Uncivilized (Uncivilized 1)

I peel Moira away from me, heading into the bedroom. Rummaging through the closet, I pull out my backpack and throw it on the bed. I quickly find the cargo pants and bush shirts Moira had bought for me to wear in the Amazon, along with some socks and my hiking boots. I stuff it all haphazardly into the pack and then reach into my top drawer to pull out my passport.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Moira walk into the room. My head snaps to hers, and I bark, "I need you to arrange for me to get back to Caraica. Get me in as close as you can, and I'll hike the rest of the way. I'll need some of those dehydrated rations and water tablets. Anything else you can think of."

"Zach... there's no rush. The raid is done, and Paraila is going to be just fine. If you wait, I'll go--"

"Just fucking do it," I yell at her, my fists clenching in rage. "It's the least you can do for pulling me away from there in the first place."

Moira's face blanches, and tears fill her eyes. It feels like an arrow has pierced my heart, so terrible do I feel for what I just said.

But I won't take it back, because the brackish bitterness is choking any further words out of me.

How could I have been so stupid as to have left? What kind of selfishness must have been living within me... to have caused me to abandon the people that needed me most? Paraila could have died. Others did die, I think, while choking on the pain of those thoughts.

More importantly, how could I have ever let myself get sucked into this world... receiving its pleasures and frivolity? I turned a blind eye to my people all because I got infatuated with a little bit of pussy.

My heart clenches as I think these vile thoughts about Moira, knowing deep down they are unfair to her. But the guilt and shame is pressing in on me so hard that I have to abandon my love and desire for her. There's no room... not when I'm filled with black rage, tortured pain, and now an insatiable need for revenge.

"Zach," Moira pleads with me softly. "Will you just hold up a minute... let's talk about this first?"

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. "There's nothing to talk about. I'm going back and if you won't help me get there, I'll go to Randall. He'll do it."

Moira nods in understanding, turning toward the bedroom door. "Of course, I'll make all the arrangements. I'll come with you."

"No," I say with an icy voice. "I don't want you to."

Because there's no point.

There's nothing she can do, and her life will only be in danger, because I know as sure as I'm standing here, ready to tear my hair out in frustration, that the tribe is already planning a retaliation.

Moira's face crumbles before me, and her shoulders slump. Resignation fills her face, and she blinks the tears away. "Okay," she says softly. "I'll get it handled for you. You should call Randall and tell him goodbye."

Yes, that's a good idea.

I can't believe just an hour ago, I sat in his office and made grand plans for my future. Now I would be calling him to put those plans to rest and move on with my life.

I've gotten myself a little bit under control. I've wrapped my head around what has happened, as well as the fact that it will be a full three days of travel before I can get to Caraica, so I've decided to stop trying to worry myself into a frenzy. Moira managed to get me on the next flight out to Georgetown, Guyana and, from there, two charter flights to take me directly to the Amazon River in Brazil. From there, I'd have to figure out how to get a dugout canoe to make my way by water to Caraica, but I wasn't worried about that. I'd steal one if I had to.

Overall, she'd managed to cut probably at least a day's travel off my journey by bringing me in through Guyana, for which I'm extremely grateful. However, I haven't even found the voice with which to thank her for her efforts because I'm afraid to talk to her. I'm afraid of all the things she could possibly say to me to change my mind, and while the pain of what happened to my tribe still throbs deep within me, I'm now filled with excruciating pain over the fact that I'm leaving Moira behind.

Leaving behind my new hopes and dreams that had just been bubbling up with excitement this morning.

All gone... turned to ash in a terrible change of circumstances.

Moira insisted on driving me to the airport, and the silence lays heavy between us. Her grip on the steering wheel is so tight that her knuckles are white, and she's chewing on her bottom lip. I want so badly to reach out, stroke her hair, touch her face... and tell her it will all be okay.

But it won't.

Not for either of us.

The airport exit looms ahead, and she turns on her blinker to take it. My chest cramps with anxiety and the wrongness of all of this, but I push it aside. I have to be strong... for my people. For Paraila.

And I hope that Moira can be strong enough for herself as I leave her behind.

Moira navigates her way to the proper terminal, weaving among traffic until she finds a place to pull up alongside the curb outside of United Airlines.

We both get out of the car, and I wait for her to circle around. She hands me my tickets that she had printed off at the house and then presses another envelope into my hand.

"Here's some cash," she says.

"It won't do me any good," I say as I try to push it back at her. "I'll have to barter something else to get a canoe."

She shakes her head at me, her eyes haunted. "Not for a canoe. When you land near the river, find someone to buy some rifles from. Take the time to learn how to use them before you leave."

I blink in surprise at her. "Guns?"

"You're going after the Matica, aren't you?" she asks simply.

"You know we are."

"Then I want you to have the upper hand. Use the modern technology available."

My head starts swimming. "You want me to buy guns?"

Tears fill Moira's eyes, and she nods her head. "I want you to be safe, Zach. I want you to not get killed. Guns will help."

My fingers curl around the envelope and my arms slide around her, pulling her into my body. For the last time, I bend down, smell her sweet hair, and feel her heartbeat against me. Laying my cheek against the top of her head, I take the moment to revel in her touch... her love... her sadness.

I'll take that sadness with me to the grave, whether that is when we raid the Matica or years from now, when I'm probably dying of my battered heart.

"You're not coming back, are you?" she asks quietly.

"No," I tell her. "I'm not."

Moira pulls back and leans up on her toes, placing a soft kiss on my lips. "Then go with my love and know that I'll never regret a moment we shared together. You'll always reside in my heart, Zacharias."

Agony washes through me as I step away from Moira. She blinks those ethereal green eyes, as verdant as the Amazon, and crystal tears spill down her cheeks. My stomach cramps and my chest tightens in pain.

Reaching out one last time, I stroke my fingers along her cheek. "Goodbye, Moira."

Turning away from me, she heads around the front of the car. She never looks back, and I watch as she climbs in and pulls away.

Pulls away from me forever.

Taking a deep breath, I raise my face to the modern sun and feel its heat for the last time. Then I turn and head into the airport, so I can get back to my real life.

Chapter 28

Moira

I close my laptop in frustration and push it across my kitchen table, trying to get it as far away from me as possible. It's not providing me the answers I want.

In particular, I sent an email to Father Gaul two weeks ago, desperately hoping he would see it. I've been going out of my mind with worry about Zach, wondering if he made it back to Caraica.

I'm sure he did. He's the most self-assured, capable man I know. He's at home in the jungle, so there's no reason he wouldn't make it back there.

No, my worry is really about what happened after he made it back. Have the Caraicans already gone to battle with the Matica? Is Zach still alive?

For the last two weeks, I could barely eat, so sick with apprehension. I'm sleeping maybe a few hours a night, but it's a fitful tossing and turning.

And I'm so heartsick that I can barely function. I miss Zach so bad. I think sometimes the best thing to happen to me would be if I just shriveled up and died, then this misery would at least be ended.

Pushing myself up from the chair, I pad over to the refrigerator. I open it up and stare listlessly inside, noting the extreme lack of contents. Shutting it with a sigh, I head for the living room, intent on getting lost in a movie.