Chapter 8
Complete fail. Not only had Rory not been able to search the crash site, but he’d unintentionally put Mathilda in danger. The terror that had gripped him when he’d seen the drone turn toward her was like nothing he’d ever felt before. He’d acted without even thinking.
And now she had one more thing to blame on Lincoln Kerr.
Would she at least give him credit for rescuing her from the drone? He couldn’t tell what she was thinking about him now. She’d delivered her warning about trust, then clammed up.
Shortly after that, they heard the drone leave. He insisted Mathilda stay in their little shelter while he made sure it was gone. “Coast’s clear,” he finally called to her.
She joined him at the edge of the crash site and they both listened for any signs of the murderous drone returning. The jungle was quiet, except for the usual bird calls and hum of insects. She could probably identify them, but he couldn’t.
He glanced down at her, noticed a smudge of dirt on her forehead, and closed his hand to keep it by his side.
She checked her watch. “I need to get to the waterfall, the others will be waiting for me.”
“I need to get started on dinner.”
She gave a double take. “Come again?”
“I offered to make dinner so Robert could get a head start on his hike to the heiau.”
“Well, look at you. Contributing. Helping out. Using Hawaiian terminology. I like it.” Then she narrowed her eyes at him. “Unless you have some kind of hidden agenda?”
“I do. How’d you guess?” he said dryly. “I want to make sure you guys don’t kick us to the curb. I don’t want to have to carry Rory on my back to Hilo.”
She laughed a little. “We would never kick anyone out unless they were causing trouble.”
“Drones don’t count?”
“If that drone comes to our camp, we might have to renegotiate. But evicting anyone would require a group meeting. You’ll have a chance to make your case.”
If the drone came to the camp, he’d leave on his own accord. He wouldn’t put them in danger to save his own skin. Or Lincoln’s, for that matter. He’d figure something out.
Whatever it was, it would be better than a damn group meeting. That sounded miserable.
They parted ways at a stream thick with mossy rocks. Before she took off, Mathilda turned and gave him a gentle, unexpectedly soft glance. “I do appreciate what you did for me. I won’t forget it.”
“It’s the least I could do, considering everything you’ve done for me and Rory.” He gave her a little salute and watched her disappear into the jungle, all tanned legs and billowing oversized shirt.
He shot one last look at the remains of the SyberJet. If he really was going to make dinner, he didn’t have any time to spare. And after Mathilda’s appreciative words, nothing could divert him from that task.
The urge to impress her, to win another of those soft looks from her…it was very real, for better or worse.
Back in the Nahele camp, he checked on Lincoln again.
No change. Remembering Mathilda’s silly theory that he might be faking the coma, he poked Lincoln in the ribs.
No reaction. He felt his pulse, which seemed stronger.
Checked his forehead with the back of his hand. No fever. His color looked good.
He was still hooked up to the IV that fed fluid into his veins.
That took care of his need for hydration and nutrition, at least for now.
How many IV bags did they have out here in this jungle?
If they ran out, he’d have to get Lincoln to a hospital.
Would he be safe there? Rory had no idea.
That drone had rattled him. What if some unknown enemy was monitoring the nearby hospitals, waiting to pounce if Lincoln showed up?
At this point, anything seemed possible.
Another thought had been nagging at him. Was the storm not the only reason they’d crashed? Lincoln had engineered things so they’d be the only ones on that jet. Had he suspected there might be trouble on this trip?
It certainly wasn’t mechanical. He’d done a thorough cross-check himself before takeoff. The SyberJet had been in perfect condition. Even after the storm had hit them, the aircraft had been holding up well. Until they’d lost all power, he’d been sure they’d make it through.
There was something strange afoot. He could feel it.
For instance, what about Lincoln’s weird obsession his med kit?
Something must be locked inside that he didn’t want anyone else getting their hands on.
Did that have anything to do with their crash?
Was someone else after that med kit, or whatever was inside it?
The drone hadn’t come to the camp. That was a good thing. It meant that no one knew they were here in this obscure scientific outpost. Their best option was to stay here for now, which meant Rory needed to earn their keep.
Time to make dinner.
