Authors: H. Ward
“We’re four against five now,” one of the marshals noted.
“Yeah,” Cal said, “But I bet we’re smarter.”
###
Amber looked to Bill and Wilson, “What do we do now?” There was no way for them to know who had shot at whom.
Victor laughed, “Oh, that was one our rifles, I’d recognize the sound anywhere.”
Amber had a horrible vision of Cal lying in the jungle, torn and bleeding. She dug the shears into Victor’s neck, enough to make him wince. “If anything has happened to one of my friends, well, you’re going to owe me a pound of flesh.”
“You really are under the delusion that someone is coming to rescue you? I imagine my men were just scaring off poachers.” Victor seemed to thoroughly enjoy being spiteful.
“I’m in no mood to be provoked, Lieutenant. Stop being a dick and I might not kill you.” Amber jabbed him a little again.
“As counter-intuitive as it sounds, we need to hold tight,” Bill said. “The worst thing we can do is start moving blindly.”
“I feel like a sitting duck,” Paco opined.
“Why would you feel like a duck?” Tomás knitted his brow. Then as an afterthought asked, “Shouldn’t we hide?”
“Yeah, let’s move into the trees,” Wilson said.
“Um, I can’t really go anywhere,” Amber said. “But you guys should go, I know you have my back…and I have hostage Numero Uno at my front.”
When the two wood-gatherers burst into the campsite, they were breathless and confused. In front of them were two of their comrades tied up, and Amber holding a knife at Victor’s throat. They looked around, wondering where everyone else had gone.
Amber heard Paco yell, “Drop your weapons” and they immediately pointed their guns in the direction of his voice. Bill and Wilson stepped out from the trees behind them, and before the soldiers could turn, Bill and Wilson had their gun barrels pressed to their heads. Neither seemed interested in dying for the cause of the revolution, and they dropped their guns and kneeled down, putting their hands behind their heads without even being asked.
Wilson looked at Bill and shrugged at the lack of resistance, “Paco, Tomás, come tie them up.”
The unarmed pair hustled out of the woods, and in moments the firewood gatherers were restrained, sitting back to back with the other pair of soldiers.
“Okay, that leaves the woman and the other one unaccounted for,” Bill said.
“Should I go scout?” Paco asked, “I’m pretty good at moving quietly in the jungle.”
Wilson screwed up his mouth, thinking, “I don’t know. You’re unarmed.”
Then behind them, to the south, there was the sound of a gunshot, it was still at a distance, but definitely audible.
Tomás turned his head in the direction of the sound, “What was that?”
“That,” Amber sighed, “Is the sound of things going south.”
Victor laughed softly, “That’s my men signaling that they are close to the GPS coordinates we gave them. Even revolutionaries know how to use technology.”
“There’s no choice now, we need to head toward the river,” Bill moved toward Amber, “But we’re taking this son of a bitch with us.” He pressed the muzzle of Victor’s own gun against the back of Victor’s head, ordering him to get on his feet. But before Victor could find his feet, there was the sound of someone moving through the foliage toward them. Bill turned, aiming his gun in the direction of the movement, as had Wilson. But it wasn’t FARC who burst into the clearing.
It took Cal’s mind a moment to process what he was seeing and then his mind was finally able to grasp it—that his father was standing in front of him, pointing a gun directly at him.
“Dad?” Cal said in disbelief.
“Oh my god…Cal…it’s really you.” Bill’s arm dropped, his hand trembling at the thought of how close he’d come to shooting his own son.
Then Cal saw Amber, holding a pair of scissors to someone’s throat.
“”For god’s sake, Cal! Hug your father, then we’ve got to get the hell out of here!” Amber said.
Ramiro looked at the four soldiers tied up, “Doesn’t seem like you guys needed
that
much help.”
One of the marshals came to relieve Amber as Cal and Bill embraced.
“Who the hell are you?” Amber asked, as she slid away from Victor.
“Deputy US Marshal, m’am.” He grinned as he pressed his gun against Victor.
“Marshal?” Amber echoed, a little stunned.
Cal let go of his father and grabbed Amber by the hand, “We’ll explain later.” He kissed her quickly.
“There’s a couple of patrols of FARC headed this way, and they are uncomfortably close.” Wilson reminded them.
“And we’ve got a wounded man we need to evacuate ASAP,” Ramiro said.
The marshal cut the rope binding Victor’s feet, “Try to run asshole, and I
will
shoot you in the back.”
The group moved out, as quickly as they could, but the density of the forest soon had them split up. Ramiro was with Tomás and Paco, Wilson was with the two marshals and Victor, and Bill, Cal and Amber were moving together.
There was a noise, like two coconuts being smacked together, and one of the marshals grabbed his nose as blood spurted out. Victor had head butted him, and now Victor was trying to make his way back in the direction of the camp.
That son of a bitch!” Amber yelled. “He cannot get away!” She brandished the scissors still in her hand and in a moment of total irrationality, took off after Victor.
“Amber! Stop! We don’t have time for this!” Cal’s voice was anguished.
“Let him go! It’s not worth it,” Bill called after her.
Amber’s feet churned through the leafy debris covering the jungle floor, and then she felt water soaking through her sandals. But Victor was just ahead of her and she knew she could catch him in just another moment. Then Victor stumbled, and suddenly disappeared from view. Amber crashed after him, and when she pushed aside the leaves blocking her sightline, she was horrified to see Victor thrashing in quicksand. With his hands still tied, there was little he could do; the sucking goo was already above his waist.
“Go on!” Cal yelled at Ramiro, “Get everyone else out of here. I’ve got to get Amber.” Cal looked at his father, “You too, Dad. You most of all need to get the hell out of here.”
