Oh, just for a few kilometers. I looked up at Camden. He was looking uneasy, his jaw tense, his lips rubbing against each other, calculating something. Possibly our demise.
Javier disappeared into the trees until I could only see his flashlight and the glow from Este’s iPad. Dom followed behind them. I expected Derek to go next but he only nudged Camden with the butt of his rifle that he always had out, nodding ahead.
“I’m covering you,” he said, his voice raspy like he’d blown out his vocal chords at some point in his life. His eyes were dead, emotionless, and even though I thought I’d feel some sort of camaraderie for the man since he was American and young, there was nothing. This man felt nothing for anyone, especially not Camden and I. We weren’t the ones paying him. If anything, he was here to watch us, to keep us in line.
Camden hesitated, wrestling with the silence, before he grunted and walked ahead of me, following Dom. I guess he didn’t like the idea of having Derek behind us. It made us feel more like we were prisoners, not cohorts.
Even with flashlights in our hands, the jungle was a terrifying place. We were lucky that the trees weren’t too close together and the ground underneath was dry, but the occasional root would still try and fuck you up, a branch sometimes came down too low and got you in the forehead. Not to mention the countless spiderwebs I could feel trailing past my arms. I wasn’t a wuss over many things but it had me walking right up behind Camden, cowering behind his tall and wide frame to shield me from the insects that I could only imagine were in a jungle like this.
We walked and walked and walked until I started feeling delirious from the dizzying darkness, that claustrophobia of never knowing what was out there. You could hear the occasional slice of Javier’s machete as he cut through something and Dom and Este were talking in Spanish. We were all getting farther and farther apart, especially Camden and I as we grew tired, our legs slowing.
“Want me to carry you?” Camden asked me. Though the idea of me getting a piggyback ride made me smile, I told him I was okay. I was just getting sleepy, that was the problem. An energy drink would have gone a long way.
I decided to pester Derek with questions instead, to keep my mind engaged.
I looked behind him, seeing only his flashlight and asked, “So, Derek. Where did you grow up?”
You know, like we were chatting at a café or something.
He didn’t say anything at first. I could only hear the crunch of dirt and leaves below our feet. Then he cleared his throat and in that raw voice of his, said, “Minnesota. Small town.”
“You must have been a hockey fan.”
“Yeah,” he said with surprise. “Though who isn’t?”
“You’re built like you play hockey,” I commented, hoping my compliments would get him to relax a little.
“Built to fuck people up,” he answered.
“Well, that’s pretty much the same thing, isn’t it?” I made sure he could hear the smile in my voice. It didn’t work.
“Hockey is child’s play,” he said sternly.
I made a small noise of agreement, not sure what else to say.
We trudged along in the dark, in the silence punctuated by wild animal calls. Shivers stroked along the ridges of my spine.
Then, Derek said, “Tell me about Gus. The man you mentioned.”
I wasn’t sure why he needed the information. Maybe it would help him pick better tactics going in. Maybe he felt bad and was trying to make conversation. But I needed to talk about Gus. To talk about him was to keep him alive, keep him as my goal. The further we got into the depths of the night, the more the goal seemed to be pointless. I couldn’t let that happen.
“Gus is like … a father to me.” The realization that my own father had died slammed into my gut, making my words that much more meaningful. With my own father dead, Gus really was the only family I had left. “He was friends with my parents for a long time, he’d always been around. He was like … one of the few constants in my life.”
“What did he do?”
“He worked for the LAPD as an officer. Retired early. Maybe he was discharged, he doesn’t really talk about it. He started providing false identities to people who needed it.”
“People like you. Con artists.”
“Yes. How did you know?”
“I’ve read all your files.”
I nearly stopped in my tracks and Derek’s arm swung into my back. I stumbled but kept walking, flabbergasted and horrified.
“You’ve read our files?”
“Even mine?” Camden asked from in front of me.
“Everyone’s,” Derek repeated. “Cartels are thorough.”
“Then why do you want to know about Gus if you already know this stuff?”
“Because it’s good to hear it from you. I need to know how involved you are and what you are willing to do when things get bad.”
My throat tickled.
He went on, “Will you risk your life for Gus?”