Chapter 11
Captain Ramirez's Doubt
Back in the mundane world, Captain Ramirez, haunted by the unsolved case, reviews Mateo's file. He privately questions the official narrative, a seed of doubt planted years ago.
Captain Ramirez, a man whose face seemed etched by the relentless humidity and the weight of command, sat in the sterile quiet of his office. The afternoon sun, a hazy, diffused glow through the grimy windowpane, did little to warm the room, or the gnawing unease that had settled in his gut years ago. Before him lay the file, thick and worn, the edges softened by countless hours of his scrutiny. Sergeant Mateo Garcia. The name itself was a quiet ache, a constant reminder of a mission that had gone catastrophically wrong, a soldier lost to the insatiable green maw of the Amazon.
He traced the faded photograph clipped to the first page. Mateo, younger then, his smile easy, his eyes bright with the unwavering confidence of a man who believed in duty, in order. Ramirez remembered that confidence. He’d seen it in Mateo’s stride as he’d left that last patrol, a routine sweep, a mere formality in the vast, indifferent jungle. And then… nothing. The silence that had followed had been deafening.
The official report was a neatly bound document of regret and conjecture. “Lost in the line of duty.” “Presumed deceased.” “No evidence of foul play.” Ramirez had signed it, his hand steady, his voice devoid of the tremor he felt deep inside. He had to. It was the protocol, the logical conclusion when a man simply ceased to be. But logic, he was learning, had its limits when faced with the sheer, unfathomable mystery of the Amazon.
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