Delta Force

by Alex Westmore

  “She’ll be okay,” Sal said quietly, relacing her boots. Connie nodded. “She’s a bright woman, Del, with a good, sharp head on her shoulders. She’ll find her way to safety.”

  “I sure hope so.” Delta scratched a big bite on her elbow.

  Connie reached over and took Delta’s hand. “Don’t worry. A week from now, we’re all going to be sitting in the Leather and Lace, toasting Megan’s return and Gina’s pregnancy. You’ll see.”

  Delta squeezed Connie’s hand. “I’d sure like that a lot.”

  It was nearly dusk when they stopped again, each too tired to talk about their thoughts and fears. Having found a second river, they hiked during the hottest part of the afternoon, following it as it wound its way through the jungle, the humidity suffocating them. The terrain was rough and unstable, but not nearly as dense as the area they had covered in the morning. Delta had allowed only one rest stop during the day, so when they came upon a smooth beach-like area of the river, Connie held up a hand for them to stop.

  “This is it. We’ll camp here.”

  “Camp?” Delta snapped.

  “Del, we’ve been going nonstop. We’re hungry and beat. I, for one, am not about to do another night hike through this jungle mess.” Flopping on the beach, Connie started to unlace her boots. “We need a break, and I’m taking one.”

  Standing on her tiptoes to put her arms across Delta’s shoulders, Sal hugged her and nodded. “Connie’s right, pal. Josh would say that we got lucky once in the night. Let’s not push it. We need a rest, Del. All of us.”

  Delta looked at both of them before acquiescing reluctantly. “I suppose.”

  “I’ll take first watch,” Sal said, climbing up a small cashew tree and sitting in the crook of it.

  Plunking her backpack down, Connie lay on the soft moss. Delta quickly joined her. It was only a matter of minutes before they were sound asleep. Delta wasn’t sure what woke her, but she knew something wasn’t right. She rolled over ever-so slowly, and carefully reached for her machete. Taking the handle, she quietly slid the long blade from the sheath and brought the knife to her body. Something was staring at her. Letting her eyes adjust to the semi-darkness of a forest partially illuminated by a waxing moon, Delta squinted through the undergrowth. Focusing, she suddenly saw the cause of her apprehension: two glowing red eyes stared back at her from about forty feet away. Whatever belonged to those eyes was bigger than the white-faced monkeys or sloths she had seen.

  Keeping her eyes riveted on the glowing red orbs, Delta didn’t have a clue what to do.

  “Don’t do anything,” came Connie’s soft voice next to her.

  “What?” Delta said, startled at Connie’s nearness. How did she do that?

  “Umm...what are you two doing?” Sal asked in a whisper from her perch.

  “We have company,” Connie responded quietly.

  Sal slid out of the tree and ripped her machete from its sheath. “What is it?”

  “With any luck,” Connie whispered, “we’ll never find out.”

  Sal joined them. “I don’t really believe in luck, Connie.”

  For the next ten minutes, the three women looked at the unblinking eyes that glared back at them. When the eyes slowly rose in the darkness, the slight crunching of the creature’s movements echoed through the jungle.

  “Oh, God, it’s coming,” Delta whispered, taking her machete in both hands.

  “I say we kill it before it kills us,” Sal offered. Delta nodded her silent agreement.

  “We’re the trespassers here,” Connie whispered. “We can’t just cruise in here and kill it because we’re afraid.”

  As if on cue, a beefy jaguar slowly walked out of the shadows. It was the size of a large rottweiler dog, with massive paws and legs. When its entire body emerged from the dark, it stood in the partial moonlight staring at them

  Sal grabbed her machete in both hands. “I say we kill it before it attacks.”

  Connie stepped next to Sal and Delta, both of whom were now holding their machetes like baseball bats. “If we kill that cat for no reason, I guarantee we’ll never get out of here alive.”

  “What’re you talkin’ about?” Sal asked.

  “Don’t go out on that mystical limb now, Con. Save that Indian folklore shit for someone who believes. We’re in trouble here.” Delta swallowed the lump in her throat and looked for an escape route.

