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The Sting of the Assassin In an exclusive excerpt from his new book, Last Breath: Cautionary Tales from the Limits of Human Endurance, Peter Stark combines true life science with chilling scenarios of fatal hazards in the wild—including deadly stings, drowning, falling, and heatstroke. By Peter Stark
"SMELL THIS!" Mary said, pressing the flower to Gil's nose. "I wish we'd had some of these at the wedding." He sniffed cursorily and turned his face away. "Let's go find a beach." "Why don't we stay here awhile first?" Mary said. "We can find beaches anytime. But this"—she waved the flower up toward the leafy, cathedral-like rainforest canopy, the thick vines dangling from the arching branches, the orchids sprouting from tree trunks, the tangled profusion of life—"this place is extraordinary! It looks likeThe Land Before Time." "I'm heading back to the car," Gil said. "How can you expect to appreciate the beauty of a place if you refuse to spend some time in it?" "I don't consider this place beautiful," Gil replied. "I think it's malevolent. And besides, there are ants. Let's go." Mary dropped the flower. "You always want to be somewhere else, Gil," she said. "Why can't you just enjoy where you are?" But he'd already started to walk back along the overgrown path, angrily shaking his sandaled feet to dislodge the crawling ants. The honeymoon had been rough. They seemed to fight at least once every day, each blowup followed by a long, dripping silence. It hadn't been like this back in the States. They'd met at a bird-watching camp on the New England coast when her first marriage had just ended and his was about to end, the victim of too much time devoted to his law practice. By the time the trip was over, they'd arranged their first "date," a four-day snorkeling expedition to the Bahamas. He proposed to her at sunset on the fourth day, and they married just three months later. It seemed only appropriate that for their honeymoon they should choose one of the world's most exotic places: the Cape York Peninsula, a lush spit of land that projects like a sharp spine from the northeast coast of Australia into the tropical waters of the Coral Sea. They drove in silence along the coastal highway. To the right, through breaks in the low forest that fringed the beach, they caught glimpses of the sea—calm and blue-green. "When do you want to go out to the reef?" Gil asked finally. It was his way of offering to make up. "How about tomorrow?" Mary replied. "We could go to the beach today and tonight ask the hotel desk clerk to arrange a boat." It was her way of accepting. Gil slowed the car where a sandy track led from the road toward the water. "How about here?" "Oh, Gil, it's perfect!" The curving strip of yellow sand glistened and the water radiated a vivid aquamarine. They climbed out of the car and walked down to the beach. They couldn't see another sign of human life along the three-mile crescent. Gil wrapped his arms around Mary and hugged her. "I'm so happy to be here with you," she whispered into the soft blue fabric of his T-shirt. She was quite sure she meant it. "Me, too," he said into her sweet-smelling, honey-blond hair. They'd get used to each other eventually. They dropped their packs, pulled out their towels, and spread them on the warm sand. "The water looks lovely," she said. "Let's go for a swim." "I don't know about swimming here," Gil replied, sitting down abruptly on his towel. "There aren't any enclosures." Back at the popular beaches near their hotel they'd seen people swimming inside what the locals called "stinger nets." These were floating, corral-like enclosures made of fine netting designed to keep out jellyfish. As they strolled along the beach, they'd read the sign posted at one enclosure: warning: marine stingers are dangerous october to may. "I saw people swimming outside the enclosures," Mary said. "They say the worst of the jellyfish season is over." "I still don't think it's a good idea," Gil said. "Gil, how can you let this incredible water go to waste? Here we are in paradise and you're sounding like a lawyer." "I'm just trying to be prudent in a place where we don't know the score." She stripped off her shorts and T-shirt and let them drop to the sand. Underneath she wore an aqua bikini. She started walking toward the water, propelled as much by her defiance of his oppressive caution—of his whole being—as by the tempting blue sea. "You're being foolish, Mary."
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