Chapter 5 #2
The sky continues to lighten. The jungle sounds shift as nocturnal creatures give way to dawn birds. I can feel Jonus picking up the pace slightly, his breathing still steady despite hours of carrying me through difficult terrain.
“How much further?”
“Maybe three clicks. We’re making good time.”
Three kilometers. Then a helicopter. Then... I don’t know. Medical care. Debriefings. The real world. But for right now, I’m in the arms of an orc who crossed an ocean to find me. And despite the terror, exhaustion and the throbbing pain in my feet, I feel safer than I have in twelve days.
A clearing appears suddenly. One moment we’re in dense jungle, the next Jonus is slowing at the edge of an open space. Maybe fifty meters across, tall grass, the sky visible overhead for the first time in hours.
“This is it,” he says. “Extraction point. I apologize but I’m going to have to set you down for a bit before we get on our ride.”
He sets me down gently against a tree at the edge of the clearing. My feet touch the ground and I have to bite back a cry, the pain is worse than I expected, sharp and immediate.
Jonus crouches beside me, rifle ready, scanning the jungle around us. The sky is pale now, pre-dawn gray. Then Jonus tenses, hand going to his ear. I can’t hear whatever comes through his earpiece, but I can see his expression change. His jaw tightens and eyes narrow.
“Copy,” he says. “How far behind?” A pause, then… “Shit.”
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“The team is close but they picked up a tail.” His voice is grim. “Cartel tracked them.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means we’re not going to have a quiet extraction.”
Before I can respond, there’s movement in the trees to the northwest. Big shapes burst from the jungle, moving fast.
I tense, heart slamming against my ribs.
Can’t tell friend from foe. Can’t tell if we’re about to be rescued or killed.
Then I see them clearly and my breath catches.
Two massive orcs — one enormous, even bigger than Jonus, the other leaner but still huge and two humans flanking them, weapons up, firing behind them as they run.
This must be Kelt and Aldar and then the Navy SEALs, Cole and Martinez, the team Jonus described. But they’re not walking calmly to a rendezvous point and gunfire is erupting from the trees behind them.
The cartel is right on their tail.
“Time to go!” Jonus scoops me up and we’re moving, breaking from the tree line into the open clearing.
I hear the thump of helicopter rotors in the distance, getting louder and closer.
Everything happens at once.
The helicopter appears over the tree line, coming in fast and low. Military-style, no markings. A thick rope drops from the open side door — not a ladder, something else. I can see attachment points along its length, metal rings spaced at intervals.
The other orcs and the two humans are still taking fire. The huge orc roars something I can’t hear over the sudden chaos of gunfire and rotors.
Jonus runs for the helicopter, me clutched against his chest. Bullets tear up the ground around us.
The rope swings in the rotor wash. One of the humans — Cole?
Martinez? — reaches it first. He doesn’t climb, instead he clips something from his tactical vest to one of the metal rings, and suddenly he’s attached, secure, hands free to keep firing as he’s pulled up.
The other human is shooting his gun at the tree line, then he clicks onto the rope. They both go up and they’re in the helicopter. The two orcs are still shooting at the cartel firing from their trucks.
Jonus reaches the rope and I realize the problem immediately. I don’t have a harness.
“Hold onto me,” he orders. He clips his own tactical harness to the rope, then wraps one massive arm around my waist, crushing me against his chest. His other hand grips the rope above the attachment point. “Wrap your arms around my neck. Your legs around my waist. Don’t let go.”
I do exactly what he says. My arms lock around his neck and my destroyed feet cross behind his back, pain screaming through me, but I hold on like my life depends on it, because it does.
The two orcs have attached to the rope too.
“We’re secure!” someone shouts. “Go, go, go!”
The helicopter rises.
My stomach drops as we lift off the ground. The rope pulls taut and suddenly we’re airborne, dangling beneath the helicopter, the jungle floor falling away below us. Wind whips at my face. I bury my head against Jonus’s neck and hold tighter.
Bullets zip past us. I feel Jonus’s body jerk as he returns fire with his free hand while keeping me crushed against him with the other.
We rise above the tree canopy and the helicopter banks, pulling us through the air. I’m dangling two hundred feet above the jungle, clinging to an orc, and all I can think is don’t let go, don’t let go, don’t let go.
Then we’re moving forward, the jungle streaming past below us.
The helicopter crew is hauling on the rope, pulling us up toward the open door.
Hands grab me first, dragging me into the cabin.
I collapse on the metal floor, gasping. Then Jonus is there, hauled in beside me. Then the first orc, then the other.
“All aboard! Go!” someone screams.
The helicopter lurches, banking hard. My stomach drops as we accelerate. More gunfire from below, pings against the hull. I curl instinctively, making myself small.
Then we’re rising again and I know that we’re leaving. I exhale and let out a snort-laugh then my whole body starts buzzing from the adrenaline crush. Twelve days of terror finally catching up with me all at once.
Everyone around me is breathing hard. I do a quick count — Jonus beside me, two massive orcs, two humans. All accounted for. All alive.
We’re out.
Jonus reaches over and takes my hand. Doesn’t say anything. Just holds on.
I hold on too.
The leaner orc moves toward me with a med kit. He hands me headphones. I put them on and see that he has a set too. “I’m Aldar, Jonus’s cousin,” he says. “I need to work on your feet right now.”
I nod in agreement, bracing myself for the pain.
He kneels beside my feet ready to start.
But then I flinch. Not from the pain — from the distance Aldar has created is between me and Jonus, blocking my view of him.
I had to let go of this hand and suddenly my chest is tight, my breath coming too fast. I need to see him.
I need to be near him. The thought of being separated, even by a few feet—
“Jonus,” I croak.
He’s there immediately, shifting so he’s beside me, his hand finding mine again. Aldar adjusts without comment, working on my feet from a different angle so Jonus can stay close.
“I’m here,” Jonus says quietly through his own headset. “I’m not going anywhere.”
The tightness in my chest eases. I don’t understand this feeling, this need to be near him, this anxiety at the thought of separation. I’ve known this orc for months through a screen, but in person? Hours. Just hours. And yet the thought of him not being within arm’s reach makes me want to panic.
I turn my head to look at him. He’s watching me with those dark eyes, intense and focused. I’m filthy. Starving. Half-dead. I probably smell like twelve days in a latrine.
And he’s looking at me like I’m the most important thing in the world.
“We’re out,” I say. My voice sounds strange to my own ears. Hoarse. Disbelieving.
“We’re out,” he confirms.
His hand tightens around mine. I hold his large hand in return.
All I know is that I can’t stand the idea of being separated from Jonus.
He saved me and I need him nearby in order to feel safe.
It doesn’t make logical sense — I barely know him, not really — but logic has nothing to do with this.
Something deep and primal in my brain has decided that this orc means safety, and being away from him means danger.
I’m not ready to examine that too closely. Not yet.
Below us, Colombia falls away. Ahead is safety, medical care and a future I wasn’t sure I’d have.
Aldar continues working on my feet. It hurts, but I barely notice. Jonus’s hand is wrapped around mine, warm and solid and real.
I close my eyes.
For the first time in twelve days, I’m safe.