Gina took two steps forward, pressed both hands to Bill’s chest, and shoved him backward with all her might. He hit the tree trunk with a soft thud, his head knocking back and water splashing all over his face.

Within half a second, Gina had her hand inside Bill’s pack and was rooting around for the gun she had seen Bill wrap in a T-shirt the previous day. She felt the outline of metal, pulled out the shirt, and fumbled it open.

She glanced toward the soldiers. She watched as one of the four spotted Bill moaning next to the tree and alerted the others.

With her right hand, Gina clicked off the safety, while with her left hand she reached down and grabbed Bill by the collar of his shirt.

She glanced toward Patrick. He’d overheard the commotion and was reaching for the pistol tucked in the back of his pants.

Bill was still dazed from smacking his head against the trunk and did little to assist Gina as she yanked him to his feet. In one deft motion, she slid behind him, pushed her back up against the large trunk, then pressed the barrel of the gun against the side of his head.

“Nobody move!” she screamed.

Patrick continued a few feet toward her. Gina sent a bullet whizzing over his head. “I said, nobody fucking move!”

Patrick stopped and raised his hands.

Bill had started to regain his wits. “Don’t kill me,” he mumbled. “Please, don’t kill me.”

Gina ignored him. She turned to Patrick and yelled, “Tell all the soldiers to throw their rifles in the river!”

Patrick glared at her in silence.

Gina sent another shot over Patrick’s head, this one close enough he must have felt the whiz of the bullet.

“Okay, okay,” Patrick said. “Do as she says.”

One by one, the four soldiers pulled their rifle straps over their heads and tossed the guns into the water.

“Now, you!” Gina shouted. “Drop your gun and kick it toward Martin.”

Patrick let out a deep breath.

Gina narrowed her eyes and said, “I won’t ask again.”

There was a loud thunk.

Gina glanced upward.

Less than a foot above her head, sticking out of the trunk of the tree, was a long, yellow spear.

≈

“Nobody move a muscle,” Martin said. “There are probably twenty of them surrounding us.”

Gina gulped audibly.

So close.

She stared at Patrick and watched as he slowly moved his gun back to his waistband.

“Everyone remain very still,” Martin said, “or we’re as good as dead.”

“Well,” Patrick said, “it looks like you were telling the truth after all.”

The tribesmen must have been close by, and Gina’s gunshots had drawn their attention.