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IF - Chapter 1
🕑 Added 2024-12-10 00:36:10 +0000 UTC------------------
The dense green of the rainforest cliffs overhanging an ocean drop swelled around her, every canopy sway throwing dapples of golden light across the slick, rain-kissed stone. Dr. Isla Reyes clung to the cliffside with practiced ease, fingers curling into damp crevices of rock as her boots found their footing against the uneven face.
She glanced down—fifty feet to the dark water below, its surface flickering with ripples from unseen, rare fish just beneath. Her rope creaked softly with each shift of her weight, the kind of noise you learned to ignore lest it consume you.
One sample left. Ten minutes tops, and I’ll be back for a hot meal. She sucked in a slow breath, her eyes narrowing on a small ledge a few feet below. Her collection bag bounced lightly against her thigh, already holding a few vials of iridescent algae she’d scraped from the stones. Just get the last one, and we’re done.
“Dr. Reyes! Dr. Reyes, are you there?!” the static-laced shout burst from her commlink, jarring her grip. She jolted, fingers scrabbling for purchase as her heart slammed against her ribs. “Dr. Reyes, it’s, umm—it’s important! Hello?”
Marcelo, she cursed internally, biting down a growl. If I die because you can’t figure out where the hot chocolate is again…
“I’m hanging off a cliff with half-frayed ropes because someone couldn’t get better funding, Marcelo,” she hissed, wedging her shoulder tight against the rock face. “I’ve got a raging ocean alcove below and a rare underground stream halfway down full of new discoveries awaiting me, so unless the rainforest’s on fire, you’ve got ten seconds before I turn this radio into fish food.”
“It’s—it’s not a fire!” Marcelo’s words tumbled over each other, his usual easy going demeanor twisted with panic. “It’s, uh, she said she knew you—Dr. Hart? She just, umm…flew in.”
Isla’s hand froze mid-reach. Her mind snapped to the name like a hook-catching line. Hart? Evelyn Hart? No. Not her. Not here… That corporate-loving bitch wouldn’t set foot on a camp site, much less the Amazon jungle.
“Come again?” her voice dropped to a dangerously slow cadence. “You’re not playing some prank on me?”
“No! Dr. Hart!” Marcelo repeated, his words hitting like stones skipping water. “She’s here! With a—” he paused, breath hitching like he still couldn’t believe it himself. “Helicopters, Dr. Reyes. Military ones. Big ones. There’s a whole convoy outside the camp.”
Isla pressed her lips into a hard, thin line, shifting her grip to a firmer hold. “Tell me you’re joking, Marcelo. Please, tell me this is some twisted prank to get back at me for making you scrub the tanks…because I can actually see that, and it’s scaring me.”
“Not a prank, Doc. She’s not even in the helicopters,” he added, voice rising with disbelief. “They’re carrying—like—this mobile house? She went in to make tea for the two of you! Like one of those prefabs, but it’s got antennas and satellite dishes and—”
Damn it. Is she finally here to get her pound of flesh from me? Shit… I knew that prank would come back to bite me in the ass someday with that woman.
She could feel her pulse in her ears now, sharp and heavy like distant thunder. Evelyn Hart didn’t visit people. She didn’t “drop by.” If she was here, it wasn’t for small talk. She bit her tongue, tasting copper. Her fingers tensed against the rock, the rough edges digging into her calluses.
“What did she ask, Marcelo? Dammit, tell me, man. I have half a mind to just disappear into the jungle. Like hell, she’d get her heels dirty to find me, but I guess she’s working for some military contractor now if what you’re saying is true… Shit.”
Marcelo coughed awkwardly. “Excuse me, Dr. Hart—what? Umm. She, uh, asked if you were occupied—”
“Did she say it like that?” Isla snapped, knowing the corporate vulture better than that.
“Eh, well… More like, ‘Where is she hiding?’ ”
That sounds more like her… Isla exhaled slowly, sharp breaths blowing through her nose as she adjusted her harness, shifting her weight for the climb back up while considering her options. If Eve actually tracked me down out here…the sample can wait. She’s the type to make a scene…and not the pretty kind.
Her thoughts returned to the murder in their last year at Oxford—her roommate—the killer was never discovered, but due to how vicious Jill was to Evelyn, Isla always had her suspicions. The straight, brown-haired woman’s cold, half-smile and sharp gray eyes had burned a nightmare in her brain since the funeral.
Evelyn was a storm chaser in a silk suit: precise, methodical, and only present where danger and profit intersected. The question was, was she here for business or vengeance…because there was no in between.
Her arms burned as she ascended, rope jerking with every push of her legs. She could already hear the woman’s voice, that condescending hum that always made her want to snap a pen in half. Back then, Hart’s only goal had been to one-up her in every debate, every theory. And she had…every time.
Ever since she’d gone into some military administrative position, she hadn’t heard her name and hoped she never would again. Isla had taken the scenic route—the free one. No sponsors, no syndicates. Just grants, patience, and grit.
“Marcelo,” she grunted, pulling herself over the ledge. Sweat dripped down her brow, hot and stinging. “If she touches my samples, I’m holding you responsible.”
“Already locked the door to the storage lab, Doc,” Marcelo muttered, voice quieter this time. “I don’t think she’s after your samples, though.”
Isla’s brow lifted, water flicking from the tip of her nose. “Then what?”
A beat of silence. No static. No breathing.
“…Think she’s after you,” he muttered, so soft it barely made it through the commlink.
Her breath hitched. Her hands tightened into fists.
I was afraid of that…
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