It could be noon or the middle of the night, for all I know. Below the suffocating canopy, there is no difference.
Still, as we continue to make our way into the depths of the jungle, I begin to perceive fractures in the canopy, little slivers through which gleam a distant sun. The light grows dimmer and dimmer, until it’s all but extinguished, the forest plunged into an odd, nerve-wracking darkness.
When it’s gotten too dark to see more than a few inches in front of us, Garrido clicks on a flashlight and shines it toward a patch of deep green grass, a few feet away.
“We’ll camp here,” he decides, “and then tomorrow, we’ll continue.”
I watch as he and Vincent gather about dry twigs, which they find under the larger boughs of the trees that glitter with the same moisture as the one that lies heavy on our own skin. They pile them together with Logan’s help, and Garrido cracks a large match, igniting them.
Then we each unclip the rolls of blankets from our backpacks, and sit down on them. Garrido has already settled down, andhe’s roasting some sausages he’s been carrying around in the isotherm compartment of his backpack. He distributes them to each of us, after depositing them in rolls of bread.
I stare at mine, pushing down on the wave of nausea that threatens to strangle my throat.
“Eat,” he suggests. “We’ll need all our strength if we want to push through to the compound tomorrow.”
I tear a piece off of the sausage. It tastes like chalk in my mouth. But both Logan and Vincent devour theirs ravenously.
“So, what’s the gameplan, once we arrive at the compound?” asks Logan between bites.
I study Garrido. He’s carefully eating his own sausage, keeping his eyes anywhere but on me.
“I have a plan,” I mutter, taking a long swig of the water in my gourd.
Then I swish it around. There isn’t much of it, and I know better than to take water from the streams, no matter how fresh it might seem. I’ve heard of the parasites that infest these waters, and that can latch themselves onto your brain.
Death by dehydration would be a kinder fate.
“Well?” questions Logan. “What is it?”
In the darkness of the jungle, he’s found a bit of his old bravado. I don’t mind. Anything is better than the cringing creature he’s turned into.
“We’re going to kill all those motherfuckers.”
At that, Logan stops chewing. “That’syour plan? Are you aware just how outnumbered we are? There’s four of us, and probably hundreds of them. We don’t even have our killing machine along with us. Igor.”
I shrug, unwilling to share any more. The truth is, Idohave a plan. It’s little more than a suicide mission, but I have no plans to get out of there alive anyway. As long as I’ve accomplished my purpose, I will die happily.
That’s why I kept Everest and Igor at home. Everest doesn’t deserve such a fate. Igor… well, Igor probably does. Still, I don’t want to leave Everest alone. He couldn’t protect himself if he had a whole arsenal of weapons at his command.
I hesitated to take Vincent along, but he’ll be undeniably useful. Without him, it wouldn’t be a suicide mission… just suicide. Still, I feel a twinge of regret as I glance at him.
Then I turn my gaze back to our guide, and note the way his eyes dart to the left and right nervously, his lip reaching up every so often to lick a patch of dry skin.
“Tell me, Garrido,” I say, doing my best to swallow the dry piece of meat that sticks thickly to my palate. “What does it take for one of Angel’s men to desert his camp?”
His eyes flit back to mine and he shifts uncomfortably.
“He was Lazarus’ bodyguard,” begins Vincent.
“I asked Garrido,” I cut him off quietly.
The boy looks down at his sausage roll in apparent embarrassment.
“As Vincent says,” responds Garrido, “I was Lazarus’ bodyguard. The moment he died, my loyalty ended.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Your loyalty didn’t run very deep, then.”
“There’s not much loyalty amongst Angel’s men,” he says easily. “We’re always on the lookout for a better gig.”
