But that didn’t make sense either. Only the men would have raided, leaving the women and some men behind for protection. So where were they?

My guide agreed to stay the night in the abandoned village while I tried to figure out my next move. Sadly, I had no options. I clearly couldn’t go poking around the Amazon, trying to find Zach. It was 2.7 million square miles in size, and it would take me ten lifetimes to scour it in search of him.

The next morning I decided my best course of action was to make my way back to the small river town where my charter flight had landed and see if I could find out any information.

After the day and a half travel back, I stayed another two days on the river talking to various Indians that came to the hub to trade goods. The only thing I was able to glean was that there was a rumor the Matica and the Caraicans had reached a peace pact, and they were not at war. No one seemed to know where the Caraicans had gone.

With no other options available, I took a charter flight to Sao Paolo and returned home to the States. Bitterness was a black scourge upon me because I had learned nothing new that would ease my heart. Zach was truly lost to me forever, and there was nothing left for me to do now except to try to figure out how to pick up the pieces and heal myself from this pain.

When I reached Sao Paolo, I immediately called Randall to update him on my failure. As Lisa said, he happily funded my expedition, as anxious as I was to hear news of Zach. Like me, he had no expectations that Zach would return, but he was terribly worried about his welfare and was hoping at the very least that he and I would be able to share a mutual peace of mind.

When Randall got on the line, it was a little difficult to understand him with the connection I had. “Moira… is that you?”

“Hi Randall,” I said, trying to put a smile in my voice that I know failed miserably. “I’m in Sao Paolo now.”

“How are you doing?” he asked, which I thought was odd. Why wasn’t he immediately pumping me for information about Zach?

Ultimately, I was too tired to try to ponder that further, so I told him, “I’m fine, but I’m sorry, Randall… I couldn’t find Zach.”

“Oh… well, okay. You tried and that’s all you can do,” he said, almost distractedly.

“Are you okay?” I asked him, because he sounded a bit off.

“Fine, fine,” he assured me. “Just a little bit… um… disappointed, I guess. So, when are you coming back?”

“I fly out tonight and should be in Chicago tomorrow morning,” I tell him, stifling a yawn. I’m hoping I can crash in one of the terminal chairs and catch a little nap.

“Okay, my dear. Well, have a safe flight and we’ll talk when you get back,” he said.

I hung up from my call with Randall, utterly confused. Maybe he was just grieving and couldn’t process what I was telling him. I thought he’d demand to know everything I did to find Zach, but maybe he’s just waiting until I get back in deference to me. He has to know my inability to find him is weighing heavy on my shoulders.

Fishing my keys out of my pocket, I make the long walk up my sidewalk. Okay, it’s not so long… maybe only twenty feet, but it’s twenty feet too long as tired as I am. Lifting my chin in resolve as I put my key in the lock, I decide that I’m too tired to make it to my bedroom… but I won’t succumb to the floor. The couch will be a nice, happy medium.

I turn the knob and push the door open, letting my pack fall to the floor and immediately eying the couch. I trudge my way there, not even bothering to take my shoes off. Resting one knee on a cushion, I fall face-first into the comfort that is calling me to sleep.

Snuggling into the softness, I close my eyes and sigh. I immediately start to slip under, and a dream comes upon me.

“Moira.” I hear Zach’s voice.

Oh, that sounds lovely. Rich, full of timber and emotion. I can imagine his beautiful eyes and his magnificent body. I remember the last time we were together as he f**ked me, then as he held me after and let tears slip out of his eyes against my skin.

“Moira,” he says again, and he sounds a bit louder this time. A bit clearer.

My eyes fly open, and I hear it again. “Moira.”

I scramble up onto my knees and peer over the back of the couch… into my kitchen, where I see Zach sitting there at my kitchen table. He’s wearing a pair of dark-washed jeans and an olive-green T-shirt. His feet are bare and his hair is wet. Blue eyes burn into me with intensity.

I rub my own eyes furiously with my hands and look back again.

Yup… still there.

Maybe I’m hallucinating. Maybe I got some type of fever or infection while in the jungle. Yes, that coupled with lack of food and sleep the last few days, I’m surely just imagining that Zach is sitting in my kitchen.

I flop down with frustration onto my back on the couch and squeeze my eyes shut, willing myself to fall asleep.

“Come on, Moira. Stop playing around,” Zach says.

Holy f**k.

He’s really here.

In my house.

While I’ve been traipsing around the jungle looking for him.

I come flying off the couch and round it with a speed that belies the exhaustion I’m feeling. Zach stares at me, a small smile curving his lips up as he watches me stride toward him. He stands from the chair and opens his arms to me, and I fly at him.

My hands reach up and I slap them to his chest, shoving with all my might. His eyes flare in surprise and he stumbles backward, the kitchen chair catching him behind the knees. He falls down into it with a thud.