Chapter Eighteen

October 20

Zoe hadn’t moved from her hammock in hours and lacked motivation to change the status quo. She wasn’t hungry, though she should be after missing three meals. And she didn’t need to use the waste bucket, because she’d had only a few sips of water in the last twenty hours. She was thirsty now, desperately thirsty, but hauling herself outside to get something to drink seemed too much effort in her weakened condition.

She wasn’t on a hunger strike, some protest against her treatment by the FARC. She was just too tired of losing battles, this one included.

During her long time alone since the doctor had left her the day before, she’d run through the gamut of human emotions, at least all the negative ones. Fear and panic, when she recalled the attack by the rebel. Despair and despondency over her uncertain future. Anger and frustration at herself, at the realization she was rapidly letting go of her determination to survive. Now she mostly felt nothing, her mind hazy.

She’d had only a brief moment of feeling anything remotely good, when she’d kissed the doctor. Or at least she thought she’d kissed her. The more time that passed, the more Zoe wondered whether it had all been a dream or hallucination. She had been momentarily transported from her endless prison. But perhaps she’d just wanted so desperately to feel alive again that she’d imagined it.

One of Barriga’s men had come to her hut not long after the doctor departed, to announce a flu was going around. He ordered her to stay there except for meals, and said everyone was to cover their noses and mouths and keep away from each other when they went outside. She couldn’t have imagined that—she could see through the boards in her hut that no one was out there right now but the cook, and she had a scarf over her face.

And her two visitors this morning had been dressed the same. When she hadn’t gone out for breakfast, Marcella and Willy had come to her hut. Willy gave her some water, and Marcella pleaded with her to eat and asked her what was wrong. But she told them to go away and leave her alone. The one person Zoe wanted to see was the doctor. It was only with her that she didn’t feel so alone. But the medic hadn’t stopped by even once to check on her.

Why should she fight it anymore? What was the use? She closed her eyes and drifted off.

Now someone was calling her name. When she opened her eyes, she saw the doctor standing over her, wearing a surgical mask.

“You’ve missed some more meals,” the doc said.

So the medic cared enough to keep tabs on her. Why, then, hadn’t she come by to check on her? “You did, too,” she replied. “You don’t see me complaining.”

“Are you sick?” The doctor moved closer, her face just above her now. “Do you have a headache? Any nausea?” She placed her hand on Zoe’s forehead.

“No.”

“No fever,” the doc said, mostly to herself. The surgical mask covered much of her face, so it was hard to read her expression, but the medic’s eyebrows were knitted. She slowly removed her hand, her eyes never leaving Zoe’s.

“I must be pretty sick, or else you couldn’t find a toothbrush,” Zoe said.

“The mask is for precaution. You need to eat, Zoe.”

“Precaution?”

“A virus is going around. We can’t afford to have the camp get sick.”

“I remember someone coming by last night about it,” Zoe said. “The flu, right?”

The doctor looked away. “Sure.” The tone of her voice and the avoidance of eye contact was a dead giveaway.

“You’re lying,” Zoe said wearily. “But I don’t care. Whatever it is, it can’t be worse than this hell.” You could get all sorts of weird tropical diseases in South America. As he always did before she went abroad, her father had insisted she see her uncle to make sure she was up to date on all her inoculations, and Eddie had given her a couple of new shots for South America. Thinking of her father and uncle only added to her depression. Would she ever see them again?

The medic reached into a backpack she’d set next to the hammock and pulled out another surgical mask. She held it out for Zoe to take. “Would you wear this at all times? And please eat. Your immune system will need all the boost it can get to stay healthy.”

She didn’t reach for the mask. “I told you I don’t care.”

“And as I told you yesterday, I do.” The doctor’s forehead creased. Was she frowning?

“Then why did you stay away last night?”

“What?”

“Forget it. None of my business.”

