Delta Force

by Alex Westmore

  “You misjudge the situation. Gold doesn’t equal riches to the Bri. It is simply ornamentation for them. They don’t understand, nor do they care much for its market value.”

  “So it’s okay to plunder it.” Watching the water fall, Megan sighed.

  This brought a hearty laugh from the general. “You wouldn’t give a priceless heirloom to a child, would you? Of course not.”

  “But they aren’t children.”

  “They are in terms of economy. They are infants with a fabulous bank account they have no use for,” Zahn said, grinning.

  Megan shook her head. “I can’t believe they aren’t even attempting to stop you.”

  Rolling over on his back, General Zahn spread his arms out and closed his eyes. “They tried once, but I believe they realized the extent of our power. Bows and arrows are no match for automatic weapons.”

  “Is that what all the armed guards are for?”

  “Surely you didn’t think we feared the animals? I have stayed alive in this business by not trusting anyone—not even simple natives.” General Zahn walked to the edge of the water and gingerly stepped into the pool. His bronze body was fit, and without the usual love-handles of a man his age.

  “Is nothing sacred to you?” Megan asked.

  “Family and money,” he answered, smiling at her. Wading up to his waist, the general climbed onto one of the smooth boulders about twenty feet out. “Enough talk. I have come here to bathe and refill my spirit. I wish for you to wash me.”

  Megan slowly rose and hesitated before walking to the water’s edge. She had been dreading a moment like this.

  “Take your clothes off,” he commanded, leaning back on the rock. “There is a washcloth folded up in my back pocket.”

  After removing the washcloth from his pants, Megan slowly unbuttoned her blouse. Grimacing at how dirty both she and her clothes were, Megan considered washing them before they started back to the camp.

  “Turn toward me. I enjoy watching women undress.”

  The grimace instantly disappeared from her face, replaced now by what she had once called her prostitute’s game face. Megan turned toward him until all of her clothes were off. Then she turned back and folded them neatly in a pile next to his.

  “Come, the water is quite warm.”

  Stepping into the water, Megan felt the revulsion building inside her. She had to do this, she had to stay alive, but the cost to her own spirit was, quite possibly, too high even for her. “So, the earthquake laid a deposit of gold at your feet that had been hidden for centuries.”

  “Yes.”

  Splashing the warm water on her face, Megan looked up at the general, who was eyeing her with appreciation. “I’m curious, General, how did you get that trailer into the forest?”

  “Helicopter at night. But enough questions.” Lowering himself into the water, General Zahn sent a ripple of small waves toward Megan’s ankles. “Come.”

  Megan dipped the washcloth in the water and moved around to his back. She so wished she had the strength to kill this man with her bare hands.

  “Ahh, that feels good.”

  Megan washed his back and dipped the washcloth again into the water before running it over his shoulders and neck. “What about the rest of us? What will you do when this is all over?”

  “You know the answer to that.”

  Megan moved gracefully through the water until she stood before him, and washed the front of his neck and shoulders. As she did, he took one of her breasts in his hand and stroked it. “It would be such a waste to kill a woman like you.”

  Megan forced a grin. A woman like her? What, exactly, was that? An old professional? A survivor? A woman who always knew how to peddle her gifts in order to keep living? What so many men valued about her made Megan shudder. I might live instead of the others because I’m pretty and knew how to please a man. The thought was so repulsive she wanted to scream.

  Moving to the side, Megan did not attempt to brush off the hands that were groping her.

  “But if you agree to come to Colombia with me, you could live on one of my ranches. Granted, they are far away from towns and villages, but you could live a peaceful, satisfying existence.”

  Still wiping his shoulders and underarms, Megan forced back the bile rising in her throat. As she dipped the washcloth back in the water, she noticed his erection and shivered. He noticed her shiver and mistook it for something altogether different.

  Damn it! Where is Delta?

  “Surely a life in Colombia, versus death out here, must appeal to you?”

  Washing his arms, Megan locked eyes with him. “I prefer to live, yes.”

