A.N.: I'm not even sure, how to start this. It's been a while. A long while. I've had this chapter for some time as well, but hesitated putting it up before I could be reasonably sure it wouldn't be a very long pause before the next one again. I hope you enjoy the story.

Chile 5– The Rising

They were not going to leave those people here. Dozens of human beings that they had never met before, didn't know, yet felt instinctive, natural kinship with. Quietly Laurel acknowledged to herself that this plan was an insanity. They were hundreds of miles from where there would be anyone that could help them. They were just two women with no more training than a couple of defense classes against unnamed number of experienced human traffickers with guns.

And yet the same way that she knew that Thea wouldn't leave her – Laurel also knew that running for her life and abandoning these people would be something she wouldn't be able to live with. She had seen them – huddled in that shack of a building – and now she was responsible for them. She had enough regrets for one lifetime to add any more to that count.

Yet she was also dragging Thea along with her – did that make her selfish? She needed to do this, but that meant endangering her friend. Her sister, for Thea had been more of a family to her than her own blood. She knew – deep in her bones – that if she left, she could make Thea come with her. She could save Thea. Or they could try to save everyone.

Gentle wind rustled the leaves of the trees above them. The jungle was full of noises behind them, but here, in the small cover of bushes that they were hidden in – it was quiet.

Laurel took a deep breath. Thea had already spoken her part – there was no leaving these people to a horrible fate. Laurel decided that she was not going to presume that she had any right to know Thea's mind better than Thea herself. This was dangerous – yes. She felt responsible for Thea – yes. But she had no right to twist that care into a patronizing order to leave that Thea likely would ignore anyway. Thea deserved better than that from Laurel. Thea had been a much better friend than that. Laurel felt ashamed for having had this internal struggle in the first place. She grasped Thea's hand and squeezed lightly. Let's do this.

"I counted two trucks and a jeep," Thea said, slightly surprised at Laurel's gesture but squeezing her hand back. I'm with you.

"I know I saw at least six of them," Laurel continued. Two trucks – that's four men as a minimum – two in the front, two with the captives; a jeep – another two to four. Perhaps some of them had arrived in a different way, like, rode in with the plane and hadn't showed up yet. Laurel internally debated through scenarios - the maximum number of possible traffickers, the likely amount that could have traveled here given the transportation or could be accommodated here considering the few standing structures – four times two plus four… Simple, terrifying math. She mentally compared that with what she knew of the usual size of such groups and… made an educated guess. "But there shouldn't be more than a dozen."

Thea swallowed. A dozen. Might as well be a million. "We can go for the trucks and sabotage the jeep," that way they could get out with the captives, but not be followed.

"So, each of us takes a truck and we run like hell until we get out of here?" Laurel continued Thea's train of thought. She only hoped that they could load everyone in the two trucks. There was no way they'd be able to do repeat. "First, we will have to outrun them, but…"

"A map would be good, yes," Thea agreed, her eyes scanning the camp. The trucks likely had limited gas and they had to get to a civilized place before it ran out. Being lost in the jungle would hardly be better than this.

"So, first, let's go for the jeep. We have to find something sharp and hard enough to pierce the tires, but…" Laurel's plan was interrupted by the sharp purr of a revving engine. Four men jumped into the jeep and sped away dust followed in their wake. Seconds later two guys on dirt bikes as well.

"Shit, I missed the bikes," Thea cursed under her breath.

"They left," Laurel muttered, her thoughts going in a completely different direction.

Thea shook her head. They have bikes. It changed a lot. It changed everything. Bikes were much easier to navigate on this terrain – they'd catch up to the trucks in no time, because with trucks they'd have to stay on the roads… Shit.

"Thea!" Laurel stressed. "They left," whatever happened later happened, but now? This was a blessing. This was their window of opportunity.

Thea's eyes widened. If there were at most a dozen men, like Laurel had guessed, then about half had left. There would never be a better chance than this one. Thea nodded. "Let's do this."

They rose simultaneously, but not to full height. Crouching they stuck close to the undergrowth of the jungle while they could and then to the side of the building. Laurel picked up a rock, as she moved along the side of the building. Her heart was in her throat. She knew exactly what she intended to do with that piece of stone and that knowledge made her want to break apart. But there was no other choice. No other way. There's blood on my hands either way. She'd rather it be blood that was shed in defense of those that needed it.

Suddenly she stopped and threw her hand back, clutching at Thea, even though Thea had already stopped her forward movement – both heard the voices of men at the same time. Just around the corner of the building. Laurel swallowed a lump in her throat. Her fingers white as she clutched the rock in her hand. She exchanged a wide-eyed look with Thea and sprang up and around the corner.

Now or never.

It was insanity. There was no comparison to be drawn between the cartel members and the two women that would in any way equalize the situation. Laurel couldn't even guarantee that somewhere further, within visible distance there weren't more men. But at the pit of her stomach – where she felt horror bubbling, she also felt that she had to do this. That she had to do this now. That there was no other way out. She couldn't – she couldn't retreat through the jungle and hope not to die from dehydration, something poisonous or plain hunger. She couldn't leave behind the people she had seen chained in the shack.

There were just two of them. Laurel jumped and crashed the rock in her fist against the naked temples of the man in front of her. He never saw her coming.

