The next safehouse turned out to be more rustic than the first, and it was obvious the jungle had tried to reclaim it. Rita took one look at all the spiderwebs, and ran back out. She was not spending the night with big ass rainforest spiders. While they cleaned the place out, they put her to work knocking down webs in what looked like some kind of outdoor shower stall. A very long stick got the job done, and she only screamed twice.

She hoped there wasn’t anything living in the large suspended rubber sheet above it that had a shower head in the middle, as she was not tall enough to see. And she really didn’t want to know anyway. She wanted a shower in the worst way, but was she really going to use this thing? How did it work? There was obviously no plumbing.

Throwing down her spider stick, she turned in time to see Will and Rod sneaking out with something they obviously didn’t want her to see. Dear God in heaven, are there snakes in there?

She walked the small clearing around the cabin, trying to calm her beating heart, and stopped in front of what was probably an outhouse. She scowled and wrinkled her nose at the thought. She continued on to the front where there was a fire pit. She looked in the door of the open cabin and saw no sign of a kitchen.

She loved communing with nature on occasion as much as the next person, but she also had no problem professing that at the end of the day, she wanted to use a flush toilet and take a hot shower inside the house before slipping in between her 700 count Egyptian cotton sheets in the middle of very urban Kansas City. C.G. loved camping, but Rita had never been a fan. She sent a desperate prayer heavenward that they wouldn’t be in this particular “safehouse” long.