[Beck & Travis are paralyzed from eating a jungle fruit]
Beck:
[slurred] Oh, thit...
Travis:
[who can't turn his head] What? What?
Beck:
Monkey! Monkey!
Travis:
Monkey? Where? Get him away from me!
Beck:
[weakly] Get out of here, Monkey.
Travis:
[weakly] Get out of here, Monkey.
Beck:
[weakly] Get out of here, Monkey. [Sounds of a swarm of monkeys running around them and drawing closer]
Travis:
Oh, no...
Beck:
I hate this place. I hate penis-eating minnows and I hate freaky fruit. I want to go home. I want concrete. I want homemade tortellini. I want my Los Angeles Lakers. I want to go home, I want to go home, I WANT TO GO HOME! [He gets pissed off enough to overcome the paralysis and lift his head and arm, waving a tree branch]
Beck:
Get out of here, monkeys! Get out of here, monkeys! [the monkeys run off. Beck tries to stand, and promptly collapses to the ground again]
Koda:
Boy, that tree is strong, huh? You know, when I was little, I was really into climbing trees! All kinds of trees! I climbed pine trees, oak trees, cedar trees, maple trees, there were birch trees, willow trees... [later]
Koda:
... my eyes were watering, and my tongue was swollen, and from that moment on, I was more careful about what I licked!
Priscilla:
[referring to Puerto Rico] Where were you raised on the island?
Puchi:
Oh, um, no. THIS island.
Priscilla:
Here?
Puchi:
Right here. I don't even remember what a palm tree looks like.
Hector Lavoe:
It doesn't matter where she was raised, cause she got me now. Palm trees, beaches, pork hash, in person. It's like Berlitz dining.
Puchi:
Maybe, uh, one day I'll get back to Puerto Rico. I get there.
Hector Lavoe:
What did I say? You're there. Next, you meet my father. He thinks he owns the island.
Priscilla:
We're from Ponce. All of our family still lives there. Hector and I are the only ones here. The only ones left. So, how long have you guys known each other?
Puchi:
Oh, days.
Hector Lavoe:
But it's destiny. [Smiles at Puchi]
Priscilla:
[In Spanish] And your family? They live here?
Puchi:
Mm-hmm.
Priscilla:
Oh, I forgot. You don't speak Spanish.
Puchi:
No, I do. I do speak...
Priscilla:
Well, what does your family do?
Puchi:
[In an irriatated tone] Sell dope. Yeah. Why, are you with the FBI or something? Because we should get that out of the way right now. What are you...? You know what, Hector? I came here to eat, not to be grilled.
Det. Davey Skes:
Sure picks lookers, doesn't he?
Alex Cross:
Yeah, he does. But you know these women are more than just attractive. They're all extraodinary in some way. Smart, talented.
Det. Davey Skes:
He ain't choosing them just for their congeniality.
Alex Cross:
Ordinarily, they don't, but I think our guy is a little different.
Detective Nick Ruskin:
How so?
Alex Cross:
I think killing's not his ulterior motive. This guy's a collector. I bet these women are alive.
Det. Davey Skes:
Come on, doc. Our boy's brain is soft as a two-minute egg and nothing personal, but I figure every one of them gals is tied to a tree just waiting to get found.
Alex Cross:
Think about it, Sikes. The three you found were killed out of sequence. They weren't even among the first abducted.
Det. Davey Skes:
That's right.
Detective Nick Ruskin:
That don't mean they're not still out there.
Alex Cross:
But you would have found them by now. He makes absolutely no attempt to hide 'em and the way they were killed, very revealing. That last long walk through the woods.
Kyle Craig:
Marching to their fate.
Alex Cross:
Exactly. The rape, cutting off their hair.
Kyle Craig:
It's punishment.
Alex Cross:
Maybe for violating some trust.
