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After ten days in the jungle, my muscles are used to the strain of handling a machete. But trained or not, I’m tiring fast. I haven’t slept in I don’t know how many hours, I’ve only eaten two protein bars in as much time, and there’s no one to rotate with. The heat doesn’t help either. The sun is up and shining again and it has turned the jungle into an open-air Turkish bath. So, even if the forest is less thick down here, we’re slow. Too slow.
If we keep this snail’s pace, I’m afraid the soldiers will catch up with us soon.
As if on cue, three bullets rip into the trees directly in front of me, saving me the need to use the machete. I dive sideways and careen into Winter, taking her down with me. We find cover behind a boulder, her soft curves pressed up against me, and I spare a second to catch my breath before peeking over the rim of the rock.
Smith and his cronies are standing at the edge of the cliff, having easily spotted us from the high ground. Another round of shots rings through the air, and bullets zing against the boulder. I duck behind the stone again.
“Smith?” Winter asks.
“Yeah, and he brought his merry band of mercenaries.”
“Both Carter and Montgomery? How come they’re both with him?”
I shrug. “How am I supposed to know?”
“We need to get out of here. We’re sitting ducks without the cover of the jungle.”
I rub my forehead, my head splitting with a headache. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m exhausted, and cutting down vines isn’t an easy-peasy job.”
She pats the machete at her side. “I can help.”
“No, you can’t. You’re not strong enough.”
“Why do you always have to assume—”
I point at a thick root at her feet. “Cut that,” I interrupt. I don’t have time for a feminist protest. This isn’t about her being a woman.
Winter unleashes the machete from her belt and swings it at the root. The blade barely makes a dent before it harmlessly slides off to the side.
I raise my machete and, with one clean slash, I split the root in the middle.
Winter’s glare subsides. “I see your point.”
Even though the situation is dire, I find it in me to grin. “Careful there, that almost sounded as if you were admitting I was right and you were wrong.”
She smiles back and jokingly pokes me. “Never.”
More bullets make the vegetation around us splinter, sobering us up.
If only I could see what they’re doing, but they’re so far away. Then an idea strikes me. “Do you have anything in your photographic equipment I could use as a binocular?”
Winter unslings the backpack from her shoulders and rummages inside for a few seconds. She hands me a contraption that looks like a miniature telescope. “Try this.”
I bring it to my eye, but another round of bullets prevents me from looking.
I don’t notice that Winter also took her camera out of the backpack until she’s raised her head out of cover, prompting a fresh bout of gunfire. Shards of rock fly in all directions.
“Are you crazy?” I grab Winter by the collar of her shirt and drag her back down. “What are you doing?”
“Collecting evidence. The police will need proof. Otherwise, it’s our word against theirs.”
“Not if you get your head blown off. Put that camera away and focus on staying alive.”
Begrudgingly, she does as I say.
Then I notice everything has gone quiet. I bring the mini telescope to my eyes, wrestle with the zoom to focus the lens, and chance a look.
“Damn! They’re dropping ropes over the side of the cliff.” I watch as one by one they rappel their way down, Smith in the lead. “They’re coming.” I turn to Winter. “On my three, we jump out and make a run for it.” She nods, and so I start the countdown. “One, two… three!”