“I had to go into to—”

“No.” She must have imagined the kiss. It couldn’t have happened. “Never mind. Like I said, it’s none of my business.”

“We’ll talk about that later,” the medic replied. “Right now, we’re getting you out of here and you’re going to eat, whether you like it or not.” She bent over the hammock and pulled her mask briefly aside so Zoe could see she was smiling encouragingly. Her voice was gentle. “Don’t make me hurt you.”

Fetch replaced her own mask and placed another over Zoe’s face before they left the hut. Barriga had ordered that everyone stay indoors, but Zoe needed to get out of that oven. She was rapidly dehydrating. Only once outside did Fetch notice how bad Zoe looked. She was pale, and black circles marred her beautiful yet unfocused eyes.

“I can’t eat with this on,” Zoe said, squinting against the bright sunlight.

“You can remove it after I fix you a plate and move you to the edge of the jungle.”

Zoe was so weak she could barely stand on her own. Fetch had to put one of Zoe’s arms over her shoulders to support her weight while she propelled them forward toward the makeshift picnic table by the kitchen tent. Fortunately, everyone else had finished, and the place was deserted except for the cook.

She left Zoe slumped on the bench while she grabbed a flask of water and scooped a triple portion of stew onto a plate. Balancing the plate in one hand, she handed the flask to Zoe. “Can you carry this?”

Zoe shrugged. “I guess.”

Fetch got Zoe’s arm over her shoulder again and hoisted her back on her feet. “Lean up against me, we’re going over there.” She tilted her head to the shade at the edge of the camp.

Once she had Zoe seated at the base of a large tree, propped against its trunk, she pulled Zoe’s mask off.

Zoe was so out of it she started off gradually, scooping the food into her mouth and chewing slowly, almost in a trance. But as the stew started to hit her stomach she perked up and began to shovel it in like a starved animal, stopping only long enough for the occasional pull from the flask to wash it down. Before long, the color started to return to her face, and her eyes looked focused and alert. When the plate was clean and the flask empty, she looked up at Fetch. “So, how dire is this epidemic?”

The question took Fetch so completely by surprise she knew it registered on her face. “What makes you think it’s serious?”

“Pure deduction.” Zoe wiped a smear of gravy from her chin. “I saw two sick soldiers being moved to the far edge of camp yesterday after you left, most everyone is staying in their tents, and everyone has their faces covered. The chief over there…” She pointed to the commander’s tent. Barriga was outside, talking to two of his men. “He seems pensive. He hasn’t stopped pacing and is looking at everyone suspiciously. And the first thing out of your mouth when you walked into my hut was to ask if I was sick.”

“You’re very perceptive.” There was certainly more to Zoe than met the eye. The woman had keen intuition and exceptional observational skills.

“Human calculus, if you have a knack for it, is the easiest math of all.”

“I’m impressed.” Zoe was continuously surprising her with accurate insights and poignant remarks.

“You wouldn’t be, if you put aside your preconceived notions.” Zoe got to her feet. “There’s more to me than parties and casual sex.”

“Clearly.” Fetch grinned.

“Maybe I should take advantage of the current situation.” Zoe glanced around.

Fetch took a step backward. Did she intend to try to kiss her again? God, she hoped not. They were out in the open, but, primarily, what had happened earlier had turned her very organized world on its axis. She hadn’t expected to feel like that with a woman again. Although the kiss was brief and Zoe confused, it tied Fetch’s stomach in knots and put her libido in overdrive. It was ridiculous, considering the circumstances, but disturbingly true.

But that was apparently not what Zoe had in mind. “I could make a run for it,” she said in a low voice. “With everyone hiding and avoiding each other, I don’t think they’d notice.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I don’t really know. But I doubt you’d shoot me if I tried.”

“I would never allow you to enter the jungle on your own. You’d never make it.”

“But you wouldn’t kill me.”

Fetch took a long time to answer. “No.”

