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. "Oh, you're rotten, curse you!" the boy yelled, and Caine could see tears glistening on the shallow cheeks. The boy crouched then, frozen, his eyes and tears glittering, his hands like claws against the rock. "Three," said Caine, swinging around. The boy's cry went into the air, a long, shrill whine. He stood up and through his open mouth came the cry, steady, monotonous. A weird crazy cry that stung Caine's brain and made him want to crash through the liquid all over again, to squeeze the skinny throat until the sound was gone. The girl clenched her fists and Caine waved his hand at the thick green growth behind them. "Let's go," he said. All at once the boy was in the liquid, hands clutching his camera in the air, moving, his screaming voice rising, piercing the air until there was nothing else but the hysterical sound. His eyes widened and his mouth was open and he kept screaming. It was a pulsating sound, like a siren, over and over. The liquid splashed and the boy moved, and finally he found the opposite edge of the liquid and he fell onto the ground and lay there, still screaming. Caine watched him for a moment while the girl stood, as though frozen out of motion by the terrible sound. Suddenly Caine stepped forward, jerked the boy up by the collar and slapped his hand back and forth across the wet, insane face. The screaming stopped, and Caine let the boy drop back to the ground. "I didn't make you mad, did I?" Caine said, his lips against his teeth. The boy huddled, his eyes narrow darting slits. Caine turned to the girl. "Do you want to go with me, or do you want to stay here with your jibbering friend?" The girl met his stare. "You're really tough, aren't you, Driver?"