Robert had told him there were seven people in the crew at the moment, although people came and went according to their project timelines. They lived mostly on canned foods and stocks of grain and beans, and occasionally someone hunted or fished.
Maybe he should have tracked down that injured boar and brought him back for dinner.
They’d also planted a garden, which was protected from marauding pigs by piles of lava rocks. They grew mostly winter squash and kale, along with herbs and green onions. Robert had hacked paths to a nearby avocado tree and a breadfruit tree.
Since he had no idea what to do with something called breadfruit, Rory kept it simple.
He made beans and rice, seasoned with his own spice blend, which he put together from the very randomly stocked spice cabinet.
Luckily, there was plenty of garlic in the pantry.
He used that to stir fry some kale after he’d blanched it.
And then he quickly made some Spam sushi, which he knew they called musubi here.
“My grandmother taught me,” he explained, after everyone had gulped down their share of sushi rolls as they sat around the big table in the yurt.
A steady rain was pattering on the canvas roof.
The sound was soothing, almost hypnotic, creating a sense of being inside a cozy cocoon.
“I noticed a musubi maker and decided why not?”
“Is your grandmother Hawaiian?” Cody asked through a bulging mouthful of sushi. Cody was a quiet, lean guy with a head of curly dark hair. He seemed to study something related to volcanoes, though Rory hadn’t pinned that down yet.
“She’s Japanese, but she spent some time in Hawaii as a cook. She taught me everything I know about cooking.”
“This rice is incredible. Did she teach you that?” Sasha, the silver-haired doctor, closed her eyes as she savored his rice and beans.
“I got that recipe from my favorite restaurant in LA,” he admitted. “I ate there every day for a month until they gave in and shared it with me.”
Mathilda was the only one who showed no visible reaction to his culinary efforts. Sitting next to him, she seemed lost in thought. But she did eat everything on her plate, he noticed. He’d have to be satisfied with that.
“Any chance you want to stay on here as a cook?” Diane asked hopefully.
She was a slender woman with deep brown skin and beaded cornrows, and the only one in the group who wasn’t there for science.
She was an artist who had made an arrangement to live at the camp in exchange for helping anyone with anything that required an artistic hand.
Apparently, according to Robert, she’d worked with Mathilda on very precise renditions of various bird species.
Currently, she was working with Felicia, an archeologist who was studying an ancient Hawaiian village in the next valley over. A tsunami had wiped it out, but there were still traces of that lost community. Diane was creating artistic renderings of the village based on Felicia’s findings.
As he listened to them talk, he found himself forgetting his troubles. It was a relief not to worry about Lincoln for a bit. Instead of investment talk, he got to eavesdrop on discussions of taro patches and Hawaiian deities.
He found the little group fascinating.
Apart from their individual projects, they all did their best to support their fellow scientists.
They coordinated as much as possible to minimize time alone in the jungle.
They divvied up tasks around the camp; there was a lot of trading and negotiating around that, depending on what each researcher had going on.
No one stayed for long, he learned. They came out here for specific purposes, completed their research, then went back to their various universities, which could be anywhere in the world, though most were from Hilo. Cody, for instance, was affiliated with a volcanology program in Iceland.
Another tidbit he picked up while listening to them chatter over Spam sushi—Mathilda was soon to leave the Nahele Research Camp.
Even after the conversation moved on, he couldn’t let go of that piece of information.
Maybe it was because she’d rescued him and Lincoln, or maybe because he’d rescued her from the drone—or maybe he just found her attractive.
Whatever the reason, he didn’t want her to leave.
“When’s your last day here?” he asked her as soon as there was a break in the flow of conversation. She’d combed her hair out, and it hung in a shiny waterfall down her back, lit by the cozy lantern that sat in the middle of the table.
“I’m not sure. I haven’t given up on Hector yet. There’s another part of the valley where he might be. Bjorn just found a patch of hō’awa there and that’s the ‘alalā’s favorite plant.”
“Pittosporum confertiflorum,” explained Bjorn the botanist, who clearly had a crush on Mathilda. Clearly to Rory, anyway. Mathilda seemed to be oblivious.
“Yes, the ‘alalā love it.” Mathilda’s eyes lit up.
