Jamie Freveletti - Running from the Devil

“I know he deserved it, but it looks awful.”

“He would come here every week and taunt me. He called me Rodrigo’s ‘ace in the hole’ and then he’d laugh. Once he took one of the men, brought him to the edge of the hole, and shot him in the head. The body fell on me and he made me carry it out and bury it. I hated him.”

Maria said something in Spanish.

“Maria says that God let him fall.”

“Maria has much more faith in God’s sense of fair play than I do,” Emma said.

All three women were silent, staring at the body.

Maria spoke up. She chattered at Vivian and waved her arms around in the air.

“Maria says we must move the body. She says the children should not know what occurred here.”

Emma nodded, but she shivered. All three women fell silent again. They stared at the dead man.

“Let’s go,” Emma said.

They lowered the ladder down the hole. Maria handed Emma one end of a rope. Emma grimaced as she wrapped the rope around Alvarado’s chest and tied it into a slipknot. She climbed out and waved to Vivian.

They heaved on the rope. The body slid off the sticks and slammed into the side of the hole with a sickening thud. They walked back, dragging it up onto the ground.

“Now we bury him,” Emma said.

Two hours later, they stood in the jungle and patted dirt over the grave site. Maria held a burning torch. No one said anything. Emma thought it was the worst moment of her life so far.

“You need to hide in the jungle again. The village is not safe,” Emma said.

“Maria is leaving with the children. She will not return until she is given a sign that Rodrigo is dead.”

Emma glanced up. “What type of sign? We may not be able to return for a long time.”

Maria patted Emma’s arm while she spoke to Vivian.

“Maria says that God will give her a sign. She is sure that Rodrigo will meet his end soon. She thanks you for freeing her and the children.”

Emma shook her head. “Vivian, does she understand that I am a terrible shot? That this plan could fail?”

Vivian translated for Maria, who smiled as she replied.

“She says that God will guide your hand. Things are in motion now that will call the end to Rodrigo. She says you set those things in motion, and she thanks you for it.”

Emma wished she could have such faith in God. As it was, she thought that their situation was worse than before. Rodrigo and Alvarado were a team. When Alvarado failed to return, Rodrigo was bound to wonder what happened and come looking.

“What do you think, Vivian?” she said.

Vivian hesitated a moment. Then she shook her head.

“I do not share Maria’s faith. I think we need to kill him or he will kill the children, as he once threatened to do.”

“I agree with you, but you aren’t staying here. Two years in that hellhole is enough. You’re free now. Go with Maria and don’t return to the village until you hear that Rodrigo is dead. I’ll try to get the news to you somehow.”

Vivian hesitated. “I don’t want to leave you here alone.”

Emma gave her a little push. “Go with Maria.” Vivian left to join Maria and the children hiding in the jungle, taking her torch with her.

Emma sat in the bushes at the edge of the little camp and thought about Sumner. She closed her eyes and tried to feel him. Tried to discern if he still lived and worried about her. She remembered watching a television show about miracles in ordinary life. The show’s host interviewed person after person, all of whom told incredible stories of impossible phenomena. Stories about speaking to people after they were dead, having premonitions of both good and evil before events occurred, and of returning to life after near-death experiences.

Emma hadn’t scoffed at the stories exactly, it was clear that the people were in deep pain and soothing themselves in any way they could, but she didn’t believe them, either. She believed that many such premonitions were nothing more than animal instinct. The subconscious mind made connections based upon actual occurrences, and it put the puzzle pieces together in a way that felt surreal but was not. Yet now she sat in the bushes and tried to conjure up some of the same feelings. She wanted Sumner to be alive.

Twenty minutes later, Emma watched Rodrigo and Mathilde walk into the small village. She picked up the rifle and sighted Rodrigo’s back.

And then she froze.

The image of Patrick on his deathbed, clutching his rosary, bloomed in her mind. She shoved the image away and refocused on Rodrigo’s back.

“Maria!” Rodrigo bellowed the name.

Emma inhaled deeply and started to squeeze the trigger. Then she froze again.

“Don’t think, just shoot him. He’s not even looking this way.” Emma talked to herself as she tried to motivate her finger to depress the trigger. Still, her hand stayed frozen.

Have you ever killed a man in cold blood? Sumner’s words ran through her head.

Not only in cold blood, Sumner, in the back, too, she thought.

She sighted Rodrigo’s spine dead center, between the shoulder blades, her vision focused on just that spot. She hovered there for a second, trying to conjure up her rage from the watchtower. She felt the anger still, but the awful image of Alvarado dead on the sticks kept intruding, sending waves of revulsion through her. The finality of death weighed on her.

Emma lowered the gun.

Two pickup trucks and a black SUV roared into the village. The pickups had the word DAIHATSU painted on their hatches. Each one was filled with boxes marked BANANAS—PRODUCT OF COLOMBIA. The top banana box on one truck was open. Instead of carrying bananas, it was loaded with long thin rifles. Each rifle had a telescope at the top. Emma watched as a soldier backed one of the pickups deeper into the foliage.

Smoking Man emerged from one of the pickups, followed by his bodyguards. He marched toward Rodrigo. At one foot away, he hauled off and punched him square in the face. Rodrigo staggered but swung at Smoking Man. His offensive move was short-lived. The two bodyguards grabbed his arms and pinned his hands behind him.

Smoking Man struck Rodrigo in the stomach. He wound up to punch Rodrigo again, when the roaring sound of diesel engines echoed through the air. Two large army trucks, the type used to transport personnel, barreled into the small village. A Range Rover followed. The vehicles stopped in a cloud of dust. The doors on the Range Rover swung open, and two men dressed in businessman’s attire stepped out. They marched up to Smoking Man.

A long conversation ensued. Soon the men were yelling at one another. Emma gasped when she heard the lead businessman address Smoking Man in clear American-accented English.

“You had her in your hands and lost her. Not only her, but the hostages as well. You told me this loser”—the man stabbed a finger at Rodrigo—“could handle the job. Well, we’re not depending on you or your men anymore. See those soldiers?” The man waved at the trucks filled with paramilitary soldiers. “They’re here to take over after you and your men recover that woman. You will listen to them.”

Smoking Man took a drag off his cigarette and spit on the ground in the direction of the new set of guerrillas. His show of defiance spurred the American man to yell even louder.

“I don’t give a damn what you think of them. I’m going to get the bloodhounds back on her trail.” The man stalked back to the cab, reached in, grabbed a briefcase, and threw it at Smoking Man. “We’re leaving. Either you find her or there will be no more.” He turned to his men. “Make sure they get it right and then drive those trucks to the beach.” He pointed at the two Daihatsus.

Four soldiers jumped out of the transport vehicles and trained guns on Rodrigo and Smoking Man. The lead American stormed into his Range Rover. The second followed more slowly. He avoided looking at Rodrigo or Smoking Man. The Range Rover started with a roar and drove away.