Hannibal took a deep breath to steady himself before turning to Murdock and B.A. and commanding, "Murdock, report."
"I counted four men at the north end and four at the south. There are also two look-outs in the trees at the east and west. That brings our grand total of scum to fourteen. Each armed with semi-automatics and what looks to be 22's in their waistbands."
B.A. continued where Murdock left off. "I don't see no source of power...there ain't no electrical lines anywhere. That hut over there looks to be their headquarters; I saw some guns and ammo through the window when we passed by. The only ride they got is one jeep over toward the northern corner."
"There aren't any traps that I noticed, but that doesn't mean they haven't planted landmines or well hid trip wires," Hannibal added. "My gut tells me that they are relaying on the strength of their numbers rather than their military prowess to keep us here."
B.A. reached out and grabbed onto the bamboo bars. Pulling with all his might, the veins started to pop out on his head and he gnarled his teeth. "They ain't gonna budge, man. They as solid as if they was steel."
Murdock leaned heavily against the bars and looked over at Face. "And it doesn't look like Face is exactly up to picking any locks at the moment."
"What we gonna do, man?"
"First we need to find out what they have planned for us," Hannibal answered. "Hey, slime ball," he yelled at a passing guard who abruptly stopped and turned around. "Yeah, I'm talking to you."
"If I were you, señor, I'd keep my mouth shut before we have to shut it for you…permanently."
"What do you guys do, sit around and practice bad guy clichés? Okay, I have one for you…'go ahead, make my day'!"
"I prefer, 'what we have here is a failure to communicate'," Murdock said in his best Strother Martin impersonation.
"Shut up, fool!" B.A. said.
"See B.A., that's exactly what I'm talking about...lack of communication."
"My fist is gonna start communicatin' with your face," B.A. growled.
Hannibal held a silencing hand up in their direction, then asked, "So what's the deal? What happens next?"
"I know not, señor…nor do I much care. We are being paid to hold you here until Cortez returns. The longer that is, the more we get paid."
Face could hear voices in the distance, but could not make out what was being said. But from the tone of Hannibal's voice, he could tell that the colonel was being a smart aleck. The voices stopped and Face opened his eyes and watched as the guard walked away. Mustering up his strength, he pushed himself up to a sitting position and scooted his body back so he was resting against the bamboo bars. He looked down at his bare chest and grimaced; he was hoping it didn't look as bad as it felt. But if anything, it looked worse.
Face could handle being sick or hurt, but he hated being alone. Even though he would deny or downplay serious injuries, he drew comfort from having his friends by his side. A lump formed in his throat and he swallowed hard; he felt completely isolated. Just when he thought he was about to lose his cool, he heard Hannibal yelling his name.
"Face! Face! Can you hear me?"
Wanting to appear strong for the others, Face yelled back, "Hannibal, you owe me a new suit," with as much sarcasm as he could manage.
Hannibal chuckled and thought, 'we get out of this, and I'll buy you a whole new wardrobe', but instead said, "Hang tough, kid."
Face smiled weakly and gave a thumbs-up sign; he was too tired to do much else. That would be his last communication with the team for days.
The sun had risen and set three times since they set foot in the jungle, yet little had changed. Hannibal felt helpless as he watched Face thrash around in his fevered sleep and heard the tortured screams resulting from his nightmares. Face was always prone to nightmares, but usually the team was there to bring him out of it. Now, however, all they could do was listen as he relived his childhood and the horrors of Vietnam and pray that he would wake up.
Making matters worse, B.A. had also developed a slight fever. None of them had been able to finish their malaria prevention tablets, and B.A.'s exposed arms and Face's bare torso made them the most susceptible to insect bites. The days were hot and humid, and the nights were damp and cold. If they didn't get out of there soon, it wouldn't be long until they were all too sick to even try.
But, so far no chance for a break out had presented itself. The cages hadn't been opened once since the team took up residence inside; any food and water they were given was simply pushed through the bars.
"Come on, big guy, you need to eat more than that," Murdock encouraged after noticing B.A. only ate a few bites of their latest feast.
"I ain't hungry, fool."
"You need to keep your strength up," Murdock said offering him another piece of stale bread through the bars of their adjoining cells. B.A. swatted his hand away and shot him a nasty look. "You're so cute when you're sick and grumpy."
"I ain't sick," B.A. refuted, to which Murdock rolled his eyes. "And even if I am, I still got enough strength left to pound your skinny butt into the ground."
They sat quietly until B.A. noticed Murdock starring across the clearing at Face who hadn't touched any of his food and had barely moved all day. "You worried about the Faceman?"
Murdock nodded, then kept his gaze directed at the ground.
"Me too," B.A. admitted, to which Murdock looked up in surprise. It was rare for him to admit such things. "But Face is tough. 'Sides, Hannibal's got a plan to get us out of here. Dont'cha, Hannibal?"
Hannibal looked up and tried to look confident. "Sure do.," he said with a smile. There was no real plan; they all knew it. But the colonel's words always seemed to bring them comfort in times like these. He was their leader and if he appeared calm and controlled they would follow suit. "I'm just waiting for the right moment to execute it."
Trouble was, until Cortez returned, he doubted that moment to execute anything would come. He needed to use the head honcho as a distraction. The guards were bound to focus more on the man paying their bills than on their prisoners and they would have to take advantage of that temporary lapse of focus. But, as the days passed by, he was doubtful if Cortez would return at all...or in enough time. But he didn't want to let his mind go there.
The sound of a rifle backfiring woke Face up with a start. He bolted upright and instinctively reached for the spot where his gun would be. It was pitch black except for the spots dancing in front of his eyes. The remnants of his clothes were soaked through with sweat; he felt hot yet shivered as a chill ran through his body.
Once Face realized that he wasn't under attack, he slowly lowered himself back onto the ground. He tried to remember where he was but he had a kicking headache that was beating up on his brain at the moment...and winning the battle.
He struggled to clear his head, but he was too tired. 'Hannibal could help me…wonder why he isn't here?' Face thought, disoriented. 'And where exactly is here?'
'Cortez,' he suddenly remembered in the midst of his delirium and flung himself up again. This time, however, the quick movement proved too much and he collapsed into oblivion.
The next time Face woke up it was the streaming sunlight that brought him around. "Ugh," he grunted. He squinted his bleary eyes to see the same guard that took his jacket looming over him.
"So you are still alive, señor!"
Face just moaned and shut his eyes; he needed to make it look like he was worse off than he really was so they would no longer see him as a risk.
"Ah...still alive, but for how much longer we not know."
Face was rewarded by the guard not even bothering to lock the cage as he left. He heard him yell out to one of the others, "Solo es cuestión de tiempo," and with his limited Spanish recognized it as "it's only a matter of time."
'It's only a matter of time until I make my move,' Face thought. 'That is if I can move at all.'
Face's opportunity came later that day. As night approached the increasingly restless guards decided to throw themselves a party outside the hut. After a few hours of nonstop drinking they were all intoxicated enough not to notice him push open the still unlocked cage and crawl out on his hands and knees. He stayed low until he was out of their eyesight and them mustering all of his strength he got on his feet and took off running into the jungle.
TBC…
