Page 29 of The Perfect Stranger

“Yes.”

“This is your lucky day.”

He looked hopeful.

“Take me to him, and you might just live another twenty-four hours.”

Gregorio cursed as he stumbled and slipped down an embankment. His injuries were making a difficult task almost unbearable. I followed close behind, my Glock trained on him as we navigated the obstacles of the jungle. There was no conversation. I didn’t need more motivation to shoot the fucker in the head.

It took us only a few hours to reach location. The sun was starting to rise, and a soft pink glow broke through the jungle canopy. When we reached the base of the mountain, we followed the dirt road to the end. Gregorio was slowing, limping from the bullet in his leg. He nursed his arm, blood soaking through his camos.

Over a hundred pairs of eyes watched our approach. The women, in various states of health after a hellish experience, huddled together protecting their children. The men framed their women. Those who had lost everything watched on, shoulders slumped, an emptiness in their eyes. The reception among them was a mix of burning hatred, contempt, and a pain that could never be healed. The Colonel looked sheepish, realization that he no longer held the power position.

“On your knees,” I ordered.

He turned, silently pleading that he was spared the humiliation.

Holding the Glock to his temple, my finger on the trigger, he needed no further warning. Gregorio fell awkwardly onto the gravel dirt, head hung low, jaw squared with what little defiance he had left.

I scanned the group. I saw sorrow. Pain. Hope.

Behind the crowd, I spotted Alejandro. He stood, an arm wrapped around the shoulders of a teary young woman I presumed to be his sister. He looked to me with gratitude.

“Attention,” I announced. They were already waiting with bated breath. For the next few minutes, I attempted to put their confused minds at ease. I expressed my condolences for the loved ones lost to war. My regrets for the damage caused to their community.

“This man…” I glanced down to the piece of shit at my feet whose jaw was twitching, “…is responsible for your pain and loss. You can go back to your town, rebuild, repair, rid La Balsa of his footprint.”

“You naïve fucker,” Gregorio muttered with an amused shake of head.

“Speak up.” He received a boot to the ribs when he didn’t respond.

“You think I’m the one they should be concerned about? Gabriel Santos will kill them. All of them.” He sounded manic. “That was always his plan. And most of all, he will kill you.”

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