Chapter 2 (Adam Novus Chronicles - Book 1)

Colonel Bill Becker was my unit commander, but in truth, more of a handler. He gave assignments and took care of necessary intelligence. Although, there is something to be said about the maxim which states that military intelligence is a contradiction in terms, he never seemed that bright to me. A career officer and a full bird colonel, but I never truly took a shine to him, and I had a good reason. The SOB was the very one who sold me on this new and exciting life. He was adequate at doing his job, except, his deference and blind obedience to those above him was a thing I particularly disliked.

“Adam, I know you want to get out, but I need you to go on this mission. You are the best we have at hand, and it is time-critical. And you only need to act as a guide to a group of mercs for a few weeks on a recon mission; it’s a walk in a park. After that, you can join the teeming masses of civilians.”

That was the moment I could have changed my fate. It would have been so easy to say no. At the time, I even believed that there would be no serious repercussions if I did. We were not regular soldiers and had a fair amount of say on the missions we took. I planned to go to college on the military dime, and see if that sort of life would suit me. In the back of my mind was an idea to buy back my Gramps farm, just to have something to call home, somewhere familiar. Things didn't work out that way.

“Bill, I’m done. I already packed my bags. Get someone else to be a babysitter to a bunch of wannabes,” I replied, not wanting to spend a week in a freaking Amazon Jungle. I’ve been there before, and I was not a fan.

He actually sighed, like a teenage girl.

“The General would consider it a personal favor if you do this, he told me so himself. As soon as you return all your paperwork will be expedited, and we will throw in a nice bonus as a parting gift. Besides, it will take time to set up a new civilian identity for you.”

The mention of the paperwork was his way of reminding me that the General could make my discharge as hard as could be. He could order a few months of security debriefings and report writing, I had seen it happen before. A thing I wanted to avoid at all costs.

Furthermore, they needed to create a bogus identity for me, a cover story. Most of what we did was in no way official, and would never be released under the Freedom of Information Act, not in a million years. So one of the perks we received after finishing our service was an option of a completely new identity or a fake, but meticulous work history, so that the things we did would not come back to haunt us in the future.

I assume it is inconvenient to put ‘TOP SECRET CLEARANCE NEEDED’ in your civilian CV. And I sure didn’t want to work anymore in any field that involved war and organized murder. I wanted a normal, boring, and untroubled life… man, what a delusional sucker I was.

That is why I decided to say yes; I mean, he said it would be a walk in the park… right?

“Damn it… fine Bill, but you better make that bonus substantial, since I don’t like the Amazon and I have a feeling this is going to be the most boring mission of my career.”

The bonuses were Special Pay for hazardous duty, the General’s way of saying attaboy, a reward for a job well done. The amounts were higher than usual, but we were far from a normal outfit. And I didn't spend much of that money over the years, that frugality ensured me a nice nest egg to cushion my transition into civilian life.

The General was in charge of this entire circus. He was always referred to as The General; we knew that surname Smith he used was as fake as a three-dollar bill. A shadowy figure that I met only a few times for all the years I was part of the unit. To Bill, he was something of a god. The running joke was that Bill was the General's mouthpiece or a string puppet, and that he always carried a roll of TP with him, in case General’s ass ever needed to be wiped.

So that’s how I was shanghaied to go into that godforsaken jungle, a place where I would spend a hell of a long time in.

***

Colombia, Leticia Airport

The Amazon Rainforest

I arrived at the small city of Leticia in southern Colombia a day early. It was a smart thing to do, so I could be rested before going deeper into the Green Hell, or the Amazon Jungle for those that had never visited such a charming locale. I just had time for a few beers at the local taberna before hitting the sack in a small run-down hotel. FYI, the most important words in the entire Spanish language are: "Una cerveza, por favor." Trust me, they carry magic in them, and can save your life from dehydration. What passed for potable water in these parts was a sure recipe for an unpleasant bout of dysentery.

I limited myself to just two beers; more than that and I would have to deal with a hangover in the morning. These were locally brewed beers with alcohol content much higher than what I was used to back home, or in most places around the globe.

I woke up feeling fresh, early in the morning, and soon was waiting at a small, out-of-the-way airport, for the mercs to arrive.

From the start, I could smell something fishy; nothing was following the established forms. I was supposed to accompany them into the Amazon, allegedly because of my knowledge of surviving in such a terrain. Which was true, some extensive missions in my past took me to similar places.

