André is back, but he won’t sit down. He stands, swaying, outside of the fire’s light.
I’m just relieved he’s alive. The last man to go piss in the Amazon, Pedro, we didn’t even hear a cry. Jônatas and Raimundo, they went together, vanished together. I still hear their screams a week later.
I should never have applied for this logging job.
“Alright there, André?” I call.
He staggers forward, lifting his feet too high. I see it then, vines through his muscles, replacing the vocal cords in his torn throat.
“You shouldn’t have come,” the Amazon answers.
It lunges.
Love this!!!