  “Then consider my offer.”

  Megan nodded as she wiped. She would stay alive for Delta and her life back home. She would do whatever she had to, promise whatever she must, and deal with Satan himself if necessary, but Megan Osbourne was not going to die. As long as she lived, as long as there was one breath left in her body, Delta Stevens would know she was alive, and she would never, ever give up searching. On that, Megan would bet her life.

  “Come,” General Zahn said, taking Megan’s hands in his and pulling her closer. “I have other needs.” Putting his hands on her buttocks, he kissed her hard and bit her neck before lowering his head and sucking on her breast. Then, slowly rising, he pulled her over to a dryer part of the rock, where he lay down. Taking Megan’s face in his hands, he guided her mouth downwards.

  Closing her eyes, Megan opened her mouth and transported her soul to another place, another time; before college, before Costa Rica, and long before Delta Stevens.

  Delta was drenched in sweat. Every muscle and tendon burned. Her machete was beginning to feel like a hundred-pound baseball bat. She gripped it with two hands and swung it with the same power that had won her a national batting title in college. But that was college, in the safety of a playing field, with teammates to help her.

  Stopping to rest, Delta pulled out the last of her water and sipped it. It was difficult to imagine what the heat would feel like by noon, now four hours away, but she knew she’d have to find a cool place to rest or risk heat stroke. She’d managed to follow the bush markers with ease, and was surprised at how her detecting skills had come in handy, even way out here in the wilderness. Twice she had come to obvious forks, where she was unsure which direction to take, and both times, she’d analyzed the floor of the forest for footprints, overturned leaves, or other telltale signs of human beings. Once, a cigarette butt had pointed the way. It was still slower going than she would have liked, but getting irretrievably lost wouldn’t do her any good. Megan was in here, somewhere, and Delta felt certain these machete marks and bent twigs would lead her there.

  It was a weird feeling, knowing that the forest was watching her. She felt like an actress on stage, with all eyes focused upon her, waiting to see how she would react. Once, she had raised her machete to chop a thick hanging vine, and just as the machete was over her head, she realized it wasn’t a vine at all, but a snake. It could have been a boa, a python or a cobra for all she knew. Her initial reaction was to kill it anyway, but then she remembered that she was the trespasser here, the criminal element come to the jungle. The snake probably just wanted a closer look at the animal loudly thrashing her way through his home.

  Shafts of light penetrated the canopy above and caressed the green floor as the late-morning sun beat down on leaves and bushes. Delta rested momentarily, then repacked her things. After finishing her water, she took hold of her machete once more.

  An hour later, Delta continued to push through vines and other tropical foliage. She was tired, hungry and very, very hot. It took all of her concentration to move through the jungle without creating a disturbance.

  Then, before she realized it, she nearly stumbled right over them. With her machete raised above her head, Delta stopped it in midair. Only twenty yards away sat the group of men who had ambled by her camp earlier that morning. Crouching down, Delta wiped the sweat off
her forehead and listened to a conversation she had absolutely no chance in hell of understanding.

  As the men chatted back and forth in quick Spanish, Delta strained to glean any word she might recognize. It wasn’t long before she heard the word Colombia. Peeking out from behind a massive plant with six-foot leaves, Delta watched as the four men shook their heads and pointed to the east. Other words she thought she recognized, like estúpido, narcótico, los militares and peligroso, were tossed about, and Delta stretched her memory to recall where she had seen the word peligroso before.

  Peligroso, she thought. Signs around the canals and electrical poles back home said peligroso. Didn’t it mean dangerous? Or danger? And what about los militares? Had these men seen Colombians dressed in fatigues? Were these men afraid of the Colombians? Were they escaping from the Colombians? And what was in those canvas sacks they had been carrying over their shoulders, and were now sat by their feet? Squatting back down, Delta knew she had little time to make a choice.

