Globusz^® Publishing 

he day dawned fresh and cool but with a promise of more heat to come. Helen, wearing walking boots, was dressed for the occasion in a long sleeved white shirt tucked into blue jeans. Her only jewellery a pair of pearl studs in her ears, her neck was bare as she gazed at the mountains in the East. The sunglasses perched on the end of her nose were not strong enough to shade the already dazzling morning sun so she held a large brimmed bush hat in her left hand shading her face. In her right hand dangled a back pack containing a bottle of water, sandwiches, a pair of trainers and some odds and ends, a warm jacket was tucked through the top flap. She turned towards David. “I have a distinct feeling that it is going to be a warm day today. I am not looking forward to six hours or so in the cab of a Land Rover.”

David, bright and cheerful after their early night, was watching the road. They were waiting for Peter to bring the Land Rover round. “It’s a pity they didn’t have a Range Rover to hire, they have air conditioning. But it shouldn’t be too bad once we get moving with the windows down.” He carried a much larger back pack slung over one shoulder. They had decided not to over restrict what they took with them as they would have little carrying to do. Consequently his pack was nearly full with water food and emergency sleeping gear in case they had to stop over.

A dusty grey green Land Rover at last bounced into view from around the corner before drawing to a stop in front of them. ”All aboard for a days safari, sling your packs in the back; we want as much room in the front as possible. It’s going to be a hot day.” Called Peter, who, it appeared, had also got out of the right side of the bed that morning.

Helen slung her small pack in the front with the excuse there was some water in it for drinking, before climbing in. Then she manoeuvred the pack between her self and Peter leaving just enough room for David to squeeze in after her.

It wasn’t long before they were travelling through the outskirts of the city heading east along the main road, bounded to the North by the Rio Milagro, the railway and then the steep rising foothills of the rain forest. On the other side the land rose much more gently with the remnants of the city and beyond to a cultivated fertile plateau. The low sun shone directly into the cab making driving difficult even with the sun visors down. No sooner had they left the city behind than the main road curved away to their right as they turned left to take a minor road. Progress slowed as they continued along this road crossing the river to run alongside the railway for a short while. At the next junction a mile or so further on another road branched left up into the forest whilst they had to turn right and cross back over the river. The trio continued for some time before reaching another junction where David offered the directions. “We turn left here Peter; we take the left fork for the dam.”

“Left here! Are you sure, there are no signs pointing that way?”

“Yes it’s definitely left here.”

Peter swung the wheel over and they drove onto what can only be described as a narrow dirt track. The air conditioning in the Land rover was as nonexistent as the soundproofing and the springs were only slightly better fighting valiantly against the potholes in the road. “This is much worse than I remembered when I last travelled this way.” David commented. “I don’t think they have done anything about the road since we completed the dam. You can understand why we had to build the railway before we started work on the dam.” Continually they had to slow down and occasionally stop to allow heavily laden ramshackle vehicles, bicycles and even the occasional donkey and cart to pass in the other direction. Everyone it appeared was going to market in the city.

Helen turned to speak into David’s ear. “Does it get any better further along the track? I thought this would be a major road up the valley.”

“It is a major road, all the traffic from the whole Milagro valley, all two hundred miles of it, has to come through here. You can see the valley is wide here where these farms are. Beyond the shoulder of that hill on the right the valley narrows a bit, the road may improve slightly there. It’s firmer ground and not so much mud when it rains.”

Peter was only half listening to the conversation as he concentrated on the driving, trying to avoid as many of the potholes as possible. “I hope there will be less farm traffic too. Why they don’t widen the track a couple of feet is beyond me.” He shouted, as again he pulled two wheels off the track to allow an over laden and much abused lorry to pass in the other direction. Another mile and they came to a ‘T’ junction where the crossing road was much better, wider and newly surfaced. “Left or right, which way do we go?”

“This is new. I don’t recognise this. Turn left, that puts us in the right direction... I think this must be a new road and we have just cut the corner by using the old dirt track.”

