Page 79 of Remade

“Are you fucking kidding me!” I bolted up from my spot and jumped down on the ground, with my heart hammering to escape my chest. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!

I shuddered in disgust and couldn’t stop cursing. Motherfucking spiders, the size of my hands. That was it; I wasn’t sleeping without the insect netting again, no matter how easily it got stuck in the tree bark and…all over the fucking place. The net was a nuisance, but that was the last straw. Gross, gross, gross. Right in front of my goddamn face too.

The nights were undoubtedly the worst. Were the others getting any actual sleep? I was so beyond exhausted that I didn’t know what to do with myself. I was operating on two hours a night, and I didn’t succumb until around dawn.

I blew out a harsh breath and peered up at the wide branch I’d been perched on. The spot had been perfect. I wasn’t sure it actually qualified as a branch when it was approximately two feet wide, but whatever. It was horizontal. It was evidently also home to disgusting, hairy, giant spiders.

Sleep wasn’t happening. It was almost five in the morning, and it’d be a while before I forgot the sight of that thing two inches from my face.

“This is great,” I said, retying my boots. “Fucking great. Just kill me and get it over with.”

I couldn’t afford any injuries at this point, because I was already halfway through my antibiotics. Every recruit had been given a five-day prescription, and the moment my stomach had felt off the other day, I’d started mine. Taking a shit out here was bad enough without a virus taking up residence inside me, especially since I only had two rolls of toilet paper. After that, you had to use what Mother Nature provided.

June 14th, 2025

I crammed another couple of berries into my mouth and looked around me.

Nothing was going to ruin my good fortune this evening. The fish was almost done over the fire, these berries were damn good, and my hydration pack was full of clean water.

In your fucking face, jungle.

“You’ll make a damn good operator, Leighton,” I told myself. “You can officially fetch your own blackberries.” Or whatever the fuck they were called here. I’d studied it back at Hillcroft. They were some South American version of blackberry, much bigger, a lot more red than black, some actually grew on trees instead of bushes, and they were tart. At least the ones I’d found.

I scratched my cheek, then promptly batted away an insect.

I hadn’t washed myself properly in four days, and it seemed to be helping, as Bo had advised. It was best to blend in with your scents too. The first few days had been awful. I’d been bombarded by mosquitoes and annoying little flies.

The downside? My whole body was a rash.

But my shit was solid, and I hadn’t thrown up!

June 16th, 2025

Was this a joke?

I approached the bright-orange post with markers attached to it, and I wondered if someone was pranking me. Did the snake not have enough trees to coil itself around?

It had to be about six feet long, but based on the markings, it was a boa—so, not venomous to me. And not big enough to choke me out.

“Nice noodle,” I said, approaching cautiously. “Can we cooperate here? This is your land, and I don’t wanna fucking be here. To be honest, I’d rather be home with my boyfriend and watchJeopardy.”

Just thinking about our evenings together made me wanna cry. Man, was I exhausted and hungry and wet and itchy and…fuck. I missed him. I missed our couch. We’d picked it outtogether for its size and comfort. We’d turned into game show nerds on that couch. Alex would giggle at us or, if she was in that mood, roll her eyes and go to her room.

Carefully extending my hand, I kept my eye on the snake as I reached for a marker that hung a few inches below.

“Don’t do anything rash, okay? I will fucking shoot you,” I said. “I have a gun. I’d prefer to use it to scare off jaguars and boars, but I swear I’ll shoot you and eat you for dinner.”

The snake poked its tongue out to collect scents, watching my every move, but I freaking survived. A beat later, the marker was in my grasp, and I stepped back quickly.

I released a breath, attached the marker to the side of my backpack, then looked back at the snake.

“I want you to know something,” I told it. “A few years ago, I bought a pin at Target where the proceeds went to fighting deforestation. And if you’re not nice to me, that won’t happen again. Okay?”

I didn’t feel the need to mention that the grandmotherly cashier had asked if I’d consider buying the damn thing “for a good cause,” and I’d been unable to say no.

June 20th, 2025

“Fuck you, tree,” I panted, jumping over the log. “Fuck you, fern. Fuck all of you. Fuck green. Fuck overcast skies. Fuck humidity, fuck swamps, fuck insects, fuck your fucking parasites.”

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