Do-Gooder Read Online Free PDF

guess.”
    “Jet lag?” he asked. He didn’t sound convinced. His eyes continued to scan me, no doubt looking for signs of something more serious.
    “I’m sure that’s it.” I ignored my queasy stomach and pushed aside the mosquito netting, looking for my backpack. “What time is it?”
    “Almost seven.”
    A flash of red caught my eye. My backpack sat under the cot by my feet. I lifted the bag and—“Holy shit!” I tossed the bag across the small enclosure and swung my legs up onto the cot. There, where it had apparently nestled in for the night under my bag, was the biggest fucking spider I had ever seen. Nightmarishly big. Huge. As big as my hand at full spread. As big as a fricking pie. A furry fricking pie. Rust-colored fur encased its freakishly large body. “ What the fuck is that ?”
    I didn’t appreciate the gales of laughter coming from him. On the whole, spiders and bugs didn’t bother me. But when the spider was big enough to crush my skull, I got a little squeamish.
    Henry stood up and reached for the mutant arachnid.
    “Don’t touch it!” I may have squealed like a girl. Maybe.
    “It won’t hurt you. Unless you’re allergic to spider bites, a bite from this guy wouldn’t do more than irritate your skin for a couple of days.”
    “Screw that. If that thing bit me, it could take a finger. Or maybe an arm.” I scooted back on the cot until I hit the plywood board of the wall. I was pretty sure, if it came down to it, I could break through the cheap particleboard to get out. I thought it might have become necessary when Henry actually picked it up . Its legs, no exaggeration, were as long and thick as my fingers and wriggled madly as Henry turned it so that I could see its face.
    “It’s a giant baboon spider. Its mouth isn’t big enough to do more than take a nip.”
    A shudder wracked my body. “Get that thing away from me. Or get me a shotgun.”
    “You’d shoot a spider?”
    “Well, I sure as hell wouldn’t try and stomp on it.” My voice cracked. “Come on, Hank. Get rid of that thing, will you?”
    “Not if you keep calling me Hank.” Despite the words, he took the spider out of the lean-to.
    I checked out the floor to make sure there were no more creepy-crawlies and got off the cot. “Hey, do you think there’s any chance that I can get a shower or wash up? I’m getting a little ripe here.”
    I looked up and Henry was gone. “Hank?” A foggy mist hovered over the ground. It was still early and cooler than it had been yesterday afternoon, but incredible humidity still thickened the air. “Henry?”
    Movement by the Range Rover drew my eye. Henry stared down at the ground behind the vehicle.
    I walked over to him. “Hey, what’s up?” I looked down. Footprints showed clear in the mud, footprints that didn’t match my running shoes or Henry’s hiking boots. “You think someone tried to steal something?”
    Shaking his head, Henry looked up. “Probably not. Most likely someone wondering who was here.” Despite his words, he kept scanning the Range Rover as if looking for additional clues. Henry unlocked the back. As far as I could tell, all of the boxes looked the same as they had when we’d loaded them. Maybe one or two had shifted a couple of inches, but the difference could have been caused by the sudden stops and the potholes the day before.
    “Everything looks okay,” he said, shutting the hatchback. “What did you ask a minute ago?”
    “Oh, I wondered if there was somewhere I could clean up.”
    Henry scratched his head, and I realized his ponytail had come out. His dark hair, disheveled from sleep, hung to his shoulders. Was it weird that I wanted to brush it out for him?
    “There’s not a shower or anything. You should be able to wash up in Mrs. O’s bathroom, but try not to use any more water than you have to. Clean water is limited, and the plumbing can be a bit unpredictable. When we get to the camp, there will be an actual shower you can use.