Making a mental resolution not to touch or be touched by his goddess again, Lujan quickened his pace. It was harder to keep up with her seven-league strides now that she was growing and growing and growing.
Deep in his heart, he wondered if there was any limit to her ability to increase in size and mass.
Or for that matter, her appetites.
Chapter 24
"Hold up!" the Extinguisher ordered.
The Juarezista guerrilla froze.
"Que?" The voice was soft, like a jungle breeze.
"Something's wrong," he said, grabbing his stomach.
"What is it?" the Juarezista asked, creeping back along the jungle trail to join him.
"I think I'm wounded," he gasped.
Lifting his combat shirt, he exposed his flat abdomen. There was some blood, but no sign of a entry wound. They could be very small, he knew.
Turning around, he asked, "See any sign of an exit wound?"
"No, senor. "
"Damn. My gut feels like it's on fire."
"Jou are an American?"
"Fury's the name. Blaize Fury," he said.
"I have never heard of you."
"You shitting me?"
"I do not know the name. I am sorry."
"Never mind." The Extinguisher was doubled over now. "Man, what is wrong with me?" he moaned.
The guerrilla hovered solicitously. "Jou are not wounded."
"I feel terrible. It's like someone stuck a cold Kabar in my gut."
"Did jou drink of the water?"
"What? Oh, yeah. Awhile back."
"Ah . . . la turistas. "
"Don't call me a tourist. I'm a warrior."
"I am not. Jou are suffering from the tourist disease. The water does not agree with your belly."
"I don't feel like I'm going to throw up."
"That is not the hole through which the disease seeks release, senor. "
"What are you talking about?"
Then he knew. The sharp pain in his stomach traveled south and became an urgency in his bowels.
"Wait here," he said in a strangled voice.
The Extinguisher left the jungle trail and did his business in the dark, where no one would see. He was at his business a long time. Twice he started to pull up his pants, but had to resume squatting as more of the disease flooded from his beleaguered body.
"Oh, man. I hope this doesn't blow the mission."
When he was done, he stowed his emergency reading material back into his rucksack. To his surprise, he discovered his balaclava. He pulled it on. It seemed to give him strength to face what lay in store.
When he returned to the jungle path, he was the Extinguisher again, erect, proud and unbowed by the cruel rigors of the Lacandon jungle.
The eyes of the Juarezista went wide at the sight of his capable, manly figure.
"Jou are-"
"Yes," he said. "Now you understand. I am the Extinguisher."
"Que?"
"The Extinguisher. El Extinguirador. "
"I have never heard that name."
"You've never heard of the Extinguisher, savior of the oppressed? Where have you been living, in a freaking cave?"
"No, but now that I see that jou wear the mask of a Juarezista, I am proud to know you. That is, if jou are truly one of us."
He nodded, letting his body language relax. He stepped closer. This was going to be easy. The Juarezista stood about five-three and weighed no more than 130 pounds. He was a little thick in the hips, too. Out of shape. No match for the Extinguisher, who balled his fist, intending to coldcock the walking intelligence source before he knew what hit him.
The impulse to strike ignited in his brain.
Some jungle instinct must have seized the Juarezista because his hand suddenly reached up. He was moving to block the blow. Good luck to him. The Extinguisher had once been a Golden Gloves boxer.
In the brief seconds before the Extinguisher's fist connected, the Juarezista tore off his black ski mask and his face was revealed in the blazing moonlight.
The silver light showed an oval face, full, sensuous lips and a cascade of the most gorgeous shimmering black hair he had ever seen.