Delta Force

by Alex Westmore

“Megan—”

  “Shh. We’ll talk about it in the morning, honey. Right now, I think you should rest. It’s been a really long night and we have to start out early tomorrow.”

  As Delta looked over at Connie, her dear friend smiled and winked.

  Later, lying between Megan and Connie on a huge hammock strung between two walls of the hut, Delta kissed them both good night and stared up at the dried palm frond ceiling. In a matter of seconds, she felt Megan’s body twitch beside her.

  With her eyes still open, Delta listened to everyone’s breathing and knew that Connie was still awake.

  “Con?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You can explain this to me, can’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m not talking about the dancing.”

  “I know.”

  Delta’s eyebrows knitted together as she listened to the night’s insects. “I don’t think I’ll ever be the same.”

  Connie rolled over and spooned Delta. “I know.”

  Holding Connie’s hand to her chest, Delta closed her eyes. She was almost afraid to sleep. “Con?”

  “Shh. Go to sleep.”

  “How come I don’t feel like a warrior?”

  Connie held Delta tighter. “You should.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you didn’t kill the crocodile, did you?”

  Delta didn’t know what to say. “How’d—”

  “Shh. We’ll talk about it later. We need to be fresh for tomorrow.”

  Delta closed her eyes and let her body slide into Connie’s embrace. “Just one more question, Chief, and I’ll go to sleep.”

  “Fine. Just one.”

  “You were there, weren’t you?”

  “Yes, Storm, I was.”

  The four women and Tamar set out the next morning around five-thirty, before the sun had completely risen. After saying their goodbyes to the shaman, Delta was given a jaguar-tooth necklace from Itka as a symbol of the joining of her spirit to the tribe’s.

  They had been hiking for three hours when Tamar squatted next to the river and cupped his hand for a drink. From here, the river branched off in two directions, and a large cypress tree sat isolated on an islet at the river fork. “Following this section of the river will get you to Panama before nightfall. It is easy to cross at many places.”

  Delta turned and shook his hand. “Thanks for accompanying us this far.”

  “I would go further with you, but I must stay with my people in case those soldiers should come to the village.”

  “You’ve been very helpful, Tamar,” Connie said, shaking his hand. “We couldn’t ask for more.”

  “Will you return for the others?” Tamar asked.

  Megan nodded. “Once we’re in Panama, we’ll be able to get the help we need to get back to the others.”

  Sal nodded. “It would be foolish to go back alone, without weapons, without provisions.”

  Connie agreed. “Doing that once was enough. I imagine the Panamanian authorities would love to bust a man with Zahn’s reputation.”

  Delta wiped the sweat from her forehead with the front of her shirt. “Don’t worry, though, Tamar. We won’t be bothering your people.”

  Tamar grinned. “But you are one of us, Delta. Our village is your village. It would never--” Suddenly, the crack of gunfire filled the air, sending Tamar stumbling forward; he landed face first in the water.

  “Watch out!” Delta yelled, pushing Megan and Sal behind a tree before she and Connie grabbed Tamar’s arms and dragged him from the water and lay him behind a manni tree.

  “He’s hit!” Connie yelled, as more automatic gunfire filled the air. Connie turned Tamar over and pressed her hands against the bleeding hole in his lower back. “Oh, shit. Meg, help me with him.”

  As Connie and Megan attempted to stem the bleeding, Delta and Sal peered out from behind a tree. “See anything?” Delta asked.

  Sal squinted, but shook her head. “I’m gonna run over to that tree and see if I can draw fire. If we don’t know where they are soon, we’re screwed.”

  Delta looked over at Sal and nodded.

  Grinning, Sal nodded back. “Here goes.” Sal scampered through the bushes and made a running leap behind a tree just as more shots rang out. Delta estimated the shooter to be a hundred and fifty feet away. “Over there,” she mouthed to Sal, pointing in the direction of a cashew tree.

  Delta waited for Sal to acknowledge that she saw him, before squatting down with Connie and Megan. Their hands were painted with blood as they applied direct pressure to the wound.

