Frost Bite

Chapter 39

Josie

Maybe it's because I've never lived anywhere but Alaska. Maybe it's because I've spent the last few months with Jack and his subzero temperatures. But whatever it is, when we get to the Amazon, I don't know what to do with myself in the heat.

The air is heavy and thick with moisture. Breathing is harder and I'm covered in a sticky layer of sweat I can't seem to get rid of.

Jack, however, is perfectly cool in the heat. Even though I know he's uncomfortable, he doesn't show it.

Lucky bastard.

The small airstrip that Jack somehow bribed our way to is small and dirty. Everything metal is covered in a thick layer of rust, and everything wood has all but lost its thin layer of paint. Nothing but a crooked chicken wire fence holds back the jungle. Ryan's already sunburned, his blond hair like a halo in the bright sunlight.

Jack tosses me a bottle of water, blissfully cold from his touch.

"Drink," he says, tossing another bottle to Ryan, who looks substantially less grateful that I feel.

"So where exactly does the Prick's phone tell us to go?" Ryan asks, and I'm surprised to hear my name for the man who kidnapped me come out of his mouth. I hadn't thought he was paying that much attention to me anymore.

"In the jungle. Deep." Jack looks at the phone and gives a smile. "It has longitude and latitude."

"So we know where we're going?" I ask hopefully.

Jack nods. "We know where we're going."

My heart starts thrumming in my chest, threatening escape. In the next few days, Jack could be human. Jack could be human and we could be together.

The possibility of it makes me dizzy, takes the air out of my lungs and leaves me desperate for it.

I don't know what I'll do if the cure isn't real, if it doesn't work, or if worse – it leaves me without Jack.

But I don't think about that, because thinking about it means it's a possibility. And right now, I'd like pretend.

It takes us two days to hike to the heart of the jungle where the Prick's phone tells us to go. Two days of sweating and swearing and heat. Two days and then when Jack finally tells us that this is it, we're here – there's nothing different.

Ryan sits down and downs as much water as he can before he decides he needs to breathe.

"Well, great. There's nothing here," he snaps.

Jack ignores him and instead glares at the sun overhead like the contempt in his expression will drive it away. "Infernal orb of sweltering, hellish heat." I crack a smile because for once it's nice to hear him admit that he's uncomfortable. Egotistical immortal.

"Are you melting?" Ryan asks with a self-satisfied smirk. I imagine it's the kind of cruel smirk that comes from knowing the one you love will never be there. It's the kind of ugly expression I would have learned if Jack hadn't come back.

Jack throws a mild look in Ryan's direction, like now that he knows how much I love him back he doesn't particularly seem inclined to interact with Ryan anymore. Like being cruel back to him doesn't have the same meaning when he has what they both want.

Which is me, oddly enough.

Sometimes I have no idea what to do with the two of them.

And a part of me wonders why it is exactly that Jack wants to throw himself back into the mess that is humanity. Because people are strange, inexplicable creatures who dabble in logic occasionally, but whose true passion is chaos and irrational emotions that almost always lead to suffering.