Chapter 12: Terrors of the Amazon II (Part 4)
January 2000
Joseph's POV
The moment my eyes locked with the jaguar's, something inside me cracked.
All hope was lost.
This was it.
We were no longer fighting for survival. We were just a footnote—another tragic story swallowed by the Amazon's endless hunger.
The thought echoed like a bell in my mind. With each slow, calculated step the jaguar took, I instinctively stepped backward, pulling Lola with me. Our backs pressed against the tent wall—cornered. Trapped.
There was no more ground to give. No plan left. Only fear.
I had lost the resolve to fight.
I am a coward.
I've failed Lola… and our unborn child.
I am the worst father… ever.
The words swam in my head, heavy and suffocating.
I stopped thinking. I gave up. I simply waited, frozen, for the jaguar to strike—its final leap to tear the breath from our bodies.
And then—
Bang!
A shot rang out.
The jaguar let out a guttural growl, low and deep—
"Graaah!"—
followed by a piercing, agonized roar.
Its massive body twisted in mid-air before it crumpled to the ground with a choked, rasping moan, fading into a trembling whimper.
Dead.
Right in front of us.
Kwame stood nearby, rifle raised, smoke curling from the barrel. One of Captain Penny's most trusted strongmen. His aim had saved our lives.
"Run! Run!" he shouted, swinging his gun toward another jaguar closing in.
Bang!
Another body hit the dirt.
Two down. Two remained.
Without hesitation, I grabbed Lola's hand and we moved fast, following the group that was heading toward the rear of the camp— "towards Caleb", who was standing guard. The chaos still raged around us, but I kept behind the crowd, steering us close, scanning constantly.
Up ahead, I spotted someone holding a rifle, facing the confusion—stiff, stunned.
It was Caleb.
His face was etched in disbelief as he watched dozens of us charge toward him like a stampede.
But then something shifted.
My eyes caught another shape behind him—bushes trembling unnaturally.
Then—
A scream.
"Haaa—aaa!"
From the underbrush, a beast exploded.
A puma. A large one.
"Shit!" I gasped, heart pounding.
The crowd heading for Caleb halted, then reversed, running back into the trap we were trying to escape.
We hadn't known. The jungle never told us its rules.
But now we understood—the edge of the rear was the border between jaguar and puma territory.
We had trespassed.
Ama's scream…
Kofi's warning shot…
That last scream—
It was enough to awaken and enrage another predator.
The puma saw our presence as a challenge. And it responded.
We were surrounded.
Attacked from within by jaguars. Blocked at the boundary by a furious puma. There was no clean escape.
This wasn't just fear anymore.
This was a test.
Survival of the fittest.
No time to think. No time to cry. Only instinct and movement.
I turned to Lola, tightening my grip on her hand. She didn't have to say anything—her eyes told me everything. She was scared, yes. But she trusted me.
I scanned the treeline desperately.
There had to be a way out. A break in the encirclement. A gap—anything.
Because if we stayed still, we'd die.
And I refused to let that happen.
Not to her.
Not to our child.
Not tonight.
Chapter 12: Terrors of the Amazon II (Part 4 "ii")
January 2000
Captain Penny's POV
When I told Joseph to get Lola, it wasn't a suggestion—it was an order. But it was also a plea. Somewhere deep down, I was hoping one of us could still protect something. Anything.
I turned and sprinted toward my tent. I needed a rifle—my sidearm wasn't going to cut it. The jaguars weren't frightened by small weapons. They weren't frightened at all. They were the jungle incarnate—bold, brutal, unrelenting. And they weren't just hunting… they were executing.
As I neared my tent, my breath heavy in my chest, something blocked my path.
A jaguar.
It stood there, low and ready. Its muscles rippled beneath its sleek fur, its yellow eyes burning like embers in the dark.
I froze.
Facing it head-on is suicide, my instincts screamed.
"Flee… flee!"
Without hesitation, I turned and ran. The jungle swallowed the air behind me in silence, save for the pounding of my own boots and the building sound of chaos.
Everywhere I looked—panic.
Screams. Running bodies. Flashlights spinning through the dark like weak stars. The world was unraveling, one heartbeat at a time.
I glanced over my shoulder—and that's when I saw it.
A rifle. Lying in the dirt.
Not mine. Probably dropped by one of the guards in the madness.
I pivoted toward it, racing full speed. Hope surged through me—then died just as fast.
CRACK!
My foot struck a buried log.
I crashed to the ground, hard.
Pain shot through my arm as I hit, my palm grinding into dirt and gravel.
"Shit!" I hissed, teeth clenched.
I scrambled to push myself up, forcing my aching body to obey. My eyes snapped toward the jaguar—it was coming. Fast. Its stride was wide, aggressive, closing the distance like death on four legs.
My heartbeat thundered in my ears.
This is it.
That's when he appeared.
A man. One of ours—I never saw his face. He stepped between me and the jaguar without a word.
He knew.
