by C J Schnier
My foot struck something rigid and sent me sprawling. I looked back and saw a steel wire stretched tight and low inches above the ground. What was a steel wire doing way up here? I wondered. Then I remembered the strange steel cable I had seen on the ascent that had stretched from the rim of the cliff down towards the village. It wasn't used to support any large tower, and I could only think of one reason for such a cable.
The crashing in the woods grew louder and closer. There were two distinct sounds now. They had split up. It was a classic military maneuver. They were trying to flank me and catch me in a pincer move. Soon I would have nowhere to go. My only option was down.
I followed the cable towards the cliff until I found its anchor point, which was a supported steel tower about ten feet tall. Someone had cleared the area of vegetation, and a small path ran up the mountain, a path I soon expected to see an armed soldier come down. Next to the base of the tower were several stacked crates. But it was something else that caught my attention. Attached to the steel wire running down to the jungle floor was an open wooden platform.
This was how the army had been supplying their men from the village. It was an oversized military dumbwaiter, I realized. The system was a low-tech but effective means of moving gear and provisions up and down from the mountain.
The wooden platform was attached with some sort of specialized gear that slid on the tight wire, and a simple rope led to a hand-cranked winch mounted on the tower. Its sole purpose seemed to be to retrieve the platform from the bottom of the cliff. I flipped the lever that allowed the spool of line to pay out freely and pushed the platform to the edge of the cliff as the first soldier burst through the brush.
"No se mueve!" the soldier shouted as the second soldier appeared on the small footpath a half-second later.
I did as he demanded and froze, putting my hands up in the air. The first soldier, blood still trickling from his nose, moved towards me, confident that he had me cornered. I took one glance over my shoulder at the long drop off and fought back the urge to vacate my stomach. I gave a quick wave goodbye to the two soldiers and launched both myself and the platform off the cliff.
The platform swung violently as gravity took hold and sent it speeding towards the dark forest below. The rushing air tore tears from my eyes, but the exhilaration and terror of the descent kept me from closing them. If I was going to die, I wanted to see it coming. The black and blue mass of the jungle canopy raced towards me, and for the briefest of moments I wondered how I was going to stop from crashing into the branches, or worse, one of the massive tree trunks.
I braced for impact as the treetops grew closer, but the crash never game. Instead, the platform and I slipped through a hole in the trees untouched. Being back under the canopy of the jungle, I was once again thrust into darkness. I had the vague feeling of unseen trees and plants racing by me, but in the gloom I couldn't make out anything more than a steady blur. It was a complete surprise when the platform suddenly stopped, swung forward and upwards fiercely, and then dumped me on my back in the dirt.
I quickly rolled out of the way as the platform came crashing down with a terrible noise, its supports broken by the sudden stop. Birds slumbering high above erupted with a fit of squawks and screeches, alerting other animals of my unwelcome intrusion. Everything in a half-mile radius, including Bardales' men, would know something was wrong. Good job, Chase, you might as well set off an alarm.
Using the long wire to orient myself, I calculated the direction to the village and set off through the jungle. There was a visible path that led in that general direction, but I ignored it. My loud arrival, and my reluctance to tangle with any more troops urged me to take the more difficult, but better concealed trek through the jungle. The heavy growth of the jungle would help conceal me if the military came investigating.
Quietly, but quickly, I made my way toward the village. My zipline misadventure had made up a lot of lost time. I was certain that I had at least caught up to Mercury, and there was a good chance that I was actually ahead of her. As long as I didn't run into any more problems, I would finally have the upper hand. And I was eager to press this newfound advantage.
It took me a few short minutes to reach the village, and I stayed inside the tree line to scope out the situation. Two of the large military transport trucks were barreling through the dirt streets and came thundering to a halt in the middle of the village. Twenty soldiers poured out of the truck beds. Half ran for what appeared to be a small pathway into the jungle to my left, which must have been the path to the supply point. The remaining half spread out, lit their flashlights, and began what looked like a disorganized search.
