Fall by Autumn Archer
4
Gravitating to the earth backwards felt like a lifetime.
In reality, it was a matter of seconds.
One scream.
Two blinks.
Treble heartbeats.
Branches scraped my waving arms during the quick descent, failing to soften the blow. I landed on a wooden ledge. Shocked and winded.
Dante watched from his celestial position in the clouds as I plummeted. I believed the drop alone would kill me––except, I didn't fall far enough to cause any degree of pain or injury.
He waited until my ass hit the boards, then drew back inside the aircraft and hid from sight as the helicopter skimmed the treetops.
My new prison is a deck wrapping mature bark, miles high from the leafy lower terrain where danger hunts unprepared victims. Weathered planks house one half of the hardy tree hut with not much space for daily exercise. A metal locker takes up one corner and a solo folded chair sits by worn timber railings. It’s rustic and basic compared to the five-star lodgings I was accustomed to in the cabin.
Punishment wasn’t a single bullet or a pair of damaged throttling hands. It’s a remote, uninhabited hideout. Solitary confinement.
I’ve paced the length and breadth of the cramped lookout station. Cursing el Fantasma for not believing me. Screaming to the uncaring creatures for the kiss that riddled me with a kaleidoscope of emotions. Desire. Hatred. Lust. Revulsion.
Those warm wet lips of his held so much potency that common sense seeped into the darkest parts of my brain. He was the air I breathed. The crime of his ravaging mouth obstructed the world. My body responded to his forbidden flavor. All the wrongs evaporated. His rough edges dissolved, and my defenses weakened. Our searching tongues danced, signaling to my brain that we belonged together. It felt like a man giving a woman his heart, and then he shoved me out of the helicopter.
Bastard.
That kiss was divinely hateful. I’ll never forget how he offered me an inkling of hope when calculated cruel intentions followed. Nor will I forgive him for banishing me to the jungle without food, running water or even a bed fitted with a mosquito net.
From my elevated heights in the treetops, I stare out at the wonder of the Amazon rainforest. Mocking shades of green stretch for hundreds of acres. Every varying shade and rich depth reminds me of his complex colored eyes with vicious hues of deception and natural tinged evergreen that suggest an awakening.
I’ve lost track of the strung-out hours. An extraordinary ring of gold burns around the setting sun, glowing amidst tiger slashes of bold orange and yellow. In any other situation, it would be a breathtaking scene worthy of photography. Tonight, however, it signifies the arrival of darkness. The advent of jeopardy. Time spent in the forest without a knowledgeable guide.
When the blazing sphere of fire switches places with the giant moon, the temperature cools. It’s only a few degrees lower, but my teeth chatter and goosebumps sprinkle my forearms. I’m overcome with haunting flashbacks of the afternoon’s events. Dante executed a guest without flinching. He projected eerie calmness void of remorse. His seething anger switched to indifference in the glaring flash of lightning. A raging pyre of emotions quickly shrank beneath a powdery snowdrift, and his edginess easily morphed to a ghostly composer. Dante retreated into el Fantasma, sinking deeper, accepting his alternative persona as the rightful ruler.
I desperately want to be free. This prison sentence screams of torment. It stinks of a decision far worse than a quick death. Glancing to the four corners in turn, I traipse to the unsecured locker, hoping to find a walkie-talkie or radio device to contact Sal. He wouldn’t want this either. I’m sure of it.
Inside, I’m rewarded with a flashlight, bulky camo jacket and a hunter's knife sheathed in a case. Nothing else. It’s not rations or a protective blanket. But it’s better than false hope.
Although the hand crafted tower is merely wood and bolts, it's still shelter from the weather. Another jail. This one being held on stilts and severely lacking in amenities.
Aged boards groan when I wander from edge to edge. I continue to pace while cursing both myself and the man who refused to let me speak. The rustling leaves hear every muttered word of hateful truths that should singe my tongue. An unforgiving temper builds inside my chest, replacing all the fanciful ideas of a bewitching savage in the wild who tamed his demons for a foreigner. Fresh sparks of anger kindle to roaring flames, leaving my pathetic heart to smolder in the embers of that laughable fantasy. Even though it aches in the ashes, my wounded heart doesn't send out smoke signals for help. Instead, it hardens and beats for war. All the bruises on my body throb with the reality of this scenario.
We were never compatible.
He’ll never accept me as an equal.