Peter turned left onto the new surface and they were able to make better progress as he began to crack on speed whilst taking a great deal of interest in the rear view mirror. “Don’t make it too obvious by turning round to look, but I think we have company... That white van behind us, it took the dirt track with us but slowly fell back. Now they are trying desperately to catch up.”

David shifted his position and leaned forward so he could use the other mirror just as Peter swung the Land Rover fast into another bend. David watching through the mirror saw the van slide then sway as it mounted the grass verge. “Whoa! Whoever is driving that van nearly lost it then. He’s slowing down now I think you frightened him off.”

Peter still didn’t slow down until the white van was out of sight. An hour later the opposing traffic had thinned to zero as they left the arable valley behind and began the climb into the lower reaches of the hills. Three hours after starting out they reached a flat area by the side of the track and Peter pulled the Land Rover over. “Time for a break and a stretch I think. We have all day and we must be nearly half way to the dam now,” he said, opening the door and climbing down.

“I’ll do the next stint of driving if you like Peter,” David said, as he stretched and strolled over to some boulders before sitting down where Helen offered him a drink of the bottled water. “See over there on those hills I can just make out a line of electricity pylons.”

David scanned the hills. “No I don’t see them, my eyes aren’t that good.”

Peter stretched out an arm and pointed. “See that clear ground where the forest has been cut back on the saddle of that hill. They run right through the middle of the cleared area. From there you can follow them right up the valley.”

“Ah! Yes, I see them now, in that cleared area, they descend the other side of that saddle into the fringes of the city.”

At the moment there was no traffic and the quiet solitude gave them a certain intimacy which allowed them to sit close together, they conversed in a low almost whispered tone. It was because of their low voices and helped by the tunnelling effect of the valley that they heard the noise from the high revving engine of a motor bike coming fast down the valley. Two minutes later the noise died as the rider hurtled around the bend ahead of them and closed the throttle. In seconds the bike was stationary in front the Land Rover, the driver, remaining seated astride the bike undid his helmet. It was whilst they were contemplating the new arrival that the much softer labouring noise of a vehicle coming up the hill behind them could be heard. Shortly a battered white van appeared over the crest of a rise and pulled in behind the Land Rover boxing it in.

Peter and David stood up followed by Helen. There was something menacing about the situation as the driver and two men exited from the van. All three were dressed in army camouflage fatigues even down to their peaked caps and each wore heavy high ankle boots. Peter and David turned to face these three. The man from the motorbike, after removing his helmet, had quietly taken station behind them. Suddenly at a shout from one of the three men they were attacked without further warning. The motorcyclist grabbed Helen from behind, putting his arm around her neck. One man each went for David and Peter whilst the last man who appeared to be giving the orders, hung back and watched, holding him self in reserve.

Helen feeling the arm around her neck did exactly what she had been taught at a rape defence class. Instead of trying to resist and lean forward she pushed back, taking three rapid steps backwards. This not only eased the pressure around her neck but caught the man by surprise. He started to lose his balance which was aggravated by the fact that Helen was now standing on one of his feet with all her weight on her heel. His grip loosened as he went down, backwards! Helen took another step and was dragged down on top of him. In the last moment with the arm removed from her neck, she doubled at the waist and with her whole weight sat square in the middle of his stomach. The air whooshed out of his mouth and he lay there gasping.

The tall man that went for Peter threw a punch at his face, Peter ducked inside it and they came up together face to face. Peter, having seen half the attack on Helen, was in no mood to be gentle and as a result threw away all the rules. Wasting no time with his attacker, he brought his knee up at the same time as his head came down. The other man collapsed with one hand in his groin and the other holding together a broken nose.

Meanwhile, the man going for David was the shortest and had furthest to go, he ran at him. David stepped back, squatted and picked up a handful of dirt in his left hand and a rock in his right. He first threw the dust at the face of his attacker following immediately with the rock into his opponent’s chest. There was the distinct sound of cracking ribs as his attacker stopped in mid pace, then retching in agony and rubbing at his eyes he fell to the ground. David, rather surprised at the success of his defence, knelt down beside the man to see how badly he was hurt.

