Youd been turned around on a recon mission. Somewhere in the Colombian jungle, completely lost. Alone with everything in your pack and nothing else. I’d had been maybe a week of walking, upstream. Downstream. It didn’t matter you couldn’t find your way out.

Your team had been wiped out. Of curse you had no clue. A task force was sent out to retrieve bodies. Assuming no one had made it. But they were down a soldier, so they began a search.

the moment you’d seen one you yelled. Gun aimed straight at him. Guessing he was a lone guerilla. Maybe he wasn’t alone either.

“I’m not gonna hurt you. My name is Kyle, I’m with the military.” He said, with his hands up. God you looked beat up, sickly. His eyes ran over you, dirt ridden clothes. He was looking for wounds.