The rage of that epiphany siphons disgust into my hissing veins. Dante spared my life, yet it doesn’t mean I should be thankful for falling blindly into remoteness. I’m not naive.
Uncontrollable shivers rattle my achy bones until I dress in the puffy jacket and snuggle into it for comfort. Staring up at the star scattered sky, I wonder if this is merely a stopgap and not meant as my final destination. Perhaps it’s a waiting room for the meanest of outcomes, or simply a confined space where I’ll starve and wilt in solitude.
My parched skin craves hydration, and the knots in my belly feel tight and sickly. If I was blessed with food to eat, I’d happily devour it, but I’m certain the waves of acid would quickly turn violent and make it come back up.
Tatty locks drape on either side of my face like the closing curtain call. Fight or flight instincts buzz in my weary muscles, and I second guess if I have the energy to withstand a night outdoors.
A distant mechanical roar competes with rotary blades. Looking up, I focus on the dusky skyline with sniper vision. The blinking red light declares an uncertain fate as a helicopter ascends.
It’s him. He’s coming back to end this nightmare once and for all.
Panic tingles through my hands. I tuck my curls flat to my spine beneath the jacket, then stuff the knife under the waistband of my trousers so the leather case is close to my hip bone. Hunkering down, I quickly scan the floorboards with a thin beam from the flashlight. Close to the farthest corner a circular hole is visible in one of the planks. Carefully inserting two fingers and hauling upwards, the trap door creaks open to reveal a rope ladder spilling to the understory.
The helicopter motor whirs overhead. My pulse catches fire, and without a second thought, I drop to the top rung. It wobbles and shakes under my weight. Weeks of employment and healthy food have shed a few pounds from my waistline, and even still the ladder feels as though it could give way.
With fear biting my heels, the momentum of escaping my incarceration without a fair trial is at an all-time high. I abandon the upper tier and lower to the middle layers. The air changes. Thicker. Warmer. Pungent. It doesn’t stop me. I’d rather flee than be a victim. Rope ties rub against the broad tree trunk that stops the ladder from swaying out of control.
If only he’d listened.
If only Dante believed in the fierce affinity we fused from a rare predicament. We both knew the earth shifted at first sight. We both heard the forest whisper around us, casting a spell that spun moonlight into connecting strands. Tragedy crisscrossed our destiny, twisting together a web of seduction and unbridled lust. A young woman from Scotland found an older hero from Brazil. A paradoxical man discovered a simple reason for happiness and chose not to accept it. Our very different worlds collided with an epic explosion. Reciprocated hatred bled into unruly gluttony.
Now, none of that matters one iota because I’ll never willingly return to his Oasis. I’ll fight for my freedom, and if our paths clash one last time, I’ll tell him the truth. That he’s the one who can’t be trusted. He’s the wretched soul undeserving of my allegiance.
Decaying leaves soften my landing. The soles of my boots hit the mulch. I tilt my head back to pinpoint the hovering helicopter directly over the platform. I can’t be certain it’s him jumping from the aircraft onto the platform, and I won’t hang around to find out.
Once they’ve noticed that I’ve entered the jungle, they’ll fly back to Dante’s pious kingdom. He won't come back to forage in the forest for a woman lost in a hostile landscape. El Fantasma will erase the echo of my heartbeat from his memory and carry on being heartless.
If I stay hidden and take refuge under the foliage, whoever is chasing me will never suspect I’m lurking close by. I’ll hang out down here until he’s bored with his power trip.
Every mature tree resembles the next. It’s a treacherous maze with hundreds of miles between me and the local town. At nightfall, I’d be crazy to find civilization, but tomorrow… that’s when I’ll head for the river.
Creaks and scrapes bring my gaze to the wobbly ladder streaming to the earth from above. “IRIS!” The familiar masculine voice booms from the upper canopy, irritating the species preparing for slumber. A shiver skitters down my spine. My heart rate falters.
It’s him.
He must be hunting me for sport.
My soles crush saplings as I bob beneath interspersed long-stemmed woody vines, keeping a steady pace, given the uneven surface. A gap of light brings in a faint beam of silver, barely guiding the way. Tiredness battles with the adrenaline pumping in my veins. If I continue to run from him, there’s no doubt I’ll lose my way, and then I’ll never make it back to the lookout tower. For a fleeting second, I gather my breath by a monstrous hardwood tree. Crouching into brace position, I drag the hood over my head to conceal flyaway hair strands and my pale complexion.