They focused on the center of the settlement, which suited me fine. My objective was the hotel on the very edge of the village. I knew Jaye Mercury was using it as her base of operations. When she had set out to retrieve the idol, she only had a small backpack. It stood to reason that she would return for any remaining gear stored in her room.
Careful to avoid rustling any trees or bushes, I made my way down the side of the settlement to the hotel, staying inside of the tree line like I had before. Back on familiar ground, the going was easier despite the darkness. All the lights in the hotel were off except for two that illuminated the front entrance and what must have been the lobby. I counted to one hundred in my head, but saw no discernable movement inside the hotel. I was about to leave my hiding place and attempt to sneak in when another set of headlights flashed across the trees.
Another vehicle, smaller than the troop transports, parked in front of the hotel. A single person exited the vehicle from the passenger side. I blinked away the blindness left by the lights and struggled to make out any details of the lone figure.
He wore what was obviously an officer's uniform. It was decorated with an abundance of gaudy medals and ribbons that stood out even at a distance in the dark. A pistol in a shiny leather holster hung on his hips. He wore his gray hair cropped short, and it ran seamlessly into a perfectly shaped silver beard. It looked like General Bardales had finally arrived.
Bardales strode through the doors of the hotel with supreme confidence and familiarity. As soon as he was inside, his driver exited the vehicle, leaned against the hood, and lit a cigarette. Through the lobby windows I could see Bardales walk up to the front desk and then go behind it. He picked up one set of keys from a hook on the wall and then disappeared from view. This can't be good.
A light came on in an upstairs room, spilling out of the louvered doors to the balcony. With a sinking heart, I realized it was Jaye Mercury's room. The doors obstructed my view, but I could see the silhouette of Bardales through the louvers as he moved about the room.
Finally, the doors to the balcony burst open. Bardales leaned over the railing and shouted something to his driver, pointing and gesturing with a plain manila folder. Inside, the room was a mess. The sheets had been torn from the bed and lay in a pile beside the nightstand. Drawers were missing from the dresser and clothes laid scattered around the room. He had tossed the place.
The presence of personal belongings gave me hope, however. I knew Mercury hadn't left the island. But she was too much of a professional to risk returning to her room now. Depending on how fast she had made it down the mountain, there was a good chance that she was watching this same scene unfold. That left her only one option. She would have to cut her losses and run.
And the only place she could run to was her plane. That was where I would catch up to her. And that was where I would lay my trap.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
A dozen armed men on high alert lay between me and the road back towards the airstrip. Something told me it would take more than a loose pig to get past them this time. The village was silent except for the occasional hushed order of the soldiers and the rhythmic buzzing of insects. Sneaking past them, even in the dark, would not be easy.
Bardales had retreated from the balcony that overlooked the entire village. His driver puffed clouds of gray tobac
co smoke while he reclined against the jeep. On the far end, the soldiers continued their search, leaving me a clear path to cross the village and disappear into the jungle on the other side.
I knew I had to hurry. The men who had gone to investigate the crashed supply platform would return soon. When that happened, the entire village would be swarming with troops. This was my only opportunity, and I had to take it.
Crouching, I made my way past the villa, and then over the rickety wooden fence into the old woman's pig pen again. Like a ghost, I snuck past the steps leading to her front door. I paused in the corner of her weather-beaten porch and regarded the soldiers for a moment. Most had stopped searching with any zeal, and instead congregated in small groups. It didn't say much about the discipline of the unit, but I took it as a good omen.
Lights burned from inside several of the ramshackle houses, their occupants roused by the sudden arrival of the army. Some houses had their windows and doors open, pouring light out into the darkness. The additional light wasn't strong enough to reach me on this end of the village, but it was enough to dull the soldiers' night vision.
