29.
“Now what?” Rodney says, setting a still wide-eyed and very quiet Leslie down onto her feet.
“We find a place to rest our heads for the few more hours until dawn,” I say. “Then, at first light, when the spiders are all snuggled back into their silk bed for the day, we’ll grab our gear and make our way to the mountain that houses the aircraft.”
Rodney takes a look around.
“Where exactly do you propose we lie down in a place that’s positively crawling?” Leslie asks, her voice cracking with fear.
I look over one shoulder, then another.
Darkness all around.
Making a 365-degree sweep with the LED lamp, I spot an ironwood tree. It’s one of the biggest, oldest, and most rugged trees of the jungle. Thus its name. It also rarely houses army ants, which can be even more deadly in the rain
