Carpathian 23 - Dark Storm

going on about the snake attack days earlier in the
     boat and how he wanted to barbecue vampire bats. His voice droned on and on, almost
     as endless as the drone of insects.
    “He’s a moron, Mom,” Riley said, trying to keep humor in her voice. “He likes to hear
     himself talk.”
    “He’s afraid,” Annabel replied, her voice low. “And he should be.”
    Her voice was low and ominous, sending a shiver down Riley’s spine. Walking through
     the jungle wasn’t easy. They weren’t in the area where the trees grew so high that
     light couldn’t filter through, negating ground cover. This was hard going—miles of
     thick, dense foliage that covered every possible trail almost as fast as it was hacked
     out. This was the type of terrain that was extremely dangerous. One wrong turn, one
     loss of sight of the person in front of you and a person could be lost completely.
    Riley knew to watch her hands and feet, to try not to brush up against plants and
     trees. Most were benign, but the hostile ones were extremely hazardous. She found
     it difficult to identify a tree that was safe to touch versus one that was poisonous
     and would cause an instant skin reaction. Most appeared the same to her, and yet her
     mother knew almost instinctively.
    Plants, for Riley, were equally difficult to distinguish no matter how many times
     the guide pointed them out to her. She knew by looking at the bright colors of the
     frogs and lizards which were hazardous to her health, and tarantulas the size of dinner
     plates could be obvious, along with every snake she encountered, but insects were
     too plentiful for her to remember which were extremely venomous.
    Her mother stumbled and Riley caught her to keep her from falling. In the rain forest,
     her mother never tripped over roots. She’d always been sure-footed and moved easily among the plants
     and foliage.
    Annabel tightened her hand around Riley’s arm, glanced over her shoulder at the porter,
     Raul’s brother, Capa, following close behind. “The moment we get to the base of the
     mountain, even if it’s already night, we have to keep moving with our guide and a
     couple of porters. No matter how much they protest, we have to get up the mountain
     tonight,” Annabel insisted, her voice so low Riley could barely catch the sound. “Something
     is really wrong, and I fear we’re too late. This is my fault, honey. I should have
     set out earlier on this journey.”
    “Dad had a heart attack, Mom,” Riley defended, but her sinking heart knew her mother
     was right. Something was wrong, but rushing up the mountain in the middle of the night
     wasn’t going to solve the problem. “What were you supposed to do? Dash off and leave
     him there alone in the hospital? We came the moment we could.”
    Annabel swallowed hard, blinking back tears. She had slept in the hospital bed with
     her husband and held him in her arms when he died. He’d lingered two weeks before
     his heart succumbed to the disease he’d fought most of his life. Riley knew her parents
     were inseparable and that her mother mourned her husband every single moment of every
     day. Annabel had always been alive and vibrant but since her husband’s death, she
     seemed far more subdued and distant. The truth was, Riley stuck to her side, afraid
     of losing her mother to pure sorrow.
    Dressed in boots, with jeans tucked in to prevent insect bites and scratches from
     hostile foliage, both women knew what it took for a prolonged trek through the jungle,
     but the going was difficult. As a rule, Annabel seemed to have an innate sense of
     direction, where Riley was completely turned around within moments of stepping off
     the boat and into the dimly lit interior.
    Her mother had always had such an affinity with the land, especially here in the rain
     forest, almost as if she had a built-in compass. Right now, she showed signs of distraction
     and anxiety, so rare in Annabel that Riley’s alarm for her increased. That along with
     the occasional stumble told Riley her mother was pulling even further away.
    She let her breath out slowly as she dropped back to step closely in her mother’s
     footsteps. She’d learned, even as a young child, the safest place in the jungle was
     directly behind her mother. The plants protected her rather than attacked her. Everywhere
     her mother stepped, plants grew as she passed over the thin trail. Fronds unfolded
     and vines untangled. Flowers sometimes dropped around