Jamie Freveletti - Running from the Devil

Another guerrilla started walking in jerky movements, like a robot. The majority of the guerrillas were affected now, but Emma counted at least ten who were not. Mathilde had worked her way around the group to stand next to Luis. She held a rifle as well. She prodded Alvarado with the tip while she yelled at him. Alvarado turned his attention to her, but there was no recognition on his face as he stared.

The passengers huddled in the circle drew closer together. One of the affected guerrillas fell into the center. He writhed and screamed on the ground.

“Get ready,” Sumner said. “Now.”

Sumner stepped in front of her. He grabbed under her arms, lifted her in the air, and held her against the watchtower wall. His muscles bunched as he held her up.

Emma grabbed the parapet edge with her hands. Now she hung from the parapet, but if she let go to grab at the strap, she’d fall to the ground. She needed to brace herself and to stay high enough to reach the strap. She wrapped her legs around Sumner’s waist.

She gripped him tighter with her legs while she pushed herself higher against the wall. Her head struck the underside of the wooden parapet. She crooked her neck to allow her arm to reach up and over. She moved one hand farther onto the parapet. The angle forced her to bend her arm, elbow forward. She swept her hand along the shelf, feeling for the gun.

One of the drugged guerrillas started screaming “Rat, rat, rat,” and let loose a volley of gunfire at a beast only he could see. His bullets bounced off the ground. Emma glanced forward. She saw Luis turn to look behind him. He locked eyes with her.

Emma’s fingers closed over the machine gun’s strap.

36

EMMA BROUGHT THE MACHINE GUN DOWN AND AIMED IT OVER Sumner’s left shoulder just as Luis yelled an order to the remaining sober guerrillas and swung his rifle into position. She squeezed the trigger. The gun vibrated in her hand and gunfire exploded in her ears. She swept the gun to the left, spraying bullets in a semicircle. The gun bucked like a wild animal, hitching upward with each recoil. She watched the men rear up and plunge into the trees. Some made it to safety, but most went down, blood catapulting out of their bodies.

She swung the gun back, showering them with shot, trying to control the weapon long enough to aim for Luis. The bloodlust rose in her. She wanted Luis dead. She saw the back of him disappear behind a tree and she aimed that way. Bullets hammered into the tree, sending bits of bark flying. She concentrated on the tree and the area around it before swinging the gun back the other way. She heard high-pitched screams from the circle of passengers. They scattered and ran straight into the woods.

Emma continued to empty the gun. She couldn’t stop. It was as if she were possessed. She heard her name, repeated over and over, but the voice was far in the distance. The shooting stopped only when the gun was empty. She heard a long series of hollow, clicking sounds.

“Caldridge, stop!” Sumner said.

He still braced her against the wall with his body. Emma tore her eyes away from Luis’s tree and looked down at Sumner. She tried to open her mouth, but she couldn’t speak. He put a hand on the side of her face. She felt the warmth of his palm, and it helped to calm her.

“The gun is empty. I’m going to lower you down. We need to run. Can you run?”

Emma didn’t move. She wanted to nod but couldn’t. Sumner let go of her. For some reason, she stayed where she was. Her legs remained locked around Sumner’s waist in a vise grip.

“You need to release your legs.” The urgent sound in Sumner’s voice got through to her. It took all her willpower to relax her leg muscles and release her grip on him. The minute she did, Sumner crouched low and jogged to the fallen men. He rooted around the corpses until he found one with a machete in a sheath attached to his belt. He took it off, belt and all, and wrapped it around his waist while he reached for a machine gun. He collected the gun with the grenade launcher and pulled rounds of ammunition out of a pile. He slung the rounds over his shoulder, grabbed several more, and returned to Emma.

Emma stood there, shivering in the heat. Sumner laid the rounds down and jogged back to the main tent. He disappeared inside for a few seconds. When he emerged he was wearing a new, clean T-shirt. He carried a second shirt in his hand as well as her backpack.

“Yours,” he said.

Emma still held the gun. Now she was having a hard time getting her fingers to release their grip on the gun so she could take the shirt. She took a deep breath and reached out. She slid the shirt into the backpack, and then accepted the ammunition rounds Sumner held for her. She put the rounds across her body, over her shoulders. She put the backpack on last.

“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Sumner said.

Emma looked around the encampment before she turned to Sumner. “Not until after we burn this place to the ground.”

“We don’t have the time.”

“I don’t care.”

“Let it go.” Sumner sounded aggravated.

“No.”

Sumner made an irritated motion with his hand.

“God knows you’re stubborn. Let’s not stand here in the open longer than we have to. You get the fire and I’ll move toward the tree line and give you cover.” He jogged away.

Emma went to the bonfire and pulled at the end of a stick protruding out of it. As she headed back to the watchtower she snagged a bottle of liquor lying abandoned on the ground. She sloshed the alcohol over the watchtower’s supports before applying the fire. The old wood lit up with a satisfying whoosh.

The sound of gunfire erupted from the trees, somewhere near Sumner’s hiding spot.

She heard Sumner yell, “Caldridge, run!”

Emma flung the stick away and ran. Her arms and legs pumped as her feet flew. She ignored the sounds of gunfire behind her. She ran out of the clearing onto the path, paying no attention to the rocky, narrow, and at times slick surface. She scanned the ground only long enough to avoid the obvious obstacles. She avoided the rest by using her peripheral vision. Her feet flew and her heart pumped. The path curved upward and she powered into the rise, the exact opposite of what she would do on an endurance run. She wasn’t aiming for endurance, she was aiming for speed. A branch lay across the path ahead, creating a natural fence. Emma hurdled it like a pro, leaping into the air, front foot extended out in front of her. She landed on the other side and kept moving, not missing a stride. She lowered her head and forced her muscles to bring on another burst of speed. Her arms and legs pistoned in a precise rhythm.

She ran even faster. She careened through the jungle and shortened her stride, trying to add even more speed to her already blazing pace. She heard Sumner’s grenade launcher fire, the distinctive thud overpowering the lesser sounds. The noise faded into the distance as she chewed up the miles.

37

MIGUEL, KOHL, AND THE REST OF THE TEAM STARED INTO THE night sky. It glowed dark red in the north.

“Little early for sunrise,” Kohl said.

“It’s them. They’ve burned the old army base,” Miguel said.

“Ms. Caldridge? Sumner? Who? Why do you say that?” Kohl looked astonished.

Miguel barked an order to the team to prepare to march to the fire.

“You asked me what I’d do if I were in their shoes? Well, I’d burn something to indicate my position.”

“They’re indicating their position to the guerrillas, too,” Kohl pointed out.

“Something tells me they’ve got them on the run. We’re deep in their territory. Even guerrillas don’t burn their own homes. That fire is a sign that something disastrous happened.”