“Ma’am.” He turned to Skeet. “We need to go. Radio chatter suggests they’re moving armor into the village.”
“Armor?” Chloe straightened, plants still clutched in her fists. “What kind of armor?”
“The fun kind that goes boom and turns pretty villages into ugly craters,” Skeet said. “Hence the urgent need for dramatic exit, stage east, back to Thailand.”
“I have to get back to Dr. Tobias.”
“And I have to get you out of Myanmar before your brother kills me. Guess which one’s happening first.”
“He’s dying.” Her voice cracked slightly before she controlled it—the same way she’d done at Jake’s wedding when she’d given that speech about family and loss and how Hannah, their sister, would have loved to see this moment. “These plants might be the only thing that can help him.”
She took off, back through the jungle, and Skeet fell into step behind her, Chai following with a harrumph.
Skeet glanced at his friend. What was he going to do, throw her over his shoulder?
“We’ll get there, let her give him the leaves, and, well, leave,” he said quietly to Chai, whose dark eyes suggested he wasn’t amused.
Yeah, Skeet either. Especially since he’d spent the night in the jungle, probably had things crawling in his socks, and frankly, the entire place gave him the jumps.
The jungle pressed close around them—walls of green that dripped with humidity and the particular silence that came just before everything went south. Bird calls had stopped. Even the insects seemed to be holding their breath.
Engines rumbled in the distance, growing stronger with each step he took.
They were walking into an invasion.Oh goody.
“How sick is this Dr. Tobias?” Skeet asked as he navigated a fallen log.
“Alkaloid poisoning. Neurological symptoms getting worse by the hour,” Chloe said, quickening her pace to a run. “These plants are supposed to counteract the toxin.”
“Supposed to?” He also picked up his pace.
“According to the village medicine woman. It’s the only lead we have.”
“Well, that’s reassuring. Nothing like betting someone’s life on folk medicine and wishful thinking.”
She slowed, then shot him a look over her shoulder. “You have a better idea?”
“Yeah. Get him to a real hospital.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, we’re in the middle of nowhere, Myanmar. The nearest real hospital is probably in Chiang Mai.”
“Which is, I might add, in the other direction.”
She ignored him the rest of the hike back.
Smoke pillars rose from the southern edge of Mese, black columns against the sky, flames from mortar rounds incinerating buildings. The acrid smell of cordite mixed withwoodsmoke, and the particular stench of burning plastic and rubber from fire incinerating homes.
And... he was back in a war zone. He glanced at Chai, who gave him a grim look.
“This is a really bad idea,” Skeet muttered, scanning the tree line for movement as they approached the village outskirts. Hello, every rule of engagement said you movedawayfrom artillery, not toward it.
But Chloe pressed forward with the kind of determined stupidity that got journalists killed. And apparently got former Navy SEALs killed too, because here he was, following her into a combat zone to check on a man he’d never met.
Next time he would definitely throw her over his shoulder.
Chaos engulfed the village. Free Burma Rangers moved between houses, helping families load belongings in bags onto motorcycles and pickup trucks. Children clung to their mothers, wide eyes reflecting the smoke-tinged sky.
“There.” Chloe pointed toward a stilted teak house near the village center.