by John Koloen
“What’s your problem?”
“You, all of you,” Robinson growled. “Jack’s dead and you’re worried about what you’re gonna eat. Show some respect for chrissakes.”
Murphy and his two companions clammed up, whispering amongst themselves. Duncan sighed, wondering if he should say something. The last thing he wanted to see was a falling out among hostages. They had to work together. Their survival depended on it, though he had no idea what their captors’ intentions were nor any plausible plan of escape.
“There’s nothing we could have done about it,” Duncan said, finally. “It’s not gonna help to focus on what’s been done. We have to think about how we’re gonna get out of this.”
Robinson shrugged and Murphy apologized to Robinson. Duncan leaned toward Suarez. He’d noticed that the kidnappers were ignoring them. When he mentioned this to Suarez, Robinson, who faced the inside of the enclosure, quipped, “That’s because they’re gonna kill us.”
“Shut up with that!” Mitchell scolded. “What’s it matter to them what we say? We’re tied up in the middle of nowhere and they got guns. Why would they care what we talk about?”
“Stop the arguing,” Thomas said. “They don’t speak English. Let’s conserve our energy and focus on solutions. Howard, what’s your guy hearing?”
109
SUAREZ OVERHEARD MUCH of what the gang’s leader told his men, relaying what he heard to Duncan. Others in the group were frustrated that Duncan kept what he was told to himself, but he explained later that he didn’t want the kidnappers to think that they were listening.
“The leader said they need to decide what to do with us,” Suarez whispered. “He said there’s too many of us and the fat guy said they should kill all of us.”
Duncan listened intently but refrained from asking questions. He could feel his blood pressure rise as he wondered whether the leader had control of his men. What if one of them took it upon himself to start killing? Who would stop him?
“The boss says no. He said something about ransoming us. One of them asked when they were going to get their share of our stuff. That guy said they should vote on what to do with us.”
Duncan leaned his head against the post. “Fuck,” he muttered. Are these guys pirates or what? Voting was a bad idea, he thought.
“The leader says he needs to think about it,” Suarez said. “The fat guy said with so many of us, the polícia will come and the boss said they’d come whether we’re dead or alive. He said, these gringos are Americans. Now they’re all talking at once and, wait, that’s it. The boss said to shut up.”
Duncan, who was facing the interior of the enclosure stared at his shoes, expecting to hear more from Suarez.
“That’s it,” Suarez said, “they just dumped our stuff on the ground. They look pretty happy now.”
Duncan craned his neck to watch as the leader let his men choose one item in turn until everything had been claimed.
“It’s like Christmas,” Duncan said.
Duncan finally reported what the kidnappers had discussed. They talked about killing some of us, he told them, and watched for their reaction. Those who had been facing him stiffened while those who had been looking elsewhere suddenly turned to face him.
“Kill us?” Murphy said. “I don’t mind being ransomed, but why kill us? Aren’t we worth more alive than dead?”
“Some of them think there’s too many of us,” Duncan said.
“Are they gonna do it?” Jason Gruber asked.
“The leader said he’d think about it. Right, Antonio?”
“Yes,” Suarez said, nodding.
“So, what are we going to do?” Robinson asked. “Are we just gonna sit here and wait for them to kill us?”
The discussion grew heated as their vulnerability began to sink in.
“I don’t know about you guys, but I’m not going down without a fight,” Robinson said boldly. “We could knock this goddamn thing down in no time.”
“And then what?” Boyd asked. “Our hands are still tied and they took our knives.”
“This is silly,” Thomas said. “They’ve got guns and machetes. What do we have? It would be suicide to resist. No, we won’t beat them that way.”
“So, how do we beat them?” Robinson asked huffily.
“Out think them, that’s how.”
“And how we gonna do that?”
“We should be prepared to argue the point,” Thomas said. “The leader is smart enough to understand the situation and maybe, if they do decide to kill us, we can talk him out of it.”