The coastal road wasn't visible from here, but the trucks had come from that direction. Any commander worth his salt would have stationed guards at the beginning of the road. This suited me just fine. I had no plans on using it, anyway.
After another couple of moments watching the troops, I made mental notes which ones executed their search with passion and which didn't. I crawled over the dilapidated fence and hustled into the darkness of the treeline where civilization fought a never-ending territory battle with the jungle. The brush was especially thick here. Too thick.
Any attempt to traverse such a wood would certainly draw too much attention. So much for plan A. Sneaking through the village was a sure way to get caught. I looked back towards the hotel. General Bardales had resumed his place on the balcony and was talking into a radio. Going back wasn't an option either. So, I crept towards the coastal road, keeping low against the wall of greenery.
Instinctively, I knew that if I moved slowly and deliberately against the nearly black backdrop of the jungle, the men and Bardales wouldn't see me. Still, my breathing became shallower and more excited as I slunk ever closer to my pursuers. It would only take a sliver of light or an audible rustle for me to be discovered.
Two men stood near the entrance to the village, scarcely visible in the dark. A few hundred feet past them was the overgrown pathway I had taken from the marina. Both men held their rifles across their chests, looking straight ahead. Crossing in front of them wouldn't be possible.
I once again considered slinking through the jungle, but it was still too dense. A black wall of leaves, branches, and thick vines. It would have been difficult enough to get through that arboreal wall with a machete in the daylight, much less to navigate it silently at night. What I needed was another distraction.
I laid down on my stomach, crawling along the edge of the jungle. When I was close enough that I could hear them fidgeting and shifting their weight, I stopped and rested against the foliage while I desperately tried to think my way out of this latest predicament.
Thoughts flitted through my head, each quickly dismissed. Ultimately, I was stuck. There was nothing I could do but wait for something to change, something that would provide me with an opening.
I didn't have to wait long. The radios that hung from both men's belts belched out a series of distorted and garbled sounds. Despite my extensive experience with radios and their peculiarities, I could not make out what was being said. Then came another transmission, this one angry and frantic. Both guards exchanged a look, gripped their weapons tighter, and jogged towards the other soldiers in the center of the town, leaving the road unguarded.
I chanced a look back towards the village. Earlier, the soldiers' alertness and zeal had been waning as the search continued, some men all but giving up after a few moments. But something had changed. Now they were all on high alert. Flashlight beams slashed through the night, several dangerously close to where I lay hidden. Heads turned in every direction. I wonder what lit a fire under their asses?
Another squabble came from the radios, more faint and impossible to make out at this distance. The men turned in unison towards the supply pathway where several lights could be seen coming up the path. From across the village I could hear and see the men in the woods. They were searching for someone, and I wasn't about to stick around to find out if it was me or Jaye.
I darted across the road, risking being discovered with my rapid movement. It was a gamble, but it paid off. No shouts or bullets followed me, and I disappeared down the narrow the footpath within seconds. Swiftly, I made my way down the path that had seemed so steep and rugged before. But, after an evening of bushwhacking up and down a tropical mountain, it now seemed flat and manicured. I kept my pace fast despite the near absolute darkness. Deftly, I leapt from rock to rock, moving with an efficient loping gain down the smoother parts of the path. I had to put as much distance between me and the platoon of soldiers as possible.
However, after only a few minutes on the trail I was once again panting and pouring sweat. My right calf was threatening to cramp too. If I didn't get some water soon, dehydration was going to become a serious problem. The sticky, humid night wasn't helping either. My shirt clung to me, soaked through completely. But the hot, damp air prevented any cooling from evaporation. Even though it was miserable, I reminded myself that I was used to it. I'd take hot and sweaty over freezing and cold any day.
Florida's weather was brutal most of the year. It wasn't uncommon for it to remain scorching hot and horribly humid for months on end. Cuba's weather was worse. My watch told me it was nearing midnight, yet the temperatures had never dropped. It was as if the jungle had trapped the heat from the day, storing it like some kind of thermal battery. Each step brought me closer to the coast and lower in elevation. At least near the top of the mountain the air had been a few degrees cooler and there had been a whisper of a breeze. Now it was thick enough to cut with Jaye's machete.