  “Think about it, Del. We don’t belong here. We’ve invaded its home and it probably just wants some water. More than likely it has never seen humans before.”

  “Suppose it attacks us?”

  “Then we defend ourselves. But I swear to God, if either of you two attack that animal first, we’ll all die here. Trust me on this.”

  Sal lowered her machete. When she did, the cat took a step closer, and both Sal and Delta raised their knives again.

  “Con, I know you’re the smartest person in the world, and I know you believe all that ancient Indian mythology, but I’m not so sure you’re right this time.”

  “When, in our years together, have I ever let you down?” Stepping in front of Delta, Connie turned toward the cat. “It is an Indian thing, Storm, and if I have to explain it to you, you really wouldn’t understand. Do you trust me?”

  Delta nodded. “Unconditionally,” she said, and lowered her knife.

  Connie leveled her gaze at the jaguar. She held its gaze for three of the longest minutes in Delta’s life. It was like the time she was playing chicken with her mom’s car. Those headlights bore down on her and seemed to glare in her window for hours. Now, as Connie communed on some mystical ancient level with an animal that could surely kill them all, Delta counted the minutes as they dragged by. As the fourth minute started, the jaguar slowly turned around and walked back into the jungle shadows.

  Delta and Sal sighed loudly. Delta’s hands were frozen in a viselike grip around the machete’s handle.

  “You can put those away now.”

  Neither moved. Connie shook her head and grinned. “What a couple of city geeks you two are. You’re embarrassing.”

  Slowly putting her machete away, Delta stammered, “How in the hell did you do that?”

  Laying her hands on Delta’s shoulders, Connie gave them a squeeze. “I’ve been sharing bits and pieces of my ancestral heritage for years, my friend, and all you’ve ever managed to do was make fun of it.”

  “Well, now you have my undivided attention.”

  Connie’s grin widened. “Promise? No tricks?”

  Delta crossed her heart. “Swear.”

  Connie walked over to Sal, took the machete from her and sheathed it herself. “My grandmother was a Navajo Indian, and when I was little, she used to tell us stories of our people’s old ways and our rich past. Like many elders, she was well-versed in the old stories, the ones which haven’t been corrupted by the white man’s retelling of them.”

  “Old ways?”

  Connie nodded. “The ways of the shaman, the way Indians lived before the white man changed their future forever.” Connie paused and waited for some sign that Delta was going to joke or question her.

  But Delta nodded. “Go on.” It was the first time in their relationship that Delta hadn’t cut one of Connie’s stories short.

  “When I was eight, Grandmother took me into the desert to teach me about life. Not life as we know it, but a different kind of life, one that the Indian nation still struggles to find and keep alive.”

  “What happened?” Delta asked.

  “We came upon a coyote. It was the first time I had seen one. I had heard many coyote tales, mostly about him as the trickster, so I was afraid. Grandmother told me I had nothing to be afraid of because the coyote was only there to make sure we respected his home. The Chippewas call him Shawnodese, or Keeper of the South. I won’t go into all of the details about the different symbols of the coyote in Indian lore, but I will tell you that I watched Grandmother talk to that coyote just as you saw me do with the jaguar. It wa
s out there that I learned the power of nature and how important it is to respect it.”

  “Talk?” Sal asked, shaking her head. “I couldn’t hear anything except my own heart pounding in my ears.”

  Connie grinned. “She was just checking us out, much like you do when someone odd-looking cruises through your neighborhood.”

  Delta nodded slowly, as if, for the first time, understanding Connie’s ability to speak the language of life. “Then you’re implying some kind of ESP between you and that jaguar.”

  Shrugging, Connie sighed. “I wouldn’t call it ESP.”

  “What would you call it?”

  “It has no name, but I think ‘instinct’ would be a better word. She was able to look in my eyes and sense the truth of our visit. The Chippewa would tell you that she was reading my spirit. That’s all instinct really is—the ability to read another’s spirit in order to connect to the greater life force.”

