Free Show No Fear by Marliss Melton

cover. In the next instant,
     Gus landed on top of her, driving the air from her lungs as the ground shook and globs of mud and spongy lichen rained down
     on them.
    “What’s happening?” she wheezed in the shocked quiet that followed.
    “Colombian army,” he whispered in her ear.
    Ah, shit.
The bastards had tracked them down, after all. And despite the JIC’s attempts to call them off, they were ruining the UN
     team’s prospects for negotiating Howitz and Barnes’s release.
    Another barrage of gunfire echoed through the undergrowth, continuing for what seemed an eternity. Lucy closed her eyes tight,
     expecting at any minute to be blown into little pieces. But then she realized Gus was covering every inch of her body. If
     they were struck dead-on or hit with shrapnel, he’d be the one who died, not her.
    Oh, God, no. There was no way in hell she was going to be a liability and cost Gus his life, just because he thought she couldn’t
     handle the op.
    She tried to roll over, to shake him off her, only she couldn’t. Gus had her thoroughly pinned. “Hold still,” he ordered,
     impatient with her struggles.
    The gunfire intensified. Adolescent voices shouted back and forth. Someone screamed in pain. The mountain trembled under her
     ear.
    There was no way ten FARC rebels, six of whom looked to be under the age of eighteen, could hold off an army battalion indefinitely.
     When their ammunition ran out, the army would swoop in and arrest the survivors. For the teens, who’d likely been coerced
     to join the FARC anyway, that could only be good news. For Gus and Lucy it would mean an end to the mission.
    But then, as suddenly as the gunfire had started, it stopped.
    The cautious twitter of birds and the screeching of howler monkeys seemed to indicate that the interlopers had fled. Either
     that or the FARC were all dead.

CHAPTER 5       
    W ait,” whispered Gus when she tried to move.
    “I can’t breathe,” she gasped, causing him to ease cautiously off her. He signaled to the other team members to watch and
     listen.
    Many minutes later, the FARC began to creep out of hiding. Marquez’s voice, like nails on chalkboard, shouted orders for all
     to regroup so he could make an account of the injured.
    Fournier, shaken but still asserting his leadership, urged the UN team to rejoin the group.
    Deputy Buitre was the first to spy them, slithering down from higher ground. “
¡Traidores!
” he screamed, storming down the trail to confront them. “They led the army straight to us!” He lunged for Fournier, pulling
     him nose to nose. Hauling a handgun from his holster, he thrust the barrel into the man’s white hair, his black eyes flashing
     with fury.
    “
Cálmate,
” ordered his commander, and Deputy Buitre restrained himself, breathing heavily. It was clear if it were left to him, he’d
     have killed Fournier that very instant.
    Lucy watched with pity as a wet stain bloomed on the crotch of Fournier’s ill-fitting pants.
    Marquez bore down on them. “Is this the thanks I get for having you as my guests?” he demanded with thunderous suspicion.
     “Is this how the UN means to treat the FARC, by betraying us to the enemy?”
    Fournier, his voice quaking with fear, stuttered his reassurances. “We swear, we had no way of knowing we were being followed.
     Two soldiers on a motorcycle trailed us out of Villavicencio yesterday, but we left them far behind.”
    The accusations disgusted Lucy. “Why would we risk ourselves in the crossfire?” she interjected without thinking.
    The commander and the deputy swiveled hostile glares at her. Gus touched her arm in warning. But it felt good to challenge
     the rebels, her fear overcome for the moment.
    “We could have just as easily been killed as you,” Gus pointed out mildly, his reasonableness diffusing their rage.
    “Our only agenda is to find a peaceful resolution so the hostages may be freed,” Fournier added. “We are not at war with