Now, I was always a loner, making friends never was easy for me. Nonetheless, this group of mercenaries was downright hostile from the start; the looks they gave to me were condescending and cold. I understand that I was an outsider to them, the third wheel in their cohesive team, but still… it feels shitty to be treated that way. Not that I would ever admit that, hell, it was only for a few weeks and then I was out for good, free to live a normal, pedestrian life.

There were twenty of them, and they did not look anything like intelligence specialists, I was getting more of that death squad kind of vibe. The fact we were using outside contractors was not even that unusual. Especially if the bean counters decided that it would be more cost-effective; besides, there is that thing about plausible deniability, if things go pear-shaped.

“Are you Adam?”

The one who carried the veil of authority asked me, as I approached his merry troop, as soon as they disembarked from the army plane.

“Yep, that's me—”

“I’m in charge of this mission; you may refer to me as Captain Jenkins. We lift off in ten.”

That is all he said, no “Hi, nice to meet you,” or even a handshake. His brisk manner was not that unusual for these kinds of outfits, but some basic human courtesy would have been appreciated.

At least they did look the part of a mercenary outfit, in their green camo BDUs, and loaded for bear. To me, it looked as if they were overcompensating for something, and if they were a little nicer, I would have told them to ditch at least half of their equipment.

I was carrying only the basic necessities, things I couldn't do without. Trying to go through all that foliage while carrying half of your weight gets old in no time. As Gramps said, “You make the bed you lie in.”

We were carried by choppers, some two hundred fifty miles away from the airport, right on the edge of their operational distance. Then the pilot, who was nervously looking at the fuel gauge, unloaded us on a rare clearing in the dense green canopy. By my calculation, it would take us two weeks to reach the destination, which was some forty miles away. The fairytale Bill sold me on that I would be done in a few weeks was so much bull. I would be happy if we were back in a month.

Crossing that distance in fourteen days seems rather slow, but the terrain was not for those faint of heart. The jungle has a lot to offer in a way of obstacles: dense trees, predators, frequent rains, tangling vines, watercourses, and it’s often necessary to hike long distances around obstacles to regain the original path and direction. Under that tree canopy is a dark and gloomy atmosphere, damp and hot. LifeStraws and salt tablets are a must, and the equipment needs to be properly preserved, dampness gets into everything. If you ever get invited to a place where aloe vera and anti-fungal creams are necessary, or a mosquito net, machete, and rain poncho—just say no.

At night, one has the pleasure to get up close and personal with a variety of creepy-crawlies that personally wanted to show you the entire biodiversity nature is capable of.

We started our trip through the jungle, with the help of GPS and accurate maps; there was a marked path we needed to take. However, these maps did not include those obstacles only visible from the ground. I was on point, while the entire group behind me bitched and moaned at what seemed to me as a good rate of progress.

We traveled almost five miles the first day and were all dead tired by the time the Captain decided to set up a camp.

“You OK there Cap'n?” I asked our esteemed leader, who was sweating like an unchaste woman in a church. “We pushed hard today, but tomorrow we should slow down our pace, or soon the exhaustion will start affecting the efficiency of your men.”

He gave me one of those looks you usually reserve for something that needs to be scraped from one’s boot.

“I am not Cap'n, you will use Captain Jenkins when you speak to me. There is only one job you were hired to do, and that is to lead us to our destination as soon as possible. If I need any advice from you, I will ask for it.”

Then he turned his back to me, clearly dismissing me as a nuisance.

OK… he certainly put me in my place, and there was no more doubt where I belonged in the hierarchy of this expedition. Maybe he was a firm believer in the saying that “Familiarity brings contempt,” although he had nothing to worry about, my contempt towards him was growing by the hour. The quote from one of my favorite movies says that ‘If you can't spot the sucker in your first half-hour at the table, then you are the sucker.’ I didn't need to be a clairvoyant or even particularly perceptive to realize he truly didn't want me here, for some reason.

The following days of the same slow picturesque walk didn't improve our relations one little bit. I still felt as an uninvited guest, and it did not make any sense. For God’s sake, I was all but blackmailed to go on this mission, so why all the negativity towards me? Well, I wasn't about to ask them, but I did find out soon enough.

We started following the river and using game trails greatly increased our speed, but that was relatively speaking. Did I mention that I don't particularly like the jungle? It leaves much to be desired, especially if you prefer to be somewhat clean and doing number two on a porcelain throne. There are about a few thousand mosquitoes per square foot (at least that is my take on their numbers) and each one of them wants few drops of your blood. It adds up over time. The only respite you get is at night under the mosquito net, but there are other bloodsuckers that take their place, and they always find a way in.