  “Con?”

  Connie looked up, her face bathed in sweat. She shook her head sadly. “He’s lost too much blood.”

  “No,” Megan said softly, wiping the wet hair away from Tamar’s face.

  “I’m sorry, Meg. The best we can do for him is to make him comfortable.”

  “You two stay with Tamar,” Delta barked.

  “Delta—”

  Delta held up her hand to silence Megan’s protests. “We’ll end up like him if we don’t do something.”

  “Such as?” Megan asked.

  Delta smiled reassuringly. “I’m a warrior now, hon. And right now, this warrior needs a gun.” Slowly inching her head around a tree, Delta realized that Sal was no longer where she’d last seen her. “Sal?” Delta hissed, but there was no answer. “Damn it.”

  “What?” Connie asked, joining Delta while Megan applied pressure to Tamar’s wound.

  “Sal took off. She was there a second ago, and now she’s not,” Delta whispered.

  “Sounds like someone else I know. Now what?”

  “Gotta go after her,” Delta said.

  Connie glanced down at Megan. “What about Tamar?”

  “I’ll stay with him,” Megan answered.

  “Think they got her?” Connie whispered to Delta.

  Delta shrugged. “I don’t even know who they are. Do you think Zahn’s men could have caught up to us so quickly?”

  Connie thought for a moment. “Maybe. It’s possible he has men all over the jungle with communication capabilities.”

  “If that’s the case—”

  “We’re screwed,” Delta said.

  Delta looked at Connie’s intense brown eyes burning the truth into her. “I’m going after Sal. We are not going to die in this jungle!” As Delta rose, she heard a rustle behind her and whipped around to find Sal crouched down.

  “Where you guys going?” Sal whispered, winking.

  “Sal! Where in the hell did—” Delta stopped mid-sentence when she saw a rifle slung over Sal’s shoulder. In her right hand was a bloody combat knife.

  “We don’t have time to sit around contemplating our navels, ladies. This game is for keeps.”

  “You killed him?” Connie asked.

  Sal nodded. “Had to. He was sneaking up on you from behind. Don’t worry, he didn’t feel a thing.”

  Delta could only stare in amazement. She didn’t know whether to be in awe or aghast. “Weird thing was, this guy wasn’t even wearing a uniform, and the rifle doesn’t look like anything a decent mercenary would lend to his neighbor.”

  Delta and Connie exchanged looks. “Poachers,” Delta murmured.

  “How is he?” Sal asked, jerking her head in Tamar’s direction.

  Delta shook her head. “Even if we could get him to a doctor right away, he’s lost too much blood. The best we can do is take him back to his people.”

  Sal’s eyebrows shot up. “Carry a corpse back through the jungle? I don’t think so.”

  “Sal’s right, Del,” Connie agreed. “We have to leave him here.”

  “Besides,” Sal continued, “that shooter wasn’t alone. I saw at least three others, and we need to find the rest of them before they find us.”

  Everyone turned to Connie, who nodded slowly. “We’d better go on the offensive. Take them out. If we don’t, we’re dead.”

  Sal held up the automatic. “At least the
odds are a bit more even.”

  “Who stays with Megan?” Sal asked.

  “No one stays with Megan,” Megan said, joining the group. “I’m a big girl who made it through this rain forest by myself. I’ll stay with Tamar because I don’t want him to die alone, but no one needs to babysit me.”

  Delta grinned. Megan Osbourne had really come into her own. Here, in the rain forest, they’d both discovered their own inner strength.

  “Then you take the rifle. I won’t leave you here weaponless,” Sal said.

  She held the rifle out to Megan and showed her how to hold it and fire it. “It’s probably got some kick, so keep it on your shoulder, or it could really hurt you.”

  Taking the rifle, Megan inhaled slowly. “Get going. I’ll be fine.”

  Delta looked into her eyes and searched for something to say.

  “Come on,” Sal said, tugging Delta’s arm. “Tell her later.”

  Delta nodded and turned away, feeling her heart constrict at the thought of leaving Megan again. “I love you,” she said over her shoulder.

