A man in military garb.

The large bear of a man in an imposing figure and he casts an equally imposing shadow. Something is strapped to his back, but you can't make it out. He's wearing jungle camoflouge, but he stands out here on the beach. You pray to God he's another American, but he doesn't really look it.

"Quem são você?" He asks roughly.

"What?" You ask wearily, still trying to get your bearings.

"Que você está fazendo aqui? Responda-me!"

"Huh? I'm sorry, I don't speak...Spanish? Is that it? No habla espanol?" You ask, hoping he understands. If he was speaking in French or German, you might have stood a chance, but you never learned that much Spanish and this sounded like it was some offshoot of the Spanish language.

"Levante-se!" He shouts and kicks you in the ribs. You grunt in pain and roll over onto your back from the ****.

"Hey man!" You growl angrily, turning back to him. "What was that f-" You stop as you notice he was now holding a rifle in his hands. It looked like something left over from the Russains after the Cold War. "Whoa! Whoa! Hold up. Let's calm down here. I can't understand what you're saying!" You try to get through to him, but it's no use. He can't understand you any more than you can him.

"Eu disse, levante-se!" He shouts and grabs you by the collar, hoisting you to your feet. You guess that 'levante-se' means 'get up'.

"Okay, okay. I'm up." You say quickly. The man pulls out a walkie-talkie and speaks into it.

"Saliência, eu encontrei alguém. Devo eu trazê-lo ao composto?" He asked. A muffled voice responds with something you can't make out. You didn't like where this was headed one bit. He wasn't really paing attention, and you figure you might be able to wrench yourself out of his grip. The jungle edge is so close, you might be able to make it into tree cover before he is able to start shooting at you. Still, that's a big risk to take when you don't know where you are or what's going on. Maybe it would be best to stay put.