  “That’s what the Native Americans believe,” Sal said, “but what do you believe?”

  Connie turned and gazed in the direction the cat had walked. “I believe we underestimate animal intelligence. I know we communicated; she found us to be harmless, and left.”

  “Maybe she just got bored,” Sal said, starting back up the tree.

  Delta stood silently next to Connie for a moment. “I would have killed her,” Delta whispered sadly.

  Connie reached over and touched Delta’s shoulder. “No you wouldn’t have.” Turning to face Delta, Connie took her by the shoulders and stared deep into her eyes. “No matter what you think about the lives you’ve had to take, Storm, you’re not a killer.”

  Delta averted her gaze from Connie’s. This time, Connie was wrong. I’ve killed two men, and regardless of the reasons, that makes me a killer, no matter what you say, Connie.

  “It’s time to stop beating yourself up, Del. You did what you had to do. Let it go.”

  Let it go? How many times had Delta lain awake at night replaying those two deaths? Like bad movie reruns, she saw them over and over again, with the same result every time. How many times had she tried to “let it go,” only to dream of the bullet that penetrated the perp’s forehead, blowing his brains out the back of his skull?

  Connie reached up and ran her hand through Delta’s hair. “Listen to me. Right here and now, I want you to cut that baggage loose.”

  “I...I don’t know how.”

  “Sure you do. If you would look in your heart like I do, like Megan does, you would see what we see. This is an incredibly mystical place, Del. Maybe it has the power to heal your heart.”

  Delta bowed her head, tears running down her cheeks. “I didn’t know it was that obvious.”

  Connie took Delta in her arms and lightly stroked her back. “Everything you feel and think is obvious to me, silly. And if there’s anyplace in the world that can heal someone’s spirit, the rainforest is it. Am I the smartest woman you know?”

  Delta nodded.

  “And you trust me more than anyone?”

  Delta nodded again.

  “Then let it go.”

  Wrapping her arms around Connie, Delta quietly released the fear, the anger, the guilt, and the sadness that had built up in her since she’d blown the back of that man’s head off six months ago. As the tears flowed freely for the first time since Megan’s abduction, Delta began to feel stronger.

  “Thanks, Chief.”

  Connie pulled away and wiped Delta’s eyes. “Now get some rest.”

  Before the sun was completely awake, the three women were back at it, pushing and hacking at the jungle ferns and vines. The nagging fear which had plagued them was gone now, replaced by the knowledge that they’d faced the forest’s queen and survived. Each, in her own way, began to have a growing understanding of the natural order of the rainforest. Delta grasped the fact that they were visitors, guests in a world that didn’t need them, didn’t want them, and was certainly better off without them.

  Watching Connie make her way through the jungle, Delta’s respect for her friend grew, and Delta’s only regret was that in the past, she hadn’t listened with an open heart when Connie shared her fantastic stories. Thinking of some of those stories now made Delta smile. Who could blame her for not believing that Connie’s uncle was Juan Valdez, the Colombian coffee-grower on TV? Or how about the story of Connie’s family being Hungarian gypsies? Delta doubted anyone would blame her for her skepticism. Until now. Now, everything had changed.

  Suddenly, Sal stopped in front of an orange bromeliad, pulled out her binoculars and started a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree check of their surroundings.

  Catching up to Connie, Delta grabbed her arm and turned her around. A band of sweat surrounded her face and dripped onto her shirt. “You need a rest?”

  Delta shook her head. “No. I just wanted to say thanks.”

  “What for?”

  “In all the years we’ve been friends, you’ve never, not once, let me down. You’ve always been there for me. I don’t say it enough, but I want you to know if there’s one person on this planet I can’t live without, it’s you.”

  Connie wiped the sweat from her forehead and grinned. “Ditto.”

  “Thanks for coming here with me,” Delta said, genuinely.

  Connie lightly touched Delta’s face. There were too many experiences, too many emotions flowing between them to ever truly say how they felt about each other, so Connie kept it simple. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. You’re the most fun a girl can have.”

