Page 14 of Five Goodbyes

Finding a large tree, I stop, point for Jasmine to stay at this location, then move again. The shooting has slowed, and seems be directed in only one location, which leads me to believe they have Patrick pinned down. I can’t let him be overrun. I quicken my pace until I find another tree suitable to hide my large frame.

Slowly my aim steadies on the poacher furthest back from the group. This will allow me to work on taking down the group in an order that’s manageable, versus a spray and pray approach. My aim holds true, and as I pull the trigger back, nothing happens. Looking down at the rifle I realize my dumb ass forgot to take the safety off. I shake off my mistake and ready the long gun again.

Repeating the same steps, this time the trigger and firing pin work in unison, and the first crack from my rifle is sent toward the man in my sights. My round finds its mark and sends the poacher to the ground. I don’t wait long enough to see if he’s dead or injured. My vision is set on the next man from the back, and I send two rounds his way. Unfortunately, only one of them hits, and while he’s hurt, the wound is superficial. The poachers realize they’re being shot at, creating panic that scatters them. They stop hammering the area Patrick is hiding and turn my way.

Surprisingly, they’re way off mark on where they think I shot from, and it allows me to put two rounds into the man I missed before. Two men down, but they now know my location. The two men standing don’t even look at their downed friend, they just keep walking toward me, firing off shots with no discipline at all. That being said, they’re getting closer by the second, and even a stray shot can end my life.

I pick up a fallen branch near my feet and throw it as hard as I can. It lands near a tree, the sound it creates exactly what I was hoping for. The men yell something to each other and begin shooting in the direction of my diversion. Their mistake is my gain as I pull myself from behind the tree to fire. Surprised by the distance they’ve closed, I overshoot my target, and now they’re too close for them to mistake where I’m hiding.

“Jazzy, now!” I yell.

Pop, pop, pop, pop, pop. The sounds from the handgun shock the two men, but they don’t have time to react. I swing from behind the tree to see one man take at least three of the rounds to the center of his chest, and as the other man turns to face Jasmine, I down him with a single shot.

“To me,” I yell again. Fifty yards in the jungle is tough to get through, but Jasmine makes it to me in seconds, and without a single catch in her breath. She’s phenomenal.

“Good?” I ask.

“Good,” she replies.

I’m getting ready to lay out our next plan of attack when the forest lights up with more gunfire. Will this ever end? How many are here? Is this a fool’s mission? Instinctively, I drop in the prone position, pulling Jasmine with me.

“Stay here,” I say as I crawl toward the opening in the forest. The firing stops and I focus on the sounds around me.

Angry words are shouted. I don’t understand the words, and I can’t tell which direction the yelling is coming from. The realization that we can die at any moment gets through my adrenaline that’s been carrying me through this battle, putting pressure on my chest, making it difficult to breathe as I realize the poachers might be getting the upper hand. They might kill Patrick and me, Philip and the other crew. They might then capture Jasmine. The thought of all of this is too much for my body to take. For the first time in my life, I have what might be a panic attack . . . I lean over and empty my stomach . . . and then I hear someone speaking English. This is a better feeling than walking into my grandma’s house as a little kid to the smell of fresh baked chocolate chip cookies filling the air.

“Hunter. Jasmine. All clear!” Philip calls. I can’t move for another few seconds. I then realize this battle might just be over. I stand to see Jasmine emerging, looking exhausted, but hopeful.

“Well, you guys sure took your time, didn’t you?” I ask as we all come together in the middle of the open field.

“I knew you’d be upset if I took all of the fun,” Philip replies. He might be making a joke, but I can see this taxed him as much as it has all of us.

The three of us huddle together, grateful and somewhat surprised we’re still alive. Patrick and his remaining guides go to the gorilla and speak to it in an entirely different language as they remove the sack over its head. There are open wounds on its face where it’s been beaten with a stick. Patrick cuts off the bindings around its legs and arms, and the poor gorilla just lays there before them. It must have other wounds we can’t see.

No one says a word for several moments until Patrick gently picks the young gorilla up, cradling it in his arms. The other guides take Patrick’s pack and long gun, then go to their deceased mate and remove his gear and gun.

“I’ll do it,” I tell the group. I kneel down, pick up one of the man’s arms, and then his leg, and then roll his body onto my shoulders. None of us will leave a man behind.

It takes us almost four hours to reach the road, and though my body is worked over, I refuse to even once set the man down. My legs are jelly, and my back is on fire, but this is my load to carry. This is the only way for me to honor this man who sacrificed his life to a cause almost no one else will ever take up . . . and to help save the life of the woman I love, along with the lives of my friends.

When we arrive at the road, a caravan of vehicles are waiting for us. When we’re seen emerging from the woods, men and women run to us. They pull weapons and packs off of the backs of our group. At least a dozen men circle me and slowly take the body from my shoulders, and respectfully carry their lost man to the back of a van.

“Do you realize that you’re the most amazing man I’ve ever met? Your acts of kindness are without question the highest levels of selflessness I’ve ever seen. Are you feeling okay?” Jasmine asks as we stop at the Jeep that will take us out of this peaceful place that horrifically turned into a war-zone.

“No, I’m not right now, but I’ll get there.” I stop as my throat tightens. I take in some breaths as I look at the van carrying the body of the man I carried. “That was the man who gave me the rifle,” I finally get out in a raspy response.

Jasmine moves over to a bucket and pulls out a wet rag. She takes off my shirt and begins the task of wiping the soldier’s blood from my chest, shoulders, and back. She doesn’t say a word as she moves across my body. Her hands feel like silk, and it relaxes me. In the final strokes of washing my back, I fall off a cliff, and at once the exhaustion of the day takes over. If I don’t get into the vehicle right now, someone is going to have to carry me into it.

“Mind if I sit up front?” I know I should ask if Jasmine wants the front passenger seat, but I need a little leeway right now.

“Hunter Sparks, get your butt up there and take some time to yourself.”

I don’t deserve this woman. She knows what I need without me having to say a word. I smile as I practically pour into the seat.

My eyes are beginning to close when the door opens. Patrick is standing there, still holding onto the gorilla.

“This girl isn’t a threat. Would you mind holding her?” Patrick asks. I don’t have a chance to reply before Jasmine jumps in.

“I want to hold her,” she says from behind me.

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