“Maddie, you don’t even have a plan.” Luke throws his hands up in frustration. “Even if you’re willing to kill someone—and I really hope you’re not—we have a rifle you don’t know how to use, and a grand total of five shells.”
But five shells is plenty, because Idohave a plan.
Find the kidnappers’ base camp. Shoot from a hidden location. Flee with Genesis and her friends in the subsequent chaos.
The hard part will be deciding whether to aim for Silvana or Julian, in case I only manage one shot.
“You’re low on insulin, we’re both low on food,” Luke continues. “And if we hike much farther, we won’t make it back to the bunkhouse in time to meet the helicopter tonight. So if we’re going to press on, wehaveto head for the shore.”
I open my mouth to argue again, but he cuts me off.
“And if that doesn’t convince you, think about this: Silvana and Sebastián are almostcertainlyheading for the shore too. There’s no more convenient way for the kidnappers to get the supplies they need to keep themselves and their captives alive than by boat.”
I frown, resettling my bag on my shoulders. “Then why didn’t they march us straight to the beach in the first place?”
“Because theydon’twant to be found. And they probably wanted to keep you guys disoriented.” He watches me for a second, letting me think it over. “This is our best bet, Maddie.”
He’s right.
“Fine.” I smile and toss my pack over my shoulder. “Lead the way north, Boy Scout.”
21 HOURS EARLIER
GENESIS
“¿Qué prefieres?”Sebastián asks as we pick our way through the jungle. His voice is low-pitched and smooth. It’s the voice of an announcer or a politician. A voice people will listen to.
A voice like my uncle’s. Like my father’s.
“Bananas, if we can find them.”
“You’re in luck.” He strikes off to the east, clearly leading me some place he knows well.
Every step I take through this untouched patch of jungle feels like the ticking of a clock counting down to three p.m. To the moment my father will either let me die, or help these terrorists kill hundreds of innocent people.
I can’t let it come to that.
“Who are you?”
“Philosophically?” Sebastián laughs. “Or are you asking for my National Identification Number?”
“You’re not cartel.” I shrug. “Silvana, maybe. But not you.”
He holds out his arms and lets his rifle hang across his chest, showing off his uniform and his gun. “Do I not look the part?”
“You don’tsoundthe part. You’re not after money, and you don’t relish violence.”
He laughs again. “I bet you’re no fun to play poker with.”
We arrive at a small cluster of banana trees, each bent by a massive ring of fruit bunches so heavy they hang just feet from the ground. Several of the bunches have gaps, where someone’s already picked the fruit.
Sebastián studies the clusters, then breaks off two bananas. He holds them out, letting me choose.
“You’re an activist, aren’t you?” I select the ripest, but it’s still greener than any I’ve ever seen in a store. “You’ll pick up a gun if you have to, but you’d rather fight with words.”
He breaks open his banana and it’s perfectly ripe on the inside, in spite of the green peel. “What would you fight with, Genesis Valencia?”
Every weapon at my disposal. But I can’t show him that.
