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

Changes in Altitude49it into my mouth. I was busy trying to identify what else was in the cupwhen something caught my eye.I looked up and recognized the familiar shapes of Tom and Keith asthey bobbed along on some pack animals. I said a quick prayer to Jesusfor delivering them to me in apparently no worse shape than when Ihad left them. It felt like Christmas, and I’d just opened the packagethat contained exactly what I’d been hoping for.TOMMounting that rise to the campesino house where Marc was, I wasrelieved about two things: that he was safe and that we were finally atthe rest place the FARC had been telling us about. If it is possible to beelated and exhausted all in the same moment, that’s what I was at thatmoment. Even with the aid of the mule I was on and the pony that carriedKeith to our reunion point, the journey was still extremely painful.Seeing Marc barefoot lifted my spirits as well. Knowing that he foundsome relief for his feet made me wonder if I could find the same.At least my hip wasn’t troubling me anymore. The previous day Ihad been in so much pain that I was reduced to walking with a stiffleggedgait, swinging my leg forward and trying not to use my hip at all.It went on like this for some time, until finally, a young female FARCinjected me with some kind of painkiller. I was in such agony, I didn’tthink twice about dropping my pants for the injection or asking whatthe medicine was or how many times the needle had been used. Withoutthat shot, I would have asked to be put out of my misery.Keith was slightly ahead of me, and when he dismounted, Marc wasthere to meet him. I got down off my mule and gingerly walked towardthem. Marc had come toward Keith carrying a small aluminum pot. Isaw Keith look at it and shake his head. The pot was passed along tome, and I could see why Keith had refused it. Inside was a thin soupwith a pale chicken foot bobbing on the surface. I knew Keith had been