“Then let me go. I’ll take my chances.” Zoe’s eyes bored into hers, beseeching her to agree.

She shook her head. “I can’t do that.” Fetch understood the sentiment all too well. She too would rather die a free person or in pursuit of freedom than stay imprisoned. She had known enough soldiers and civilians taken prisoner to know what detention did to the human condition. But Zoe had no chance of surviving on her own, and she intended to get her out of here anyhow.

“I won’t make it in here anyway, and I prefer to die out there. Can you understand that?” Zoe pleaded.

Fetch didn’t answer.

“You think I’m weak,” Zoe said.

“On the contrary.” Fetch reached down and picked up a rock and threw it into the jungle. “I think you’re a fighter.”

“Is that your way of telling me that I should hold on to my sanity until I’m free to go?”

“What I’m saying is that I agree with you. No one can truly live unless they’re prepared to die.”

“I’ve never thought about it like that.” Zoe looked at her curiously. “You obviously have.”

“Yeah.”

Zoe went quiet for several seconds as her gaze moved past Fetch to take in their surroundings. “Is this the kind of life you’d always dreamed of, Doc? This camp, taking hostages, riots, bombings?”

When Fetch didn’t answer, Zoe said, “Do you plan to live and die like a soldier of misfortune?”

“I don’t have a choice.”

Zoe snorted derisively. “Life is all about choices.”

For most people, maybe. “Sometimes it’s about duty.”

Zoe seemed to think about this, too, for a while, and Fetch wanted to know where her mind had wandered off to.

“Yes, I guess you’re right.” Zoe finally answered.

“What about your choices?” Fetch asked. “Are you happy with…” The more she got to know Zoe, the more curious she was to know how much of what she’d read about her was accurate. But she stopped herself when Zoe scowled.

“Say it,” Zoe snapped. “Everyone else does.”

“I’m not judging you.”

“Bull. You’ve done nothing but, since I was dragged here.”

“Are they all lies?”

“Yes. No.” Zoe looked down and ran her hands through her hair as though exasperated. “Either way, my life doesn’t hurt others.”

“So your father is happy about his daughter being constantly criticized and publicly judged for her promiscuity?” Fetch asked. “How do you think your mother would feel about your choices?”

Zoe’s head shot up and Fetch instinctively pulled back. She recognized in Zoe’s face the kind of hurt anger she’d seen only on the battlefield.

“I’m sorry,” Fetch said.

“Don’t ever bring up my mother. You have no right.” Zoe stressed each word dangerously slow through a clenched jaw. “That woman was my world.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” Fetch said sincerely. It was public knowledge that her mother had passed at least a decade ago. Fetch had no idea Zoe was still so sensitive about it.

Zoe turned her back to Fetch and sat crossed-legged, facing the jungle. She stared out toward the trees, not speaking, clearly lost in memories of her mother.

After a minute or two, Fetch sat beside her. Zoe’s anger had dissipated. The firm set of her jaw had relaxed, and the fire in her eyes had been replaced by tears.

Fetch picked up a stick and began to lazily draw shapes in the dirt. A circle gained rays and became a sun. A cylinder, a trash can. She wasn’t really thinking about what she was doing. So it came as a surprise when she realized her square had become a house that clearly resembled the one Sam had died in. “I lost someone, too,” she said, staring down at the image in the dirt. “They die, but the pain never does. Even long after they become like those faded Polaroid pictures. So blurry you can’t quite remember their face or smell.”

“Family?” Zoe asked.

“As good as.”

“A soldier, then.”

“You really are very good at this,” she told Zoe.

“Was she killed?”

Fetch nodded. “She was too busy covering my back to save herself. She never saw it coming.”

“Maybe she did,” Zoe suggested. “Maybe she stayed to cover your back so you could live.”

