We were standing at the edge of the rain forest, a good fifty feet of pristine white sand stretching between us and the ocean. It was the most beautiful sight I’d ever seen.
Some twenty yards up the beach were at least twenty men and women in swimsuits, playing volleyball.
There were beach towels strewn over the sand, a couple of sand castles, half a dozen umbrellas and beach chairs. To top it off, there was a guy on a seat set up some twenty feet above the ground, an umbrella covering him. He was a lifeguard.
Laura made a soft noise in her throat. She opened her eyes and looked at me. “What’s happening?”
“I’d say we lucked out, sweetheart. Just hold on. You and I are going to be in that cold shower before you know it.”
The laughter slowly died away. The men and women were looking down the beach at us. Two of the men waved the others back and came walking toward us. I dropped the Bren Ten to my side. Sherlock eased down on the AK-47, trying to look a little less terrifying.
I yelled, “We need some help. We’ve got a wounded person here.”
The women came trotting up behind the men. One of the guys sprinted toward us. Short and fiercely sunburned, he was wearing glasses and a slouchy green hat. “I’m a doctor,” he said, panting when he stopped in front of us. “My God, what happened to you guys? Who’s hurt?”
“Over here,” Savich said. He carefully laid Laura down on a blanket Sherlock quickly spread beneath a palm tree.
She was barely responding. I unbuttoned the two shirts and bared the bandages. As he knelt down beside her, I said, “It’s a gunshot wound through the shoulder, happened two days ago. I had a first-aid kit, thank God. I didn’t set any stitches for fear of infection. I changed the bandages every day and kept the wound as clean as possible. But it looks like it got infected anyway.”
In the next minute, at least a dozen men and women circled around us. Savich rose and smiled at them, looking ferocious, I realized, seeing how dirty he was, with mud dried to his thighs and his growth of beard. He looked like a wild man, filthy and dangerous.
Then Sherlock laughed. She tossed the water bottles in their net to the ground and let out a big whoop. “We’ve been in the rain forest for over two days. Is this Club Med?”
The men and women just looked at one another. A man in a loose red-and-white-striped bathing suit said, “No, we’re on a day trip here from up the coast,” he said, eyeing us closely. “You got separated from your guide?”
“We didn’t have a guide,” Sherlock said. “Where are we?”
“You’re in the Corcovado National Park.”
“Anywhere near Dos Brazos?” I asked, and slapped a bug off my neck.
“Yeah, it’s at the southeast end of the rain forest.”
Laura opened her eyes and looked up at the man who was carefully lifting up the bandage on her shoulder. “It’s all right. You just hang in there. It’s not bad. But you need a hospital. What’s your name?”
“I’m Laura. What’s yours?”
“I’m Tom. I’m here on my honeymoon. It’s a great place. Well, maybe it wasn’t such a great place for you. What happened?”
“I’m a federal agent. All of us are. I got shot by some drug dealers. We’ve been in the rain forest for the past two days.”
Tom the doctor sat back on his heels and turned to a woman who had to be close to six feet tall. “Glenis, go tell the lifeguard that we need a helicopter here fast. It’s a medical emergency.”
“And the police,” I said.
Tom said to all of us, “The Sirena Ranger Station is just up the way a bit. It shouldn’t take too long. The wound’s infected, but it doesn’t look too bad, considering. You guys did really well taking care of her.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“I want a margarita,” Laura said. “With lots of lime. We’ll even provide the lime.”
I looked around at everyone in that circle. “I’ve heard of Corcovado,” I said slowly. “Isn’t it in Costa Rica?”