Part 11 (2/2)

A watch. An engraved watch, finely made and definitely of Western origin. But she had no time to examine it. She stuffed it in her pants pocket and took up her place at Liam's feet again. As one, she and Fernando bent to lift him. The jungle had fallen mute again save for the occasional call of a bird or monkey. Mac hoped she'd been right about the guerrillas being gone for good.

With grunts and pants she and Fernando maneuvered Liam's considerable weight along the narrow trail. It felt like far more than a few hundred yards to camp, and Mac was soaking wet by the time they reached the tent. Fernando propped Liam awkwardly while Mac opened the tent flap. Another major effort got him onto the cot.

Mac's reward was to see Liam stirring at last, lifting his hand toward his head. He groaned again. Mac caught his hand to keep it away from the hastily bandaged cut. ”Fernando, do you have, uha”medicine? Medicina?”

Fernando nodded and turned toward the pile of supplies in the corner of the tent. He came back with a length of soft cloth and a dark bottle and some kind of primitive atomizer. ”Agua,” he said, left the tent, and returned with a battered pan of water. It wasn't hot, but it was better than nothing.

The contents of the bottle had a very strong odor, and not one that Mac recognized. A little plastic bottle of Bactine would have come in very handy about now.

But Fernando, at least, knew what he was doing. He used a tin cup to pour out a measure of water and mixed it with a little of the contents of the bottle, then filled the atomizer. He gestured to Liam and made motions of unwrapping.

Mac followed his pantomimed instructions and removed the makes.h.i.+ft bandage. The bleeding had stopped. Fernando sprayed the cut and dabbed it with a piece of cloth. Some kind of antiseptic, she guessed; not something that would have been in common use in the 1800s, but d.a.m.ned helpful now. The cut didn't appear deep enough to need st.i.tches, though Liam was going to have a nice goose egg in a few hours.

Liam grunted and twitched as Mac tore more cloth strips and completed bathing the wound. She made better work of the bandage the next time around.

”There,” she said, grinning at Fernando. ”Finished.”

He nodded. ”Bien hecho.” He studied Liam, laying his hand on his chest. ”Estar bien, solo tiene que decansar.”

Mac ran the Spanish words through her mind until she thought she had the gist of them. Liam did need rest. ”Someone should watch him. I meana”if he's got a concussiona””

”I'm fine.”

Liam was glaring at her, steely gaze perfectly clear. Mac suppressed an urge to do a little jig of relief.

”I see the blow didn't improve your disposition,” she said.

”Mya”” He lifted his head, winced, and subsided back to the pillow. ”I told you to stay in camp. You could have been hurt!”

Mac tried to ignore the brief warmth curling around her heart at his real, if angry, concern. ”I don't remember agreeing to take your orders. You just about got yourself killeda””

”I don't need a woman's protectiona””

”a”and if you had gotten killed, exactly what would I nave done out here alone?”

”Are you saying you actually need me, Mac?”

Okay. Swallow your pride if it'll make him feel better. ”I admit it. At least until I find a way back through the tunnel.”

”Oh, yes. Back to the future.” He made a sharp movement and froze, the breath hissing through his teeth. ”I had everything under control until you came along to distract me.”

She bent over him, arms folded. ”It's just possible, Lucky Liam, that your luck was about to run out.”

”And you improved it? I think it ran out when I met you.” Once again he tried to wedge himself up on his elbows; this time he could barely suppress a groan. His face drained of color.

Mac forgot her annoyance. ”What's wrong? Are you wounded somewhere else? Is your heada””

”My head's fine,” he snapped. ”It's my b.l.o.o.d.y back and shoulder.”

She remembered how he'd twisted so awkwardly when she'd pulled him down, in such a way that he'd probably wrenched more than a few ligaments and muscles. Having done the same thing while lifting moving boxes less than six months ago, Mac knew how painful such ostensibly minor injuries could be. Had she even managed to screw up saving his life?

”I guess you'll have to rest, then,” she said. ”Give the muscles a chance to heal.”

”And who's going to run things in camp? You?”

”Fernando seems more than competent.”

Liam turned his head with utmost caution and spat a rapid string of words at Fernando. The Maya glanced at Mac and smiled knowingly.

Liam grunted. ”I'll be d.a.m.ned if I'm going to lie here like an invalid.” He clenched his jaw and heaved himself from the bed in one jerky motion.

He lasted about ten seconds before he sat back on the cot, grimacing in pain. Mac pushed him down the rest of the way with a well-placed hand on his chest. His heart pounded under her palm.

”Now do you get it?” she said. ”I know. I've been there. You might as well accept that you're going to be here for a while.”

”To h.e.l.l with that. I have to get to Champerico.”

Mac was suddenly exhausted. She felt behind her for the folding camp chair and sat down. ”If you're in this much pain, you're not going to make it far in the jungle. You are talking about a pretty rough trip, aren't you?”

”Very rough. No roads, endless walking, steep muddy trails, obstinate mules, scant food, no amenities, insects by the thousandsa”

”And you're going alone.”

”I'll have Fernando.” All at once he seemed to dismiss her completely, turning gingerly to his muleteer. He gave a sharp command in Spanish. Fernando pursed his lips and shrugged.

”What did you ask him?” she demanded of Liam.

”Do me a favor, Mac, and leave me in peace.” He closed his eyes. ”Hagalo, Fernando.”

Fernando touched Mac's arm. His meaning was clear. Mac let herself be steered as far as the tent flap and dug in her feet.

”You know there'sa something I might be able to give you for the pain,” she offered.

”I said I don't need your help.”

She almost left him to his own devices. It was tempting. But for all his high-handed behavior, he didn't deserve to suffer like this. She marched from the tent and went for her backpack, still under the palmetto shelter.

The bottle of muscle relaxant was still at the very bottom of the pack, though her need for the medication had long pa.s.sed. For once she had reason to be glad of her pack-rat tendenciesa”inherited from Homer, no doubt.

She nodded in satisfaction and went back to the tent, tossing the plastic bottle in her hand. She waved rea.s.suringly at Fernando, who waited outside the tent, and went inside.

”This should do the trick,” she told Liam.

He opened one eye and then the other, looking none too welcoming. She pulled the chair up beside the bed and dropped two pills into the palm of her hand. Not too much, in case he'd really gotten some sort of minor concussion. ”Take these, and you're not going to feel much pain for a while, at least.”

”What are they?”

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