Die Again: A Rizzoli & Isles Novel by Tess Gerritsen

Author:Tess Gerritsen [Gerritsen, Tess]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-345-54386-8
Publisher: Random House Inc.
Published: 2014-12-29T16:00:00+00:00

BOTSWANA

HOW LONG CAN A MAN STAY AWAKE, I WONDER AS I WATCH JOHNNY nodding off in the firelight, his eyes half closed, his torso slumping forward like a tree on the verge of collapse. Yet his fingers are still wrapped around the rifle in his lap, as if the weapon is part of his body, an extension of his limbs. All evening the others have been watching him, and I know Richard’s tempted to wrestle control of that gun, but even a half-asleep Johnny is too formidable to tangle with. Since Isao’s death, Johnny has caught only snatches of sleep during the day and he’s determined to stay awake all night. If he keeps this up, in another few days he will be either catatonic or insane.

Either way, he’ll be the one with the gun.

I look at the faces around the fire. Sylvia and Vivian huddle together, their blond hair equally tangled, faces equally tight with worry. It’s strange, what the bush does to even beautiful women. It strips them of all superficial gloss, dulls their hair, scours away makeup, erodes them down to flesh and bone. That’s what I see when I look at them now: two women slowly being eroded to their bare elements. Already it has happened to Mrs. Matsunaga, who’s been worn down to her fragile, fractured core. She is still not eating. The plate of meat I gave her sits untouched at her feet. To coax some sort of nutrition into her, I added two spoonfuls of sugar to her tea, but she immediately spat it out, and now she looks at me with distrust, as if I tried to poison her.

In fact, everyone now looks at me with distrust, because I haven’t joined their blame-Johnny team. They think I’ve gone to the dark side, and I’m Johnny’s spy, when all I’m trying to do is figure out the most likely way for us to stay alive. I know Richard’s no outdoorsman, even though he thinks he is. Clumsy, terrified Elliot hasn’t shaven in days, his eyes are bloodshot, and any minute now I expect him to start babbling like a madman. The blondes are falling apart even as I watch. The only person who still has it together, who actually knows what he’s doing out here, is Johnny. I vote for him.

Which is why the others no longer look at me. They look past me or through me, shooting furtive glances at one another in some silent eyelid-flickering Morse code. We’re living the real-life version of TV’s Survivor, and it’s clear I’ve been voted off the island.

The blondes are off to bed first, huddling together and whispering as they leave the firelight. Then Elliot and Keiko slip away to their respective tents. For a moment it’s just Richard and me sitting by the fire, too wary of each other to say a word. That I once loved this man is almost impossible to believe. These days in the bush have added a handsomely rugged edge to his good looks, but now I see the petty vanity underneath it all.

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