Twenty FourThree kilometers southwest of the Yagüani village
Juan grimaced as he plodded through the dense forest hauling Filipe, whom he'd found left for dead in the tall forest undergrowth. “Come on amigo, we're getting close, I know it. Soon, we'll be at the boats and headed out of this s**t hole,” he said, trying to ignore the relentless throbbing ache in his arm.
Filipe groaned. He was getting weaker by the hour. “Okay, we stop for just a minute. Need to check that leg of yours anyway.” He looked around for a place to sit and saw a fallen tree ahead. Another groan. “Yeah, I know, it hurts like a bitch.” He hauled Filipe to the tree. Sitting him down, he peeled back the strip of black Gortex he'd tied around the leg to stem the bleeding. The ugly red-ringed puncture wound was oozing