She was done being the victim of her circumstance.

As his friend was about to pull the trigger on the semi-automatic weapon in his hands, aiming at Laurel – Thea was on him. Her first hit broke his nose. She had a rock in her hand as well.

An elbow in her stomach took Laurel's breath away, but she rolled with it. She went to the ground with the guy she had attacked. The hit shocked her, but it didn't stop her. It didn't even slow her down. She had been attacked many times. Many, many times. And every time she had fought. And every time she had needed rescue. Not this time. This time she was the rescue. The thought lit a fire in her belly. She was the only hope for the people trapped here.

She kicked at her enemy, tried to hit him in the neck – the softest spot, but the butt of his gun slammed in her shoulder and pushed her away. The world was a haze of dirt colors and green. She scrambled back at the guy before he could get his bearings and kicked at him as a wild thing. She saw him try to turn the gun – still in that cross-body sling around his shoulders – toward her and her vision went red. Fear evaporated. She jumped at the guy – her weight on his chest pinned him down for about a second, but a second was all she needed. Her fist slammed into his face. Her fist that still clutched the rock. She had no idea how she hadn't lost the hold of it yet. She raised her hand again, and again, and again.

And when she remembered to breathe the man beneath her had no recognizable face. Her fingers dripped with red. Her stomach roiled with panic. The stone dropped from her bruised palm. For a single second everything was silent. Then the smell of blood made her gag as the haze of fear lifted and she realized what she had done. But more alarming than that realization was the next thought – screaming in her mind and finally tearing from her lips, "Thea?!"

"Here," was Thea's answer.

As Laurel turned, sliding off from the man she had killed, she saw her friend. Thea's face had a splatter of blood. Her left eye looked to be swelling quickly. She was standing. The man at her feet was dead – a knife in his neck. "I have quick hands," Thea said – her voice quiet and shocked. The knife had been at the guy's belt. She had reached for it when he had tackled her to the ground. There hadn't been much of a choice. Her fingers pressed into fists. No, not a choice. Decision. It was a decision.

"We have to go," Laurel spoke quickly, choking off any feeling of remorse or horror. There was to be no moment of quiet – no second to contemplate the murders they had just committed. Their task was nowhere near done.

"I have the keys," Thea replied following the example of her sister – for Laurel was her sister – in spirit and now in blood - for the blood that they had spilt together. She kneeled in the dust and yanked a ring of keys from her victim's belt. "Here," she tossed it to Laurel.

Laurel caught the keys, dropping the rock and ran towards the shed where they had seen the people. In the sudden stillness that seemed to settle over the whole encampment the sound of the lock turning seemed impossibly loud and grating. The chains hissed as they fell from the door and the two women rushed inside.

And it was even worse inside than it had seemed from the outside. There was overpowering smell of human waste and dirt, but above it all the stench of fear was even stronger. Oh, dear God... Laurel hastily put a hand before her mouth to hide the urge to gag.

"We're not going to hurt you!" Thea blurted out in response to the faces that turned towards them. She repeated the same phrase in Spanish and struggled for something similar in Italian. It had been a while since she had put her language skills to use. And they're unlikely to speak Italian, stupid.

Laurel rushed for the people closest to her and tugged at their chains. There were large rings on their shackles and a single chain run through them. "It's disgusting," Laurel muttered as she looked for a way to make the shackles come undone. "Inhuman. Unbearable," unreal, her mind screamed. It shouldn't be real in this day and age. And I shouldn't be a murderer, yet I am now.

"Here, let me help," Thea came up by Laurel. The man and the woman between whom they were tugging the chain seemed to understand the intention – they moved further apart to make it easier to examine the links. A rush of whispers went down among the seated people, a sound of clanging picked up as all started to look for weakness or lock in their bonds. An understanding – a tentative hope had dawned on them all.

And then among the clamor an outraged shout and the shot of a gun.

All eyes turned towards the three men that had rushed into the shed, towards the guns they held.

Of course, of course, the rest of them. They must have been patrolling the perimeter. Laurel's thoughts were calm even as she felt her heart picking up an entirely new adrenalin fueled beat. It didn't even really matter if the guards had heard the fight previously, or if they had seen the bodies of their comrades on the ground while passing, or any other chain of events that had led them here far too soon.

Laurel stood. She was covered in bruises and blood. Her dirty clothes stuck to her frame. She stood straight. Strong. "We are leaving. And we are taking these people with us," she should beg – for her life, for Thea's, for these people – but she did not have it in her to beg anymore. "If you try to stop us..."

"What?" the man in the middle smirked. "What will you do, chica?"

"I will destroy you," she replied softly, with utter confidence and believed every word she had just said – the truth of it burned in her. She was leaving. All of them were leaving. One way or another.

The people behind her clutched at each other. Terrified. Thea stood beside her – resolute, brave even with death staring in her face. The traffickers laughed – they had the guns, they were bigger, stronger, they had always been the ones to make the rules here.

And even Laurel didn't know what made her so confident. There was just something welling up inside her – like the indomitable power of a tsunami before it breaks on the shallow grounds of a shore and swallows the land whole. She had no logical reason to be brave. In fact, logic would dictate that she was being stupid. But there was power roaring inside her. And she wanted them to challenge her.