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hole large enough for a medium-sized animal to get through.

“What could have done that?” Jess asked, her eyes wide. A cow bellowed, and her head jerked up.  The other animals. She could still feel a malevolent presence. Whether it was her imagination or good instincts from growing up in the Amazon, she couldn’t tell anymore.

“We should go find Kavish,” Akuba instructed, without trying to answer the question. “Maybe he and Paul can come back and watch over the livestock.”

Jess nodded in agreement. They finally turned their backs on the messy scene, and she had to jog to keep up with Akuba’s brisk pace. The men had spent the first half of the day reorganizing the houses and barn to accommodate everyone and the supplies they’d managed to round up.

Kavish had moved into the guest room in the main house, freeing up the small employee quarters in the other outbuilding for Paul, the British tourist. Amisha and her mother would stay in the Van’s old house with the little girl who hadn’t spoken yet. Though, Jess doubted Amisha’s mom would survive through the end of the day, in spite of the constant care her daughter was giving her.

“Do you think it was the jaguars?” Jess asked as they headed for the barn.

“No,” Akuba answered without any hesitation. “They wouldn’t waste their time with chickens. If they were looking to hunt for…sport, they would go for bigger game.”

Jess swallowed. That observation didn’t make her feel better about it.

As they approached the barn, she could hear a voice she didn’t recognize. Her step faltering, Jess braced herself for the possibility that her father had returned with one of his “friends”. She expected it to happen eventually. Akuba agreed that it was only a matter of time before they came back for more of the provisions that were carefully stored away.

Kavish rode a bike into town the day before, and after “borrowing” one of the many abandoned vehicles, had driven around to get a better idea of what was happening outside the Libi Nati Preserve.

It wasn’t good.

He estimated over three-quarters of the population was already dead. Of those remaining, it seemed to be an even dispersal of people who were sick, immune, and recovered. There was unrest amongst those who were left. Random violence, looting, and an air of desperation was created from being cut off from anything other than their own small island of death and fear.

One man Kavish spoke to passed on a rumor about more people gathering—or, as he had put it, being “rounded up” at the resort, led by Jess’s father.

She and Akuba hadn’t spoken much about what Jess and Amisha saw at the Libi Nati Sunday night. Not since she’d first described it to her after returning. Almost two days later, and no one else would acknowledge that her dad might be responsible for ordering the death of Mr. Van. Jess figured it was because Kavish and Akuba didn’t want to think about it, let alone try and decide what to do about it.

That was the reality of their situation, and it was becoming clearer each day. They had zero control over what was happening outside of the preserve. So, they focused on what they could control, and poured their energy into creating a safe place for as long as they could.

That was why the dead chickens scared Jess so much. Because they were supposed to be safe. The animals were supposed to be a part of their protective bubble inside the preserve, where they were immune not only to the Kra Puru, but also the fear that was spreading with it.

Jess focused on her racing heart as it increased with each step that took them closer to the on-going conversation. She felt like crying. It was all a mirage. They weren’t safe, and she didn’t know if they ever would be.

“I can’t speak for everyone, but I don’t think there’ll be a problem with you staying,” Kavish was saying, as Jess and Akuba rounded the corner of the barn and both men came into view.

The relief Jess felt when she didn’t see her father was almost enough to make her forget about the chickens for a moment. She smiled briefly, and then realized she recognized the guy. She didn’t know his name, but she was pretty sure he was from one of the neighboring villages. He was a middle-aged indigenous man with a backpack slung over one shoulder, and he appeared to be alone.

“Slaider,” Akuba said in surprise. She closed the remaining space between them and took one of his hands. “It has been a long time since I last saw you. What has become of your family?”

Slaider’s head dropped and he pulled his hand away to clasp at the strap of his bag. Taking a shuddering breath, he squared his shoulders before answering. “Half of my village is dead, including most of my family.”

Akuba glanced at Kavish before focusing back on the other man. “We are so sorry. Of course, you can stay here. There is room in the workers’ quarters, but you’ll have to share.”

Slaider nodded and offered a grim smile in thanks. “That will be fine, Akuba. Thank you.”

“What of the other half?” Kavish asked. When Slaider only stared at him, he pushed for more. “If half died from the Kra Puru, where are the rest of your people?”

Jess remembered then, which village Slaider belonged to. It was close to fifty miles outside of town, and the second nearest to the Libi Nati tribe. Though they had lived in separate villages for hundreds of years, most of the indigenous people in the region descended from the Arawak, and so shared the same history.

“Some fled,” he answered, though somewhat begrudgingly. It was obvious to Jess that it was hard for him to talk about it. He stared pointedly at Akuba. “I’m

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