"The State Department says it's unsafe to travel there? No fucking bureaucrat at the State Department is going to tell me I can't go to Columbia if I want to."
Kate had made up her mind to visit Ciudad Perdida, among other sites in the South American country, and she was used to getting her way. Kate was an obstinate, self-centered woman who had climbed the corporate ladder until, at the age of thirty nine, she was a vice president. Other females in the company often accused her of using only her model-like appearance to make progress. But Kate was an intelligent, shrewd negotiator who simply liked to win. In fact, she had to win to be happy.
Her husband Joel was used to her rants. He put up with them in order to stay in the good graces of his blonde beauty. Luckily, Kate was as intense about sex as she was with everything else. And he more than met her need for a large, satisfying partner.
"Hon, we'll go if you want but you have to acknowledge that they probably know more about the situation than we do," Joel told her.
"We've been in worse spots than Columbia," Kate replied. "We're not fucking drug dealers. We're tourists."
"American tourists. On their turf."
Kate frowned. "I'm getting the tickets. We're going."
Joel hid his smile behind a book. Sometimes he just loved her approach to life.
Ciudad Perdida was a major political and economic center for native Columbians as far back as 800 A.D. It was discovered in 1972 and publicly revealed in 1975. It soon became a tourist attraction that required many, many miles of strenuous hiking to get to. Kate considered it a challenge.
The Columbian Civil War resulted in tourist kidnappings in the area, but the Columbian government subsequently declared the area safe—undoubtedly in the hopes of bringing tourist dollars back into the system.
The U.S. State Department had a different interpretation of the situation and declared it unsafe for Americans.
None of the history affected Kate's decision to go. Perhaps, it fueled her on.
She and Joel made the long flight south, having arranged to join a very small group of other tourists for the six day, five night trek to the 'lost city.' Only one other female—a twenty-something girl named Carrie—was among the six travelers. On the first day, Kate decided the young woman was far too flirty for Kate's liking and suspected one more day of hiking might cause Carrie to give up the quest.
They all slept on hammocks inside tents. Kate and Joel preferred Hiltons, but none were anywhere to be seen in the desolate mountains. This was roughing it to the extreme and Kate was determined to make it work. The second day started out uneventfully, with the climb gaining in steepness and the wilderness around them becoming denser. The group was discussing stopping for lunch when trouble arrived.
One of the guides saw the guerillas first. They were heavily armed, dressed in camouflage, and running towards the group from three directions. Joel was normally a pretty level-headed guy, but in this case he panicked.
With the bulk of the tourist group in one clump and Kate at the rear, Joel yelled to her, "Run, Kate! Down the hill on the trail. Run like hell!"
Kate turned and sped down the path as fast as the narrow, curvy trail would allow. She was somewhat relieved not to see any guerillas around her. But behind her, shouts and orders in Spanish could still be heard. Twice she almost stumbled down the hillside to her left. And then she heard the footsteps.
She dared not turn around for fear of losing speed or missing a step and ending up on a head-first dive into the woods. Kate was athletic, but she was no match for the younger, Columbian-born rebel. In less than one hundred yards, he was upon her.
Kate felt an arm on her left side, and then she was being pulled off the path to the right. They landed on the bank of a hill, with Kate on her stomach and her attacker on top of her legs. After the initial shock of the landing, he quickly moved up to press a hand into the small of Kate's back.
"No te muevas!" he shouted.
Despite having no clue what he was saying, Kate was too scared to move. She could hear the man's heavy breathing and she certainly felt the strength of his hand on her back. Kate wore hiking shorts and a sweatshirt. The back of the sweatshirt rode up her body as a result of the tumble and she wanted desperately to reach her hand back and pull it down.
Then she felt something even more alarming. Something cold, and hard, like the barrel of a gun was moving up the back of her bare thigh. The man had removed his hand from her back and seemed to be leaning up straight, although Kate did not dare look back at him. The gun inched upward, pushing the leg of her shorts along with it. Another few inches and he'd be at the base of her ass.
The gun moved to the inside of her thigh and Kate held her breath. Closer and closer it came. Then it was edging inside her tight panties and the man was lifting her pant leg with his finger.
"Carlos! Vamos! Traer de vuelta."
The gun was pulled back and Kate was lifted by her arm. Finally she got to see the guerilla—a young, weathered man who, in any other setting, would not get a second glance from anybody. He pushed Kate in front of him and they began the hike back to the main group.
She was somewhat relieved to see Joel, but not excited about the prospects for the successful conclusion of the trip to Ciudad Perdida. The number of guerillas roughly numbered the members of the tour. And they were all armed to the hilt.
Kate also didn't like the looks that she got from the men. She was the type of person who made eye contact with everybody around her. In this case, it was not necessarily a good trait to have.
Quickly, the leader of the gang gave orders in Spanish and the tour group was led off the trail, into the dense woods. Within thirty seconds, nobody coming along the trail would have known anybody else was nearby. Half an hour later, they approached a small cabin and a series of large, military-style tents covering an area smaller than a football field. Some trees had been cleared, but it was still heavily wooded.
The tour group was ordered to sit. The leader of the guerillas entered the cabin and the other rebels dispersed to the tents. Maybe ten minutes later, a man they had not seen before came out of the cabin. He told Kate, Joel, and one of the male tour guides to follow him.
They entered the cabin and the door was closed behind them. Inside, the cabin was bigger than it first appeared. They stood in a large room with a single desk and two old wooden chairs. Through the only window, Kate saw the remainder of the tour group being led around to the back of the cabin. A moment later she heard another door close and voices could be heard coming from another room.
Kate, Joel, and the guide were led into a second room. Behind another desk sat a man in his fifties who appeared to be of some authority. Two armed guerillas stood on either side of the desk. The door was closed and the man rose.
"Why are you in Columbia?" he asked abruptly, looking primarily at Joel and Kate. Despite the heavy Spanish accent, he was easily understood.
"Sightseeing," Joel replied.
The man approached them, his eyes locking in on Kate as he drew closer.
"The entire world is available to you. Why do you come to this part of my country?"
Kate answered, "The 'lost city' is said to be beautiful. We were..."
"Ciudad Perdida, as you call it, was beautiful before the Spaniards stole the gold, killed the natives, and left it for ruin," he interrupted. "Now you come for the drugs."
The last statement left Kate and Joel with looks of total surprise on their faces. It wasn't that they were unaware of the drug trade in Central and South America, but they didn't expect to be accused of it themselves.
"We're on vacation," Joel said with some exasperation. "We have no drugs. Search our bags."
"I'm sure we will, in due time," the man said, circling around Kate. "And your partners. You will all be searched."
