In the early morning hours, once the godawful dawn racket from the birds and howler monkeys had died down, a tropical rainforest was very quiet. Sounds traveled a long way, and several times he had picked up the Indians’ voices, frighteningly calm and monosyllabic. Unlike the Americans, they were in no hurry. Unlike the Americans, they knew what they were doing. Besides, Theo’s increasingly dragging feet were making enough noise to be heard down in Iquitos.

“Maybe… maybe they just… wanted to… scare us off,” Theo managed, following it with an “Uff!” as he tumbled headlong over a fallen trunk.

Sure, Arden thought grimly, and maybe they forgot to dip their darts in poison. And maybe your poor gray face and your uncoordinated movements – this was the third time Theo’d fallen – are just in my imagination.

“Jesus, Theo,” Frank said. “You have to watch… where you’re going.” He said it with a kind of teeth-clenched jauntiness, trying to convince himself – to convince all of them – that there was nothing the matter with his brother aside from simple, frightened clumsiness.

Theo knew better; Arden could see it in his eyes as he and Frank pulled him to his feet.

“Well, let’s go,” Theo said, but he just stood there. His speech had slowed perceptibly now and was more mumble than words. He could no longer put his lips together. His system was shutting down. “Oh, hell, I need to… I need… lie down.” He sagged against Frank.

“Theo,” Frank said urgently. “You can’t lie down. Come on, we have to keep going.”

“B… bud… I can’t… I can…” His eyelids were drooping; saliva ran down his chin.

Frank wiped it away with his fingers, his eyes filming over with sudden tears. “Theo, you can make it, we’ll get you there, bro.”

“Don’t worry, Theo, we can do it,” Arden said. “Come on, buddy.”

Quickly, they each hooked one of Theo’s flaccid arms over their shoulders and got going at as close to a trot as they could manage. Theo was as inert, and as frightfully heavy, as a corpse.