**Chapter 12: Terrors of the Amazon II (Part 5)**
January 2000
Joseph's POV
The moment Penny shouted, "To the ravine… Quickly… Move!" something snapped inside me.
For a second, hope flared.
The jaguars had just been thinned. The last one injured, the others dead. And though the puma still circled like a phantom in the shadows, Penny's voice carried authority in chaos.
We had a chance.
But that chance came with decisions. And decisions came with consequences.
As the herd surged toward the ravine, Lola clung to my side. Her breathing was heavy, uneven—not just from the run, but from the pressure on her womb. I could feel her weight leaning on me more than usual. She was pushing herself past the limit.
I scanned the terrain. The ravine was rough, too narrow for safety, and with her condition, it would tear her apart.
The other way—the bush path—wasn't any better. Twisting roots, uneven ground, no clear direction. But… it wasn't steep.
"Come on," I said under my breath, tugging Lola's hand. "We take the bush."
We veered off from the group.
I knew we were alone.
And that terrified me.
I could feel the jungle's silence press in around us. Every step I took felt like an invitation to something unseen. Branches slapped my arms. Lola winced behind me, holding her belly, whispering under her breath. Her skin was pale, and sweat dripped off her forehead in beads.
"I'm sorry," I muttered.
"For what?" she asked, voice low.
"For everything."
We pushed on. I tried to keep my movements quiet, scanning for any sign of danger. We had made it a few hundred meters when she suddenly clutched my arm.
"Joseph… wait…"
I stopped. She doubled over, hands gripping her stomach.
I crouched beside her. "What's wrong?"
"The baby… it kicked. Hard."
She tried to smile, but her voice cracked with pain.
Twice more, she gasped and wrapped her arms around her waist.
No—this wasn't normal.
She was in real pain.
"You need to rest," I said. "Ten minutes. Just sit. Please."
She didn't argue.
We found a flat patch beneath a wide-leafed tree. I helped her lower herself to the ground, then pulled the pack off my shoulder, searching for anything—water, anything that could help.
"We'll catch up," I said, trying to believe it.
But I knew the group had moved too far ahead.
I glanced around—thick trees, vines, and shrubs. No movement. Just shadows.
Then it changed.
A sound.
A hiss.
At first, I thought it was wind brushing leaves. Then I turned.
Movement.
A shape—massive and slow—sliding through the underbrush like liquid muscle.
My breath caught.
An anaconda.
A massive, coiled, green-scaled nightmare. At least eight feet long, thicker than my thigh, with a triangular head the size of a shovel.
It moved around Lola with slow calculation—not striking, just positioning.
A hunter.
"No…"
I dropped the water bottle. My feet stumbled over a root. My pulse thundered in my ears.
"LOLA—"
She turned just in time to see the serpent shift, rising slightly, its body preparing to squeeze.
And I screamed—
"HELP! HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME!"
"LOLA'S IN TROUBLE!"
"PLEASE—HELP!"
My voice tore out of me raw and panicked. I ran toward her, but I had nothing—no knife, no gun, not even a damn stick. I'd left it all behind to carry her lighter.
I reached for her. She screamed, just once.
The snake coiled.
It wrapped around her legs, then her hips, slowly but powerfully, rising toward her chest.
"No, no, no—PLEASE—!"
I grabbed at the coils, pulling, but the thing was solid as stone, its muscle pushing outward with every breath. Lola's breath wheezed. Her eyes wide, lips trembling.
"JOSEPH!" she gasped.
And then—
CRACK—CRASH!
Branches split apart behind me. A machete swung. Leaves flew.
"MOVE!"
A voice.
Caleb.
He lunged from the trees like a soldier out of a nightmare. His rifle slung behind his shoulder, his cutlass gripped in both hands.
He didn't hesitate.
He charged the anaconda.
"Watch out!" I yelled.
But Caleb didn't stop.
He sliced once—deep. The blade met muscle. The snake reeled, uncoiling slightly. Caleb pressed in again, shouting with effort, carving at the thick body of the serpent.
Then, it turned on him.
