Page 6 of Hunter's Mission

A thought hit me like stinging nettle. Neville had been in this jungle two years longer than me. Had he been supplying the natives with alcohol all this time?

A wave of nausea washed through me.

Neville wasn’t just a scientist. He was also the logistics specialist who provided essentials to the jungle lab: food, electricity, and equipment. He was in charge of the research facility and unfortunately, I needed him. But he also needed me. Prior to my tenure here, his research had stalled. It was ironic that we were both trying to create a skin ointment to treat burns. While my passion had been borne out of a tragic childhood accident, his had been purely financial, and he’d pitched his research idea to elevate his flagging career.

Initially, Neville had welcomed my arrival at the jungle lab. We’d pooled resources, shared hypotheses, and brainstormed ideas. I was very fortunate to have him, and I learned a lot from his extensive research on the plants in this region. But as the months went on, his attitude changed, and I believe he started to resent me.

I couldn't quite pinpoint the reason for Neville's change in attitude. Maybe it was because my research was progressing faster than his, or maybe it was because I was getting more recognition from my superiors at Blakely Pharmaceuticals than he was getting from his funding company.

Whatever the reason, it made working with him fucking horrible.

At the top of a hill, the laboratory came into view through the dense foliage. It was a rustic wooden building that was barely visible, but thankfully, the caramel-colored thatch roof stood out amongst the lush green surrounds.

Clenching my fists and mentally preparing my angry torrent at Neville, I stormed toward the lab which I was fortunate to have access to.

Over the decades, the eighties-built building had housed scientists, nature photographers, researchers, philanthropists, professors, students, National Geographic film crews . . . the list went on and on. Guests traveled from all over the world. Ten people could sleep in the building at any one time. It had two rooms with four bunk beds and one bedroom with two single beds. As there were only three of us here at the moment, we each had our own room. I wished I could say the same about the bathroom and toilet. Neville was a disgusting slob who didn’t care who heard his bodily functions.

The bedrooms and my lab were the only rooms with four solid walls. Even the toilet and shower were outdoors. The rest of the building was screened with netting, which did an average job of keeping out the plague-proportion mosquitos and other bugs.

Aiming for the front door, I saw Neville through the netting. He stood next to the kitchen table and was eating something.Obviously, his nausea was gone.I unclipped my bag, removed the tequila bottle, and burst through the door.

“What the hell were you thinking, Neville?” I waggled the empty bottle.

Neville jumped back, spilling his food down his chest and onto the table. “Layla! Jesus?”

I threw the bottle at him. He ducked and the bottle slammed into a coffee mug, shattering both on the wooden floor. “You’re bribing the natives with alcohol? You've jeopardized everything!”

“Jesus. Is that all?” Neville smirked. “We need those berries, and they know where to find them.”

“Is that all!” I yelled, thumping my fist on the table, making his plate and cutlery jump.

“What does it matter how we get the berries?”

“Our projects aren't just about results, Neville. They are about ethics and sustainability too.”

“Ethics?” Neville scoffed. “Ethics don't make money, Layla. The world doesn't care how we get the berries as long as we deliver.”

“I care!” My voice quivered with rage. “I’d rather have no ointment than a formula that threatens the lives of the natives.”

“Threatens the lives?” He rolled his eyes to Cody like I was being a fucking lunatic.

“We just found Na-lynied lying in his own vomit.” My hands shook with my rage.

“Na-lynied?” Neville feigned concern, but his eyes betrayed him. He didn't care about Na-lynied or his people. “He’s young and strong. He’ll be fine.”

“He’s not fine. Alcohol is poison to these natives. You could have killed him.”

“Yeah, well, he’s not dead, is he?” Neville flicked his hand like I was being irrational. “Did you get the berries off him?”

“No. He harvested a heap of berries, but he was too drunk to do anything with them. Because of you, those berries were wasted. You’re a fucking idiot!”

“Hey! Remember who you’re talking to.” He aimed his finger at me.

“This ends now!” I yelled.

“Suit yourself. But without me you couldn’t do your research in this fucking place, nor would you be as far along as you are.”

I fought the rage crawling up my throat. “If you ever supply the villagers with alcohol again, I'll make sure everyone knows the truth about your ethics.”

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