“She’s crazy if she did.” Soldiers risked their life to save another soldier, but they did not become a human sacrifice, because that’s what it came down to. Fetch leaned back on her elbows and looked up at the sky. The thought that Sam might have given her life for her was infuriating. Sam had so much to live for. A family, friends. Fetch had nothing and no one to go home to. No one to miss her except Sam.

“Was she?” Zoe asked. “Wouldn’t you have done the same for her?”

“That’s different.”

“It always is,” Zoe replied softly. “But it never is.”

Fetch considered her words for a long while. Zoe was less and less what she’d imagined her to be. She sat upright again and shifted position so they were facing each other. Before she spoke, she scanned the camp to make sure no one was within earshot. The place looked deserted, and even Barriga had retreated inside.

“Zoe, I’m going to tell you something and I want you to listen like your life depended on it,” Fetch said in a low voice. “Because it does.”

“Okay,” Zoe said cautiously.

“This virus is very dangerous. You’ve been cut off from the world in here, but in the past week, more than a million have died worldwide and the death toll is skyrocketing daily. Bogota alone has started to resemble a ghost town. Air traffic has stopped in most countries, and people have been instructed to stay indoors.”

“My God. My father! I have to reach my father.” Zoe tried to get up, but Fetch pulled her back down.

“Zoe, listen. The virus has reached the camp. We can’t stay here much longer.”

“So you’re going to move us to yet another camp? I can’t do that. I need to see my father.”

“No. There is no other camp. None are safe.”

“So we’re going to sit here and watch each other die?”

Fetch shook her head. “I intend to get you and the other hostages out.”

“What?” Zoe’s brow furrowed, as though she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “How?”

“I have a plan,” Fetch said, “but I need you to cooperate and be ready to move when I tell you.”

“Where will we go?” The words were barely out when Zoe raised her hand to stop Fetch from answering. “Never mind. I don’t care where we go. Just get me the hell out of here and back to my father.”

“Make sure you keep eating and drinking as much as possible. You’ll need all your strength to get through the jungle.”

“I will,” Zoe said with conviction. “How about Kylee?”

“I’m afraid she’s too sick to be moved. She’d never survive the trek.”

Zoe frowned, but nodded in understanding.

“You cannot tell any of the other hostages,” Fetch said. “Leave that to me.”

“I promise.”

Fetch saw two of Barriga’s deputies come out of the commander’s tent. They began to tour the camp, checking in on everyone, calling each rebel and hostage to their doorway to inspect them while keeping their distance.

“Go back to your hut and stay inside,” Fetch told Zoe. “Keep away from everyone. We don’t know who might be infected.”

“How long does it take for the symptoms to—”

“Five to seven days, roughly.” Fetch picked up Zoe’s plate and got to her feet.

“How do we know that we or the others haven’t already been infected?” Zoe asked as she stood as well.

“We don’t.”

Zoe froze, and Fetch saw realization dawn. “I kissed you.”

“I know.”

“Why did you let me?”

“We didn’t know about this, then. You were out of it and needed someone,” Fetch lied. She couldn’t have stopped herself even if she’d wanted to, and she hadn’t.

“You felt sorry for me.”

She shook her head. “I wanted to help you.”

“You should’ve stopped me. I was…” Zoe studied Fetch’s face, likely seeking some sort of response. But Fetch remained silent, thankful that her mask helped conceal the turmoil of emotions within her. Zoe said softly, “I was confused. I didn’t mean to force myself on you and certainly not have you kiss me out of pity.” Fetch could’ve sworn she looked hurt. “It won’t happen again.”

“I know.” Fetch had to agree, but was disappointed. It was crazy, especially considering the danger of infection, but it stung that Zoe so readily vowed to never kiss her again.

They walked slowly back toward Zoe’s hut and spotted one of Barriga’s deputies working his way in their direction. “Put your mask on,” she told Zoe.

Zoe quickly complied. “Doc?”

“In a day or two at the most,” Fetch said, assuming Zoe wanted to know when she expected to move them.

“I was going to ask your name.”