With a lightning-fast twist, the anaconda unwound from Lola—and took Caleb.
It wrapped around him like rope, pinning his arms, driving him to the ground.
His scream was choked, trapped under the pressure.
"No—no—no!" I shouted, pulling Lola toward me, away from the melee.
Caleb met my eyes.
"GO!" he choked.
I hesitated. My legs wouldn't move.
"GO—NOW!"
Tears burned behind my eyes. I lifted Lola into my arms, every muscle shaking.
"Thank you," I whispered.
And I ran.
Behind me, the jungle was no longer silent.
It was filled with the sound of sacrifice.
—
---
I stood there for a second longer, frozen—not out of fear, but out of awe. What Caleb had done wasn't just brave… it was selfless. In the face of death, he didn't hesitate. He stepped in without flinching, knowing full well what it might cost.
I will never forget that.
Not the look in his eyes.
Not the sound of his breath fading beneath the crushing coils.
Not the final push he gave to save us.
I gathered Lola into my arms, holding her tight against my chest. Her body trembled. Mine did too. But I had no time to mourn, no time to look back.
Because after Caleb…
we were next.
The jungle doesn't wait for grief.
So I ran—carrying her with everything I had left.
---
Kwame's POV
I was one of the last men stationed at the rear when Captain Penny assigned the night watch. She led with the kind of authority you didn't question—not in a place like this. Alongside me were a few others she trusted: Gibs, Kofi, Caleb, Michael… and Penny herself.
Michael and I were tasked with covering the rear. At first, it felt uneventful—just trees, darkness, and the distant crackle of the fire. We got comfortable. Too comfortable. Talking about what we'd do if we made it out of the Amazon alive—celebrations, family, cold drinks, cities where shadows didn't breathe down your neck.
We didn't notice we were being watched.
Lurking in the shadows, just beyond our field of vision, something massive lay hidden—eyes like yellow fire, locked on us. Stealthy. Calculating. Waiting.
I felt it first. That chill. That itch in the back of your mind when something unnatural enters the air.
Then it came.
A scream.
Not from the jungle—but from one of us.
It ripped through the night like a blade.
Michael and I froze.
We didn't know what to do. So like fools, we voted—with a damn game of rock, paper, scissors. I won.
Michael moved toward the sound, but not too far—just enough to check. I stayed, a voice in my head whispering, "You'll regret this."
Then—
Bang!
A gunshot.
Sharp and sudden. A warning. An alarm. The opening bell to something we were never prepared for.
Something shifted behind me. A twig snapped.
My head turned fast—rifle raised—but I saw nothing. Still, I waited. I watched. But the jungle remained quiet… too quiet.
I turned and headed toward the camp.
And chaos welcomed me.
People were everywhere—screaming, tripping, running in every direction. Their faces were raw with terror, painted with blood and confusion.
Then I saw it.
A jaguar.
It was stalking a couple, creeping low and silent.
One of them was pregnant.
Lola.
I didn't even think.
Urgency took over.
I lifted the rifle, steadied my hand through the chaos, and fired.
Bang!
The shot rang out.
The jaguar reeled back with an agonized growl and stumbled off, wounded.
One down.
Three to go.
I looked again—and there she was.
Captain Penny.
Cornered. Vulnerable. Another jaguar closing in fast.
And beside her—someone else. A man. Arms spread wide. He had placed himself between her and the beast.
A fool or a hero?
Maybe both.
Bang!
Another shot left my rifle.
The jaguar twisted, fell, its life bleeding into the dirt.
Two down.
Two to go.
As I moved closer, I saw the face of the man who bought Penny her moment to live.
It was Michael.
He had saved her… and died for it.
I clenched my jaw, rage and sorrow twisting in my chest.
Penny stood, blood on her clothes, eyes locked with mine. She nodded, unspoken orders passing between us.
"Take a group. Head toward the bush. Regroup. Protect whoever's left," she said.
I obeyed.
I gathered what few I could—ten, maybe twelve people—and led them into the darkness.
The jungle wanted blood.
But survival… survival was now.