by Thom J Poore
Chapter 15: Flight to Guatemala City
The General guides the cargo truck off the boggy terrain and onto a long rainforest airstrip, ripped out of the dense jungle surroundings. The once stately trees now form a rotting border along either side of the roughly gravelled strip. The sudden increase in speed as the truck travels across the runway flings Emilio and Karl about on the hard metal benches as if they were riding a roller coaster. This, combined with Elmanda’s death still raw in his mind, sends convulsions through Karl, who turns and hangs his head over the side of the open back truck to vomit up the paltry contents of his fragile stomach. Pancho looks on in amusement, enjoying Karl’s suffering. Cathos couldn’t care less.
Vision in the truck’s front cabin is virtually non-existent, thick cigar smoke circulates with no outlet, as the windows are purposefully shut tight. The lack of oxygen available is the least of Valencia’s concerns as she is leered at by the vulgar beast beside her. Her nose has stopped bleeding, but is throbbing with pain.
At the end of the strip a silver haired man stands next to a white and blue private jet. The General drives up alongside the aircraft and opens the driver’s door, releasing a cloud of trapped smoke before casually stepping out and approaching the man.
“Ah, Mr Stevens, my friend! How are you today?”
“Where have you been, you’re two hours late!” The man responds, removing his mirrored sunglasses and extending his hand for a formal handshake.
“We have had a few set backs, but we are good to go now!”
As The General talks, the skinny boy is busy loading the luggage compartment with the cocaine-laden holdalls from the back of the truck. He has this procedure down to a fine art, emphasizing the regularity of the operation.
“Wow, these guys don’t mess around!” Emilio eyes the impressive aircraft.
“I’m not feeling so good, Emilio!” Karl mumbles, clutching his stomach. Emilio ignores him, trying to catch what The General is talking about. He can only hear a mumbled drone of conversation so he edges closer to the side of the truck, but as soon as he does Cathos shunts him, and then ushers them out of the truck at gunpoint. The unwilling mules are escorted over to the aircraft. Valencia is made to board first; she is guided by Cathos straight through the surprisingly luxurious cabin, boasting cream leather reclining chairs and walnut tabletops. She is pushed into the cockpit where she is tied to one of two extremely comfortable grey seats. Valencia sits in a vexed silence staring at Cathos, trying to figure him out, as he pulls on the rope to ensure her hands are restricted properly. He seems more subdued and thoughtful than his volatile brothers. Emilio walks up and in to the cabin of his own free will. Karl stops walking a few yards from the plane, as his angst is getting the better of him once again and the small plane seems a step too far.
“Keep walking, boy.” Pancho shoves Karl roughly, causing him to fall to his knees. As he looks up at the boarding steps his chest tightens and he struggles to breathe, almost as if someone were trying to smother him.
“I can’t do it. I’m going to die on that plane.”
Pancho points his machine gun down towards Karl’s head and places the tip of the barrel inside Karl’s blood stained ear.
“If you don’t do as I fuckin tell you, you will die before you even get on that plane!”
“I don’t feel so good. I have to lie down!” Karl collapses forward, breaking his fall with his face, head turned to one side, cheek resting on the muddy gravel. Pancho turns to Ray Stevens with his palms upturned.
“Have you ever seen such a chocha?”
Ray shrugs it off, uninterested in the situation, and even less interested in replying to the psychopathic Pancho. Drunk with fear and horror, Karl feels the earth spinning wildly. Pancho is unsympathetic and impatient. He turns his rifle around and places the wooden butt beside Karl’s head, holding the upturned gun like a golf club.
“You better hope I’m off my swing today, stupid. But looking at the size of your big fat melon head, I got a feeling I won’t miss!”
Pancho takes aim at Karl’s head, as though lining up a distant golf pin on an imaginary course. After swaying the rifle lightly he goes into a full golf swing. As he brings the rifle across his shoulder and prepares to violently strike down upon Karl’s head Ray grabs the gun.
“Just drag him up into the cabin and tie him to one of the seats. We’re already two hours behind schedule. We don’t have time to fuck around ditching a body, and this lard ass will be way harder to move as a dead weight.” Frustrated and humiliated by being told what to do, Pancho drags Karl onto the boarding steps, before kicking him in the head as hard as he possibly can. Karl yells in agony and pulls himself up the remaining steps, eager to avoid another kicking. He crawls into the cabin and shakily pulls himself to his feet. Pancho shoves him roughly into the seat next to Emilio. The boys are tied firmly to their seats with thick green rope and gagged with leather straps. The tight rope digs into Karl’s rib cage and puts pressure on his already fragile stomach. The General is busy counting out one thousand US dollars in cash onto the bonnet of the truck, before handing it over proudly to the skinny boy. One thousand US dollars for one day’s work is more money than the boy could make in two whole months in the city. Despite his good upbringing and better judgement, without the cartel there is no way he could pay for his mother’s hospital bills and support his brothers and sisters.
“You’ve done well today, boy! Now take the truck back and get yourself back to your family. We will meet again in a fortnight.” The General pats him firmly on the back and then boards the plane, assuming the seat at the back of the cabin behind Pancho and Cathos, who are seated directly behind Emilio and Karl.
Ray carries out some last minute checks outside the plane before boarding and walking through to the cockpit. The engine is fired up and immediately shakes the cabin, producing a drone loud enough to drown out any conversation. Karl is in a state of panic, claustrophobic and wounded, bound, gagged and terrified. The plane starts to slowly crawl along, then gathers pace and rises, momentarily touching the ground, making the plane bounce violently. Karl has his feet pressed flat to the floor in distress. The plane balances out and gains altitude quickly, making Karl vomit into his gagged mouth and causing him to choke. Pancho seeing Karl’s struggle to breathe and nudges Cathos. The brothers’ laugh raucously, revelling in Karl’s distress. Emilio looks on helplessly until Karl manages to compose himself, swallowing the sick back down and slowing his frantic breathing.