Chapter Seven

 

ADAM AND HIS CAPTORS CONTINUED traveling a little farther into the forest with the horse cart until the cleared path came to an end. At that point Carlos and Hector untied the horse from the cart and began to march Adam deeper into the woods on foot. Carlos walked in front and led the horse. Hector stayed behind Adam. Both men wore machetes on their belts, but now Hector had his in his right hand to ensure that Adam kept moving as instructed. In his left hand Hector held a palm branch, which he swept back and forth behind him every so often to make sure their footmarks were covered over with foliage.

It would’ve seemed to make more sense if at least one of the men were riding the horse, but the vegetation was so thick in places—intentionally, or so it seemed—that Carlos often had to bend back branches just so they could pass through. Adam figured they did it that way to keep the path mostly hidden. He certainly had no idea in which direction they would go once they stopped the cart. Everything looked wild and overgrown.

They walked. And walked. And walked some more. It was damp and sticky and hot. At one point the horse reared up. Quicker than Adam realized what was happening, Carlos swung his machete forward and chopped off the head of an enormous snake.

Oh Lord, thought Adam, that thing’s even bigger than the cottonmouths back home!

“Do not worry,” said Hector. “This serpent, she not having poison. She just crushing you to death.” He squeezed both hands in front of him as if he were wringing out a wet cloth.

As they walked by the body of the serpent, still wriggling on the ground, Hector picked it up and tossed it across the forest. Then he stabbed the head with his machete and flung it as well.

“Why’d you do that?” said Adam.

“Why not?” said Hector. “Think about it! That serpent did not just having his head fall off. Leaving her here might giving away our path. We not wanting to give away our path.”

It was frustrating. Adam thought about how he could leave some clues along the way, but with Hector following so close behind him, he didn’t have a chance to do anything of the sort.

After about another twenty minutes of walking, they were no longer having to spread vegetation to make their way down the path but rather were on a well-cleared walkway. They were so deep in the forest at this point, though, that it no longer mattered whether or not anyone could see their trail. In the distance Adam saw several grass-thatched roofs begin to appear. As they got closer, he could could tell that it was a camp of sorts. There were two crudely constructed buildings—a long, rectangular one and a short, square one. Then there was a third building that looked like it was higher quality—at least as much as could be said for a hut in the middle of a tropical forest.

Considering all of the dense vegetation, it appeared to be a fortress for some kind of militia—maybe an abandoned one. While there weren’t many men out in the open, the ones who were looked like a motley bunch.

“What is this place?” Adam inquired.

Hector and Carlos laughed.

“Ay, amigo, this is our business,” said Hector. “We not having a lot of customers, but it is—how you saying?—very . . . ah . . . lucrativo.”

“And illegal,” Adam remarked. “So your business is kidnapping foreigners for money.”

“That is my business today, yes, but we doing many kinds of things, because we having many different skills. Every man here is having his own job to do. On this day my job is bringing you here.”

Adam raised his eyebrows, surprised at the answer.

Just then Carlos excused himself from the conversation and walked the horse towards what looked like a horse pen and stable. Hector seemed to shout out some instructions to him very quickly in Spanish, to which Carlos waved dismissively and continued walking.

“Look there,” Hector said to Adam, pointing to a small, skinny man with a very long, thin moustache that drooped around the two sides of his mouth. “He is Flaco. His skill is as a ladrón. He is the king of los ladrones.”

Adam gave him a confused look. “Ladrón?”

Hector flipped out his hand and said matter-of-factly, “He is a thief. He is the best thief. Real fast, real quiet.” He pointed to another man, heavyset, balding, and probably in his forties. “See him? He is un asesino. Do you know what asesino is?”

Adam shook his head. “I don’t know. Asinine?”

“It means assassin. He is being very good at killing a man with his hands only, very fast.”

Adam had no idea exactly what that was supposed to mean, and he didn’t really care. He knew he wouldn’t be hanging around long enough to get to know everybody. All he was interested in was figuring out how many men were posted at this hideout and where they all were.

“Do you live here?” he asked Hector. “I mean, you do all your mischief back in the city and then crawl back into the forest to sleep?”

“Yes,” said Hector as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

“How many of you are there?”

Hector smiled. He led Adam into the smallest of the three buildings, a crudely built but apparently strong hut that he soon learned was a prison of sorts. There was another man being held inside, chained to the wall.

“There are enough of us to making sure you not going anywhere,” said Hector.

Adam wrinkled his eyebrows and must’ve looked concerned, because Hector added, “Do not worry—I not tying you up if you not trying anything stupid. But you trying anything stupid, and you be in chain like that one, or worse.” He grabbed at his own neck and made a squeezing motion, simulating being choked to death, and Adam quickly understood his meaning.

“You having any weapons?” Hector asked.

Adam thought about his pocketknife, which he kept in his boot. “See for yourself,” he said, then held out his arms and stood up straight, inviting Hector to search him.

Hector patted him down along his arms and torso and legs but seemed to be satisfied to find the boy had only a pocket watch and some money.

“I taking these right now,” he said, grabbing the two items and putting them into his own pocket.

“Take the money, but how about if you let me keep the pocket watch?” said Adam. “It was a gift.”

Hector laughed. “Yes? And now you giving it to me.”

Adam rolled his eyes and chuckled. “Alright. You go right ahead.” He looked at him calmly and said, “I can promise you, though—I will get it back.”

“Sure, compadre,” said Hector, chuckling. He patted Adam on the shoulder and then left the prison hut and locked the door.