Three men on the ground and one still left standing as Helen scrambled to her feet. The man she had sat on recovered his breath and started to get up as she turned and seeing his hand on the ground stamped her heel down hard onto the back of his left hand. There was a slight crunch as several of his fingers broke to the accompaniment of a suppressed scream and a curse.

Peter, glanced towards Helen, saw her getting to her feet and wasting no more time, moved in on the remaining attacker. The fourth man, who was in mild shock to see three of his colleagues felled so efficiently, recovered quickly. He reached into his jacket as Peter dived at him. It was then as if in slow motion that Peter saw it all. The hand came out holding a blue steel snub nosed pistol. The thumb flicked off the safety as the man brought the gun round but Peter, with his head low was inside the sweep of the gun hand. As the gun hand touched the side of his head the pistol fired. The blast and noise just inches from his ear were horrendous and disoriented him, he went down on his knees with his hands covering his ears, trying to stop his head from ringing. The bullet missed Peter but found David instead, hitting him in the back of the head. He dropped onto the chest of the man he was attending who screamed in agony at the additional infringement to his rib cage.

Helen turned looking at David but seeing no blood she thought at first he had just been hurt and knelt down beside him. It was then she saw the blood under his face. She rolled him onto his side and saw he was limp and already lifeless with blood was coming from his nose and mouth. She couldn’t find a pulse at his neck. Without either a scream or a shout, she held him. The man beneath David tried to move him aside but she pushed the man back to an accompanying curse as she saw the light disappear from David’s eyes.

The man with the gun gave Peter a kick in the ribs which sent him sprawling on to the ground before he moved towards Helen. A hand fell on her shoulder and started to lift. Looking up, she saw who it was, the third man from the van and the one with the gun. The one who had taken no part, other than direct the initial attack, but the one who had murdered David. Shrugging off the hand on her shoulder, she carefully laid David’s head down. However the hand came back to her shoulder as she rose to her feet. Without seeing the gun in his right hand she again slowly removed his left hand from her shoulder. “You’ve shot him! You’ve killed David! You’ve murdered my husband!” She said quietly in shock.

The gunman looked down and with contempt moved David with his foot. This added insult penetrated her heart, and ignoring the gun he held she raised her right hand with David’s blood on her fingers. Catching his face just below his left eye, her nails dug into the soft flesh of his cheek. Then raking downwards, proceeded to remove one side of his face. He jumped back with a curse. “You crazy bitch,” he yelled, raising the gun and pointing it, barely an inch from her forehead. His gun hand trembled with rage as he dabbed at his cheek with the other hand. “I didn’t want to kill the silly old fool,” he shouted.”

Helen, looking down at her fingers, slowly removed some skin from under one of the nails and flicked it onto his boots. She raised her head and gazed calmly into his eyes, the barrel of the pistol still inches from her forehead. “Well! ... I intended to pluck your eye out.”

There was a quick hiss of indrawn breath from the motorbike rider.

Peter froze... watching, holding his breath as time stood still. With terror in his mind he waited for the gun to go off for a second time. For maybe ten seconds they faced each other, the man raised his left hand as if to strike her then, noticing the tension in Peter’s stance, backed down. “Bitch!” he repeated, before gesturing with his gun for them to go over to the rock they had moments before been sitting on. The man tapped the barrel on his knee and lowered his aim at Peter’s leg, the meaning, only too clear. Peter slowly rose and putting his arm around Helen’s waist, moved her away. She tried to shrug his arm off, but with the firmness of self preservation, he guided her towards the rock. It would serve no purpose to receive a bullet in the leg and Helen was in the right frame of mind to provoke them further. She sat down and was more successful in removing his arm from around her waist.