The wheeze of my hot breath magnifies in the lull. A flicker of torchlight carries through the undergrowth like a radar. Frail branches crack into smithereens under his heavy footing.
“She’s gone,” he bites out. “Get a search team out here now, Luiz. I want every man on the ground. And bring the night vision goggles,” el Fantasma snaps out his order. “No one sleeps until she’s found. Understood?” His voice strains on the last syllable, almost like he’s scared.
I know the beast better than to believe such a fabricated wish. He’s pumped with the chase and high on his podium where justice is the only conclusion. This is a thousand times worse than I could have imagined. He won’t stop until my heart bleeds out for him.
A family of rodents scurry past, making me flinch. While I watch them scavenge for fallen fruits, a sudden weight tips my shoulder. Every muscle in my body locks. The pressure slithers across my chest. Thick and legless. Stuffing clenched knuckles between my teeth, I stave off a pointless scream. Hot terror spills in tears. This jungle is full of predators. Human, carnivorous mammals and reptiles.
I squeeze my eyes shut, begging myself to ignore the sliding strength navigating my torso. The sensation of a restricting force is too much to tolerate. In a flash, I bounce to standing and rip the powerful reptile off my body. The rash decision to move carries echoed splinters through the atmosphere like gunfire. A low hanging vine scrapes my hood, and I scream. The burst of shock disturbs the ground dwelling animals and ripples through the wooded expanse.
“Iris!” he yells again.
My pulse takes off at the sound of his gravelly voice. I glance back to witness his fast approach. A cap shields uncovered eyes and gloved hands grip a firearm. He rambles through the undergrowth, dressed all in black with a camo rucksack strapped to his shoulders.
Unwanted prickles flux my spine in a waterfall. Thoughts of our kiss haunt me. The blood gushing through my veins scorches and then turns glacial.
Run, Iris. He’s going to kill you.
Without waiting for him to catch up, I scamper further into the forest. “Don’t run, goddamn it. Don’t fucking run,” he shouts. “Stop!”
I won’t willingly succumb to his commands. For now, I’m free, and I’ll go down fighting to preserve what dignity I have left. Even though I’m galloping along a worn track, he breaches the foot of distance keeping us apart and snags the sleeve of my jacket. He tugs, hard. My body flies backwards. I topple helplessly. In tandem, we crash to the forest floor. Exotic leaves hover over me, belying concealment. Rolling to my side, I wrench the covered blade free and release it from the sheath.
El Fantasma towers from above. I notice his gun sits in its holster, snug to his ribs. A scowl tightens his expression. “Are you okay?”
“Step back!” I wave the serrated knife in the air. With a weary sigh, my tormentor stands opposite me. He scrubs a hand over his jaw. I jump to my feet and brandish the blade. “Am I okay?” My high-pitched tone scatters nosey owls. “You pushed me out of a moving helicopter, you fucking psycho.”
“Iris.” His shoulders round like I’m annoying him.
“Fuck you, el Fantasma,” I hiss at him. It’s not the jungle’s fault I'm caught in a murderer’s nest with disturbed truths and trust that will never be won. I’m trapped in a diverse world and gullible if I expect to escape him. “Don’t think I won’t use this.” My gaze flicks to the weapon and back to him. “Because I will. Neither of us has earned the other’s trust. I may as well be as ruthless as you. I have nothing to prove to you anymore.” That revelation smashes into my chest like a sucker punch, leaving me short of breath. “Out here, it’s survival of the fittest, and I’ll plunge this knife into your gut if you dare to come any closer.”
A mist of sweat dampens the clothes I’m wearing. My hands visibly tremble, yet I hold my guard up and fix a hardened glare on the bristled shadow of hair around his mouth.
He falls strangely silent, folding his arms over his chest and assessing me with a disconcerting stare. “I have a gun, beija flor. And you have a knife.”
“Don’t call me that,” I grit out, gnashing my teeth at the audacity. “My name is Iris. Not the ridiculous pet name you concocted to make yourself feel powerful. I’m back in the jungle now. I’m free.”
“You’re still within my boundary.” His nostrils flare. “Put the knife down.”
“Why? So you can shove your gun in my face and finish this once and for all?”
He drops his hands and opens his fists. “My gun isn’t pointed at you.”