“They’re not gonna debate us,” Robinson said. “These guys are killers. You saw what they did to Jack. There were only three of them then. Now there’s a lot more. We’re fucked if you think we can talk them out of anything.”
“So, we’re fucked,” Gruber said. “You got a better idea, I mean besides knocking down this palapa, or whatever it is?”
Robinson looked for allies among the others but nobody stepped up.
“Maybe we wait until dark. Maybe we spend the day trying to work ourselves out of these ropes. Then we do something.”
“Like what?” Boyd asked.
“Like run like hell, for one thing.”
“In the dark, in the jungle. How far do you think we’d get?” Duncan asked.
“OK, OK, I don’t have it figured out. You guys got a better idea?” Robinson said, whispering to those near him, “Damn, what I wouldn’t do for a cigarette right now.”
“Well, in that case, it’s either fight or flight,” Thomas said. “I don’t like the odds either way but, depending on how things go tonight, maybe our best chance is to attack them. There’s plenty of wood laying around. We could use it like clubs.”
“Clubs against shotguns?” Mitchell said. “Seriously?”
“Look, some of us might die no matter what we do,” Duncan said. “If we don’t do something then we’re leaving our fate in the hands of murderers. I don’t like the idea of attacking them, but I don’t like the idea of being executed either. I think Joe’s right. We gotta fight any way we can.”
“And we can’t take prisoners,” Robinson said defiantly. “No prisoners.”
110
WHILE SOME KEPT their eyes on their captors, others worked on loosening their bindings, most of which incorporated constrictor knots, which made it all the more difficult to disentangle the rough sisal rope. Although the rope chafed their wrists, they worked at it through the afternoon, wriggling their hands to stretch it. It was a frustrating and tedious process, which they pursued for five or ten minutes at a time, resting to relieve their fatigue and to avoid drawing their captors’ attention.
Boyd and Suarez were the first to free themselves, but they couldn’t help the others without alerting the kidnappers, so they did what they could to make it look like they were still bound. Even as they discussed their escape plan, their captors took little notice, satisfied that they posed little risk. They could see them clearly. If they tried anything, their shotguns would do the talking.
As the discussion continued, and as others finally loosened their bonds, they reevaluated their strategy. It was one thing for men who are bound to boost their spirits by visions of overcoming their opponents; it was quite another to set it in motion when they were in a position to do so. It was the difference between the fantasy of taking action and the reality of doing it. As surely as they were in a position to put their plan into action, they began to have doubts. It was not long before they were taking sides.
Robinson was adamant that their best chance at freedom was to overcome their captors, even if it meant that some might die.
“Might die?” Murphy said dubiously. “They got shotguns.”
“Not all of them,” Robinson said.
“And what about their machetes?” Wilson said. “What do we got?”
“There’s scrap lumber everywhere,” Robinson said.
“I see a lot of shipping crates,” Murphy said.
“Let’s not get into an argument,” Duncan said. “We can’t do anything as long as there’s daylight.”
“You know, they got a generator,” Boyd said. “They got lights strung across the camp.”
“Still, if we do something it’s better to do it after dark,” Duncan said.
“We can attack when they’re asleep,” Robinson said. “Sure, a couple of them might be on watch but, you know, people fall asleep all the time on watch.”
“So, you think they’re smart enough to capture us but dumb enough to let us attack them in their sleep, is that it?” Murphy said.
“What else can we do?” Robinson said. “I’ll go back to what the doc said before, we gotta fight or die. They’re not gonna keep us alive.”
Everyone looked at Duncan for a response.
“I don’t know what to do,” he said.
Robinson eyed Duncan disappointedly and spat bitterly.
“How can you say that? You were all in favor of it before,” Robinson said angrily.
“People can change their minds,” Nolan Thomas said.
“So, you all just want to wait here and die, is that it? Why the fuck did we bother to untie ourselves, tell me that?”