Scar face, as he would henceforth be called, continued to cover them with the gun whilst dabbing at his cheek. Broken fingers and bloody nose helped cracked ribs to his feet. A few snarled oaths passed between them as Scar face restrained them from further attacks on Helen and Peter. Slowly the four men calmed down whilst Peter felt his bruised ribs. Eventually Scar face, a man of few words, gestured with his gun, this time for Peter and Helen to pick up David. This they did, and carefully lay him in the back of the van before they were made to climb in alongside him. Then next moment the van doors banged shut and they heard a lock click home.

Light seeped through two slits in the side of the van, plenty enough for Helen to make out David lying on the floor. Now they were alone, out of sight of their attackers and the adrenalin rush stopped, grief took over. She knelt down beside David’s body, took his head in her arms, and wept. Great sobs of tears ran down her cheek only to fall on David's shirt. Peter slid an arm over her shoulders to comfort her but she didn’t feel it. At a time like this there was nothing anyone could say to help so he said nothing as they remained like this for some time.

Whilst Helen sobbed, Peter replayed what had happened in his mind. He started to blame him self. If only he hadn’t gone for the last man! If only he had been quicker! ... If only! ... If only! ... If only! ... Eventually the raised voices from outside the van penetrated his grief.

The men were arguing over something. They were undecided about what to do with them and the body.

* * *

“We were told to just ‘rough them up a bit’ before we brought them in, not too much. What do you think that was, shooting one of them in the head?” said the smaller guy holding his chest.

“Well! The other two are still alive aren't they?” Came the reply from the man with the gun. “Besides you three where getting crunched and that hard bugger was coming for me. What the hell was I supposed to do? I tried to pistol whip him and the gun went off.” Then added, trying to divert attention from him self. “What were you doing Jose letting that itsy-bitsy girl sit on you?”

“I tripped and fell, and then the bitch stomped on my hand when I was getting up. Just give me a few moments alone with her and I’ll teach her some manners... Besides I didn’t see you handling her very well... Even with that gun in your hand,” he replied. Vigorously rubbing the side of his face for emphasis.

“You shouldn’t have shot him in the head Pablo.” Added the tall man carefully trying to stop the bleeding from his nose whilst still massaging his groin.

“Yeah! Well I didn’t fancy getting the same treatment you received ‘Alto’ that nose looks broken.” Then as an aside he added. “And I value my nuts too much.” Once again Pablo tried to divert the blame from him self and turned to the smaller man. “You should be thankful I saved your ass ‘Pequeno’. That guy was just going to finish you off when I shot him.”

“Oh yeah! With his last words he asked if I was okay. Then he fell on me when you shot him and that damn near did finish me.”

“Well how in the hell was I to know? I thought he was going to finish you.”

‘Alto’ still massaging his groin joined in the verbal attack. “I thought you said the gun went off by accident Pablo.”

“It did damn it.”

Jose was feeling a bit guilty at letting the ‘girl’ get the better of him and listening to all this bickering between his friends each trying to pass the blame didn’t help. “Hold it!” he said. “Hold it right there. We were each taken by surprise. We just didn’t expect the gringos to fight. So let’s stop this arguing. We had better get our stories straight before we talk to Fidel or else we’re liable to get the chop ourselves.”

Pablo brightened at this suggestion. The idea of ‘getting their stories straight’ it had all sorts of implications. “Yeah! We should decide how many men we had to fight off when they came to aid the foreigners.” Three puzzled looks on the faces of the others slowly changed to smiles as the full implications dawned. Five minutes later a mob of twenty or so shrank down to two then eventually stabilised at four men who drove off after the guy was shot. But not before they themselves had sustained broken fingers, a broken nose, cracked ribs and some scratches.

