I refuse to look away.
But when the gunman has bound them all, he onlystands behind them, rifle at the ready. He’s going to drag it out. He’s going to torture them with the inevitability of their own deaths.
Bastard.
“Silvana!¡Vamos!”
I follow the voice to find another man in fatigues coming out of the bunkhouse carrying an automatic rifle.
“Oh,shit. Sebastián.” Nico’s friend, who danced with Maddie in Cartagena. He didn’t just follow us to the beach. Heledus to Tayrona, through Nico. Then he led us into the jungle.
I clench my hands together to keep them from shaking.
We’ve been targets since the moment we stepped off the plane.
MADDIE
The shouts from camp get louder as the man with the gun marches me closer.
“¡Silencio!”
“¡Formen una línea!”
“¡Pongan sus teléfonos en la bolsa!”
The hikers are being kidnapped.I’mbeing kidnapped.
Twigs snap beneath my feet. A branch slaps my arm. I have todosomething, but I don’t know what to do, other than to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
I step into the clearing with the rifle pressed into my spine. Terror shoots through me. There are at least eight gunmen, and two of them are soldiers stationed at the bunkhouse. The men who watched me get into my tent last night. Who are supposed to protect tourists from things like this.
Most of the hikers lie facedown on the ground, bound with plastic zip ties. I recognize two of the bros and Nico, but Ryan, Genesis, and Luke aren’t with them.
Near panic, I search the rest of the clearing. Genesis and her friends are in front of the bunkhouse, with two gunmen. My brother isn’t with them.
Genesis looks relieved to see me, but then she mouthsRyan’s name, her brows arched in question.
I can only shrug, but a small buoy of hope bobs to the surface of my fear. They haven’t caught Ryan. He can go for help.
“Silvana,” the gunman at my back calls.
A woman in camo pants with a headful of poufy curls turns. Her brows rise. “What have you brought me, Moisés?”
“I found her in the jungle.”
Silvana comes closer, an automatic rifle slung over her back. Her gaze takes in my cheap boots and faded tee, then settles on the lump at my waistband. She reaches for the hem of my shirt and I flinch away from her. Moisés holds me in place while she lifts my shirt and eyes my insulin pump.
I can see her weighing some decision, as if my worth can be established by a column of pluses and minuses. Genesis and her friends are going to be moved, but the people on the ground have guns aimed at their backs.
My head spins so fast the campsite blurs around me. “I’m stronger than I look. I can hike.”
I don’t want to die.
She points toward the bound hostages. “Lie on your stomach and put your hands behind your back.” My strength and determination have not moved her. My life means nothing to her. She looks at Moisés. “If she tries to get up, shoot her.”
“No! Please!” I shout as he drags me across the ground. My tears blur the clearing. “Please!”
“Wait!” Genesis shouts. “She’s my—” But another gunman aims a pistol at her head, and her mouth snaps shut.