  “I love you a lot.”

  Connie smiled warmly into Delta’s face. “It’s one of the few things in life I can always count on.”

  Sal suddenly stepped up to them and cleared her throat. “Umm, guys?”

  “Yeah?” they said in unison.

  “This is really touching and all, but we’ve got company, and I have no idea if they’re friendly.” Handing the binoculars to Connie, Sal pulled her machete from its sheath; Delta immediately followed suit.

  “Shit!” Connie hissed, handing the binoculars back to Sal.

  “What?” Delta asked, squinting in the direction Connie and Sal had looked.

  “Natives,” Sal said, looking over at Connie. “What now?”

  Connie took the binoculars and when she peered through them, saw the men in their breechcloths holding long spears and waving their arms about. “Uh-oh.”

  “What?” Sal asked.

  Connie watched the men gesture to each other. One was pointing in their direction, and started running toward them. “Here they come.”

  “Fuck!” Sal bellowed. “What in the hell are we gonna do?”

  Delta sheathed her machete. “We have to run for it.”

  “We can’t outrun these guys,” Connie reasoned.

  Sal looked through the binoculars and shook her head. “Then we’re screwed. These guys don’t look like they’re the Welcome Wagon.” It would only be half a minute before the men would be on top of them. “Umm...Con’s right. This is it.”

  Delta looked over at Connie, who was shrugging her shoulders. She grinned at Delta helplessly. There was no chance for escape this time, and they both knew it.

  “Who knows?” Connie said, “Maybe they’re friendly.”

  “Umm...Connie, not a chance. These guys look like they’re on some kinda warpath.”

  Delta stood next to Connie and regripped her machete in both hands.

  “No, Storm,” Connie said, gently placing her hand on the machete handle and lowering it. “Our only hope is to surrender.”

  Inhaling her fear, Delta nodded once and dropped her machete at her feet. Connie was right, she was no killer. It was time she recognized that. She slid her hand over to Connie’s and held it firmly in her own.

  Connie grinned and nodded. “We’ll be okay.”

  “Here they come!” Sal announced, tossing her machete next to Delta’s.

  The natives moved deftly through the vegetation, seemingly without touching the
leaves. Eight long-haired men in tan breechcloths with spears raised high above their heads were upon them all at once. Delta watched with almost detached fascination as the natives flung their spears at them. This isn’t how I thought I’d die. If someone had told her she would end up being run through by a tribal spear, she would have laughed and called for the men in little white suits.

  But...the spears didn’t appear to be directed at them. High over their heads the spears flew, and all three women turned to see where these weapons of death would land.

  “Holy shit,” Sal murmured as one spear pierced the chest of a white man perched high in a tree, holding a rifle. With a sickening thud, the spear tore through his chest, forcing its way out his back. Like a lead weight, the man fell to the ground, his khaki shirt shorn away and soaked in blood.

  A second spear found its bull’s-eye in the stomach of a black man, also holding a rifle, also wearing a khaki shirt. The rifle went off as he hit the ground, pinned there by the spear.

  “What in the hell—”

  Delta looked at Connie, who shrugged. “I wish I knew.” Delta watched quietly as all but one of the men retrieved their spears. “Poachers?”

  Connie nodded. “That’s as good a guess as any. I think these natives just saved our lives.”

  Sal scooted closer to Connie and eyed her machete. “Yeah, but saved it for what?”

  Connie stepped in front of Delta and Sal and quickly spoke Spanish to the small group of natives. They looked at her oddly, as if trying to decipher her words.

  “Umm, Con?” Sal said, as the men slowly encircled them. “Think your jaguar trick will work with humans?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Delta started for her machete, but thought better of it. These men were like a photo she’d seen on the cover of National Geographic, looking like a cross between Zulu warriors and Native American Indians.

  “Con, who are these guys?” Sal asked softly.

  “There are a few indigenous preserves in La Amistad, Sal. These people could be from the Bribri tribe or the Cabecar tribe.”

  “Tribal people?” Delta asked, as the men started talking to each other and pointing.