“I’m not leaving you son…or the woman you love,” they pushed aside foliage as Cal screamed for Amber.
A matter of life and death, Amber thought, and it had to be this terrible man. She took in a deep breath; dying like this was perhaps poetic justice, but not real justice of any sort. She realized that she couldn’t simply watch him die. “Stop moving Victor! You’re making it worse.”
She looked around for something with which she could hook the ties around his wrists, something to try to keep him afloat. She quickly found a tree branch and tried to fish him toward her.
“Please Tania,” Victor sniveled, “Don’t let me die.”
“Some hard-ass revolutionary, you are! And don’t call me Tania—or I will let you sink.”
As Cal and Bill arrived, Amber had managed to pull Victor to the edge, but she wasn’t strong enough to pull him out. The two reached down and with Amber’s help, the three managed to pull Victor out of the sinkhole.
“Thank God,” Victor whimpered.
Amber nudged him with her foot, “I thought good socialist revolutionaries were all atheists.”
“Apparently,” Bill quipped, “There are no atheists in sinkholes.”
Cal pulled Victor to his feet, “We can debate the existence of God later, but we’ve got to go now!” He pushed Victor is front of him, “I have an automatic weapon, you won’t survive if you decide to run again, or if you don’t move fast enough! Head to the river now!”
There was a rifle shot behind them.
“The FARC patrols—they’ve reached the campsite,” Bill said, worried.
“RUN!” Cal ordered, and the group took off.
They could hear the sounds of motors going down the river, throttles open. When they burst out on the riverbank, the Embera translator was waiting with one last boat, one that Cal didn’t recognize. “They must have found the FARC boat.”
“You didn’t destroy it, did you?” Amber poked Victor with the scissors.
“Quickly!” The translator motioned to them, as he moved to the back of the skiff and let it drift into the lazy current as they piled aboard. He pulled the ripcord on the outboard, and it coughed and sputtered, but didn’t start. He jerked again. The engine tried to catch, but then died once more.
“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Amber pointed. There were a half dozen soldiers spilling out of the trees.
The translator whispered something in Embera, and when he pulled the third time, the motor caught. He opened the throttle and they headed downstream. The FARC soldiers started to aim at them, but then they must have recognized Victor, because they lowered their guns. Amber prodded Victor with the scissors. “Looks like you saved our lives, dickhead.”
Bill winked at Cal, “Does your girlfriend always talk like a sailor?”
“Not always,” Cal said with a smile. “Sometimes, she can be quite a lady.”
Chapter 19
Ramiro and the two marshals headed straight to the hospital in La Palma with Duke. Their cover was that Ramiro had taken his clients to visit the Embera, and they had accidentally run into poachers. It was entirely plausible, and the Embera would confirm their story if anyone got suspicious.
Everyone else regrouped at the village; in addition to Victor they had Mariana and the other soldier.
“We have to think about how to do this, chasing after FARC definitely was not on our proscribed agenda.” Cal scratched his head.
Amber bit her lip, thinking, enjoying sitting between Cal’s knees and feeling his arms around her as she leaned back against his chest. The golden light of the late day sun made a glow in the sky, and she could smell the food the villagers were cooking. They were all famished. “Stay as close to the truth as possible, I think.” Amber absently ran her hand up and down Cal’s leg. “Bill and Wilson escaped with Paco and Tomás, and those three went after them, and were caught by an Embera hunting party. Let the Embera bring in the former hostages and the prisoners in the morning and contact the Panamanian police. We’ll go ahead tonight, as if we were just out on an excursion.”
“Why do we need to spend another night in the jungle?” Tomás asked, pouting,
“So we don’t blow our cover, and piss off our bosses,” Cal sighed.
“You really do work for the DEA?” Tomás asked.
“Yeah, I really do. And as a thank you for hauling your ass out of the jungle, I’m hoping you will keep that information confidential.”
“Yes, of course,” Tomás said, “I am very grateful to you…and Amber.”
Paco added with a sly grin, “As a thank you, I would tell people we were saved by Martians, if that’s the story you wanted us to tell.”
“No Martians, just the Embera,” Cal said with a chuckle.
“It’s a good plan,” the translator agreed, “It will help our people’s morale too, to know we stood up to the guerillas.”
Cal was loath to leave his father, but his dad cuffed his neck with a loving hand. “Look, Wilson and I have made it through two years of being abused, I think we can handle one night of Embera hospitality. I feel like I could sleep for a year, anyway.”
“What will happen to Mariana and the soldier?” Amber asked, casting a glance to where the trio of prisoners sat out of earshot. Mariana had curled up, with her head on Victor’s lap, and he seemed to be murmuring soothing words to her. “I feel like she’s a victim too.”
“There’s a rehabilitation program run by the Colombian government to help former FARC soldiers rejoin society. Most of them were coerced in some way to enlist. They won’t be punished harshly.” Cal stroked Amber’s head, “You’re very compassionate, you know.”
“I don’t know…there were moments when I really thought I could kill Victor.”
“But you didn’t, and you saved him from the quicksand.” Cal kissed the top of her head.
“What about Victor? Will he be put in prison?” Amber asked. “I wonder why he is such a mean son of a bitch. He’s intelligent—he could have done something constructive to help the poor people.”
“He’ll be interrogated. They’ll decide how much of a threat he is and deal with him accordingly,” Wilson said.
Their train of thought was interrupted by the arrival of food, and soon they had filled their bellies.
Bill patted Cal’s foot, “You and Amber better go, son, before it gets too dark.”