Rotten Gold

Abby’s long-awaited visit to Southeast Asia is meant to be a happy reunion with her son, Ryan, who works for the State Department—or so she thought. The vacation starts blissfully with jungle hikes, massages, and exotic meals, but Abby can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t right. Ryan is hiding things, and the cracks of a perfect getaway start to show.

But when a routine meeting with a colleague spirals out of control, Abby is thrust into a world of shadowy espionage and reunited with a figure from her past. She realizes this trip isn’t just a holiday—it’s a deadly trap.

In a world where everything is rotten to the core, can Abby uncover the truth before it's too late?

The teenager’s heart drummed in his chest, each beat a stark reminder that he was still alive—and free. But for how long? The jungle at night was unforgiving: thick with shadows, slick with moisture, and teeming with predators. The elders had always warned him about the seua—the great orange-and-black-striped cat. Once thought to have vanished from these parts, the beast had returned, reclaiming its territory under the cover of darkness.

People were disappearing. What else could be responsible?

Some believed the seua’s return was nothing more than a wild tale—a bedtime story to keep children in line. After all, sightings of Indochinese tigers were so rare that many thought the species had died off completely. But the whispers about the recent attacks felt all too real. 

Yet it wasn’t the tiger that had him running for his life.

A gunshot shattered the stillness, its sharp echo bouncing off the trees and sending the jungle’s nocturnal creatures into a frenzy. Beneath the dense canopy, the darkness was absolute. He could barely see a few steps ahead, but that darkness was his only advantage—the one thing between him and the hunters on his trail.

His village was among the smaller ones, with no more than a hundred men, women, and children, and belonged to the Karen hill tribe. While most of the Karen people lived near the lowlands, his village remained hidden high in the mountains. He couldn’t shake the feeling that this isolation was exactly why the men with guns had come for them.

The shouting grew louder, their voices now only yards away. Flashlights cut through the darkness like blades, sweeping the jungle floor. He forced himself to keep moving, every muscle screaming at him to stop, to surrender. But he couldn’t.

Each labored breath burned in his chest as he pushed through the dense undergrowth. Thorny vines snagged his skin, tearing at his arms, while his bare feet stung from the jagged terrain beneath them. Still, he pressed forward, determined to stay ahead.

Suddenly, his foot caught on a tree root, sending him crashing to the ground. He tumbled hard, landing with a jarring thud. Pain shot through his ankle, but he swallowed the cry that clawed at his throat, clutching his leg in desperate silence.

Get up! They’re close!

He forced himself up, biting back the pain that shot through his leg. But before he could make any real progress, beams of flashlights cut through the darkness, locking onto him.

Maybe they will show me mercy. Maybe all they want is my return.

He was just a teenager—no threat to anyone. Why would they fear him?

Yet no matter how hard he tried to convince himself to stop running, to surrender, the truth gnawed at him. The stories were real. He knew why the men had come and what they planned for his people.

The men closed in, their beams of light shackling him in place. He darted left, then right, but his every move was tracked. Surrounded with no escape, he veered right—blocked by an armed man. He swerved left—another blocked his path. It was over. The teen stood, defeated, squinting against the blinding lights.

One of the men approached. “Why did you run? What are you afraid of?” he said in the boy’s native language.

He shrugged, unwilling to make eye contact.

“You have nothing to fear from us. The seua is out here. He is more dangerous. We’ll protect you. Come with us. Let’s head back.”

A sharp pain exploded in his lower back as someone jabbed him from behind with the barrel of a rifle.

The teen suddenly recognized the man speaking to him. He had visited his village before, but during the day, never at night, and certainly not with these gunmen. Why had he returned? What did he want this time?

As they approached the village, he saw his neighbors, the elders, and even his mother, father, and younger brother all gathered in the center. They looked unharmed. Was he the only one who had been scared enough to run? 

His mother rushed to him and threw her arms around him in a brief embrace before tending to his injured ankle. She was crying—though it seemed to be from relief. She had to be happy the men brought him back safely. Had he misunderstood everything? Had running when the rifle went off been the wrong decision? A wave of shame washed over him.

“Please, everyone. Come this way,” the man who’d captured him said. “There’s nothing to fear.” The other men instructed people to line up in rows. One of the men took a head count and wrote notes in a small book. Another man walked away as he spoke into a large walkie-talkie.

The teen was confused. If more information about his village was all they wanted, why come at night? Why not during the day?

After a short discussion among the armed men, the leader stood before them, his men standing off to either side of him.

“My name is Thuta. I apologize for our intrusion at this time of night. We needed to come here when all of you were safely home. Please, is there anyone missing? Don’t be afraid. Speak up now.”

The villagers looked at each other, unsure of what to say. One of the elders stepped forward and introduced himself. “We are all here. What is the reason for this? You come at night and scare our women and children with your guns.”

“Yes, and I’m sorry,” Thuta said. “We don’t mean to disturb you. This will be over soon, and we’ll be going.”

“What will be over soon?” the elder asked. “The young ones are tired. It’s late for them.”

“I ask for your patience.”

A few more minutes passed before the walkie-talkie crackled to life. The man holding it engaged in a conversation, speaking a language the teen didn’t understand. After a moment, he handed the device to Thuta, who continued the exchange briefly. 

“Okay, we are done here. You see, I told you not much longer.” 

His men then raised their rifles and fired on the group.