I take a shaky step closer to a neighboring tree. “Not yet. But that’s what you do, isn’t it? You welcome pretenses and strike when people least expect it. Like a ghost.”
He narrows one of his eyes. “Did you give that fucker a note?” My head nods curtly. “And you knew that act was a risk?”
“There wasn’t anything incriminating on it.”
“Yet, you willingly took that risk.” I know he’s right. The second I handed over the note, my instincts told me I’d made a grave error. “He didn’t force you to write it. You chose to do it. I explained the rules, and you promised to follow them.” I inhale a musky aroma of forest vegetation, hexed with his fresh, citrusy zing. The unusual scent pokes fun at my soaring temper. “Let’s go. We’ll talk about this somewhere safe.”
I shake my head and trample a few inches deeper into the shade. “No way. I’m not going anywhere with you.”
His white teeth glow in the shadows like a predator. “Really? You’d rather hang out with the mosquitoes?”
“Rather than willingly go with a madman like you—yes. At least I know what they are capable of.”
“I won’t hurt you.”
“Bullshit,” I blurt out. My heart twists into an agonizing knot.
His mouth tightens to a firm line, and his gaze drifts to the seedlings at our feet. That second of a reprieve gives me the courage to take a chance. I spin around to run, getting three strides away before brutal arms lock around me from behind.
The electricity vibrating from his form to mine whispers to my soul with deceit. I squirm and thrash, pointlessly stamping on his steel toe boots. “Get off me.”
The strangling embrace locks tightly. I’m restrained and defeated. In a blur, he rotates me into him. A burst of hedonistic zest invades my nostrils. Familiarity. Desire.
It’s all a pack of lies.
He frowns down at me, our breath mingling.
“I hate you,” I spit out. With a quick flick, I thrust the blade into the air beside us with a plan to harm him if necessary. “Don’t test me.” I narrow my glare, feigning bravery that mocks me when his pupils flare.
My skin heats the instant his large hand envelopes mine. He controls the movement, guiding the tip of the knife to his throat.
“Go ahead,” he bites out. I gasp at the prospect of slicing his flesh. Tiny vicious teeth press into the rapid vein pulsing in his neck. “I deserve it.” I shift my stare from cold steel to a dark green gaze, awash with guilt. “I’ve done bad things, Iris. Mostly to you.” I swallow hard, straining against the powerful hand, ensuring the knife remains in place. “If you want to punish me, then this is your only opportunity.”
“Oh, really.” I laugh icily. “I don’t trust you one single bit. This is another sick game, isn’t it? Well, I’m done with them. I’m done with you.” His fingers tighten. “I’m not like you. I’ll protect myself if I have to, but I wouldn’t slit your throat. I’m not a cold-blooded killer.”
El Fantasma’s spine stiffens. As if reading my mind and jointly reliving the moment he put a bullet in my attacker's head, he bares his teeth. “That bastard had to die, Iris.” The unspoken justification crystalizes his tone with black ice.
“The asshole deserved punishment,” I argue. “But to die like that? You’re incapable of showing an ounce of compassion, never mind remorse.”
He lowers his hand, bringing my clenched fist and knife down with it. “Oh, yeah?” The whites of his eyes flash like quicksilver in a streak of moonlight. “You put your entire family at risk. I fabricated your death––not theirs. He saw your home address, Iris.” He growls. “Sick fucks like him memorize details. You more or less handed him an open invitation. Is that what you wanted?” His harsh tone skitters with unthinkable truths. “That pathetic cockroach beat up women. Then those he didn’t choke to death, he left for dead in an alleyway.” He glares at me with utter desolation, rapidly inhaling through flared nostrils.
A tsunami of nausea wipes out my self-righteous opinion. Dante isn’t a ruthless murderer. He’s a vigilante. An anti-hero. The punisher. His seemingly cruel actions were warranted.
My legs wobble at this confession, tongue-tied and shocked at the revelation. I gave my full postal address to a stranger out of desperation. The need to let my family know I was alive overruled sense and logic. Not only did I go against Dante’s strict rules, but I also put my family in jeopardy.
“Why was he a threat to my family?”
“Because he knew you weren’t like all the other staff at the Oasis.”
“I dressed like them. Cleaned like them. Took orders like them. What made me any different?”
“For a start, you're a beautiful foreigner who’s supposed to be dead. I warned him to stay away from you. That alone meant you mattered.”
