“Oscar says there is woman in the jungle alone, crying.”
“Oscar? The jaguar?” frowned Sor.
“Yes,” he said in frustration. “Get up. We’re going to follow him with Trak.”
Shaking their heads, the three men stood and followed Trak and Oscar into the blackness of the jungle. Thirty minutes later they heard the soft cries and stilled. She sounded as if she were in pain but they were keenly aware that this could be a trap.
Trak went first, knowing that he could approach in silence, while the others struggled to hide the sounds of their footsteps. It didn’t matter. The woman’s own crying was preventing her from hearing anything.
“There,” whispered Sor. “She’s wearing white. And red.”
“She’s not wearing red,” said Brooks. “She’s bleeding.”
Trak stopped a few feet from her, staring into the darkness. She didn’t move, her head on her knees as she cried in her blood-soaked white cotton shift.
“Do not be afraid,” he said softly. She jumped back staring at the jaguar, then at the large, dark man.
“We’re not going to hurt you,” said Sor in Spanish.
“I-I don’t speak Spanish,” she stammered. Brooks frowned at her, kneeling so she could see him.
“Are you American?” he asked.
“Canadian. I was with a university group in Santa Cruz de la Sierra when I was kidnapped.”
“That’s a long fucking way from here,” frowned Fitch. She nodded at them.
“They took six of us. The others. The others didn’t make it,” she sniffed. “They tried to run and didn’t make it. I couldn’t do it any longer. I couldn’t do wh-what they were asking of me. I tried. I tried to cooperate hoping they would let me go.”
“It’s alright,” said Sor. “You don’t have to tell me anything. We’re going to get you out of here. Are they following you?”
“They were,” she said nodding. “I got so tired, I couldn’t go on. I haven’t eaten or drank anything in days other than some stinky water.”
“What were you doing down here?” asked Brooks.
“Studying the indigenous populations for a semester. We were supposed to leave the day we were taken. Those men, those men were horrible, what they made us do,” she said crying again.
“Okay. Okay, honey, let’s go. We’re going to get you out of here but you have to stop crying or they’re going to come straight for us.” Trak stilled, holding up his hand.
“They already have.”
“You have to trust me,” said Ham. The woman nodded as he tossed her over his shoulder. “Stay quiet, we’re handle the rest.”
“Trak, what do you need us to do?” asked Brooks.
“Stay here and cover my back. Oscar believes that he can handle the men easily. If he cannot. I will.”
“Trak, we should be the ones going,” said Brooks. He turned with a stern look, his dark eyes boring into young Brooks.
“Why? Because I am old? Do not insult me again or Oscar will take offense. Stay here.”
Sor followed Ham back to camp with the girl, while Brooks and Fitch waited, holding their position. At first they heard absolutely nothing. Then a familiar sound. The sound of machetes cutting through thick foliage on the jungle floor.
It was getting closer and closer, Brooks and Fitch getting nervous. They didn’t want to fire their weapons. That would bring dozens of men their way.
Then they heard what they were hoping for. The sound of a cat. A very angry, very large cat attacking one of the men. The other yelled for him to escape, then just as suddenly, there was silence.
“What do we do?” asked Fitch.