He wasn't trying to be a hero. He was just doing what no one else could in that second—buy time.
The jaguar slammed into him.
He didn't scream. Not loudly. Just a grunt. A soft sound before his body hit the ground beneath the weight of the beast.
He was gone.
Gone, so I could live.
With trembling hands, I snatched the rifle from the dirt, pivoted, and fired.
BANG!
The shot hit.
The jaguar let out a deep, wounded growl as the bullet tore into its shoulder. It stumbled—but not enough.
It turned back to me with a snarl of pure rage.
It came again—faster, angrier, its eyes burning now with hate.
I couldn't reload fast enough.
I took a step back. Another. The rifle felt useless in my hands now.
I closed my eyes.
So this is how it ends.
Then—
BANG!
A second shot.
This one not mine.
A growl—low, twisted, dying.
I opened my eyes.
The jaguar was on the ground. Its chest rising and falling erratically. A final gasp. Then stillness.
My eyes searched the smoke and torchlight—
Kwame.
He stood just meters away, rifle raised, calm as stone.
He nodded once, like it was nothing. Like it wasn't the second time he'd saved my life in a matter of hours.
I exhaled. My limbs were trembling.
Two jaguars lay dead now.
Two more remained.
---
Kwame lowered his rifle slightly, eyes scanning the treeline. He didn't speak. He didn't have to. I nodded once, silently thanking him for the second breath he'd given me. We didn't share many words, Kwame and I—but we understood each other. War and wilderness forge their own language.
I quickly regained composure and barked at him, "Get these people to safety. Regroup the perimeter. Push toward the stream if you can. Don't scatter."
He nodded and moved.
Then I heard it—footsteps.
A surge of them. Coming fast.
People. Running toward us.
From the center of the camp, dozens of them came charging like a frightened herd. Their faces were pale, wide-eyed, desperate. They weren't just running for safety—they were running from something worse.
I turned toward the noise.
My breath caught in my throat.
Behind them—emerging like a nightmare from the jungle brush—was a beast I had never seen before.
A puma.
Not just any puma. It was huge. Easily four feet at the shoulder. Its muscles rippled like coiled steel. Its eyes weren't like the jaguars'. They didn't burn with rage or hunger.
They calculated.
It moved with the kind of certainty that told me we had just walked into its domain.
This wasn't random. This was territorial.
We were in its territory.
The scream I'd heard earlier…
Kofi's gunshot…
And now this mass stampede—
It had brought the beast out.
The jaguars were one thing—this was something else entirely.
"Hold position!" I shouted.
No one listened.
The crowd surged. They moved toward me and Kwame, unaware they were heading right toward the back edge of the camp—the puma's zone.
Then it happened.
The puma moved.
Fast. Terrifyingly fast.
It cut through the brush like a bullet, low to the ground, silent, surgical.
One of the men closest to the edge didn't even see it coming. The puma lunged, jaws wide. The man dropped mid-run, legs folding underneath him as the beast dragged him down.
Screams tore through the air.
Panic turned into pure chaos.
People began reversing, running away from the puma—back into the camp, right into the scattered chaos of the jaguars.
We were surrounded.
Attacked inside by jaguars.
Blocked on the edge by the puma.
I stood rooted, caught between giving orders and simply surviving the next minute. My rifle felt heavier than it should have, my chest tight from adrenaline.
Then Joseph appeared through the chaos, dragging Lola with him. I saw them at a glance—his hand on her wrist, pulling her toward safety.
They were heading the same direction the crowd had taken—toward Kwame and me—before realizing what waited at the edge.
Joseph froze when he saw the puma.
I could read his face like a map. The horror. The helplessness. The calculation.
Behind them, another jaguar stalked low, tracking the reversing crowd.
They were boxed in.
Kwame raised his rifle again.
"Kwame, WAIT!" I called out.
But the words came too late.
Bang!
He fired toward the jaguar, trying to thin the threat before it could strike again. The shot hit. The jaguar spun, injured but not dead. It hissed and retreated into the trees.
Three down.
One left.
And the puma still circling.
The others behind Joseph were scrambling now, trying to pivot, to find new paths. But there weren't any. Every direction had death waiting.
I looked around and realized—we'd underestimated the jungle.
We'd brought weapons, numbers, even experience.
But it had home advantage.
It knew how to wait.
It knew how to hunt.
And we were the fools who walked into its teeth.
—
---
I backed up slowly, turning my eyes away from the puma just long enough to assess the chaos behind me. The ground was littered with gear, abandoned supplies, and the bodies of the unlucky. Blood darkened the soil in patches. Flashlights flickered, lost or broken. People were huddled near trees, some crying, some frozen.
Kwame was shouting orders somewhere behind me. His voice tried to cut through the panic—but no one was listening.
And then I realized something.
If we didn't act now, decisively—we would all die.
The camp had dissolved into an open battlefield, and none of us had the high ground. The jungle did. It had separated us. Confused us. Stalked us until it found our cracks—and it was widening them.
