Jamie Freveletti - Running from the Devil

“Mr. Sumner’s bag survived, if not the man himself,” Miguel said to Boris, who stood next to him, panting. He opened the suitcase and sifted through it. Nothing useful jumped out at him. He turned to the neighboring bag, which was covered in some sort of fancy designer logo. Miguel forgot the guy’s name. This luggage was also high quality.

“Too flashy, hey, Boris? What do you bet these are a woman’s bags?”

Boris flapped his dripping tongue once, and sat down. Miguel unzipped the bag and looked at Emma’s note on top of the clothes.

“Kohl, come over here,” Miguel said. Miguel handed him the note. “Ms. Caldridge left us another clue. And Mr. Sumner of the Air Tunnel Denial program survived the crash.”

Kohl read the note and gave a low whistle.

“Seventy alive. Excellent. You were right about that path. Do you think she’s still around?”

“My concern is that she was hiding and got caught up in the blast.” Miguel stood up and gazed around.

“I sure hope not,” Kohl said.

“Me, too. But my guess is that she’s alive. Call back to Banner and let him know that Ms. Caldridge survived after she sent the text message.” Miguel paused, thinking. “I just wish I knew what she decided to do.”

“What would you do?” Kohl said.

“I’m a trained soldier, so I don’t think what I would do applies in this case,” Miguel said.

“Didn’t you say she was some sort of extreme runner through tough terrain? Doesn’t sound like the kind of person who would fall apart at the sight of a jungle. Even one like this.” Kohl waved his hand to indicate the thick foliage. “Hell, she could run her way out of here.”

Miguel nodded slowly. “You’ve got a point. But she needs food, water, and some idea of direction, or she’ll end up running in circles.”

“Could she use the stars?” Kohl said.

“Could you? I mean, before you joined the special forces.”

Kohl’s grin was a little sheepish. “No way. The only star I could identify was the Big Dipper.”

Miguel laughed. “Don’t feel bad. I couldn’t, either. No, I think she would do something easier, more obvious. She wouldn’t have a machete, so cutting her own path is out.”

Kohl shrugged. “Then her only option is to use the trail or the road. If the road, that means she split from the passengers. The guerrillas must be cutting the trail to avoid being seen from the sky.”

Miguel nodded absentmindedly.

“How about I go up the road a bit? See if she left any more clues for us to find?” Kohl said.

Miguel shook his head. “No! That road is probably loaded with mines. We follow the trail. The footprints all over it lead me to believe the guerrillas are herding the passengers that way.”

“But what about Ms. Caldridge? We just can’t leave her.” Kohl’s voice held a note of shock.

Miguel stood up and dusted off his hands. “She’s on her own.”

Kohl made a noise in protest, and Miguel waved him off.

“While I’m pleased that Ms. Caldridge survived, my job is to rescue all of the passengers, not just her.”

Kohl looked stricken. “But if we find her, she could tell us how much of a head start the passengers got and how far ahead she thinks they are.”

“I doubt we’d catch Ms. Caldridge, even if we wanted to,” Miguel said.

“Why?”

“She’s able to move a hell of a lot faster than we are, I can tell you that.”

“She’s got to be tired, too. She’s only human,” Kohl pointed out.

“Kohl, her brand of tired is completely different from ours. She’s conditioned to run in the heat for miles on end. What she does can only be done by a handful of people in the world. It’s like trying to chase a Formula One race car in a golf cart.”

“I hate to leave her out there.”

Miguel sighed. “I know, but we can’t spare the time looking in different directions. We need to focus our efforts in a way that is likely to find the most passengers. And who knows? Maybe she’s following the guerrillas, too. Come on, let’s move out.”

Kohl turned away, a dejected look on his face.

Within fifteen minutes, they were jogging down the trail. Boris and Natasha ran in front; Miguel, Kohl, and the rest followed. Within an hour, Miguel was drenched. His clothes clung to his body. Thirty minutes later, he reduced his pace to a brisk walk. After thirty minutes more, he was walking even slower.

Miguel called a halt. He sat on a nearby tree stump and drank from his canteen. The wet heat felt like a blanket settling on him. The minute they’d stopped walking, the mosquitoes began forming into clouds. Miguel pulled out some bug spray and sprayed his arms. The unique chemical smell floated in the air. His arms felt sticky and he smelled like a chemical processing plant.

Great, he thought. He waved Kohl over. “What happened to the odorless bug spray?”

“We never had any that I know of.”

“Now my scent can be detected a hundred yards ahead.”

Kohl laughed. “Not by the guerrillas. They all smoke like fiends. Their sense of smell shut down years ago.”

“I hope the same can be said of the cartel guys.” Miguel’s voice was dry.

“They’re worse. They smoke weed. That smell will cover anything in its path.” Miguel stood up and ran a bandanna over his face. Kohl shuffled his feet and studied the foliage all around them.

“Well, look at that,” Kohl sounded excited.

Miguel rubbed the sticky chemical deeper into his skin before glancing up to see what interested Kohl so much. That’s when he saw the large X carved into the trunk of a tree. He gave a low whistle.

“Wonderful,” he said.

“It’s her!” Kohl’s voice was filled with excitement, and way too loud.

“Kohl, pipe down.” Miguel said. He walked over to the X. Ran a finger in the grooves. He didn’t care who carved it, he was just thankful that they did. He spun around. Kohl grinned a crooked grin and batted at a cloud of mosquitoes. “Time to go,” Miguel said.

They started forward again; this time, no one jogged, except Kohl, who seemed to have a new lease on life since seeing the X. Miguel figured they had four hours of light left before the men would need to eat. Each soldier carried a pack that contained food, water, a hammock, and mosquito netting.

Boris came to a dead halt. He stopped so quickly that Miguel stumbled over him. He landed on his knees next to the dog. It was then that he saw the thin nylon wire strung across the path. It disappeared into the tree line. Miguel couldn’t see where it stopped, but he assumed it ended on a spring-loaded mine.

“Everyone stop!” Miguel yelled to the men. They froze in place. Kohl inched forward and squat down next to Miguel. He eyed the line.

“Don’t you just love that dog?”

20

THE DAY AFTER JUAN APPEARED BABBLING ABOUT EL CHUPACABRA, Luis awoke to discover that three men had deserted during the night.

“We have a very big problem,” Alvarado said.

Luis was boiling with rage. He focused on the tall man.

“It is this man who causes us trouble,” he told Alvarado.

Alvarado gave Luis an incredulous look. “Luis, forget that man, will you? How could he be the problem? He is here the entire time, while these sentries see monsters in the dark.”

Luis swung toward Alvarado and poked a finger in his chest. “Or do you believe it is El Chupacabra, too?”

Alvarado shook his head. “I think it is some sort of animal that stalks us. A real animal, not a legendary beast.”

“How do we kill it?” Luis kept his gaze on the tall man, who was kneeling next to a passenger.

Alvarado shook his head. “I do not know.”

Luis watched the tall man talk to the passenger.

“Luis, focus,” Alvarado said.