“So we could have options,” Duncan said.
“What options? Running into the jungle at night? How far do you think we’ll get before they hunt us down?”
“We could split up,” Gruber said. “They can’t hunt all of us.”
“And then what? You don’t even know where you are. You got no food, You got no water. You got nothin’. No, I say we wait until morning, wait for our chance and then bash their heads in or die trying.”
The others ruminated. Each had to decide whether he could kill a man.
“I’ve never been in a fight, I mean, a real fight,” Wilson said timidly.
Several of the others admitted the same.
Robinson saw that there was little enthusiasm for his plan. He smiled curtly and lowered his chin to his chest. Duncan saw that the conversation was going nowhere.
“OK, let’s settle down here. We don’t want to draw their attention or they’re gonna come over here and see that our hands are free, that’d be the end of it.”
By late afternoon, with nothing resolved, they’d become introspective. Few had faced such a decision, and those that had—Duncan, Boyd, Suarez and Robinson—were divided as well. Only Robinson was adamant, but even he knew the odds were stacked against them. Duncan’s mind raced between the two extremes. He was certain he would fight if he had to, but as a choice he preferred somehow escaping into the forest, even if it meant being lost. But would that just be delaying the inevitable? Could they negotiate? No, if they wanted to negotiate, they would already have done it. Still, he didn’t know what the kidnappers wanted to do. For all he knew, they were either seeking a ransom, or planning their execution. Or a dozen other things.
Goddamn, he thought. If only I knew whether they were planning to kill us. That would settle things.
With no hope, there would be nothing to lose.
Suarez nudged Duncan out of his internal monologue. Sitting alongside each other, he nodded toward a shadowy area between where they were being held and where the camp cook was preparing their supper of beans and rice.
“You think they’re gonna feed us?” Duncan asked quietly. “It smells good.”
“No, no,” Suarez whispered. “On the ground, look.”
Duncan wished he could rub his eyes as his eyes were slow to focus. Blinking didn’t help.
“What’re you seeing?”
“Bugs. Can’t you see them?”
Duncan shook his head. Although he hadn’t thought it possible, they were now in bigger trouble than he’d imagined.
111
DUNCAN TOOK SUAREZ’S word for what he’d seen and quietly announced it to the others. The response was what one would expect if a snake had been tossed into their midst. They began to move, shifting their weight nervously, staring at the shadowy ground in front of them, as if the insects were already there.
“Don’t be obvious,” Duncan cautioned. “They’re over there somewhere. Don’t stare. They’ll think something’s up. Antonio saw them. They’re scouts. No telling where the colony is.”
“What do we do now?” someone asked.
“Don’t panic. We’ve got time.”
“But what should we do?” Murphy asked anxiously.
“Well, you can try climbing a tree,” Boyd said.
“They don’t climb trees?”
“We don’t know,” Duncan said.
“That’s just one thing,” Boyd said.
“How about we run like hell, like yesterday?”
As darkness swallowed the camp, the generator coughed into operation, powering several strings of bare light bulbs. Some of the bulbs were dead and others were low-wattage, with most of the light concentrated where the kidnappers congregated on makeshift benches near the cook stove. With no light of its own, the enclosure and captives were barely illuminated, which was fine with Duncan and the others. Duncan counted heads. How could eleven men escape if they didn’t run before the rest of the scouts, much less the colony, arrived? Given what he’d learned about blaberus, there was little doubt that their strategy was to surround their prey before striking, by which time escape was unlikely. And if they ran, could they avoid running into the colony?
He didn’t have to listen closely to hear the incipient panic in their voices. As uncertain as they were about how to deal with their captors, it paled in comparison to the fear they had of the insects. They’d all seen what the little killers could do. They were all experts in fear. Unfortunately, fear was getting the better of several, who instinctively stood and tossed their bindings aside.
“What are you doing!” Duncan said urgently but without raising his voice.