I pushed through the crowd, barking commands.
"TO THE RAVINE! MOVE TOWARD THE RAVINE!"
Only a few heard me.
Others were still running, aimless, screaming.
Then I saw Ama—curled against a tree, too terrified to move.
I rushed toward her, knelt down, grabbed her by the shoulders.
"Ama. Ama, look at me."
Her eyes were wild. Full of shock. But they met mine.
"We have to go. Right now. You follow me or you die here. Do you understand?"
She nodded. Barely. But it was enough.
I pulled her up and shoved a small blade into her palm. "If anything grabs you—stab. Don't think."
She didn't respond. Just held the blade like it was life itself.
I turned back toward the crowd. I needed more direction, more control.
"Anyone with a weapon—FALL BACK TO ME. We need a corridor. Clear a path out. Don't waste bullets!"
A few responded. Not many. But enough.
Kwame was already helping—shifting some people eastward, trying to carve a trail away from the puma. He caught my eye.
We had the same thought.
Split the group. Force the predators to split too.
I pointed to the left. "You lead them toward the stream!"
He nodded, waving a handful of people that direction. They began moving—slow, but with purpose.
I took the others and angled toward the ravine trail we'd passed earlier that day. It wasn't wide. It wasn't even safe. But it was cover. And cover was the only advantage we might still have.
The last jaguar reappeared near the firepit, eyes gleaming. I raised my rifle.
Before I could fire—someone else did.
A burst of three quick shots.
The jaguar dropped.
Four down.
But the puma was still out there.
And it had vanished again.
The jungle swallowed it—quiet, smooth.
Like a ghost.
The worst kind of predator wasn't the one you saw.
It was the one you didn't.
I pressed forward, guiding Ama and others toward the trees, away from the center.
My mind kept racing—who was left behind? Who had fallen? Was Joseph still alive? Was Lola?
I didn't know.
And that uncertainty bit harder than fear ever could.
—
---
We moved in fragments. Not a clean escape, not a straight line—but in clusters, huddled tight, shuffling through the narrow ravine trail like prey that knew it was still being watched.
Branches scratched at our arms. The earth beneath our feet was slick with moss and blood. People breathed too loud, stepped too hard. Every sound felt like it echoed.
Behind us, the jungle closed in.
Beside me, Ama stumbled. I caught her arm just in time. Her face was soaked with sweat, streaked with grime. But she was still moving. Still fighting.
That was more than I could say for some.
The ravine narrowed, and we had to squeeze through sections where trees had fallen. I signaled a few with blades to help clear the path. Kwame appeared again—flanking from the opposite side with his group. His face was hard to read, but he gave me a quick nod. He was still with me.
We had maybe twenty-five left in our cluster now. Out of fifty.
And I still didn't know if Joseph or Lola had made it.
We hadn't seen the puma again.
But that made it worse.
It was out there.
Somewhere.
And it had tasted our panic.
We were halfway through the ravine when the sound came.
Not a roar. Not a growl.
But a scream.
Not one of ours.
It was high—animal. Guttural.
Then another.
Then silence.
Kwame and I locked eyes.
It had found someone.
Or something.
We needed to move faster.
We picked up pace, clearing brush and dodging tree roots. The incline steepened, then dipped sharply. A woman behind me slipped and tumbled, hitting the ground hard. Her leg bent at a wrong angle. She screamed.
I turned back, cursing under my breath.
I knelt beside her.
"Dislocated," I muttered. I'd seen it before. "Hold her."
Two others helped brace her as I snapped the joint back into place.
She bit down on her scarf. No scream. Just a muffled cry.
"We'll carry her," said one of the guards.
I nodded. "We don't leave anyone."
The trail opened slightly ahead. Sunlight—what little there was—cut through the dense canopy like weak silver. We were close to breaking out of the ravine.
Then I heard it again.
Not behind us.
Above.
A rumble.
A low growl.
The puma had circled. It was now above the ravine, watching from the ridge.
I raised my rifle and aimed—but I knew I was too far.
It didn't leap.
It just watched.
A reminder: This is my jungle.
And I believed it.
We broke out of the ravine moments later into a clearing. It was wide, ringed with thick trees—but it gave us space. A place to regroup. To catch our breath. Maybe to fight if we had to.
I counted heads.
Twenty-six.
Out of fifty.
We'd lost nearly half.
And I still didn't see Joseph.
Then—his voice.
"Penny!"
He stumbled out from the far side of the trees, Lola at his side, Caleb limping behind them. All alive. Scraped, bruised—but breathing.
I exhaled so hard I felt my knees weaken.
"You made it," I said.
"Barely," Joseph muttered.
Caleb sat down against a tree and muttered, "There are more… about 5…. I don't know where they went."
Penny turned to him. "We'll find them. Or they'll find us."
She didn't believe it. Not really.
But she said it anyway.
Because leadership was a language of hope in hopeless moments.
And tonight, we were fluent in it.
—