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Get in there and retrieve the hostages.
They were held by one of the camps of guerillas in the Colombian jungle, who had been holding the group of Americans hostage for several weeks already. The team leader had told us to go in expecting the worst. There had been a lot of politics involved that had delayed the mission, and it was very likely most of the hostages were already dead. Perhaps it would have been smarter for us not to go at all, but that was simply not an option. The idea of abandoning my countrymen, people who relied on us, had stuck in my craw.
I had fought for us to take this mission and ended up on the commander’s shit list for it. They gave us limited ammo and personnel, but I didn’t care. If there was even a chance we could save one person, I was going to take it.
We had trekked for miles already, carefully making sure not to disturb the terrain or draw any attention to our presence.
But nothing prepared us for what we walked in on.
Bodies lined the floor leading to the shack. A woman was hanging from a tree, her naked body swinging slightly as her unblinking, lifeless eyes stared right at me. Her attackers were long gone.
I was too late.
We were all too late.
I woke up at the sound of my own outraged cry, aware that someone else was there. It was dark outside, and I looked around wildly, trying to find the presence.
“Are you okay?” It was Kayla’s voice. “I heard you scream.”
I nodded, trying to subdue the shakes in my body. I couldn’t talk, could barely make out what was going on. The moon was now the only light in the room, and the darkness was making me physically ill.
“Monty? What’s going on?”
I didn’t answer. Instead, I got up and headed into the bathroom to puke my guts out.
