The Sunflower

  When they arrived at the center, a man and a woman wearing white coats walked out to the truck. With the help of the rescue workers they carried Jim inside.

  With the exception of the truck driver and an assistant, the rescue crew had stayed on the mountain, and there was no longer anyone with them who spoke English. Jessica and Christine felt even more helpless.

  The medical post was small, old and lightly equipped. It did have a large, clunky X-ray machine that looked like it might be World War II surplus. The medic examined the bone protruding from Jim’s leg and frowned. While the nurse cleaned Jim’s abrasions, the man cut off Jim’s pants and doused his leg with hydrogen peroxide. He took eleven X-rays and determined the greatest cause of Jim’s pain was a dislocated shoulder. He tried to set it and Jim screamed so loudly that Jessica started to cry. He tried several more times without success and each time Jim screamed louder. “They’re torturing him,” Jessica said. “Where’s Paul?”

  The next two hours passed with excruciating slowness; by the time Paul arrived, Jessica was near hysterics.

  She jumped up when Paul entered the clinic. “Please help him.”

  “I will.” He glanced at Christine then went to the back room where Jim lay on the bed, writhing with pain. He gently touched his shoulder. “I’m here, buddy.” The clinic’s staff appeared as relieved to see him as Jessica and Christine had. Paul carefully looked over the X-rays, then spoke with the medic while he examined Jim’s wounds. It had been more than three hours since Jim had fallen, and the muscles in his back and shoulders had spasmed, making his shoulder nearly impossible to set.

  Paul took out a syringe of ketamine from the bag he brought with him and injected his friend in the arm. Jim’s eyes closed and his muscles went limp. Paul pushed the shoulder down until it popped loudly back in place. He inserted an IV needle in his forearm and started him on an antibiotic, then examined the suture of the large gash and told the medic that he’d done muy bien, which pleased the man immensely.

  He walked out of the back room to find the women sitting on a bench. Jessica had her arms wrapped around her body, and Christine was next to her, rubbing her back. They both looked up. “How is he?” Jessica asked.

  “We’ve got to get him to Cuzco as soon as possible. We need a CAT scan to make sure there’s no internal bleeding. And he has a compound comminuted fracture.”

  “What’s a compound commi…” Jessica asked.

  “It means that his leg is broken in multiple fragments. He’s going to need an orthopedic surgeon. I called the hospital for a helicopter but there’s none available. We’re going to have to drive him. Where’s the rest of the group?”

  “They took the train back to Cuzco.”

  “Okay, we’ll put him in the back of my truck.”

  Paul gave Jim another shot of ketamine; he wanted to make sure he was knocked out for the whole trip. Three hours later Paul pulled up outside the emergency room of the Cuzco hospital. He honked his horn and a gurney was brought out, accompanied by the E.R. personnel. The gurney and Paul disappeared into the hospital.

  The women went inside the lobby to wait. A little after midnight Paul came and sat down next to them, visibly fatigued.

  Jessica stood. “How is he?”

  “Much better than he should be. He has a concussion. And the leg was pretty bad; they had to pin it together. But he’ll be okay until we get him back to the States.”

  “When is that?”

  “He wants to go back with the group.”

  “Is he awake?”

  “He’s a little groggy, but he’s awake.”

  “May I see him?” Jessica asked.

  “You’re the first one he asked for. It’s the second door on the left.”

  She walked down the hall and opened the door. The room was dark and Jim lay on his back, his leg held up in traction. His face and neck were bruised, and his right eye was swollen shut. When Jessica saw him, she began to cry. He turned toward her.

  “Hey, Jess,” he said, his voice slightly slurred.

  She went to his side and took his hand. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “If I hadn’t been so stupid. I was just flirting with you.”

  “No one held a gun to my head.” He forced a smile. “Maybe to my heart.”

  “I’ve ruined everything. What will the rest of the group do?”

  “Paul’s going to take you to the jungle.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not leaving you.”

  “When will you get another chance? You really…”

  She put her finger on his lips. “I’m staying.” She leaned over and kissed him.

  “You win,” he said.

  “I always do.”

  Chapter

  Seventeen

  Jim has asked me to lead the group into the jungle. I’d lead them to Everest if I knew Christine was with us.

  PAUL COOK’S DIARY

  Paul and Christine sat alone in the hospital’s tiled hallway. It was past 2 A.M. and most of the overhead fluorescent lights had been turned off, leaving them in shadows. Their hushed voices echoed off the walls.

  “How did it happen?” Paul asked.

  “We had climbed Huayna Picchu and were most of the way down when Jessica began joking around and slipped. Jim saved her. But then the trail just seemed to collapse beneath him.”

  “That’s why she feels so responsible.” He threaded his hands together. “At least no one was killed.”

  “Thank God for that.”

  Silence. After a moment Christine asked, “Was Roxana okay after I left?”

  “She cried for a while. Then when I told her that you wouldn’t be back at all, she cried a lot more. She was pretty taken with you.”

  “It goes both ways.”

  “Thank you for the note.”