* * *

Peter and Helen were left, locked in the back of the van for what felt like hours without hearing any movement. It was hot, enclosed as they were, and getting hotter, with the sun baking down from a cloudless sky and no movement of air, they were beginning to suffocate. Peter banged on the side panel of the van but received no response. “We have to try something, or we’ll suffocate.” They were by now having to breathe near one of the slits in the side. In desperation to draw their attention Peter decided to rock the van and standing in the middle started swaying form side to side. He pushed first on one side then the other and very soon the van began to rock dangerously on its springs. This had the desired effect and brought some banging on the side of the van, one of the men telling them to stop. It was only after Peter shouted to him that they were suffocating that the rear doors were opened. They were both running with perspiration so it was a relief to be allowed to sit on the floor of the van with the doors open and their legs dangling out. Their shirts were wet through whilst Helen’s also had some of David’s blood on it. Despite her tear stained face and blooded jeans and shirt, Helen was getting interested stares from their captors, causing Peter to wonder if it had been such a good idea to attract their attention after all. At least for the time being they had a breath of air, though it was quickly explained to them, if so much as one foot touched the ground then it would be their last.

“Why Peter? Why did you go for that man? The one with the gun. It was obvious he was going to start shooting. David was such an easy target.”

“I didn’t know he had a gun Helen... I think I was more the target than David who had his back to him. I think he was telling the truth when he said he didn’t mean to kill him.”

“So that’s all right, he didn’t mean to murder David. That makes it all right then.”

“No! Of course not, that in no way excuses him. But why did they attack us in the first place, it’s not as if they have gone after our money?”

”So why did he pull the gun Peter?”

“Frightened! ... He was scared, three men on the ground, he was the only one left standing. Even you had floored your guy, which was pretty good by the way.”

Not immune to the compliment she half smiled, “anti-rape class... reverse the surprise.”

“Well, it sure as hell worked.”

The four men, though undecided what to do next, were talking in low voices whilst sitting on the rocks nursing their wounds. They didn’t appear to be in any hurry, even when a vehicle went past, one or two of which seemed to slow down but continued on again once the men in camouflage fatigues were seen. Eventually a decision was made and the men got to their feet when Peter attracted their attention. “There are some bottles of water and sandwiches in the back of the Land Rover, may I get them please?” He said this, not with any hope that they would let him get them but in the faint hope that they would give them both a drink. Scar face didn’t answer but gestured to the tall one to go and look, the motor bike rider walked to the back of the van and stood still, glaring at Helen whilst flexing the fingers of his good hand. The big guy came back with the water bottles and the four men helped themselves, allowing the water to run down their fronts, pouring some on the ground and taunting their captives. When half a bottle remained the big man threw it to Peter but spun it in the air so that it was only quarter full when he caught it. One mouthful each soon dispatched what was left.

The small guy went over to the motorbike started up and moved off down the hill back towards the coast. Shortly followed by the van with Peter and Helen again locked in the back and the Land Rover bringing up the rear. For a couple of hours they were driven over the potholes and then onto smoother roads before eventually the van stopped, cab doors opened and slammed shut and once again they were left to suffocate. Ten minutes later the rear doors were opened to let Peter and Helen scramble out where they found themselves in the courtyard of what can only be described as a jail.

Peter, incensed by their treatment which had built up more and more during their forced drive, was at screaming pitch as he looked around for someone in authority to vent his anger on. Seeing a new face he addressed him. Shouting he demanded to see the British ambassador, but was immediately clubbed from behind before he could say anything further. Helen remonstrated with his attacker the same guy who had attacked her before. “That’s just about your mark isn’t it? Another cowardly attack from behind.” In reply he raised his good hand, about to strike her. Helen ducked low under it and went to grab his other hand with the broken fingers. She missed as the man put his damaged hand behind him and leapt back in alarm. But in doing so his fingers touched another guard behind him bringing tears to his eyes and another curse from his mouth. He turned away holding his damaged hand as Helen knelt down beside Peter who was on his knees. “Stay a while, calm down,” she said, holding him down for a moment. Peter who hadn’t seen the exchange with his attacker whispered to her. “That wasn’t very successful, but keep your pecker up girl, when we get out of here I’m going to have these guys for breakfast. I’ll have the (IMAF) on their backs so hard they’ll wonder what’s hit them, and the guy that shot David, I’ve got a score to settle with him.”

“Take your turn after me Peter, now calm down and please don’t call me girl... Just... don’t call me anything.”