My lungs felt like they were half full of water when I finally arrived at the airstrip. I had hoped for a breeze, anything to relieve me from the heat of the night, but there wasn't even a ripple in the tall grass of the field. Relief would just have to wait.
At the far end of the runway, Mercury's green and white plane sat near the road as it had earlier in the day. There were no signs of people. No guards standing by the road, no soldiers searching the aircraft. And, best of all, no deadly and beautiful women preparing to leave. I had arrived before her. It looked like something finally went my way. Now it was time to lay my trap.
◆◆◆
Slap! I drew my hand away from my neck, a smear of blood and smashed wings staining my palm. Immediately another mosquito buzzed past my ear and landed on my arm, tickling the hairs as it prepared to feast. Red itchy welts stood out from every piece of exposed flesh, and I scratched idly in between swats at the ravenous creatures. Through the tall grass I watched the plane, abandoned and still in the moonlight. I couldn't tell if I was there for a minute or an hour. The torture of the constant swarming attack long ago obscured any notion of time.
Planes weren't my thing. If a boat was a hole in the water you poured money into, an airplane was a black hole in space that sucked up even more. I much preferred my chances for survival on the water too. At least if the engine died on a boat, I could raise the sails or drift. Engine failure in a plane meant I'd be sailing into the afterlife a little earlier than I had planned. Nope, for me boats were a better fit.
However, I respected and admired aircraft. They were incredible feats of engineering, true manifestations of man's desire to overcome its limitations. They had always been a minor part of my life. As a kid, I'd flown with my neighbor in his private plane several times, and I'd helped friends maintain and work on them in the past. I wasn't as familiar with them as I was with boats, but I knew enough to be dangerous.
I br
ushed the buzzing insects away and hustled over to the aircraft, moving in a low crouch, vigilant for any movement along the road. I needed to be out of sight again before Mercury showed up with the idol. It took me a moment of searching, but I found the catches to release the cowling on the front of the plane. I pushed on it, and with a slight creak it pivoted until it was standing straight up, exposing the engine compartment.
It was difficult to make out all the details in the dark, but the moonlight was bright enough to discern the major components. Most engines are pretty similar, and it didn't take long for me to find what I was looking for. Whipping out my multitool, I found the starter and then the twin magnetos. I yanked and cut out every wire I could find. Then, for good measure, I found the battery and removed both the ground and positive wires. Confident that the plane was now grounded, I closed the plane's cowling and slipped back into the cover of the trees and tall grass.
My watch told me that twenty minutes had passed by the time I had gone numb to the incessant bug bites. There was no sign of Mercury. I wondered if she had found another way off the island, or worse, if Bardales and his goons had captured her. I made my mind up to double back toward the village when a flicker of movement near the road caught my eye. Amid the grass and palm fronds, something had moved just enough for me to notice, but not enough for my eyes to lock on.
The human eye excels at seeing movement. It was a key part of our survival as a species, allowing us to spot prey and predators. I relaxed and stopped focusing so hard, letting my eyes do what they did best. There! I saw it again and my eyes snapped to a patch of tall grass moving independently of the rest. I held my breath and waited. Finally, highlighted by the moonlight, a crouched figure emerged from the edge of the wild sea of grass and into the trampled and cropped stretch of runway.
Jay Mercury skulked across the open runway to her plane and opened the pilot-side door. The chorus of buzzing insects drowned any noise she made. The plane hid most of her from view, and I could just barely see her deposit her pack in the pilot's seat. She then removed the wheel chocks, tossed them inside and stood to look around one last time, scrutinizing the airfield and its surrounding jungle. Confident, she let herself smile and hopped in the plane, shutting the door behind her.