Chapter 184
~ Franklin ~
The sound of the helicopter wasn't a hallucination. It wasn't the cruel echo of a dying mind desperate for a miracle. It was real—the rhythmic, mechanical thrumming of rotor blades cutting through the heavy, humid air of the Amazon. It was the sound of life.
My heart slammed against my ribs, a violent percussion that nearly drowned out the storm. I forced myself upward, my fingers digging into the jagged, cold edge of the fuselage for leverage.
"Do you hear it?" Raquel's voice was a sharp, urgent needle piercing the haze of my fever.
"Yes," I rasped, my throat feeling like it had been scraped with sandpaper. "I hear it."
It was close. Not close enough to see yet, but close enough to matter. It was the difference between a grave in the mud and a chance to see the sun again.
"Help me up," I commanded, already trying to shift my weight.
"Mr. Flemington, no—your leg—the infection—" Raquel's protest was frantic, her hands hovering near my shoulders.
