Page 25 of Falling for the Enemy

I leaned my head toward Jack and lowered my voice. “Not sure if that’s exactly what they said.”

“Still, I like her spin on it.”

My students took Jack’s students under their wings as they explored the wondrous world of fungi in the heart of the Costa Rican rainforest. Jack stuck with me, and I had to admit I didn’t mind. He didn’t know nearly as much about mushrooms as I did, so it was fun inviting him into my odd little corner of the science world.

I cut a sample from the base of a tree and held up the cone-shaped beauty. “The webbed veil around its stalk gave it the name bridal veil stinkhorn.”

Jack crinkled his nose. “I smell rotten egg.”

I laughed. “And that would be the history behind the second part of its name. They’re edible, however, I do believe the smellwould be a hinderance. But flies love them.” I dropped the specimen in my basket.

“Professor Lovely!” Robyn called excitedly. “Chicken of the woods,” she declared happily as she waved her hand at a cluster of flat, reddish-orange mushrooms congregated in an almost perfect array at the bottom of a tree. “We could cook some tonight for dinner.” Pam looked less than pleased with the suggestion, but everyone else stepped up to help forage tonight’s tasty accompaniment.

“All right, but don’t take too many.”

“Let me guess—” Jack said. “They taste like chicken.”

“That’s what some people say. They definitely have a meaty texture when cooked.” I glanced toward the group and realized that one person was missing. It was easy to notice when Norm wasn’t around. “Robyn, Evan, have you seen Norm?”

Evan waved. “He found a place to sit and eat the trail mix he brought with him.”

“Hmm, I wonder if I should check on him?” I muttered, mostly to myself.

“Maybe we’re taking this parent, kid analogy too far. It’s not as if a tapir or sloth could pick him up and carry him off. In fact, I doubt they would, even if they could manage the feat.”

The second he finished his quip, a yell rattled the otherwise comforting sounds of the surrounding forest.

“I take it back. Maybe a tapir decided to give it a go after all.” Jack and I took off in the direction of Norm’s yell. We found him in a small clearing next to one of the many fallen trees. He shrieked as he hopped around and swatted wildly at his legs, his trail mix scattering in every direction.

“Ants,” Norm cried out. “Ouch, ouch!”

“Oh, no. Bullet ants,” I muttered and raced to the log. I pulled out my magnifying glass and leaned down to the black trailskittering across the bark. I breathed a sigh of relief. “Just black ants.”

Jack relaxed, too. “That’s good.”

“Good? They hurt.” Norman was still stomping around as if his legs were on fire.

I put away the magnifying glass and handed Jack my basket. “I’ll take him back to camp. I’ve got some lotion and antihistamine. A cold compress will help, too. Will you be all right with the rest of the group?” I asked and then laughed at his lifted brow. “Right. They aren’t third graders. Just remind them to watch where they step … or sit. If those had been bullet ants, this would have been a much worse outcome. Come on, Norm. We’ll get you to camp. By then, the bites will have cooled down.”

By the time we reached the mess tent where the first aid kits were, Norm had stopped complaining about the pain. I had no doubt that the initial bout of bites had hurt. I dipped a clean cloth into the cistern of cold rainwater, and he used it as a compress to keep the swelling down. He swallowed the antihistamine and rested back on his cot.

“These usually make me sleepy,” he said with a yawn.

“That’s good. Rest and I’m sure you’ll feel better when you wake. I’m going to make myself a cup of hot tea. Are you interested?”

“No, thanks.” He rolled onto his side. Something told me he’d be out even before the antihistamine took hold.

I walked back to the mess tent, deciding to take advantage of a few minutes of solitude. I carried the kettle out to the grill over the firepit and sat down to enjoy the quiet. A clicking sound and an unfamiliar voice jarred me from my thoughts. It took me a second to realize the clicking sounds and voice were coming from the two-way radio in the mess tent. It was set up for emergencies. I hurried inside.

“This is Harold at the station. Base camp one, come in. Over.”

I grabbed the microphone and pressed the button. “Base camp one. Ava speaking. Over.”

“Oh good, someone’s there. I’ve been trying for an hour. Over.”

“We had an ant incident, but everything is good here now. Over.”

“Just wanted to let you know there is a tropical storm to our east. Not too worried about it. These things usually dissipate and become weak rainstorms by the time they reach our shoreline, but we’ll keep an eye on it in case we need to take action. Over.”

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