  “I wanted to write more, but under the circumstances…” She looked down, then said, “I missed you.”

  “I missed you too.” Their eyes locked on each other. “Jim asked if I would lead the group into the jungle. So you’re stuck with me for a little while longer.”

  She didn’t try to hide her smile. “So the cloud does have a silver lining.”

  He smiled too, then looked down at his watch. “We fly out in six hours. I better get you two to the hotel.”

  “I’d like to see Jim before we go.”

  “Of course.”

  They walked to his room. Paul knocked softly on the door, then opened it. Jessica sat on a chair next to the bed, her head on Jim’s chest.

  “Hi, Jim,” Christine said.

  “Hey.”

  “How are you?”

  “Alive.”

  “Alive is good. You look great.”

  “I look like I just went five rounds with Mike Tyson.”

  “Okay, you look awful,” Christine said. “But you sound good.”

  He smiled.

  “You’re a hero, you know. You saved my best friend’s life.”

  He stroked Jessica’s hair. “I kind of like her.”

  “I think you proved it. I’m sorry you can’t come with us. Are you going to be okay here alone?”

  Jessica looked up. “He won’t be. I’m staying with him.”

  Christine looked at her in surprise. “You’re staying?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good,” Paul said. “From what I know of Jessica the hospital staff will be on their toes.”

  Jim smiled at her, then looked back at Paul. “The school in Puerto is expecting us.”

  “Everything’s set,” Paul said. “I spoke with the headmaster a few hours ago. Don’t worry about a thing.”

  “Just bring them back alive,” Jim said.

  “I will.” He turned to Jessica. “Take good care of him.”

  “And you take care of my best friend.”

  “I promise.”

  Christine walked over to the bed. She bent over and kissed Jim on the forehead. “Take care, Sledge.” r />
  He smiled. “Thanks.”

  Jessica and Christine hugged. “See you in a few days.”

  “See you, girlfriend. Take lots of pictures for me.”

  “I will. Be good.”

  Jessica laid her head back on Jim’s chest as they left the room.

  Chapter

  Eighteen

  Christine’s path has again crossed mine. Fate has a way of cutting corners.

  PAUL COOK’S DIARY

  “Do you know where we’re staying?” Christine asked.

  “El hotel Vilandre. It’s the same hotel where we first met.”

  She smiled. “You sure you didn’t set that up? The pick-pocket thing…”

  “If only I were that clever.”

  The hotel was only a fifteen-minute drive from the hospital. Paul parked in front of the hotel and they went inside.

  The lobby was dark, lit only by a single lamp in the entryway. The front counter was vacant. Paul looked around for someone, then finally just took the one key that was sitting on the desk behind the counter. “I guess this is your room,” he said, handing her the key.

  She checked the room number on the key tag. “This is the same room Jessica and I had before. I hope they brought my bag in. What about your things?”

  “Jaime is bringing my bag to the airport. He’s going in with us.”

  As they climbed the darkened stairwell, Paul asked quietly, “It was just the two of you in the room?”

  “Actually there were three of us.” She smiled proudly. “We have a gecko.”

  “Does he take up much room?”

  “No,” she said. “He sleeps on the wall.” They stopped in front of her room.

  “Could I sleep in your room?”

  “Where else would you sleep?”

  “Well, there’s a couch in the lobby.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  She handed him the key. He unlocked the door and opened it. He reached in and flipped on the light, then pulled back the door to let Christine enter first. She sighed with relief when she saw her bag next to the bed.

  The room was hot and humid, and Paul went over and turned on the window air conditioner. He looked around. “Where’s your gecko?”

  Christine looked at the wall and was a little disappointed. “I guess he checked out.”

  Christine went into the bathroom and undressed. Paul set the room’s radio-alarm clock then took off his shirt and lay back on the top of one of the beds.

  Christine stuck her head out the bathroom door. “Would you close your eyes?”

  “If I must.”

  “You must.” She made sure that he had closed his eyes before she came out in her underwear and climbed in her bed. She reached over and turned out the light between their beds.

  “You can open your eyes.”

  “No reason to anymore,” he said.

  She laughed.

  She heard him unbuckle his belt, pull off his pants, then roll over in the bed. A half hour later she asked in a voice slightly above a whisper, “Are you awake?”

  “Yes.”

  “How come you’re not asleep?”

  “I’m afraid of geckos.”

  She started laughing and threw a pillow at him. He caught it and put it under his head.

  “Your pillow smells better than mine.”

  “It’s probably baby powder. Now give it back.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “I need my pillow.”

  “You should have thought of that before assaulting me with it.”

  “Please.”

  “You can have mine.”

  “Okay.”

  He threw his pillow to her. It was warm from his body and it made her happy. “Good night.”

  “Good night.”

  “Paul.”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s good to be with you again.”

  “You too.”

  The conversation died into the hum of the air conditioner. She shut her eyes and imagined that he was holding her.

  Chapter

  Nineteen

  Last night I had a nightmare. Christine and I were hiking in the jungle when we somehow became separated. She was frightened and I could hear her calling to me. I slashed at the foliage with my machete but I could not get through. There was just too much between us.