“Mattered?” I hiss. “Mattered to who exactly? From where I’m standing, I’m fighting for my life.”
He shrugs. It’s not a dismissive gesture, more akin to vulnerability. “Look, I didn’t know what else to do with you. My temper split into a million strands. The decision to drop you onto the tower was for your own good.” His hand claws at the bristles on his jaw. “I wanted you alive and as far away from me as possible.”
Don’t trust the devil.
I scowl up at him, still gripping the knife with the threat of harm. “Why are you here now then? To finish what you promised? To finally destroy me?”
My muscles brace when he drags off his cap and ruffles his hair. Shaggy waves tumble over his forehead when his head shakes from side to side. Full lips pout as he sighs. Aware of the buzz sparking within me, I quickly conclude that it’s fear. Not lust. Not a craving for his firm hands. Not a wish for those short whiskers to scratch and burn. It's a panic of the unknown. An awareness of my pending incarceration.
I step to the left in his silence, assessing flourishing ferns for another thwarted getaway.
His forehead creases. “You're coming with me. It’s not up for debate. We can do this the hard way, if you prefer?”
A melody of nocturnal humming intensifies. The deep hoot of a spectacled owl watching from the heights signals as my starter horn. Diving sideways, I plough into low hanging rough vines. The way forward is lit by a faint silvery haze streaming through the canopy above. My racing heartbeat thuds with my boots. Every hurried stride carries me away from his threat and into the jaws of a never-ending labyrinth.
I sense the monstrous storm before it hits. Masculine brawn tackles me to the mud, pinning me beneath him. He effortlessly straddles my bucking hips and secures my wrists to the earth above my head. It’s only then that I realize I’ve mindlessly let go of the survival knife. I groan out my frustration, accepting the stupid notion of winning a battle against this man.
“Never run from me again,” he snarls like a primitive god. “Do you understand?” A darkened gaze flashes with an edgy temperament. “I won’t hurt you, beija flor.” The harshness in his rough tone mellows like blossoming buds after a grim winter. “Don’t fight me. You won’t succeed––ever.”
“Is that what this is about?” I continue to strain for freedom. “You want to control me. To be the dominant man taking charge of the defenseless woman?”
His struggling countenance snaps. “I’m trying to get you the fuck out of the jungle. Not control you. If you weren’t so damn impetuous, you’d understand that. You won’t last a night out here alone.”
“Impetuous?” My temper slips to feral like a robust vine ready to choke the enemy. “You’re the impulsive one. You could have listened to me back in the cabin. Trusted me. But you didn’t. And you know what? The real truth is—you never will.” His shadowy gaze hardens when I continue to wriggle in his viselike grip. “And now, you’ll always be el Fantasma to me. The man I will never trust. The monster who deleted Iris Kitson.”
He grunts darkly like the fall from his throne was temporary and he’s erecting a monolithic replacement. “You trusted me enough to let me fuck you.” His tone blasts with grit and glass. “Your eyes begged me. Your body welcomed me. Your skin craved my touch. You fell apart on my dick. I gave you pleasure, beija flor. Fucking orgasmic ecstasy.”
“You’re wrong.” I lift my head, bringing us closer. I keep my eyes to his, careful not to show my desire. “I wanted Dante. The caring man who offered a part of himself to me. Not you. Not the high and mighty el Fantasma who demands havoc and collects unfortunate lives.”
“Enough,” he barks, with a hot temper transmitting through his voice. “You’re coming with me. This time I’d rather not gag you, but I will if I have to.”
My hips thrust wildly. “I’ll never step foot in that Oasis again. Never!”
He spends a silent moment sizing me up. “You’re not going to the Oasis. You’re coming with me. To my private quarters.” He rears back, simultaneously unclipping his gun. I instantly jolt. The muscles in my neck burn. “Take my gun. That way you’ll know I won’t intentionally hurt you.” He presents the firearm to me with an open leather clad hand. I stare at the object of warfare, then lift to my elbows as the pressure holding me captive disperses. “Take the fucking thing before I change my mind.”
And I do. I snatch the cold steel, feeling the instant weight of power.
“Call off the search party,” he speaks into his radio. “She’s safe. Meet me at the platform. I’m taking her home with me.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And, Luiz. Kindly inform Salvador that his friend is unharmed and still every bit insubordinate.”
