"Don't you worry about me, Mr. Cobb." She chiseled out the words as if striking them in stone. "My problems are not your concern."
"You're wrong there, Doc. You are my problem. And I've got to decide on how to deal with you."
She drew herself up with a fiery indignity. "You don't get to decide anything. You're just the hired help here, along for the paycheck. You've got no stake whatsoever in this."
"That's right. I've got nothing invested except my life and, excuse me, but I do tend to place some value on that. And I do get to decide where I'm going to risk it. If I'm going to go out there and put it on the line for, as you so succinctly put it, the paycheck, I need to know if you can keep it together. If you have any doubts, you stay behind."
"I'll be fine, Cobb."
"Will you? Are you? Then tell me what you saw earlier tonight in your room. Can you do that?"
"A mask on the wall."
"Bull."
"I didn't see anything." His steady stare wouldn't let her leave it at that. "I didn't see anything real, okay. Is that what you wanted to hear? That I'm nuts, bonkers and all the rest? That I see things that aren't there? That I have a hole in my memories large enough to drive a Mack truck through? That I can't trust myself to know what's real?"
"Trust me."
His sudden intensity dragged her back from the edge of hysteria.
"Why, Cobb? Why should I trust you?"
"Because I can protect you if you let me. Because I know you're not crazy."
"How do you know?" she whispered, fearing to believe it because she didn't believe it herself.
"Because I know what's out there, and it's real." He touched the scar on his face without being aware of the gesture.
"What's out there, Frank?"
A whisper. A plea.
"A nightmare that will suck you in and suck you dry if you let it. Don't let it, Doc. Stay close to me and tell me if anything strange happens to you, anything at all. I believe you, but you've got to learn to trust yourself and me if we're going to survive this little jungle walk. Can you do that for me, Doc?"
)
