Page 4 of Cavern of Silence
"Yes."
"How many times?" he barks.
"Several."
"And Jorge Cano?"
"Often."
"With Jonas Torres?"
I stay silent, and spit flies into my face as he screams, "Tell me."
"Yes."
"And the Belizean cabinet members. You've flown with them?"
I nod.
"You know secrets, and you're going to tell me."
"I don't. I'm just a flight attendant."
He scoffs. "You have ears, correct?"
My stomach churns. "Yes."
"Then you've heard things."
"I haven't. I'm nobody important. Please. Just let me go."
He pulls out a clear bottle and rag.
I don't know what it is, but my gut tells me it isn't anything good.
He soaks the rag in fluid and puts the cap back on the bottle. I scoot as close to the door as I can, but there isn't any point.
Santiago moves closer, holds the rag over my nose, and I pass out.
Several times, I wake up, but it's always dark. Something is over my eyes, and my hands and ankles are restrained. I try to speak, but the cloth goes back over my nose, and I pass out again.
I'm not sure how long it lasts. Hours, maybe days, pass. When I wake up, the sound of monkeys screeching and birds cawing fills my ears.
Am I in a jungle?
I'm violently dragged out of a vehicle, and my ankle and hand restraints are removed. Someone pulls the blindfold off me, and I blink a few times as my eyes adjust to the brightness of my new surroundings.
Sunlight peeks through the lush green trees. The rushing of water makes me believe a river is nearby. Tents line the edge of the camp, and men sit around, playing cards or skinning animals. White smoke smolders from a fire pit.
"Time to wash up," a man I don't recognize says in Spanish.
"Where am I?"
He puts his hand on my throat, and I struggle for air. "Your job isn't to ask questions. Do you understand?"
"Yes," I gasp out.
He points to another man. "Take her to the river."
