CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
MARCUS
Marcus felt the warmth of Katy’s arm brush against his. Such a juvenile little move on his part, but he didn’t pull away. It was like junior high when the class went to a movie and he got to sit beside his crush.
Did he have a crush on Katy? Maybe a teensy bit. She was sweet, and he was glad that if he had to trundle along the mysterious land of Guatemala that he was trundling around with her.
Speaking of mysterious, why did the bus swerve, and why was the driver stepping on the brakes?
Marcus got whiplash at the sudden stop.
“What is it?” Katy asked beside him, her eyes wide.
“I don’t know. They’re talking in Spanish.”
She cocked her head and then shook it. “I don’t understand what’s happening.”
The driver opened the door, making the lights come on inside the bus.
“I can’t see a thing out there,” Katy said as she peered out the window.
The driver returned and faced the passengers. He said something in Spanish, and everyone groaned. Well, everyone but Marcus and Katy.
“He’s saying something about land…” she said. Then she stiffened, turning an apprehensive gaze toward Marcus.
“Landslide,” she said as the driver exited again. “It didn’t happen while we were driving past, thank goodness, or our bus would have been swept into the lake.” She grimaced. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Yeah, I’m thinking that helicopter ride would have gotten us there by now.”
She laughed. “Oh, that. No. I just want a bed.”
The driver returned, and this time, all the passengers streamed out. Marcus followed along.
Katy pointed at the clearing. “We get to spend the night here.”
“Where’s here?” Marcus peered outside at dark jungle.
“Middle of nowhere,” Katy said. “The closest town is too far to travel to in the dark.”
The thirty-something passengers milled around. Soon, the driver marched them off to a grove of trees where they were given a bundle made out of what seemed like nylon.
“Hammocks,” Katy explained. “Are you going to be okay?”
Marcus chuckled. “I like the convenience of helicopters, but I can string up a hammock.”
Maybe.
Several minutes later, he realized his rope wasn’t long enough. He looked over at Katy. Her hammock was not only up, but she was curled inside it like Sleeping Beauty.
After about five tries, he got his up. Getting in was a different story. He grunted, inched into it, swung in, and still couldn’t get into the stupid hammock.
Katy appeared by his side. “Can I help?”
He couldn’t tell if it was laughter or compassion in her voice. He was going to give her the benefit of the doubt.
“Sure.”
She held the hammock steady while he climbed in. Now he knew what a sausage felt like.
Katy regarded him with an amused glance. “Thanks for braving Guatemala,” she whispered.
Despite the hammock frustrations and their laughable situation, he actually felt pretty good. “You are welcome, crazy lady.”
She grinned.
After he heard her get in her hammock like a pro, he turned his head and sought her out in the darkness. She was looking at him too.
“Good night, Marcus,” she said sweetly, the syllables punctuating the slow beating of his heart.
“Good night, Katy,” he said.