On the evening of the thirteenth day, we made camp in a small clearing that allowed us to see a patch of the sky. Tomorrow we should be close to the destination, so Jenkins can do what he came for, and we can be on the way back. I was still held in the dark about the real reason for this mission. The reconnaissance story simply didn't fit.

That night was one of the great revelations to me, and until then, one of the most disturbing in my life.

***

For some reason, I couldn't go to sleep, which was unusual for me. Every hour of rest is precious in my line of work. Still, something was bothering me, a vague feeling that things were not right. Or maybe I was getting to my limit of being treated like a piece of dirt by my companions. So I sneaked out of my tent and went for a walk in the woods. Not far, just around the perimeter from the camp and a small campfire that a few guards kept going.

Even with all its biota difficulties one needs to overcome, there is something beautiful and invigorating about the jungle at night. Maybe it is a possibility that some predator is watching you and is waiting to pounce. It sure keeps your heart beating faster. As a bonus, I could refresh some skills of moving quietly in difficult terrain. My Navajo instructor would be proud of me. I hated that guy with a passion, he used to punish our mistakes with a willow switch that he liberally used on our poor feet whenever we made a sound.

I was returning to my tent when I heard two guards quietly talking, and decided to eavesdrop on them. Not expecting to discover something new, but just for the hell of it. Coming close to them was all too easy, not that they were paying any attention to their surroundings.

“Man, I can't wait to get paid for this job. You got to admit that twenty large ones for a simple retrieval mission is a sweet deal.”

“Don't forget about the G.I. Joe there,” the other guard said and pointed in the direction of my tent; it was set a bit away from the others.

“Yeah… well, it still is a sweet job. When do we part with him?” The first one asked.

“First, we need to retrieve the artifact, and then let him get us out of this hell. When we can see the extraction point, he gets his reward—a piece of lead in the back of his head, the poor sucker. But the General gave explicit orders that he was not to leave this jungle alive.” The second guard quietly answered, shaking his head.

I froze, not moving a single muscle. So this is how being stabbed in the back feels like. One of those things that make you stop breathing for a few seconds.

Don't get me wrong, I was not that idealistic boy that joined up, not anymore. I have done many things to strip any veneer of what we were doing from my eyes. Nevertheless, I still believed that ultimately we were the good guys, the one that makes overall peace possible. I guess the bonus Bill talked about was that bullet meant to silence me forever… son of a bitch. I’ll bet everything I own that he knew exactly what the General’s orders were before he convinced me to go on this mission.

At least that explained the negative attitude towards me. You don't want to get too close to your mark; treating them as something less than human helps a lot when the decisive moment comes. It was easier to keep their distance, to create an emotional barrier. For crying out loud, they saw me as a dead man walking, that is exactly why I was getting the cold shoulder treatment.

The guards continued talking about unimportant things after that, and I slowly retraced my steps and sneaked into my tent.

So… what to do now? The most logical option was to slip into the Jungle and find my way back to civilization. It would not be easy without the helicopter to shorten the trip, but considering all the skills I acquired during my career—doable. On the other hand, every tie with my previous life needed to be severed—completely. If I left any trace, they would have chased me down, like a dog. I wouldn’t dare to touch my bank accounts, and that sucked big time.

The General knew how to play the game, and he decided that I needed to be dealt with. The only reason I could think of was the knowledge of some questionable missions that he sent us on. I guess it is true what they say, dead men tell no tales. No wonder I could never get in touch with the few members of our unit that retired. The story about getting new identities was probably bogus; they were retired all right—permanently.

Hell, he could send one of my teammates to take me out. All he needed was to fabricate some cockamamie story about how I had gone rogue and killed a bunch of innocents.

Despite all the disadvantages, I should have done that, cut my losses and disappeared… but I didn't.

I felt betrayed, wronged on a deep level. After everything I’ve done, everything I suffered… to be discarded like this, to be made into a mark as the ones we went after.

That would just not do.

They said something about an artifact, so there was a legitimate reason for this mysterious mission. If they were getting twenty thousand dollars per person, it must be worth some serious money, and I will need a lot to disappear from the radar. My plan was to play along until I took it out of their (and General’s) hands.

Admittedly, there was a considerable amount of satisfaction I would get for sticking it to the man. It's not as if they planned to kill me immediately, there was a window of opportunity here. After that, I will sneak out in the middle of the night and proceed on my own.

With that thought and the plan firmly set, I fell into the sleep of the righteous. The last time in my life I would be able to do that as a normal human being.