  These guys did not appear to be part of the Colombian group Manny had warned her about. The sacks suggested to her that they could be poachers, and if that was so, they were probably Ticos or Nicaraguans hunting game for profit.

  Listening to her intuition, which she had so often relied on in the past, Delta decided she would no longer follow this group, but give them time to move away from their perceived Colombian threat.

  Ten minutes later, when the group of men started toward the west, Delta moved in the opposite direction. For the next hour, she cut through more jungle until she found a small stream trickling over some smooth rocks. She brushed the ground free of leaves and ants, then plopped down for a short rest. After a moment, she turned onto her stomach and dunked her entire head into the water. With a sigh of pleasure, she shook her wet head like a dog after a bath. The cool, clear water refreshed her. She perked up a little, and then felt ready to go. Rolling over on her back, Delta closed her eyes. She was beat. In the middle of heaving a sigh, she heard noise she couldn’t ever remember hearing before. It was a low, guttural sound like a bear, or...maybe a jaguar. Quickly sitting up, Delta cocked her head and listened. Some creature was in agony.

  Delta grabbed her backpack and machete, then crept carefully through the underbrush. As she moved through the forest, the sound grew louder. It was hard to identify it, as another loud, rushing sound filled the air and obscured the first. Closing her eyes, she listened intently. Maybe it was a hurt animal. It sounded strange, but then, most of the sights and sounds she’d experienced in the last twenty-four hours were foreign to her. After all, how did a jaguar really sound? What sort of noises did a howler monkey make? The other sound was more familiar. Must be a waterfall, she thought.

  Closer and closer she stalked, until she came to the cliff’s edge where water from the now-swollen creek flowed over and down. At least if the animal making the sound was down there, it might not be interested in eating her. She was safe up here. The drop to the area below was at least thirty feet, perhaps more. Peering over the edge, Delta caught herself on a tree branch as her eyes located the source of the unfamiliar sound.

  In the middle of a small pool of water, Delta saw a man...a woman...and then her brain finally acknowledged what her eyes were seeing.

  Delta slapped her hand over her mouth to keep from vomiting. Scurrying back from the cliff’s edge, she plopped down hard, her hand still firmly clamped over her lips. It couldn’t be. Maybe the heat had gotten to her. Maybe she was hallucinating. Slowly, Delta returned to her place on the cliff and tried to look once more. Sure enough, there was Megan, sucking some guy’s dick in the middle of the goddamned rainforest!

  Delta sprang up, about to jump off the edge and into the water below, when suddenly, someone grabbed her backpack, slapped a hand over her mouth, and pulled her off the rock. With a sickening thud, she hit the ground. Wrestling out of the grasp of the hand that held her, Delta twisted around, grabbed the hand off her mouth, and quickly employed a wrist lock.

  “It’s me!” came a hushed, pained voice.

  Delta whirled, still holding the stranger’s hand, and found Manny grimacing in her face. “What in the hell are you doing here?” Delta demanded as she helped him to his feet.

  “Shh,” Manny whispered, holding a finger to his lips. “I followed you...I...Bianca convinced me to chase after you. I must say, for a wo—for a foreigner, you have made good time.”

  “I found her, Manny. I found Megan.”

  “That’s not all you found, I’m afraid.”

  Delta turned back to the cliff’s edge, but Manny stopped her. “I’m going after her,” she insisted.

  “Do, and you’ll get us all killed.” Manny tightened his grip on Delta’s arm. She looked down at his hand and locked eyes with him; he quickly released her.

  “What are you talking about?”

  Manny moved down the path away from the cliff. Then he parted the tree branches and pointed. “Look there...and over there.”

  When Delta followed his finger, she saw two guards posted on either side of the pool of water, just out of view.

  Ducking back behind the rocks comprising the cliff, Manny whispered, “There are many others just like them scattered all over. You are lucky none of them saw either of us, or we would be dead by now.”

  “Why would they post guards over a naked guy and a woman?” Delta peeked once again over the rocks and, now that she looked specifically for them, saw two more guards on the opposite shore.

