The hovercraft moved slowly.
Inside the cabin, the two women still faced each other. The radiance of the yellow sphere flickered over them. Sometimes it seemed as fickle as firelight, at other times it was fixed and purposeful, as it projected on the wall of the boat the changing contours of a wondrous map.
The map flowed and ebbed. No, not such a wide bend. A narrower one. Oh yes, two tall trees.
Eko bored into the moment when the dog and boy split off and P.J. and Jack were alone together—the smell of the river channel, the plumage of the birds that flew over them, and the leaves of the shrubs on the banks.
The powerful outboard motor ate up the miles. P.J. reclined in Jair’s arms—in Jack’s arms. The sky began to lighten in the east.
New and even more helpful details became visible in the dawn light. The pattern of treetops against the sky. A mountain looming in the distance.
The golden map on the wall of the hovercraft transformed constantly with the new information.
The hovercraft whisked them upriver.
“It’s over for me,” Jack said and kissed her.
P.J. kissed him back. Asked him what would happen if they didn’t let him go. “You were born into their struggle. You’re of their time.”
He stared down at his father’s watch. The blue hands glinted on the white background.
He took the watch off.
The sky was lighter behind Jack now. The crags of the nearby mountain caught the morning light.
The hovercraft followed this scent of memory faster and faster, weaving through a labyrinth of streams.
Three tall trees with interlacing vines.
Jack flung the watch far out over the dark river. It gleamed when it touched the surface.
The golden map shrank in upon itself. Many rivers. One channel. A single long stretch of that channel.
“What did you do that for?” P.J. asked. “Didn’t that come from your father?”
“Yup. But I’m no longer operating on his time.” The feel of his tight embrace. “My connection to them and their time is sinking to the bottom of this river. Right now all I want is to live my life, my own insignificant Jack Danielson life, with you.”
“Bozo,” she responded, “you got yourself a deal.”
A blue light flashed on the golden map.
The hovercraft floated to a feathery stop.
Eko and P.J. broke apart at the same moment.
P.J. blinked and looked around.
They were on a narrow river, near three tall palms with interlacing vines. Somehow it looked very familiar.
Then she glanced at Eko who was staring back at her. There was a bond between them now that did not need to be discussed.
“Thank you,” Eko whispered, stepped out of the cabin of the hovercraft, and dove over the side.
P.J. followed her out through the door and stood there, looking down.
The thick, throat-clogging smell of the Amazon came back to P.J. in an instant, the heat of the sun on her arms and shoulders, and the constant buzz of the millions of birds and insects.
Dark water. Thick mud. But there was a blue glint deep beneath it.
That blue point of light began to move. The palm trees suddenly appeared bluish, then the rocks on the bank, and the birds in the air, till even the flickering light from the yellow sphere yielded to the blue tide.
Hands broke the surface. Eko held the watch, a treasure retrieved!