  As the three of them crept through the brush, Delta stopped Sal. “I need to see the guy you killed.”

  Sal and Connie stared at her. “Why?” Sal asked.

  “A hunch.”

  When they reached the dead man, whose head was slumped on his chest, Delta grimly looked over at Sal, who regarded the body impassively.

  “Christ, Sal,” Connie uttered, staring at the knife wound running from earlobe to earlobe.

  “Hadda keep him from crying out and alerting the others,” Sal said matter-of-factly. “It’s war, Connie. Nothing more, nothing less. Get to them before they get us. That’s the only rule you live by now. Kill or be killed.”

  Squatting down, Delta studied the corpse for a second. There was something strangely familiar about him. He wasn’t wearing army fatigues; instead, he wore khaki pants and matching shirt. Searching her memory, Delta waited for the lights to go on. “I think I’ve seen this guy before.”

  “Where?”

  “My first night here, some guys walked through my camp carrying two canvas bags.”

  “How many guys?”

  “Four. Maybe five.”

  A loud screeching sound suddenly filled the air, causing all three to look around. The noise came again, like someone burning rubber in a speedy getaway.

  “God, that’s a horrible sound,” Sal whispered.

  “Sounds like something being tortured,” Connie said softly.

  Delta grabbed her machete and started toward the noise. “Come on.”

  “Where are you going?” Sal asked.

  “I know what that noise is.”

  Following behind her, Connie and Sal could barely keep up. “What is it?”

  The screech filled the air again. “Those are macaws.”

  “How do you know?”

  Delta paused and cocked her head. “I...don’t know how. That’s weird...I just...know” Delta cast her gaze up at the sky. “That guy you killed back there might be one of the poachers Megan and Augustine were after.”

  “Well, it won’t be long before they know their pal’s missing. We better fan out, locate them and get their weapons. It’s best if we don’t stay bunched together.”

  They walked another hundred yards or so before coming upon the poachers. Camping next to a small river were four men with two canvas bags. Delta gave a signal to the others, as they took a triangular approach toward the camp. As Sal and Connie quietly made their way through the underbrush, Delta wondered if they would ever escape this tropical nightmare.

  She looked across the small camp, at the four men napping in the shade, and watched as one of them slowly roused, and groggily stood up. Making eye contact with Sal, who peered at her from behind a naranja tree, Delta pointed to the man who was unbuckling his belt and starting right toward Sal. Delta could do nothing but watch the poacher disappear into the bushes where Sal was hiding.

  “Shit,” Delta uttered quietly to herself.

  When she grabbed her machete in both hands, Delta was only fifteen feet away from the back of one of the men. That’s when she spotted Sal returning to her previous position at the edge of the clearing, holding up her bloody knife. Guess that guy won’t be returning to his camp, Delta thought grimly.

  Delta waited and watched to see if the other men had noticed that their friend hadn’t returned. After five minutes crawled by, Delta pointed to the gun leaning up against a tree one of the men had been sitting next to, and signaled Sal to go for the gun. Now they needed a diversion. Quickly stripping off her jeans and long tee-shirt, Delta grabbed a handful of bright red berries and pressed them against her stomach and across her shoulders, leaving sticky red streaks across her skin. Then, picking up her machete, she inhaled once before signaling to Sal and Connie that she was going to go in.

  Delta ran into the camp screaming like a wild woman, and the three men were immediately roused out of their naps. Her presence was so disarming, they froze long enough for Sal to reach the rifle and point it at them before they could even move. When one man went for his gun, Connie swung her machete inches from his outstretched fingers, which he drew protectively to his chest.

  “Over there, Paco,” Sal said, indicating for the one man to join the other two.

  Connie quickly swept up the remaining rifles and dumped one at Delta’s feet, before issuing orders to the men in Spanish.

  “We’ll talk about this later,” Connie said, grinning.

  “Got something to tie them up with?” Sal asked.