“I’m getting outta here,” Murphy said, facing Duncan.
“Me, too,” one of Thomas’s assistants said, looking down at Thomas. “Sorry, boss, but I didn’t sign up for this.”
“Neither did I,” Andy Wilson agreed.
“C’mon,” Boyd chided, “we’ve already been through this. There’s nowhere to run. You don’t know where the bugs are. You run into them and it’s all over. Think about it.”
“And please sit down while you’re thinking. You’re endangering the rest of us,” Thomas said.
The three men were agitated as they sat, as if their coach had taken them out of a big game.
“What’s next?” Wilson asked.
112
IT STARTED WITH the stamping of feet. The captors were eating their beans and rice when one of them started stepping on what looked like cockroaches scuttling across the dusty, well-trodden soil. Standing, holding his bowl in one hand and staring at the ground beneath him, he did a kind of jig that at first amused his fellows. Then another man, sitting alongside the first, started stamping his feet while the others continued to eat and watch. But it wasn’t long before everyone was standing, some of them moving away from where they’d been sitting and others joining in the dance in the dimly lit camp.
It didn’t take long for the hostages to realize what was going on. As one or two stood, the others quickly joined them, most tossing their bindings to the ground. There was little time to make decisions. Although it was difficult to make out details, Duncan saw that the insects were casting a wide net as the scouts approached the camp. What he couldn’t see because they were concealed by darkness, was what was going on behind them. That became apparent when several of the hostage takers started to move away from the others who were having a difficult time fighting off the increasing number of bugs. It was all well and good as long as the insects were on the ground where they could be stomped, but when they started jumping and flying at them like bats they lost all cohesion, with some running and others grabbing boards and pans, which they swung wildly at the attackers. It didn’t help that they were largely shirtless as bugs embedded themselves in their fles
h, raising tiny geysers of blood.
“Listen up,” Duncan said, “it’s every man for himself. Run if you want to, climb a tree, whatever.”
The darkness under the palm roof hid the fear on their faces but couldn’t disguise the terror in their voices.
“I’m gonna run,” Murphy said, “anyone with me?”
Mitchell and Wilson lined up alongside him.
“Like yesterday, we run like hell,” he told them. “Nobody stops for anything. Just keep running.”
“What are you gonna do?” Mitchell asked Duncan, his heart racing.
Duncan struggled to assess the situation. As dark as it was, he could not tell for certain whether they were surrounded or whether the bugs were conducting a frontal assault. Whatever anyone did, the outcome would be no better than flipping a coin. There was no way to know whether they would be running into or away from the bugs. All he had to go on was what he could see and hear from their captors, who were now either running in circles through the camp, waving boards at the bugs, or waging personal battles against insects that were attacking their eyes, crawling up their legs and chopping at their lips and other soft parts. The noise of the rainforest night was overwhelmed by the screams of the terrified victims.
“Boss, boss,” Cody Boyd shouted, pointing at the crates and equipment cases they’d seen earlier. “I’m gonna get under one of those.”
“What’re you talking about?” Murphy asked frantically.
“Those boxes over there. We can hide under them.”
“Are you crazy? The bugs’ll get inside.”
“And running isn’t crazy?”
Duncan was no longer thinking about the others as he took several deep breaths. There was no time to think. The bugs were taking over the camp and it was only a matter of minutes before they would overrun the enclosure. But before he could take his first step, Suarez zipped past him like a wraith and in seconds was shimmying up a tall açai palm. As if Suarez had signaled the start of a race, the others quickly dispersed. Murphy and his group, including one of Thomas’s assistants, disappeared into the darkness. Thomas, Gruber and the remaining assistant, Robinson, Duncan and Boyd moved quickly toward the crates and boxes. Even in the lousy light it was clear that some of them had too many gaps to offer protection. Rummaging desperately through the potential sanctuaries, they had little time to perform inspections as the bugs were mere yards away.