Fetch considered how to answer. She could give Zoe the Spanish cover name she’d used to enlist in the FARC, but decided against it. Instead she said simply, “We are all more complicated than our name.”

“Or what others write about us. But that doesn’t answer my question.”

“I’ll tell you some other time,” she said as she opened the door to Zoe’s hut. “Remember what we talked—”

Both of them froze at the sound of shouting. Barriga had come out of his tent with his rifle and was yelling at his deputies to bring the sick forward. He stomped over to each hostage’s hut and pounded on the door. “Come out now,” he ordered in English. His tirade brought all the rebels out of their tents as well.

Four soldiers came from the right, dragging Mateo and Alejandro, the two sick guerrillas, boys barely old enough to shave.

Fetch realized Kylee had not emerged from her hut. Fearing Barriga’s repercussions, she headed toward it, intending to carry her out if she had to.

“Where are you going, Medica?” Barriga shouted at her.

“To get the Australian,” Fetch replied. “She’s not able to walk with—”

“Fuck the crazy woman,” Barriga said. He motioned with his rifle for Fetch to join the others, who were gathering around the sick boys in a wide circle. Mateo and Alejandro clung to each other, fear on their faces. Mateo fought back tears.

As Fetch went to stand beside Zoe, Barriga took center stage, standing inside the circle but well away from the boys.

“The next person I see with no mask,” he said in Spanish as he took turns pointing his rifle at every hostage and rebel in the circle, “or the next one to get sick,” he shouted furiously, “will die because of me, not this sickness.”

He walked up to Zoe and stuck his rifle to her cheek. “You eat in your hut like others,” he said in heavily accented English, “or next time you eat through the hole I put in your stomach.”

Fetch fought the urge to grab Barriga by the throat. If she moved right now, he would shoot her. Of that she was certain. His fear of the virus had clearly panicked him. Not because he was losing his soldiers, they could be replaced, but because he feared losing his collateral. If the hostages died, all his work and hopes for financing his war would vanish. He’d have to start over, which was no easy feat. Kidnapping and negotiating hostages was risky and time-consuming, a business that was facing a temporary setback, but would continue long after this virus was gone.

Zoe didn’t flinch, and though her coolness partially impressed Fetch, she wished Zoe would express her certain fear. For men like Barriga, fear was a synonym for respect.

“Understand?” the chief yelled when Zoe didn’t react.

“Yes,” Zoe replied calmly.

Barriga smacked her so hard across the face, blood seeped from both her nostrils. “I didn’t hear you, puta.”

He wanted to see fear and wouldn’t stop going after Zoe until he did.

“I said yes,” Zoe said louder, but Fetch knew it still wasn’t loud enough for Barriga. She could practically hear Zoe clenching her jaw. She wouldn’t concede, and Barriga wouldn’t, either. He’d keep hitting and humiliating her until he was satisfied. Fetch had seen rebel commanders do that, and a lot worse.

The chief raised his hand to strike Zoe again, but Fetch caught his wrist. “Enough,” she said, disregarding her own safety.

Barriga took a step to the right to stand in front of Fetch, his eyes blazing with rage. “Like I said, Medica, we need you, but don’t think you can’t be replaced.” He slammed the butt of his gun in her stomach. “No one,” he shouted, “interferes when I’m dealing with hostages.”

Fetch doubled over in pain, the wind knocked out of her. Barriga kicked her feet out from under her and she crumpled, gasping for breath. Before she could recover, he began kicking her repeatedly, in her back, thighs, stomach, her sides. She tried to curl into a ball and protect her head; the pain was excruciating.

“I understand!” Zoe shouted at the top of her lungs. “I said I understand!” She yelled it repeatedly until Barriga stopped. “Please! I’ll do anything you want.”

Fetch had almost lost consciousness. She clutched her middle and looked up at the commander.