  PAUL COOK’S DIARY

  The radio alarm went off, waking them to the staccato Spanish of the local announcer. The sun shone through the partially drawn curtains, casting one long column of light on the opposite wall. Paul groaned as he rolled over and shut off the alarm. “Someone kill me.”

  Christine liked the raspy sound of his voice. “Good morning.”

  “Not until I’ve had coffee,” he said.

  “Are you going to shower?”

  “No. I’ll just get dirty again.”

  “Then I will.” She sat up in bed. “Wait. Close your eyes.”

  “I’m a doctor, Christine. I’ve seen more naked bodies than Hugh Hefner.”

  “You haven’t seen mine,” she said. He put his hand over his eyes. “All right.”

  She climbed out of bed, took some clothes from her bag, then hurried into the bathroom. When the door shut, he sat up on the side of the bed, pulling on his jeans, then his socks and shoes. Then he fell back on the bed and closed his eyes.

  Ten minutes later the water stopped. Soon after, Christine emerged, wearing a hint of makeup and her hair neatly styled. “I’m ready,” she said brightly. Paul rubbed his chin. “Me too,” he said, though he looked like he’d been pulled from an interrupted tumble-dry cycle. “We better go.”

  Paul herded the group together in the lobby. By half past the hour the bus fired up. Christine sat on the front bench, and when the door shut, Paul sat down next to her. She opened her backpack. She had gone to the lower level and gotten them some pastries and fruit. “I brought us breakfast.”

  “Thank you. It’s been a while since anyone brought me breakfast.”

  She winked at him. “Then you’re overdue.”

  He took an apple, wiped it on his shirt and took a bite. As the bus approached the airport, he stood and faced the group.

  “First, I’m sure you are all wondering how Jim is. He’s going to be okay. He has a concussion and a compound fracture but fortunately nothing worse. He’ll be staying in the hospital for the next few days and he plans to fly back home with you. He asked if I would take you into the jungle. This morning we’re flying into Puerto Maldonado. We’ll arrive around eleven. When we get there, we’ll check into our hotel, then go right to work. We only have one day in Puerto and we have a project at an elementary school.”

  The bus stopped in front of the airport and they carried their things inside the terminal. She heard a shout and Jaime came running toward them, several bags in tow.

  Paul was pleased to see him. “Estoy feliz que podiste venir,” he said. Glad you could come.

  “A tu disposicion.” At your service.

  Although the flight to Puerto Maldonado was only a little more than an hour, it was a study in geographical contrasts. The mountains surrounding Cuzco were snow-covered, rising in majestic peaks, then slowly declining into rocky foothills that fell still further into a vast blanket of rainforest.

  From Christine’s window she could see a large brown river winding through the terrain like a snake through grass. She put her camera against the window and took a picture of it.

  An hour later the plane set down on the asphalt tarmac carved into a thick jungle that encroached on all sides as if trying to reclaim its ground.

  The airport terminal looked like an old airplane hangar. There was no control tower, just a windsock hanging limply from a pole. Christine felt like she had stepped into an adventure movie, made all the more real when the plane’s door opened and the warm tropical breath of the jungle filled the plane. A mobile passenger stairs pulled up to the plane’s rear door; the passengers disembarked and walked across the hot black asphalt
to the terminal. Christine looked around. The landscape was lush and green and wild.

  The terminal was high-ceilinged, with tin walls and exposed metal rafters. Ceiling fans buzzed twelve feet above them. There was a single baggage carousel.

  Paul’s bag was the first one out. He opened it, pulled out a felt fedora and put it on.

  When everyone had claimed their luggage, they moved outside to the airport parking lot. Two Peruvian men were waiting for them and they appeared surprised and pleased to see Paul; they both embraced him. He spoke with them for a moment, then they walked through the parking lot, rounding up motorcycle tri-wheel taxis until eleven of them had gathered near the terminal exit.

  The two men helped guide everyone to the carts and secured their luggage while Paul shouted out instructions to the drivers. The tinny whine of the two-stroke engines rose, and the carts carried them off in one large sortie, like a buzzing squadron of fliers. Christine climbed into the back of the cart with Paul. As they gained speed, she held her head out and closed her eyes. The warm air blew her hair back from her face, accentuating the elegant lines of her features. Paul looked over at her and smiled. “Having fun?”

  Her smile grew and she pulled her head back in. “I can’t believe I’m in the jungle.”

  “Tomorrow I’ll show you jungle,” he said. He pointed up ahead to the left of the road. “See that building up there? When we get back, I’ll take you to see a friend of mine. She rescues injured animals and raises them. She has jaguars, snakes, crocodiles, a tapir and a few animals I guarantee you’ve never seen before.”

  “What’s a tapir?” she asked.

  “It looks a little prehistoric—kind of like an oversized rodent with a big snout. I’ve seen their tracks in the jungle. They’re actually gentle creatures.”

  She shook her head. “This is so not Dayton.”