TRAPPED
rains, water is captured in the little pockets at the base of the flower.”
    He thought about what he had with him that they could use to gather water. “Probably some of us have small plastic bags in our luggage that had our liquids in them. Maybe we could use that.”
    “Good idea. Once it rains, which it undoubtedly will, we’ll capture the water then. The other thing we can do is get water from those bamboo trees,” she said, pointing off to her left, where there was a whole stand of tall, skinny bamboo plants. “It takes some patience but it’s relatively easy. All we have to do is bend the bamboo stick, somehow tie it down, and cut it at the bottom. The water inside the bamboo will drain out.”
    “And we can drink that?”
    “Yes. Probably even without boiling it. We might also find water in a nearby stream. That could be dangerous to drink if we don’t boil it first. That’s why I’m so darn happy to see the fire.”
    He studied her. He wasn’t surprised at her knowledge. It was one of the things that he’d always really appreciated about Elle. She knew a little about a whole lot of things. How to make a good Hollandaise sauce. How to grow orchids in pots on their small patio. How to build a model airplane. How to dance the tango. His mother had once described her as very eclectic and she’d meant it as a compliment.
    Elle had always dismissed her knowledge, saying that she knew a bunch of really useless things that were good for starting a conversation at a party but for little else. I’m just a cocktail waitress, she used to say.
    “Should we boil all the water we gather just in case since we have a fire going?” Brody asked.
    “I think so. Better safe than sorry.”
    “Perhaps Mrs. Hardy will want to brew herself a cup of hot tea?”
    “How are your parents, Brody?” Elle asked, evidently remembering his earlier comment about his mother and tea.
    “Good. Dad is still writing. Mom has cut back on her consulting and is doing quite a bit of volunteer work at their local hospital.” He paused. “How’s your mom?”
    Elle looked startled, as if she hadn’t expected the question. “I don’t know. I haven’t talked to her since shortly after I left the States.”
    She had not just walked away from him. She’d walked away from her family, too. What the hell?
    “It’s sort of pretty, isn’t it?” she asked, changing topics quickly. “I mean, if we were here sightseeing, we’d think that.”
    They would. The plant and flower colors were vibrant and he’d probably already seen ten different types of birds. When he first came out of the plane earlier, there’d been a couple monkeys in the trees, cackling. Probably laughing their asses off at them.
    He saw motion out of the corner of his eye and realized that Mr. and Mrs. Hardy were already gathering up their things and heading back inside. He waited a few minutes and followed them. They’d started some kind of domino game with Pamela. Brody knelt down next to Angus. The young man was awake and definitely running a low-grade temp. The first-aid kit had not contained a thermometer, so Brody couldn’t get a true reading. A low temp could be a reaction to the injury—the body giving a shout-out that hey, all is not right. Or it could mean something much worse. If that was the case, the young man needed to be in a fully equipped hospital where they could pump some antibiotics into him.
    It was infuriating. He’d saved the young man’s leg and he could still lose him to infection.
    Captain Ramano was sitting in one of the seats, his head back, his eyes closed. His breathing was steady. Brody didn’t wake him.
    He stepped outside the plane, expecting to see Elle.
    But there was no one there.
    His heart started to beat very fast. Maybe she’d stepped away to go to the bathroom. He waited.
    He didn’t hear or see anything.
    “Elle,” he called.
    No response.
    “Elle!” This time he really yelled.
    He heard rustling off to his left. She

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