  “I am afraid your friend is in great danger.”

  A final grunt from the naked man on the rock, and Delta unsteadily dropped to her knees and let the vomit spill from her mouth. Eyes and mouth watering, she clamped her eyelids shut, trying to erase the sight she’d just witnessed.

  Manny gently laid a hand on her shoulder and helped her to her feet. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

  Wiping her teary eyes with the back of her clean hand, Delta nodded. “Me too. I guess it just...caught me off-guard.”

  “I will watch their movements. When they get ready to return to their camp, I’ll let you know. Their camp must be close by. We’re going to have to be very careful to avoid any guards.”

  “Why would a man getting a blow job be so heavily guarded?”

  “Perhaps they are protecting him from the animals. Your friend is the prisoner of someone who knows the jungle well. It is the submerged crocodile that will eat you for lunch. And they move with such swiftness that the man would never know what ate him. The guards are probably there to make sure that does not happen.”

  Delta studied Manny for a long time. Just moments ago, Delta had dunked her head into a stream, never thinking about what lurked beneath the calm surface. The very thought of a crocodile watching her gave her goose bumps.

  “I’ll sit right here, Manny. The moment they move, we move.”

  Manny nodded. “Right.”

  Leaning against a rock, Delta put her head back and closed her eyes. She had so many questions and nobody to answer them. Nothing she’d ever learned or experienced before could have prepared her for this. Everything was unfamiliar; all the rules, the stage, the players, the script, even the cosmic director seemed to be from another planet. Okay. So Megan is a prisoner...she is, isn’t she? She didn’t do that willingly, did she?

  The questions flew at her like a swarm of bees, each stinging her every time she couldn’t mentally deflect what she’d seen.

  “Your friend,” Manny whispered over his shoulder, “is smart.”

  Delta fought off the image of Megan on the rock. “What makes you say that?”

  “She has made herself popular with an officer of some sort.”

  Delta immediately stood. “Officer?”

  Manny nodded, but held up his hand, stopping Delta from coming closer. “The clothes on the ground are an officer’s. You can tell from the insignia on the shoulders.”

  “What about hers?”

  “Her clothes?”

  “
Yeah. How are they arranged?”

  Manny frowned before returning his attention to the action below. “They are neatly folded next to his.”

  A slow grin spread across Delta’s face. Not once had Megan stopped to fold her clothes prior to lovemaking; she liked to fling them all over the room. Truth poked its head from the shadows, swatting several bees from Delta’s psyche. “She’s using her old life to keep her new one alive.”

  Manny nodded. “Very wise. Colombians respect those they think useful.”

  Delta cocked her head at Manny, who was still gazing down at the pond. Had she underestimated him earlier, or was he speaking more clearly now? More directly? Something about him seemed to change once his sister was gone, but Delta couldn’t put a finger on it. It was increasingly clear to her that nothing was as it seemed in the rainforest.

  “We cannot afford to make any mistakes, Delta. We must give them plenty of room. Your friend is alive. Let’s keep it that way.”

  Nodding, Delta sighed loudly. Megan was alive, and that was all that mattered.

  “This is the place,” Connie announced as they piled out of the Sidekick.

  When Connie, Sal and Josh arrived in Rivas, they were greeted by Bianca and Kiki, who sat out in front of Los Rancheros, waiting.

  “You must be Connie,” Bianca said, extending her hand. “I am Bianca. Delta Stevens’ friend.”

  Connie shook Bianca’s hand and introduced Sal and Josh to the young woman.

  Bianca nodded to them both. “Delta Stevens has many friends, doesn’t she?”

  “You bet she does,” Sal answered, looking around the gravel road. “Is there a place for us to get something to drink?”

  Bianca nodded and led them into Los Rancheros, where a single fan lazily turned overhead and a soccer game played on the small black-and-white television set in the corner.

  When the four of them were seated and two beers and two Cokes ordered, Connie turned to Bianca. “Has Delta returned from La Amistad?”