The captives on the ground strain to look up at me. Several of the women are crying.
Moisés throws his rifle over his shoulder and hauls me past the picnic tables. I stumble, struggling for each panicked breath. My feet drag the ground.
I grab a branch as Moisés pulls me by a thick clump of brush, and it skins my palm as it slides through my grip.
The brush rustles. A blur in dark pants and a familiar blue T-shirt lunges into the clearing.
My brother slams into Moisés’s shoulder. The gunman falls, pulling me down with him. The impact drives the air from my lungs.
Ryan reaches for me. Fear lines his forehead. Over his shoulder, I see another gunman take aim.
“No!” I shout.
The rifle thunders. Ryan stumbles forward.
Blood blooms on the front of his shirt like a rose opening in time lapse. He collapses onto his side, just out of my reach.
“Ryan!” My brother’s name scrapes my throat raw, but he doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even move. “Ryan, look at me!”
He’s still breathing, yet the pool of red beneath him keeps expanding.
One of the guerrillas races across the clearing, shouting, “Dame tu chaqueta.” He drops onto his knees next to Ryan, and when he looks up to take the jacket one of the other gunmen offers, I realize I know him.
Sebastián. From the bar in Cartagena. I don’t understand. I kissed him. Now he wears camo and holds an automatic rifle while he presses the jacket to my brother’s wound.
Sebastián’s focus settles on the pendant hanging from a chain around Ryan’s neck. His forehead furrows and his hands clench around the jacket. His eyes close, as if he’s praying.
Finally Sebastián stands and orders one of the other men to take over for him. “Maddie.” He meets my gaze. “Lo siento.”
My tears run over. “You’re sorry? Do something!” I shout. Putting pressure on the wound isn’t enough. “Call someone who can help!”
Sebastián gestures to two men, who lift my brother, then carry him into an orange tent. I can’t see him.
“No! No, Ryan!” Desperate, I turn to Sebastián. “Bring him back!”
Sebastián shakes his head and gives me a somber look.
Moisés drags me away, and I scratch and flail and kick, but I may as well be fighting a concrete wall. I scream as the world collapses beneath me.
I scream as people stare at me, and point guns at me, and shout orders I can no longer hear.
And once I start screaming, I don’t know how to stop.
43.5 HOURS EARLIER
GENESIS
The gunshot echoes in my head and Ryan hits the ground. Shock hits me like a punch to the chest. “No!” I lurch toward my cousin. Rifles swing in my direction. Indiana pulls me back and pins me against his chest. I feel his breath against my ear, but I can’t hear what he’s whispering.
Maddie shouts as she kicks and claws at the man trying to drag her away from her brother, but I can’t hear her either. I can’t hear anything over the ringing in my ears.
Indiana won’t let me go.
My hearing comes roaring back. Gunmen are shouting. People are crying. The tour guide’s little dog is barking so forcefully that her whole body shakes.
But Maddie . . .
Maddie starts screaming, and everyone else falls silent. Her voice is an earsplitting tide of grief and anguish as she fights to get to her brother.
The rest of the world slides out of focus as I stare at Ryan, willing his lungs to expand. Willing him to breathe.
Come on, Ryan.
The wound is too big. There’s too much blood.
This can’t be real.
Please, God, let this not be real.
Finally Ryan’s back rises, so slightly I’m not even sure of what I’m seeing.
“Julian!” Silvana grabs the shooter’s rifle and slams the butt into his nose. Blood bursts from Julian’s ruined face, and he howls until he starts choking on it.
“Ryan!” Maddie screams, but his name is half swallowed by sobs, and I can hardly see her through my own tears. “Call someone to help him!” she demands again, but Silvana only shrugs.
“There’s no point.”
“No!” Maddie’s legs fold, and Moisés has to hold her up. Two men carry Ryan into a tent.
Indiana lets me go, and I lurch toward my cousin. But then I stop, frozen. I know eight ways to take down an unarmed opponent, and three methods for disarming one. But I can’t take on this many armed men at once.
Maddie finally fights free. Moisés aims his rifle at her, but looks to Silvana for an order; after Julian’s nose, the guerrillas are afraid to act on their own.
Maddie keeps screaming and backing away from the gunman. Her voice is hoarse. Her eyes are wide and her hands are shaking.
Silvana nods to one of the gunmen. “Shoot her.”
“No!” Sebastián lunges for her, but I’m faster.
I push Maddie behind me and stare, breathless, at the rifle now aimed at my chest. “I’ve got her!” I shout, my pulse thundering in my ears. They can hear me because Maddie’s voice is almost gone. “She’s my cousin.” I reach back and grab her arm to keep her behind me. Out of the line of fire.
Silvana frowns, and I can see the order hanging from the tip of her tongue. She wants Maddie facedown on the ground, and nothing less than absolute obedience will satisfy her.
Sebastián steps between me and the gunman. “¡Deténganlas! ¡Las necesitamos!” he shouts at Silvana. Sweat breaks out on my forehead while I wait to see if his insistence that they need us will outweigh Silvana’s ego.
She scowls and aims a dismissive wave our way. The gunmen lower their rifles. Breath I didn’t realize I was holding explodes from my lungs.
Sebastián marches past Silvana and tugs Maddie out from behind me.
“Lo siento.” He points toward the tent where they took Ryan, and my grief swells. “An accident.” Then he turns back to Silvana. “Madalena vendrá con nosotros.”
“Fine,” Silvana snaps. “Madalena comes.” Then she addresses the rest of our group. “You have five minutes to gather food and supplies, but nothing that can be used as a weapon. Anyone who runs will be shot.” Her focus finds me, then slides to Maddie, who’s staring at the ground with an unfocused gaze. “Anyone.”
