Page 13 of Five Goodbyes

“Thank you,” Philip says, his voice slightly choked. “We’ll give our own lives to keep them from getting back to you.” These aren’t just words, he means them. We all will sacrifice everything for those we love.

“That’s good enough for me,” I say, anxious to get moving.

“Let’s go,” Patrick says. We all nod before splitting into two groups. Jasmine and I are in one and Philip is in the other. We both have crew members in each of our groups.

We make our way deep into the forest, our senses on high alert, looking for any signs of the poachers. The darkness of the forest is overwhelming, but beams of light pierce through the thick canopy high above, illuminating our path well enough to keep going. It’s the eeriest feeling I’ve ever had, the silence only broken by the sound of our breathing and the occasional flutter of a bird being surprised into flight.

We don’t get too far before we hear the sound of rustling leaves, and the snap of a twig in the distance. We freeze, listening intently. After a few seconds of silence, we hear it again, this time closer. We creep forward, our weapons at the ready . . . and see a glimpse of movement ahead.

“Stay low and follow my lead,” I whisper to Jasmine as we move toward the sound. We’re closing in on the poachers, and the tension is palpable.

As we emerge from the foliage, we find ourselves in a clearing with a small group of poachers huddled together, trying to make their way out. There’s a young gorilla with its hands and feet tied together, and a burlap bag over its head. I can see that it’s alive by the quick, labored breath rising and falling from its torso. One of the poachers reaches over with a stick and hits the poor animal in the head, and my blood runs cold while my eyes become laser focused.

I’m about to ask about our plan when everything once again goes to crap.

That’s when Patrick speaks. “Drop your weapons and put your hands up!” He exits the tree line with his gun focused, his voice steady. “This is your only warning.”

The poachers hesitate for a moment, sizing Patrick up and beginning to laugh at this single man thinking he can take on all of them. When they see another guide, me, and Jasmine come out of the shadows their attitude shifts but they’re very aware that they still have the numbers on us.

“This is bad,” I whisper to Jasmine.

She knows what I’m trying to convey. We may have surprised them, but we’re too far away to be walking and shooting with any accuracy. We haven’t done any recon to ensure these are the only poachers. We’re also too close together, making us an easier target, and narrowing our field of being able to shoot left or right without putting our own team members in our line.

“Yes, it is bad,” she replies. “We’re in it now though, so let’s start fanning out. I’m on your left shoulder.”

I have no doubt Patrick and the other guide with us have practiced shooting and have zero doubt they know these forests better than Jasmine and me, but it’s unquestionable in this moment who the better tactically trained people are. My steps are slow and steady as I begin a wide arc away from Patrick and yell out. “Step away from your weapons!”

The poachers begin to understand the situation they’re in, and realize they’re slowly being put into a noose with us fanning out around them. These are men who face death almost every day of their lives. They don’t necessarily care about life the same way we do, and this isn’t a good thing for our team.

A burst of rounds rings out without stopping for too long of a time. I quickly lose count of how many, but it’s more than twelve in fast succession. Dammit, this is what’s wrong with not doing recon . . . not that we’ve had time to do that. My fear has just come to pass as at least one poacher isn’t with their group and has come back to shoot from a place we can’t see him.

“Run!” I demand, putting my body between the poachers and Jasmine as we sprint for the cover of the woods.

Jasmine dives into the brush and I’m quick to follow her. We then begin belly crawling through the thick brush until we find a safe place to stand.

“You hit?” I ask as I search her body from head to toe for wounds.

“No. You?” Jasmine returns.

“No, but I think our other guide is down. I saw a body crumble from my peripheral as the first shots rang out.”

“What do we do here?”

Before I can answer, bullets start peppering the area we are in. We scramble away quickly.

“I can’t leave Patrick to fight these guys alone,” I shout.

“No, of course we can’t. What do we do next?”

“We need to put about fifty yards between us and then return fire. You only have that sidearm with one extra magazine. Be precise with your shots, don’t waste them. If you start getting overwhelmed, run down the mountain. It’s not giving up, it’s being strategic. You can’t help if you don’t have something to fight with. Under no circumstances will you wait for me. Don’t even call for me. You just run like hell. Do you understand?”

Jasmine presses into me for a brief moment, kisses me hard, then pulls back with the most intense eyes I’ve ever seen. “The only people who are running are these bastards. Let’s finish this.”

“I love you, Jasmine. Please don’t get hurt. I won’t be able to live life without you.”

“Stop being a pansy. Let’s go kick some ass.”

We smile at each other. Then I turn to lead us back into the fight. “I love you too,” she calls to me, and I quickly reply the same.

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