Prologue

Colombia, South America, many years ago

The little girl felt a soft hand push her head down.

“Get under the cot now and stay down,” Maggie shouted.

There were many earsplitting noises, like a pop, no it was a pop, pop, pop in quick succession. The child could hear men, not just Maggie, shouting in loud, angry voices and her tiny body felt that wave of tingles spread outward in a fan pattern across her tummy. It always appeared when something scared her and she started to cry. As Maggie peered out from between the nylon zippered ends of the tent, she was crying too, and waved her hand behind her trying to indicate shush. There were bodies everywhere oozing small pieces of themselves onto the jungle floor. Maggie swung her head when she heard the swoosh of a machete.

“Oh God, no. Please don’t hurt me, please,” Maggie pleaded as a hand thrust through the split zipper and grabbed her by the hair, yanking her out through the opening. Maggie screamed as loud as she could while trying to free her head from his hands and scratch her way back towards the nylon. She howled one last time and then there was quiet.

There was a momentary lull within the tent and the terrified child dared not move from under the cot. A very faint patter, like an insect scurrying across the ground, was the only sound she could hear. “Mommy, mommy?” she whimpered. “Where’s mommy?” Her eyes finally opened. The basket of tiny frogs had tipped over, the lid off to one side, and one small yellow dot hopped toward the cot and jumped under a box. The little girl knew she wasn’t supposed to touch it. Mommy had said so. Then there were voices again. Men’s voices.

One came closer. A huge figure entered the tent and looked around. He kicked the grass basket and the rest of the frogs jumped out. She tried to hide deeper under the cot, but his hand grabbed the child and pulled her free.

He said something to her in a language she didn’t understand. The air seemed trapped in her lungs. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to breathe, she wasn’t sure if she could breathe. The man took the bandana from around his neck and fastened it over her tear-filled green eyes. Everything went black. She felt herself being lifted and then carried over his shoulder. The sun was hot on the back of her head and the steam in the air filled her nostrils. It was heavy air, air weighted with the smells of death.

Although her eyes were covered, she squeezed the lids tightly together, and felt the tears stream down her cheeks. Angel, angel please come to me; take me up into heaven and keep me safe, she prayed. Her small body could no longer hold the tension and her hands fell to her sides. She let go of her consciousness, drifting into the blackness as they moved into the jungle and disappeared into the emerald forest.