Jackson could barely feel his legs.
Every step through the storm was agony—cold needles of rain stabbing into his skin, soaking him to the bone.
He’d thought he could make it back quickly. He was wrong.
The jungle at night was a labyrinth of shadow and water, and the harder he tried to follow the creek, the more the landscape seemed to loop around him.
Every tree looked the same. Every turn felt familiar.
He rubbed his eyes, trying to see through the curtain of rain.
“Damn it,” he muttered.
Then, with a burst of determination, he leapt down into the creek itself, deciding to follow the current downstream. The water was icy, biting at his legs as he waded forward.
Half an hour later, his muscles felt like stone. Numbness crept upward from his knees.
He finally climbed out, panting.