“Next time you waste my time…” Barriga smiled at Zoe, then pointed his rifle at Fetch’s head. “I kill her.” He turned on his heel and returned to the center of the circle.

Fetch couldn’t get up. The pain in her stomach and sides was too immense, and she was still fighting to breathe.

Zoe crouched and touched her shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

Fetch coughed. “Don’t,” she whispered. “Get up.” She wheezed; every word was an effort.

Zoe stood reluctantly, never taking her eyes off Fetch.

Only two things stopped Fetch from shooting Barriga right then and running for her life: the hostages she needed to rescue and the shortage of oxygen in her lungs, not enough to run. If the bastard wasn’t so well guarded at night, she’d pay him a deadly visit before she left.

“So,” Barriga said, walking in a small circle to ensure he had everyone’s attention.

Fetch was still curled in a fetal position, on her side, clutching her middle in pain, too weak and winded to stand. But she forced her focus away from Zoe and shifted her body until she faced the chief. She let her head rest on the ground but made eye contact with Barriga and held it, so he would know she was watching him as intently as the others.

“Anyone who gets sick,” the commander said in Spanish as he signaled his four deputies with his rifle, “will be executed.”

The guerrillas pushed the boys to the ground and stepped back. Mateo and Alejandro were both crying now, begging for their lives, their dark eyes full of terror.

Calmly, and without the slightest hesitation, Barriga raised his rifle and shot Mateo in the head, point-blank, then Alejandro a second later. Fetch flinched with each shot. The impact splattered bone and brain matter onto the ground even before their bodies fell.

“Burn them,” the commander told his deputies, who immediately dragged the bodies away, leaving a dark trail of blood.

Barriga stared around the circle at each of them, a look of satisfaction on his face. “Let’s see who’s next,” he said, before returning to his tent.

“I’m going to be sick,” Zoe murmured as she dropped onto all fours and vomited.

Fetch struggled to her knees and held her while Zoe’s body continued to convulse.

When she finally stopped, Zoe wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this.”

Fetch pushed the hair away from Zoe’s face. “It won’t be long. Just hold on, okay? I’m getting you out of here.”

Tears fell from Zoe’s eyes in a steady stream. “I’m going to die in here.”

“No, you won’t,” she whispered. “I promise.” Fetch managed to struggle to her feet, though her sides were still killing her. “Come on,” she said, extending her hand to Zoe. “You need to get inside, and I need to get things ready.”

Zoe raised her head to look up at Fetch, her skin greenish-white. “You’re in no condition to help me up.” She got to her feet without assistance. “Much less, prepare anything.”

“I’ll be fine.” Fetch managed only a few steps, mostly upright, before she doubled over.

Zoe grabbed her shoulders. “Let me help you.”

“I’m okay.” She gritted her teeth, the burn in her stomach unbearable. “Just go inside before he sees you.”

“Let me help you to your tent, first.” Zoe put her arm around Fetch’s waist.

Fetch, still bent over, turned her head to look at Zoe. “That’s…not…necessary,” she managed. “Please go.”

Zoe released her. “I’m sorry this happened to you because of me.” She ran her hands through her hair and raised her mask briefly to wipe at her nose, which had nearly stopped bleeding. “God, I never meant to get you in trouble.”

“You didn’t. These people, they’re ruthless. It’s not your fault.”

Zoe looked off in the direction Barriga’s deputies had taken the bodies of Mateo and Alejandro. “He shot those boys like…like they didn’t matter. They were just kids.”

“Not in this world.” She straightened a little as the pain ebbed, at least temporarily. Zoe turned to look at her. “When you put a gun in a child’s hands, you take away his future,” Fetch said. “Take away a child’s future and he grows up real fast.” She’d seen it too often in the eyes of a child. “War kills more souls than it does bodies.”

She left Zoe and slowly walked toward her tent, still clutching her sides. “More souls than bodies,” she repeated softly to herself.

Date: 2015-01-11; view: 629