Murdered by Gods

We’d hacked and slashed our way through the jungle, inch by inch, for the better part of three hours. Every step we’d taken had been earned, from the trailhead at the base of the Andes range where the Peruvian jeep convoy dropped off our thirty-man detachment alongside the Urubamba River, to where we stood now a few miles into the Amazon. Although not exactly technically challenging by a seasoned climbers standards, the combination of the slight incline, humidity and exertion of hiking through the dense bush over the last few miles had even the most hardened member of our escort dripping sweat and feeling it now. There was no other option though. In order to maintain the element of surprise, it had been determined as the only acceptable route of approach.  “A few clicks out, if the Intel was good.” Alex said as he trudged along next to me, wiping the sweat from his brow and swatting the buzzing insects away with his shemagh.   “Hope we aren’t too late.” I said, somewha