On Vern’s advice, I popped back three plantains, savoring their sweetness, then drank a good twenty ounces of water from one of the gallon jugs we’d refilled in one of the many small streams. Vern said the water was safe to drink, but I added a water purification tablet just in case.

The five of us passed around the gallon jug until it was empty, then Diego handed Camila back to me, and we resumed our trek.

The forest was teeming with activity. In addition to the millions of swarming mosquitoes, flies, and other insects, there were several species of bees; impossibly beautiful butterflies; neon-green dragonflies; enormous moths; black and brown bats hanging upside down and sleeping; a large yellow python resting in the branches of a tree; a furry tarantula scurrying under a rock; tiny white-chested spider monkeys; monkeys with orange fur; birds of every shape, color, and size; a capybara (a giant rodent that can weigh up to a hundred pounds) sunning on the bank of a shallow river; a six-foot caiman with smooth black scales; and even a tapir—an odd-looking animal right out of a Dr. Seuss book—which looks like the offspring of a pig and an anteater.

After another hour, the jungle opened up, which Diego explained was because the canopy was so thick that nothing could grow. It was as dark as a movie theater during previews, and there were channels of soft earth, sometimes as wide as ten feet, between the vegetation. The only greenery on the forest floor was the moss that grew on the veiny network of exposed tree roots. We kept a good pace, probably covering as much ground in that hour as we had in the previous three.

There were a few times when Diego lost the trail—as there were no felled or twisted branches to go by—but without fail, he would always find some trace of the abductors’ passage, at which point he would whistle and say, “Sí, sí. This way.”

After walking nearly unobstructed for several miles, the jungle lightened, and the underbrush came back with a vengeance. Even with Diego and Vern hacking away at the path Gina’s abductors had already hacked, branches and vines whipped and scraped against my flesh. I imagine it was like trying to wiggle your way to the front row of a Beatles concert, only instead of the flailing elbows and piercing screams of crazed coeds, you had to keep your eyes out for snakes, spiders, and, by far the worst, black palm.

The black palm tree looks similar to a regular palm tree, only its trunk is covered in five-inch brittle spikes. The trees were spread throughout the dense vegetation, sometimes in pairs, but mostly as solitary landmines.

“Ah,” I groaned, a five-inch spike digging into my shoulder.