Moisés throws his rifle over his shoulder and hauls me past the picnic tables. I stumble, struggling for each panicked breath. My feet drag the ground.
I grab a branch as Moisés pulls me by a thick clump of brush, and it skins my palm as it slides through my grip.
The brush rustles. A blur in dark pants and a familiar blue T-shirt lunges into the clearing.
My brother slams into Moisés’s shoulder. The gunman falls, pulling me down with him. The impact drives the air from my lungs.
Ryan reaches for me. Fear lines his forehead. Over his shoulder, I see another gunman take aim.
“No!” I shout.
The rifle thunders. Ryan stumbles forward.
Blood blooms on the front of his shirt like a rose opening in time lapse. He collapses onto his side, just out of my reach.
“Ryan!” My brother’s name scrapes my throat raw, but he doesn’t answer. He doesn’t even move. “Ryan, look at me!”
He’s still breathing, yet the pool of red beneath him keeps expanding.
One of the guerrillas races across the clearing, shouting, “Dame tu chaqueta.” He drops onto his knees next to Ryan, and when he looks up to take the jacket one of the other gunmen offers, I realize I know him.
Sebastián. From the bar in Cartagena. I don’t understand. I kissed him. Now he wears camo and holds an automatic rifle while he presses the jacket to my brother’s wound.
Sebastián’s focus settles on the pendant hanging from a chain around Ryan’s neck. His forehead furrows and his hands clench around the jacket. His eyes close, as if he’s praying.
Finally Sebastián stands and orders one of the other men to take over for him. “Maddie.” He meets my gaze. “Lo siento.”
My tears run over. “You’re sorry? Do something!” I shout. Putting pressure on the wound isn’t enough. “Call someone who can help!”
Sebastián gestures to two men, who lift my brother, then carry him into an orange tent. I can’t see him.
“No! No, Ryan!” Desperate, I turn to Sebastián. “Bring him back!”
Sebastián shakes his head and gives me a somber look.
Moisés drags me away, and I scratch and flail and kick, but I may as well be fighting a concrete wall. I scream as the world collapses beneath me.
I scream as people stare at me, and point guns at me, and shout orders I can no longer hear.
And once I start screaming, I don’t know how to stop.
43.5 HOURS EARLIER
GENESIS
The gunshot echoes in my head and Ryan hits the ground. Shock hits me like a punch to the chest. “No!” I lurch toward my cousin. Rifles swing in my direction. Indiana pulls me back and pins me against his chest. I feel his breath against my ear, but I can’t hear what he’s whispering.
Maddie shouts as she kicks and claws at the man trying to drag her away from her brother, but I can’t hear her either. I can’t hear anything over the ringing in my ears.
Indiana won’t let me go.
My hearing comes roaring back. Gunmen are shouting. People are crying. The tour guide’s little dog is barking so forcefully that her whole body shakes.
But Maddie . . .
Maddie starts screaming, and everyone else falls silent. Her voice is an earsplitting tide of grief and anguish as she fights to get to her brother.
The rest of the world slides out of focus as I stare at Ryan, willing his lungs to expand. Willing him to breathe.
Come on, Ryan.
The wound is too big. There’s too much blood.
This can’t be real.
Please, God, let this not be real.
Finally Ryan’s back rises, so slightly I’m not even sure of what I’m seeing.
“Julian!” Silvana grabs the shooter’s rifle and slams the butt into his nose. Blood bursts from Julian’s ruined face, and he howls until he starts choking on it.
“Ryan!” Maddie screams, but his name is half swallowed by sobs, and I can hardly see her through my own tears. “Call someone to help him!” she demands again, but Silvana only shrugs.
“There’s no point.”
“No!” Maddie’s legs fold, and Moisés has to hold her up. Two men carry Ryan into a tent.
Indiana lets me go, and I lurch toward my cousin. But then I stop, frozen. I know eight ways to take down an unarmed opponent, and three methods for disarming one. But I can’t take on this many armed men at once.
Maddie finally fights free. Moisés aims his rifle at her, but looks to Silvana for an order; after Julian’s nose, the guerrillas are afraid to act on their own.
Maddie keeps screaming and backing away from the gunman. Her voice is hoarse. Her eyes are wide and her hands are shaking.
Silvana nods to one of the gunmen. “Shoot her.”
“No!” Sebastián lunges for her, but I’m faster.
I push Maddie behind me and stare, breathless, at the rifle now aimed at my chest. “I’ve got her!” I shout, my pulse thundering in my ears. They can hear me because Maddie’s voice is almost gone. “She’s my cousin.” I reach back and grab her arm to keep her behind me. Out of the line of fire.
Silvana frowns, and I can see the order hanging from the tip of her tongue. She wants Maddie facedown on the ground, and nothing less than absolute obedience will satisfy her.
Sebastián steps between me and the gunman. “¡Deténganlas! ¡Las necesitamos!” he shouts at Silvana. Sweat breaks out on my forehead while I wait to see if his insistence that they need us will outweigh Silvana’s ego.
She scowls and aims a dismissive wave our way. The gunmen lower their rifles. Breath I didn’t realize I was holding explodes from my lungs.
Sebastián marches past Silvana and tugs Maddie out from behind me.
“Lo siento.” He points toward the tent where they took Ryan, and my grief swells. “An accident.” Then he turns back to Silvana. “Madalena vendrá con nosotros.”
“Fine,” Silvana snaps. “Madalena comes.” Then she addresses the rest of our group. “You have five minutes to gather food and supplies, but nothing that can be used as a weapon. Anyone who runs will be shot.” Her focus finds me, then slides to Maddie, who’s staring at the ground with an unfocused gaze. “Anyone.”
