“They have helicopters?” Oh, and shit. Come to think of it, when had he ever seen a cop on these islands? He didn't think very hard about it, because he had a lot of other shit to worry about, but he couldn't immediately think of that ever happening...even rolling in the airport, they'd gotten waved through by some chick that looked more like a stewardess than security by way of customs.

But the other part of what she was saying, the part about being able to hack it on a hike, was even more important. The deep, animal part of his brain that governed fight-or-flight and other primal aspects of the human psyche noted it carefully and interpreted correctly that she was asking if he wanted to live or die -- staying there would be easier, but he'd be dead. 

The biological imperative didn't like that, and told his thought processes to fall into line with that. So he grunted and told her, "Yeah, I can run if we have to." He was barefoot, sore and scraped, but the alternative was dying, so his body dumped endorphins into the system and other hormones that made him, indeed, want to run. Here, in this jungle, it really was that simple -- move or die. And he wasn't about to die like that. Whoever was chasing him may have wanted a hostage, but they'd probably kill him for fun now, or so his brain informed him at the prompting of his fight or flight reflex, which said that it was better not to let yourself be captured unless it became inevitable and unavoidable. 

It was just as well that he was in top physical form-- even the partying only put a bit of a dent in the regimen of a former Olympic decathlete, and unless there were a bunch of olympic level athletes among the guys hunting them, it was entirely possible that he'd be able to stay ahead if he had to. Of course, footwear would have been nice, but the body was adaptable in an emergency. There were prices to be paid, but they'd be paid later, in safety. The deep brain knew this and hit the switch anyway.

So he was eager to get going, even if he was hiking somewhere with some girl that sounded like she'd just fallen off the haytruck (to his New York native, Syracuse grad ears) who nonetheless seemed to know where they were going.

“Which way do you want to go?”