Juan counted thirty five of them - a mix of Jaguarete and Coyotals. They made no effort to hide themselves. He took a quick check. He had seven bullets for the old hunting rifle, his machete, and his grandfather's old German hunting knife. He smiled. "Welcome to the jungle, eh!" he whispered to himself
So he jumped out into the clearing and yelled. He lifted up his rifle and shot the first Coyotal. He yelled again and made sure everybody saw him, shot a Jaguarete, then trotted away from them down the large clear dirt road out of the village.
Men were pointing and yelling. All thirty three of them threw their guns over their shoulders and chased after him down the path. Success! The chase was on!
Every time they would stop to turn back towards the village - Indiano would suddenly pop out, yell, and shoot one of them. Soon they would be pointing and yelling and off they would chase again.
Now they were down to twenty eight, but he was out of bullets. He smiled. No matter, they had plenty of guns - he would just get one of theirs. So he jumped out, hacked a Coyotal in the neck with his machete, grabbed the man's gun, shot another Coyotal, yelled, then ran off again down the path.
Farther and farther he drew them. They were arrogant and noisy. Undisciplined. Easy to kill. He kept killing them one by one. Soon, the remaining ten men realized they were lost in the jungle in the dark. They were now the hunted. They refused to follow any further. They were turning around to go back to the village to their trucks, but they were lost and had no idea which way the village was. Indiano saw he was out of bullets again. He smiled. The best time for hunting is in the dark!
Now it was easy. Death was lurking in the shadows. They were running around lost, smashing into thorn bushes and falling into holes trying to escape to the safety of their trucks. Slowly they dwindled. Finally his grandfather's old German hunting knife sliced the last throat and the final Jaguarete was dead at his feet. His wife was safe. He could now go collect her. They would take one of the trucks and circle back to the mission, drop off the doctor, get his army friends, and go recover the nuns.
Suddenly he felt weak. He knew he had been hit several times by stray gun shots. He was being carried by will and adrenaline. Now the danger was over and he had relaxed. His beloved was safe. He felt his shirt and pants - warm and sticky. His foot was squishy in his boot. Blood.
Juan stumbled and he was on his knees. He had to get back to the light of his world - she would fix him. He just felt so incredibly tired. He just needed to stop and catch his breath for a moment.
The dark jungle was spinning and his vision was closing in.