“They crack open the seed pods, which are bright orange inside, and gobble up the seeds. They’re one of the only species capable of splitting those pods.
Then they fly elsewhere in the forest and poop them out.
Or they used to, before their population dropped. ”
“Seed dispersal,” Bjorn explained, his gaze still on Mathilda. “The ‘alalā and the hō’awa are the perfect match.”
Rory decided he didn’t really care for Bjorn the botanist.
“Yes, which means that the pittosporum is now endangered too, because no one else fills that particular ecological niche. Anyway, I want to check out the patch Bjorn found before I head back to Hilo.” She ate another mouthful of rice and beans, and shot him an appreciative look.
“This is really delicious. The next time you see your grandmother, thank her from all of us.”
“I will. She’ll probably want to make you her special noodle soup when she hears how you rescued us.”
They smiled at each other, until that happy moment was interrupted by Bjorn leaning across the table. “I thought your father was Korean, not Japanese.”
Oops. He really needed to be more careful. “You know my family?”
“I know of them. I grew up near Savannah. Everyone knows the Kerr family there. My mother could probably name every branch of your family tree, birth dates, second cousins once removed, all of that. She used to study the gossip pages like the Bible.”
Which was a lot more than he could do. He knew Lincoln’s mother’s family was upper crust, but Lincoln never talked about them and always avoided family gatherings. Rory figured that was at least partly because of the scandal surrounding his birth.
Rory smiled uncomfortably and decided to stick close to the truth. “She probably knows more than I do about all that. I don’t focus on that family history. I always wanted to make my own way.”
“Sure, but it’s a lot easier to make your own way when your dad signs over half his company to you after a divorce. Well done, you.” Bjorn gave him a little mock salute. “Too bad about your sister, though. Half-sister,” he corrected himself.
Rory blanked. Sister? Who was Lincoln’s half-sister? Was something wrong with her? Try as he might, he couldn’t remember any recent reference to Lincoln’s sister. Kendall, was that her name? Or Maureen? There were at least two. “Yeah, that’s…unfortunate.”
“Man, you’re so calm about it. If my sister was suing me, I’d rethink a few things in my life.”
Suing?
“Well, lawyers, you know, I’m not allowed to talk about it while the litigation is ongoing.”
He felt Mathilda’s gaze on him, and glanced over at her. A small frown appeared between her eyebrows, but he couldn’t tell if it was sympathetic or disapproving.
“What’s the lawsuit about?” she asked. “Can you at least say that?”
“The lawyers would have my ass if I did.”
Bjorn answered her question, because of course he did. “Aren’t you trying to box her out of her share of the company? That’s what my mother said. She thinks you should treat your sister with more respect.”
Interesting. How did this random dude in the jungle know more about Lincoln’s business than Rory did? He really ought to follow the business news more. Was it possible that this lawsuit was connected to Lincoln’s mission to Maui? Or the drone? Or even…the crash?
“There’s two sides to every story,” he said. “At least two. Usually more. And that’s really all I should say.”
But the disappointment in Mathilda’s eyes was hard to take. There wasn’t much he could do about that, not without admitting he knew nothing about any of this.
“It’s so sad when money tears a family apart,” she said. “You should really consider taking a different approach to your sister.”
“That’s very good advice. Not much I can do at the moment, but it’s something to think about.” Desperate to change the subject, he turned to Sasha. “How does Rory seem tonight?”
“About the same. I got more movement of his eyeballs during this last exam. I’d say that’s progress. I did some movement exercises with him to make sure his muscles don’t atrophy. He needs to do those a couple times a day.”
“Good. Thanks,” Rory told her. “Will any of those exercises help him wake up?”
“Unlikely. But you never know when something will wake up a coma patient.”
When Lincoln regained consciousness, Rory needed to make sure he was present, not Sasha or anyone else. He was going to have lots of explaining to do. “Show me the exercises, I’ll do them with him.”
“I was going to suggest the same thing.” Sasha grinned at him. “I just wasn’t sure you’d be into playing physical therapist for your pilot.”
“Bring it on.” He interlaced his fingers and flexed his hands. “I’m pretty good with my hands.” He winked at Mathilda, but she just rolled her eyes. Fair, he thought. Time to upgrade his dorky jokes.