i'm just flushed. it's too hot. stacy leans forward, picks a second card off the deck. jeff is focused on amy; he doesn't notice.
i don't see any cabs. the bus eases into motion, crunching across the gravel, pulling out onto the road. behind it, a yellow pickup truck is revealed. "taxi" is hand-painted in black on its side. they start toward the truck. its driver is mayan: short and heavy-set, with thick glasses. his eyes are shut; he's dozing behind the wheel. the truck's engine.is running, the windows shut tight against the heat. jeff taps the window, and there's a burst of movement from the truck's rear, as a dog springs up, barking and growling. they all leap back, the girls shrieking. the dog is a mutt--small, but muscular. he's attached to a cinder block by a short chain, which he throws himself against, slobbering, snapping at the air. they all stare at the dog; the girls laugh nervously, clutching each other. the driver has roused himself; he leans forward, rolls down his window, stares out at them.
this just feels weird, jeff. jeff sighs, fighting to suppress his impatience with her.
oh my god. jeff is staring at the little isolated island of vines, ten feet in front of them--peering intently at it.
till? everyone looks toward jeff.
what is it? jeff gestures for her to approach. when she reaches him, he leans forward, pulls aside the vines. we see a man's skull, a loose tumble of bones. amy inhales sharply, recoiling.
who? he arranges the rest of the food in a second pile: a bag of pretzels, a can of nuts, two protein bars, a box of raisins.
shh. they all glance toward mathias again. he lies there, eyes shut, breathing in and out with that fluid-filled rasp. he seems to be unconscious, but jeff still lowers his voice:
it's the vine. the flowers. they're making the noise.
now is he? eric shrugs, waves toward the backboard: it seems clear enough. amy stares-for a moment, then sits beside him. amy you can go lie down if you want. eric lifts his hand, pushes a button on his watch, makes it glow. he squints at it.
shh.
shh.
	7:
you sure? stacy nods, but she doesn't look sure. she's hugging herself; it seems as if she might start trembling. before anyone can speak, that groaning comes from the shaft again, louder this time, unmistakable. jeff cups his hands, shouts:
what? the vine has grown dramatically during the night, reaching out from the pile of supplies at the rear of the tent to spread across stacy's right leg, almost to her waist. she sits up, tries to push it off her.
stop it! jeff paces away, struggling to regain control of himself. a long beat, and then, very quietly:
i know. i know. let's just lie down for a bit. okay? stacy hesitates, staring up at amy. then she reaches, grasps her hand. amy pulls her to her feet, helps her hobble across the clearing to the tent. jeff and eric sit-there, watching in silence as they vanish through the flap.