Page 67 of Storm over the Caribbean
“Unknown. I can’t see far enough ahead to make a judgement.”
That wasn’t really surprising. For the last two days, we had seen nothing but green and green and more poisonous green everywhere around us. The supply of coconut milk was already running dangerously low. More than half of them had already been discarded, empty. Fortunately, that meant that the burden on Mr Rikkard Ambrose lessened and lessened the farther we went. Unfortunately, that meant that the burden on Rikkard Bloody Ambrose lessened with every single step!
“Come on!” a familiar, commanding voice came from far ahead. “What are you dawdling for, Mrs Ambrose?”
“Unlike you, Dicky Darling…huff, puff…my weight doesn’t decrease with every step I take!”
Quite the contrary, in fact. I swear I couldfeelthe little bugger growing!
“Irrelevant. I’m sure we will find water soon enough.”
“Y-you are, are you?Pant, pant…that’ssoreassuring!”
Time passed. Roughly two days of it, in fact. Two days of ceaseless marching, sweating and cursing. Twenty-four hours of this later…
“Whendid you say we’ll find water again, Mr Ambrose?”
“Soon, Mrs Ambrose. Very soon.”
“Is that so?” Breathing hard, I wiped the sweat from my face and lowered the coconut I’d just been drinking from. Turning it on its head, I tried to coax one last drop from it—without success. “Well, that’s good. Because I don’t think we’ll get much more out of this.”
“Indeed, Mrs Ambrose.”
Throwing the empty coconut aside, I peered up at the endless canopy of green,
“So, how many more days till we reach the top of this mountain? One? Two?”
Silence.
“Mr Ambrose? It’s…it’s not going to be more than three, is it?”
Silence. A very long, very heavy silence.
“Peopledieafter three days without water!”
In front of me, I saw his back stiffen. Then, slowly, he turned around and gave me a long, terrifyingly intense look. That look said more than a thousand words.
“I know, Mrs Ambrose. I know.”
Without another word, we set out once more. Without pause, we headed farther and farther inland. By now, I was convincedthat the bloody mountain we were climbing was Mt Everest’s big, mean, older brother. Except for the snow. Oh God, if only we had some snow! As in stuff-soon-to-be-melted-into-water. I even would have taken my previous jungle experience over this green hellhole! At least there, it had been raining all day. Here, the only water was the moisture spread in the air, always there, always unreachable.
One hour passed. Then another. With every passing second, I felt more sweat pour down my body, and the thirst increasingly felt as if it were a beast gnawing at my throat.
Another hour passed. Yet another. Something stirred in my belly, shifting and fidgeting.
“Don’t worry, little fellow,” I whispered, patting my bump. “We’ll find water soon, I’m sure.”
Guess what?
We didn’t. We walked uphill the entire day and didn’t find anything. Then another day. Still, we didn’t find a single drop. Except me, because I was ready to. Drop, that is.
“Mrs Ambrose?”
I blinked. How had Mr Ambrose suddenly appeared beside me? Hadn’t he been in front of me just a moment ago? And why was the world suddenly spinning?
“Mrs Ambrose!”
Abruptly, I felt something around me. Arms? Where did the kraken come from?
