She took a quick breath and Caine felt his nails bite his palms.
Then she swept the dress together and held out her hand. "Give me your belt, Driver." Her face was expressionless.
He slipped the clasp-less belt from his trousers and handed it to her. She circled it around her waist and tied the ends together.
They both turned and looked back to the thin creature crouched on the hill across the acid canal.
Again the still silence of the jungle was heavy and each movement of a leaf or the bend of a vine stalk echoed and magnified its echo through the wild growth. The sun reached the tips of the vine-trees.
"We'll give you three minutes," Caine called to the boy. "If you don't get over by then you can stay there by yourself."
The boy leaped up and ran to the edge of the liquid. His face was a white flashing movement and his hands flew as though the joints in his arms had turned to rubber. His voice screeched. "You won't leave me, damn you. You won't leave me!" He moved along the edge of the liquid as though he were doing a crazy dance.
"One minute," Caine said. "Two to go."
The boy skittered up the side of the hill and held his camera against his eye, pointing it at Caine. He ripped the picture out and ran back to the bottom of the hill, throwing it at Caine. It fluttered short, drifting for a moment on the liquid, and disappeared. The boy fell on his knees and hammered his fists against the rock.
"Two minutes gone," Caine said.