The limo makes a stop in an unfamiliar jungle, and I am hauled out of the car with Angel buckled between my hand and my chest. The kid is terrified to death, and I am a nervous wreck too. I howled in the limo until I gave up, because all these two monsters did was laugh and mock at my panic and despondency. They said it was my end, that I wouldn't even see the setting of the sun, but I am hanging on the tiny thread of hope that Andy heard our conversation. If he did, he is almost nearby. He is going to save us. If he didn't, then I don't know if I can fight these two armed murderers, but I am surely not dying without a fight. In this desolate, arid jungle where not even flies can be spotted, the two murderers stand before me, guns in their hands. I put my daughter to the ground and pushed her to my back, fretting about the trauma she is going through right now and the more to come. I watch as Maria heaves her hand and points her gun to my head, but I stay put, the oscillation ceasing
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