“Then we’ll offer the government something that they want more than the information.”
“What’s that?”
I give her a wry smile. “Can’t reveal all my secrets.”
“What do you want from me?”
I lick my lips. “You know what I want.”
A smile spreads across her face. “I do, don’t I?”
I have to stop staring into the sun. It’s hurting my good eye and burning a path straight to my heart. Turning around, I squint at the large figure moving toward us. As I suspected, Garcia was close behind the mercs.
The boy who speaks Spanish, Carlos, rises from his spot under a large palm, where he must have sat while Ava and I mauled each other. He points the tip of his AK toward Garcia.
“Friend,” I tell him. He lowers the gun as we watch Garcia hack his way to us.
“You look like shit,” he says in greeting.
“Better than you on your best day.” I pull him in for a rough hug and then grunt when he slaps me too hard on my wounds. “Looks worse than it is. Ava, this is Garcia. Garcia, you know Ms. Samson. And this is Carlos. His village is that way.” I point toward the west.
“The gunfire?” Garcia asks, wondering if the bullets he heard being exchanged were from us or some other encounter.
“That was us. I’ll tell you about it in the boat. Vamos, Carlos?” I ask.
He nods and leads us down to the embankment. Ava and Carlos step into the rickety metal rowboat with its lightweight motor on the back, while Garcia and I push it away from the sand.
“You going to go blind?”
I finger my makeshift bandage. I’m already seeing light in the periphery, so I suspect my eye will be just fine. “Not from the wound,” I joke.
Garcia looks sharply at Ava but doesn’t say another word as we both lift ourselves over the side of the boat. Once all of our limbs are inside, I give Carlos another nod and we’re off.
“Where are we?” I ask, pulling Garcia’s attention back toward me.
“The Padre Abad Province. The plane crashed about fifty kilometers northwest of the flight path.”
“When did you hear?”
“Duval must have the bag chipped, because he knew that there was something wrong before the Peruvian government did. He and about twenty men flew from Lima to Pucallpa a day ago. It took them another day to get kitted out for a trip into the jungle. There was some infighting. Not everyone wants to make the trek into the Amazon.”
“That must be why the crew was so light. Only eight,” I told him.
He snorts. “Shit. Must have been like playing on the easy mode.”
We’d faced a lot tougher odds in the past, which is why I was angry that we’d lost any of the villagers. The leader of the boys was back with his people, burying his dead.
“There were some fatalities,” I reply flatly.
Garcia winces.
I have him relate what’s been going on since Ava and I’ve been downed.
“I wasn’t able to find a guide right away, so they had a head start on me. I heard the sound of the AK about four clicks south, but by the time I got there it was over.” He shrugged.
The firefight lasted all of about five minutes after I’d garroted three of the guards. The youngest of the boys had gotten trigger-happy and the five mercs left rushed toward the sound, spraying gunfire into the brush. An older male villager broke away from the crude imprisonment and was shot dead. His woman ran to the fallen body and one of the assholes shot her, too, before I got to him.
There were a couple of bullet wounds, including to the boy shooter, but that was it. The father of the leader came over and told us to leave—that we’d brought bad fortune to their village. Couldn’t argue with that.
We are lucky to have the boat ride to Campoverde.
Carlos lets us off and I leave the AK with him, although I have to wrestle it from Ava. She’s become attached to it.
“I’ll get you a gun,” I swear.
“Promise?” She doesn’t want to be afraid anymore.
“Promise.”
Reluctantly she lets it go and the boy takes off. He’s eager to get back to his home.
“What now?”
“Now we buy a vehicle and find a place to stay. Tomorrow we’ll head to Pucallpa.” I grab Ava’s good hand, ignoring Garcia’s glare. She takes a deep breath as she stares up the reddish-brown clay road. There are buildings made of brick, corrugated sheet metal, and concrete. It’s sparsely populated but after a few days in the jungle and the worry she might die, I can tell she’s thrilled to see signs of semi-modern civilization.
“Will I get to shower?” she asks hopefully.