  Connie rummaged through their things before finding a roll of duct tape. “This oughtta do the trick.” As she moved back to the men, one of them lunged for her legs, and got a good taste of how much damage a black belt in karate can inflict with one well-placed blow. With incredible speed, Connie kicked him so hard, the crack of his jaw sounded like a walnut in a nutcracker.

  Writhing in pain, the poacher grabbed his jaw and looked to his cohorts, who turned their eyes away.

  Ten minutes later, the three men were tightly bound together and secured to a tree. Their hands taped behind their backs and their legs securely bound, there was no movement from any of them. When Connie was satisfied, she stepped back to examine her work. “Like pigs in a blanket,” she said, tying her hair in a knot behind her head. Turning from them, she smiled when she saw that Delta had gotten dressed. “Let me guess. Was that the diversion?”

  Delta shrugged as she turned her face. “It was all I could think of.”

  “It was brilliant.”

  “Thanks.” Delta moving over to the canvas bags, and began to untie them, afraid of what she would find inside. With trembling fingers, Delta undid the knot and opened the first bag. Immediately, the rustling sound of live, struggling animals broke the relative now-quiet of the clearing. Slowly turning the bag over, Delta poured out seven bound and gagged scarlet macaw parrots.

  “Oh my God,” Delta uttered, seeing the beautiful birds with duct tape around their beaks and feet. Their wings were bound with splices of rope, and many had lost feathers. Tears came to Delta’s eyes as the eighth macaw thumped to the ground—dead.

  “Help me get this tape off,” Delta said, quickly opening her Swiss Army knife and cutting away the tape and rope.

  “Del,” Connie said quietly. “Do the feet first. Then you and I can cut the tape from the beaks and wings at once. If you do the wings first, they may take flight with tape on their beaks and they’d die.”

  Nodding, Delta held back the inexplicable emotions raging inside her. She felt so violated, so torn. What kind of person could do this to such beautiful creatures? And for what?

  After cutting the rope, Sal held one of the birds while Delta and Connie worked to free its legs from the stubborn tape. When the tape was almost completely off the beak, Delta looked over at Connie, who nodded.

  “Let her go.”

  Releasing the big bird, Delta watched as it immediately took flight, squawking loudly
the entire way. It flew up to a large branch and then just sat there looking down at them.

  “What’s it doing?”

  “Probably waiting for its mate,” Connie answered. “They mate for life, you know. One of these other birds is probably its partner.”

  “Yeah? Well, I hope that one didn’t have a mate,” Sal said, pointing to the dead macaw laying on the ground before returning her attention to the jungle. “Hurry up, guys. Zahn’s men could be anywhere.”

  In the next half hour they released over two dozen macaws. When they came upon the last one, Delta looked down into its face and saw that one of its eyes had been destroyed.

  “This one must have really put up a fight,” Delta said, tenderly touching the soft white skin on either side of its blushing face. Unlike the others, this bird did not struggle under Delta and Connie’s grasp. It merely blinked its good eye up at Delta, who, for a wrinkle in time, thought this bird was communicating with her. And in that split second, Delta knew, beyond all else, that something of mythical proportions had happened to her in the rain forest—something she was only beginning to comprehend.

  “That dead one is her mate,” Delta said, jerking her head over at the dead bird.

  Sal and Connie stopped cutting and stared at her.

  Looking up from the macaw, Delta smiled softly at their befuddled expressions. “Don’t ask. You wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

  Delta cut the tape from its feet first, then gingerly cut the tape off its beak. The bird shook her head a few times before squawking loudly. With a final snip, Delta cut the rope from her wings. When it was completely free of tape and rope, the bird blinked its one eye as it cocked its head to see better. After looking at Delta, the bird hopped over to its mate and made a moaning sound, like a sigh, before looking back at Delta. Then, with a few strong beats of her great wings, she joined the other birds on the limb.

  All three women looked up in awe as the group of macaws fluffed their feathers and checked each other out. When One-Eye landed, they all began squawking just before taking flight. Their three-foot-long tails waving like red flags in the wind, the flock of birds flew up and out of sight.

  “What was that all about?” Connie wondered aloud.