Out of Captivity : Surviving 1,967 Days in the Colombian Jungle

Homecoming 445My buddy nudged me and said, “You got a good shot at that buck.You going to take it or not?”I shook my head. “No. It feels good just to sit here in all this.” Iraised my arms to indicate the terrain where I’d spent the better part—no, make that the best part—of my life.“I hear you,” he said.“You know, for the first time I think I can really say this.”“What’s that?”“I’m not carrying heavy anymore. I’m back.”MARC“I feel like E.T.”As I said those words, I meant them in more ways than one. To startwith, we’d walked through a plastic-sheeted doorway of the quarantineroom and all around us stood masked and gowned figures who wereapplauding and waving. It was overwhelming to be in the presenceof people who were genuinely interested in our well-being, and morethan anything that had me feeling a bit alien. When you’ve had a groupof people abusing you for as long as we did, even the smallest kindnessseems out of proportion.After things calmed down and we settled into our room at BAMC, Itried to reach my family members again. Earlier in the day, I’d calledeveryone, but I hadn’t been able to reach them. No one was home atmy mother’s number, and I was dying to speak to my kids, but I hadn’tbeen able to. No one was home at Shane’s number, and I couldn’t leavea message. Finally, that night I was able to connect with my dad. Tohear his voice after all that time, it was as if somehow some kind of liquidhad been transmitted over the phone and had been poured into myear, working its way down through every part of my body. Relief doesn’tbegin to explain what I felt, but there was a sense of calm and securitythat I hadn’t experienced in so long.My dad was understandably very emotional, and he told me how