huff. My mind is hazy still. “Okay, radio it in and go find food and stuff, but then come right back. Like … right back. I’m not sleeping here alone tonight.”

His blue eyes stare into mine. They look stormy, like a war is waging. My bottom lip begins quivering. He pulls me to him and I cling like plastic wrap. I need to pull out of this embrace immediately. I’m wary of him yet part of me still trusts him. He’s familiar, safe. And he’s all I have at the moment. Instead, my head falls sideways like a rock onto his chest and my shoulders heave.

“You, um, need to wipe your nose,” he says gently. Utter humiliation sweeps through me. I use my forearm because at this point, it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. I’m still a prisoner, just in a new location. “Your idea isn’t so bad. I won’t be gone long. I’ll pick up supplies and be back before dark. Do not leave this spot, do you understand?” I don’t nod, or acknowledge him in any significant way because I can’t. “Fuck I don’t want to leave you like this.” He rests the back of his hand against my forehead like my mom used when checking for a fever. My mind is scattered, running in too many directions.

He kisses the top of my head. It’s the most tender thing I’ve experienced in so long that part of me wants to ravish him right here and now, but the other, wants to punch him right in that prominent jaw. I could caress my fingers across that neatly shaven jawline, kiss those plump lips on that perfect mouth … and Lord is he perfectly tanned, with dark hair that curls at the collar of his tee shirt. I think the exact order I want to do things is clock him in the face followed by kissing him better. But I do nothing. I can’t stop trembling. I feel nauseous and dizzy. “You’ll stay right here?”

I manage to nod as I pull away from him. He’s leaving me. Here.

Alone.

“How will you find this spot again?”

“Don’t worry, Aub.”

Don’t worry?

I’m hoping it’s a better idea than it feels.

I watch him walk down to the river and climb into the plane. A plane I was so eager to ride in and wowed by once. I still remember the first time he took me flying with him. It was sunset and clear as we climbed up, up, up over the ocean. Through the headset he’d narrated what geography we were flying over. And I’d thought, how lucky am I? How lucky am I?

I snort as he waves at me before firing up the plane. Lucky is not an accurate description of my life. When the plane is out of sight I slowly make my way back to the makeshift campsite. I wipe my brow with the back of my hand and am surprised to feel sweat. I can’t warm up despite the heat here. I drop to the ground crossed legged on top of Mike’s windbreaker and pull the backpack into my lap. I’m exhausted and it takes much of my energy to simply unzip the pack and start digging through. I stop when my head feels as dense as the jungle surrounding me. There’s a pack of mints. I pop two into my mouth to quell the rancid, unclean feeling. I open a protein bar and nibble at it. My eyes are heavy and I can’t really focus on eating. It doesn’t matter because I don’t have much of an appetite. I drag the backpack behind me to use as a pillow so I can rest my eyes for a while. The sun’s bright against my eyelids. My body’s sore and I ache all over.

I have the distinct feeling that someone is watching me. Close too, but when I reach out I can’t feel them. My limbs are dead weights. My fingers and toes—cold. It’s dark here in my dreams. I’ve never really been a dreamer. Well, before all this anyway. I never remembered them when I had them but I could sense that I’d dreamed. But now, my dreams are often and vivid. I don’t know if that’s normal. Life-like to the point I can smell and taste. Reality and dreams bleed together and I find it difficult to tell them apart.

“I miss you.” It’s Aimee’s voice. I grin. I try to blink away the darkness but I can’t see her.

“I’m right here,” I say. She squeezes my hand the way only Aimee can. A silly thing we made up when she was little. Two long squeezes followed by two short ones. Whenever she had a nightmare, she’d come to my room, not Mom’s. She’d crawl under the covers with me and snuggle herself up against me. I’d wrap an arm over her small ribcage and hold her hand. As she fell back to sleep—I’d give two long, then two short squeezes until she was out again.

The squeezes set my soul at ease and I’m able to drift into the blackness without fear. My vision narrows in the dark.

“Aubry, wake up. Come on babe, follow my voice. I need you to wake up.” A strong hand holds mine. I blink sleep away and slowly open my eyes. Everything is blurry. The sun, the clouds, Mike’s face. My neck is damp and cool. My forehead too. I reach up and palm the side of his face. He feels so real, but I feel like I’m on the edge. “Sit up, babe, you need some water.” I think I smile and let him sit me up. A washcloth falls from my face. Do I have a fever? How long was I out? He puts a bottle of water to my lips. The cool water feels sensational on my throat. I swallow big gulps greedily.

“Slow down, babe.” Babe. It sounds so good rolling off his lips. I grin. “How’re you feeling?” He squeezes the cool cloth against the back of my neck and it sends a chill racing down my spine.

“What time is it?” I ask, ignoring his question.

“A little after seven.” He pushes the hair from my face. I lean into his palm. His eyes scan my features. Eyes. Lips. Neck, and lower. He licks his lips. I can't resist. I lean in until we’re only a whisper apart. I need to feel that he’s real.

“Aub,” he says, voice cracking.

“Kiss me.”  The words just plop out of my mouth. I don’t feel ashamed though. I need to feel something.

His lips, warm and soft, meet mine. Slow and tender at first. The longer we’re connected, the greedier he becomes. I don't mind. His kisses heal me, like medicine coursing through my veins. Hands explore. His body is hard and tight. I want to melt into him. Absorb his warmth and light. My body’s caving in when he pulls back abruptly.

“What?” I ask, breathless.

He narrows his eyes at me. “You’re shaking.”

“Am I?” I take a moment to regroup. He nods at me.

“We can’t do this, Aub. You need to rest. I think you’re in withdrawal. We need a better plan too.” My stomach growls. Mike laughs, his smile wide and easy. “Lemme make you some dinner.”

“Okay.” I nod. I look around and realize Mike’s been busy. There is a small metal grate over a shallow dug fire-pit. A pile of wood next to it. Two coolers off to the left of me. A tent to the right—all set up. My expression must give me away because Mike says, “You needed the sleep. I didn’t want to wake you.”

Down at the shoreline, the plane bobs every so often in the water. I want to be in it—flying home. I lie back again and curl up on my side so I can see him. My eyelids feel like elephants are sitting on them. Mike has a fire started. I think I fell asleep again. It’s much darker now. He sees me awake but we don't speak. I am so grateful to see a friendly face that I’ve ignored my heart. Or rather let my feelings for him poison my heart. The body’s funny like that. Invisible chemical reactions combust and suddenly willpower, reason and sanity are replaced with carnal desire. Makes me think the brain has less control than the heart over the body. Mike’s biceps flex as he goes about heating up food for us. I could watch his movements all day long. But something feels off—like I’m on one side of a door—peeking through the keyhole at my own life.

I lie back down, eyes heavy with the need for more rest. Vibrant colors float and shape-shift behind my eyelids. My senses feel as electric as a live wire instead of the dull ache they’ve been. The feel of the cotton shorts against my thighs arouses me. Are these normal feelings? My breathing speeds as I feel less in control of my body.

Fingers graze my skin and my eyes snap open. Mike’s expression is fraught with concern as he looks me over. But all I can think about is how hungry I am.