Page 26 of Extracted

Now all she had to do was get down without spraining an ankle. She brought her fingers to the buckle beneath her breasts. Taking a deep breath, she unclipped it then grabbed the strap as she fell. She clung to the backpack and glanced down again. Only about three feet to the ground now. She let go and dropped to the jungle floor.

“Oof.” She crumpled to the ground, her legs not yet stable enough to hold her. Bracing her hands behind her, she focused on slowing her rapidly beating heart.

Her teeth chattered violently and a chill covered her skin as shock finally took over her nervous system.

She had to find the others. Eli had jumped first, and given the way the wind had taken them, there was no telling how far he’d gone. Same with Dallas. After he pushed her away, probably so their parachutes wouldn’t tangle, she didn’t see him. Everything had happened so darn quickly yet also painstakingly slowly as she’d hurtled toward death.

Only she hadn’t died.

A look at the long, gnarly branches above her made her shudder. Any one of those could have impaled her or struck her head the wrong way. It was almost a miracle she’d landed safely.

Worry thickened in her chest, making her airway tight. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, but nothing melted the ice growing inside her.

If neither Dallas nor Eli had made it out alive, she might not survive either. She was in the jungle. Alone. She couldn’t think about that now. She had to keep calm, do what Dallas had said, and wait here, where she’d landed. If by some chance he’d watched her go down, he could be on his way to her now. She had to be patient. Going off to look for him or Eli too soon could make things worse.

The sounds of the wilderness penetrated the fog around her awareness. Hisses and croaks grew louder than the rustling of leaves. A lump hardened in her throat.

She thought of the travel pamphlet she’d seen in her hotel room. Pumas, jaguars, boa constrictors, crocodiles . . . Creatures that look mystical in print and terrifying in person. She swallowed.

Her fall through the trees had likely startled away the worst of the animals. Or at least the hunters. But she needed to get off the ground to avoid becoming someone’s prey . . .

That was silly. As if she could outclimb a mountain cat. Did snakes chase humans? Crocodiles sure did. She could only hope there weren’t any rivers nearby.

She inhaled the heavy scent of moist earth and vegetation. A bird called in the trees over her head and she brought her palm to her chest and massaged. Slowly, her heart rate came down. She wouldn’t get to safety if she worried ten steps ahead of herself.

One thing at a time.

All she could do right now was wait—and evaluate herself. She was probably still in shock, and there was a chance she had an injury she wasn’t aware of.

Her neck and back were stiff from the parachute’s hitting the trees and snapping her backward. She ran her hands over her arms then down her legs to her ankles. A few scrapes, surely some bruises that hadn’t yet formed, but nothing serious. Turning her leg, she inspected the bandage over the gunshot wound.

Fresh blood stained the white cotton, but nothing alarming. The muscles in her leg were still sore from the injury.

After rolling to her knees, she carefully stood. The chitter-chatter of nature increased as she got up, as if her presence had angered the creatures in the vicinity.

Her fear returned. She needed to find Dallas. She’d walk a little way but keep her parachute in sight, to be sure she didn’t wander too far. She cleared her throat and stepped over the thick vegetation, keeping her gaze on the ground for snakes. “Dallas!”

Dear God, please let him be okay.

* * *

Dallas groaned and squinted up at the thick canopy. While barreling toward the trees, there was a second he’d thought for sure he’d be skewered by one of the branches.

But God had something else planned. He sat up. Fire blazed over his arm. He stripped off the straps of his backpack. At least the parachute had deployed properly and broken his fall, but he’d still landed on the ground. Could have been way worse.

He turned his arm. A large gash cut across his bicep. Blood oozed from the wound. He lifted his gaze to the trees again. A branch had probably sliced him. It wasn’t too deep, but he’d need to bandage it at some point.

After he found Gemma.

The only thing worse than jumping from that fucking airplane was not knowing if Gemma would survive. Hell, he’d had nothing but hope to reassure him that her parachute would deploy properly. If he’d had a few extra seconds, he could have thought things through, but the outcome would have been pretty much the same.

They would have had to jump.

He’d had to push her away to ensure their parachutes didn’t entwine. That had been about as easy as chewing off his own arm, but for her safety, he’d managed. The sight of her wide, terrified eyes was tattooed in his mind.

He’d sailed farther north than she had but, by his calculations, she shouldn’t be too far. Before he’d hit the trees, he’d spotted her floating west. If her landing had been anything like his, she could have been really hurt.

Animals screeched, making the hair on the back of his neck turn rigid. Christ. He’d been in Colombia only a week, but judging from his conversations with both locals and tourists, the Amazon wasn’t a place you wanted to be without a guide. With any luck they’d find Eli, but he’d jumped first and Dallas had been too damn distracted with Gemma to spend a second trying to spot Eli in the sky.

---