All of which left her utterly alone with no supplies on a flooded river miles from help, with a dying man and a scared down-timer on her hands. The only thing that kept her going was her sense of responsibility. She hadn’t left Achilles completely without resources and she wouldn’t give up on Koot and Kynan, either. Somehow, she’d get them out of this mess she’d made.
Six hours later she woke Koot and dosed him with two more tablets. He complained of a raging headache and fell asleep again. Margo dug out her information on malaria and a flashlight. When she read the list of potential symptoms, Margo felt a chill of terror. The Plasmodium falciparum strain of malaria, which included among its symptoms severe headaches, could be quickly fatal Not treated properly . They were several hundred years as well as a hundred or so miles from the nearest medical clinic.
Kynan crouched down at her side and gestured to Koot.
”He die?”
Margo shook her head. “I don’t know.”
The Welshman’s dark gaze flicked to the river. “Bad Place.”
”Yes. Very bad.” She drew a ragged breath. “We have to keep going.” She pantomimed paddling and pointed down the river.
Kynan nodded. His expression was as grim as Margo’s fading hopes. Somewhere deep inside her, Margo found the courage to keep going. At dawn, they shoved off again. The Welshman wordlessly picked up Koot’s heavy Winchester rifle and checked it as he’d been taught, then took up a guard stance in the bow. Someone had to watch for hippos while the other one steered. Margo didn’t feel like arguing over which job she was best suited for. She took up position in the stern and did her best to keep them on course.