Page 27 of Perfectly Wild

Come morning, everyone is tired, sick, and exhausted before they begin their trek south toward Peru.

Life has changed for the entire village.

Safety is compromised every step of the way.

In the months passed, they have lost souls—elderly and the young, depending on the disease and their fight to live.

Another four weeks before they stop walking.

Another four weeks will mean more loss of life.

Yet, they can’t stop. They’ll be safer in a denser part of the Colombian jungle with nearby waterways and mountains. From there, if threatened, they can travel south toward Peru.

Kaikare informs Samuel they must rest. They need time to heal. The men have agreed to build sturdier structures and set up a hunt for food.

The Ularans are unhappy, and if undermined, it could lead to them losing trust in his judgment. So, he agrees to resting for a week.

A decision he regrets as on the third night, gunshots wake them.

“Tïmenneng,” he screams, hoping the warriors secured the boundary.

A gentle stroke to his forehead calms him.

The fire flickers, yet he’s blinded beyond the trees.

Another gunshot.

“Nooo,” he yells, only his voice chokes, and no one can hear him.

“Samuel, you’re okay. I’m with you,” a gentle, familiar voice reminds him. “I got you.”

The safety in her voice pulls him out of his dream.

“It’s okay, honey. It’s only a bad dream.”

Only a bad dream…

He wishes it were true because he’ll never forget what happened next.

12

IVY

November 30, 1962

Venezuela

The days and nights have blurred from exhaustion.

My initial welcome was less than favorable from a corrupt group even though this country recognizes the Peace Corps.

The company I’m working for is somewhat smaller and less influential when bargaining with criminals. This particular group highjacked us the moment we pulled up in the jeep as though they were expecting my arrival. The moment I jumped out of the car, they grabbed and dragged me away, regardless of Maria screaming at them in Spanish. Looking back, I should have heeded the warning and got on the first ship back to Australia.

“They think you’re a spy,” Maria had yelled after me and not at all reassuring. “I’ll have you released in no time.”

Communication between the channels was poor, and for two days and nights, they kept me in a locked room, awaiting their decision on my fate. Each night seemed like an eternity when begging for the bathroom in a cockroach-infested derelict building.

It turned out these gang-like groups are everywhere and are not government-run. Regardless of any importance my visa and passport held, they were deciding if I could be of financial benefit to them.

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