Page 33 of Factory Controller

The Wazayzar are the ones responsible for the most recent dam-building efforts in the area grinding to a halt. While it would make sense for them to be here, I don’t believe the men chasing us are part of them. The Wazayzar use whatever equipment they can find, scavenging it from their enemies. They also don’t cover their faces with masks, but wear war paint with pride.

So, if the Wazayzar are out, who else could it be? I suppose it’s possible the men work for the illegal logging operations in the forest. Brazil’s government ostensibly opposes and prosecutes such operations, but there’s little to no enforcement of the law. The truth is, everyone but the natives want to deforest the area to develop it. And the illegal mining companies are not above paying hefty bribes to make sure they’re left alone to thrive.

These companies often have their own private ‘security’ units, thugs armed with military-level weaponry. They kill indiscriminately to protect their operations, so that’s a possibility. The only problem is we’re nowhere near a logging camp. The amount of noise, waste, and odors coming from those camps carry for miles, and it makes no sense that a bunch of logging company enforcers would be out in the middle of the forest.

Not the Wazayzar, and most likely not security crew for an off-the-record logging company. Then who are they?

There’s another group, similar to the Wazayzar but not quite as radical; the Forest Guardians. Unlike the Wazayzar, they don’t take up arms against legitimate authorities or logging companies. They focus squarely on the illegal operations. I can imagine they could kill us if it served their own purposes, but it’s not likely they’d just shoot us for being in the same area of the forest. At least, not without talking to us first to see why we were there.

That leaves me with two remaining possibilities.

This armed group, given its superior training and equipment might be Exercito, the Brazilian Army. But then again, they would be far more likely to take Heather and I into custody than just shooting first, however.

The final possibility is the one I like least. A new faction, one I’ve never encountered before. Those men moved like trained killers, relentless and indefatigable. I don’t know of anyone of that caliber operating in this part of the rainforest.

Does it all have to do with the human trafficking ring? My indigenous friends had expressed concerns for some time. Maybe the operation has grown so profitable they’ve brought in extra muscle to protect it?

If I went full paranoid I could consider it’s a CIA hit squad. One that would believe in the scorched earth policy when necessary, but I’m leaning toward the traffickers being involved.

As if all of this weren’t enough to make my head spin, I have to take into account a wild X-factor I couldn’t have possibly seen coming; the Factory which Heather keeps talking about. What is the Factory, and what do they do? Heather seems to think they’re the ‘good guys,’ but I’m not so sure about that. In my not so humble opinion, good guys wouldn’t dump an awesome chick like her in the middle of the Amazon.

If their goal is really to help, then they should be willing to stop the human traffickers. Assuming I can keep Heather alive long enough for her to tell the Factory, of course. Also, assuming the Factory has the resources to even help at all.

On the other hand, their goals might be far more sinister than Heather believes. The Factory might even be behind the human trafficking themselves, for all I know. Maybe Heather was sent down here to audit the books just to find if someone’s been embezzling from the human trafficking income stream.

Or maybe I’ve read too many thrillers in my days.

I wish we could sleep, but, between having no gear and the entire jungle trying to kill us on top of armed mercenaries, it’s not going to happen. That gives me entirely too much time to think about all of these terrifying possibilities.

“You know what?” Heather says out of nowhere, breaking her long silence. “Part of me wishes the gunmen would just catch up to us already.”

“Why?”

She heaves a long sigh. “Because then it would be over. I wouldn’t have to be scared all the time anymore. I’m tired of waiting for the ax to fall.”

Seriously?

“There was a French author called Tristan Bernard. When the Germans arrested him, he said something like ‘Up to now we were living in fear, from now we’ll be living in hope.’”

I get it, but I still want to find a way to reassure her, to make her feel safe. I just can’t spout some nonsense, though. That’s not going to cut it here. I can’t ignore the elephant in the room, which is that we truly are in a lot of danger.

What can I say? Something stupid and banal like ‘everything’s going to be all right’? Heather’s too smart for that type of drivel to have the slightest effect.

I pull her closer to me, trying to offer physical comfort since my words fail me. Heather turns into me, a little gasp escaping her lips as I pull her close. Her hands go to my chest, fingers splayed wide. She looks up at me with an eager light in her blue eyes.

My heart pounds fit to burst out of my chest. Our filthy, bedraggled state notwithstanding, I lean in slowly, cautiously, our lips growing closer by incremental degrees. Heather lifts her chin, eyes fluttering closed when my mouth is mere inches from her own.

I taste her lips, exulting in their sweet softness. Our tongues lash as I feel her hot breath on my skin and inside my mouth.

We come up for air. If we weren’t in the middle of the rainforest on a rock, I’d take her right now.

“I wish we were in a hotel with the AC cranked to the point of freezing, bedding down in white sheets after a nice, hot shower.”

“Me too,” she says.

“You didn’t let me finish. Because if we were in a freezing hotel room with snow white sheets, I’d make love to you all night long.”

“I think I’d like that,” she whispers, and snuggles up close.

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