by J. M. Madden
Pablo backed the rumbling, lopsided, heavy duty truck back to the dolly and for the first time Fontana noticed the odd hitch. It snapped into the link on the back of the truck. Pablo put the truck in gear and pulled the dolly forward. The tarmac was old but again, in pristine condition. They walked along behind as the old man pulled the gleaming helicopter far enough away from the buildings not to cause too much draft.
Madeira watched the helicopter every second and he could see how much she loved the chunk of metal.
He better love it too, he supposed, because his life was about to depend upon it.
Fontana had been able to think about returning to the camp with a bit of emotional distance in his mind, but as the time drew near to returning where he’d been given so much pain, his anxiety began to ratchet up. They would check the Venezuelan location first, return here to refuel then head to the Brazilian location where the Dogs of War had been created. If there was nothing there, they would find a place to refuel then head to the most remote camp, in Guyana. He’d looked at map after map during prep for this operation, and none of the locations were easy to reach.
Madeira opened a hatch at the back of the chopper. “We can store our gear here until we find a place to land.”
The men moved in and threw their bags into the back but unpacked their MP5s and slung the tactical slings over their shoulders. Then they climbed into the cabin of the chopper. Madeira move to the pilot’s seat, on the left, and opened the door.
A spate of harsh Spanish flew from her mouth and she raised a fist at her uncle, who sat chuckling in the cab of the truck, waiting for her to lift off. Madeira threw the bright red child’s booster seat across the tarmac. “You better burn that, Pablo! No more!”
Fontana found himself grinning as he watched what appeared to be a familiar refrain between family. It was obvious the two of them loved each other very much, even though they didn’t get to see one another very often.
Madeira pinned him with a glare. “Don’t you go getting ideas! Get in!”
She made a motion to the seat beside her in the cockpit. He hesitated, not sure he wanted to have such a view. He’d ridden in helicopters many times before as a SEAL, but he’d never ridden in front where he could see his death coming that much faster. “I can ride in the cabin with the guys.”
“Or you can help me scope out landing sites,” she called as she began flipping switches. The rotor began to turn overhead as the engines wound to life.
Growling, he circled the helicopter and twisted open the handle to climb inside. He adjusted the fit on the safety straps, letting them out to fit his frame, and began buckling up. Madeira had already snapped in, as if the belts had already been adjusted to her size. She glanced at him for a moment.
“Do you need help with anything?”
He shook his head, glancing down at the thin blue nylon straps his life depended upon.
Why was he so anxious about this flight? Was it what he might find on the other end of the trek, or did he doubt Madeira’s ability? She was such a tiny thing to be controlling this huge machine.
As he watched her though, he could see her competence and familiarity with the helicopter.
It must be the trek itself then. This wasn’t something he’d ever wanted to do, come back to the jungle, but it had to be done. Period.
Madeira handed him a helmet. Removing his glasses, he fit the helmet over his head, then slipped the glasses back on. She had already done the same and she turned in her seat to look back at the other four. “You guys good to go?”
Her voice in the headset was deep and firm and the men all gave her a thumbs up. Fontana looked back. They all appeared to be strapped in, but DeRossett seemed anxious. His jaw was clamped and the habitual smirk he had on his lips had disappeared. Fontana caught his eye, pointed at his chest then gave him another thumbs up, this time in question. He was really trying to not read them, but Shane was being pretty obvious.
DeRossett nodded, but Fontana didn’t think he was solid. He hadn’t seen anything to indicate that the younger man was feeling off-balance, but maybe he’d learned to cover the issue. There was some fear there, right now.
“Don’t worry, Shane. This will be the most gentle flight you’ve ever taken,” Madeira told him, her voice calming.
The double engines whined to a fever-pitch and gravity began to pull at Fontana’s guts. What Madeira had said proved to be true though. Other than the pressure change he didn’t even notice that they were taking off. He caught a glimpse of Pablo’s grinning face through the windshield of the truck before they lifted into the brilliant blue sky. Spread out before him was the expansive Venezuelan countryside. There was still a bit of mist hanging over the low areas, as well as several curls of smoke from fires, and a section to the east where it was obviously being deforested. Fontana’s head swiveled back and forth, trying to take it all in. Steep faced mountains lined the area and he wondered if they’d ever been climbed.
Madeira gently banked the chopper to the right, heading to the south. “You okay, Shane?”
The younger man still looked a little green around the gills, but Fontana thought he might be doing okay.
“I’m good, Jordyn. You were right. Gentle.”
Madeira glanced at him, grinning, and Fontana could almost see the wink through her glasses. The woman was an excellent pilot. He looked at her hands. “I can’t believe the Army grounded you for those.”
Her smiled turned sad. “Well, I don’t have the same range of movement I used to,” she held up her free hand and wiggled the fingers. They didn’t flex as much they probably had originally, but she seemed to have adapted to the scar tissue.
“If I hadn’t already gotten my private license I might have been more upset. It all worked out in the end. I’m right where I’m supposed to be now.”
He looked at her, the insightful words settling into him with a rightness that was a little startling. Yes, they were exactly where they needed to be, and they would do what needed to be done.
Jordyn considered flying her favorite thing in the world to do. It took all of her patience to get the men settled and strapped in. She wanted to snap at them to get the fuck in the bird! But that probably wouldn’t have gone over well, she thought with an internal chuckle. Now that she was in the air, all of the anxiety and worry was gone. There was no place for any of it because exhilaration had taken its place.
She truly believed she’d been born to fly. Her mother was the same way. If some engineer or scientist ever figured out how to stay in the air indefinitely they would be the first to volunteer. Everything just drifted away on the wind. All of the worries of the earthbound faded to insignificance.
Today, though, some of that worry persisted. She hated flying blind. They had a general idea of where the supposed research camp was, but until they saw it with their own eyes they wouldn’t know for sure. She’d already plugged the GPS location into the instrumentation, but with the way the jungle grew, they may or may not be able to see it.
She also had to worry about where to put Margarita down. She needed a significant clearing to clear the rotor blades. The tail rotor was shrouded, but still needed a clear area, preferably. She’d chopped through some light foliage before, but it wasn’t something she liked to do.
“About how long will it take to get there?”
She glanced at Fontana, his eyes inscrutable behind the mirrored shades. He seemed to have taken to flying well. “I think about a couple hours. The air seems clear here but the closer to the jungle we fly the more tumultuous the air can get.”
He nodded like that made sense, then turned back to look through the windshield. “It’s beautiful up here,” her murmured.
Jordyn almost missed the statement, but she turned to him with a grin. “Yes,” she said simply.
Chapter Six
They flew for a couple of hours, just like she’d said. Rain, then shine, then rain again. Nothing seemed to ruffle Jordyn. She handled the helicopter like
a pro. He couldn’t believe what luck it was that she was as good as she’d said she was.
The helicopter began to climb and she glanced at him. “We’re two miles out. I think we need to go high enough we can’t be identified and scope out the area.” She motioned above his head. “There are binocs there. See what you can see.”
Fontana retrieved the binoculars and scanned in the direction they were angled. Again, he admired her skill because she somehow always gave him a good perspective to look down on the area. He scanned everything, his heart pounding.
Then he saw it. In the depths of the green there were clearings, and as he adjusted the aperture on the binoculars, he could see roofs of buildings overgrown with foliage. From right to left he scanned the area, spotting what might have been a trail into the compound as well as the remnants of tall fencing encircling the area. “It doesn’t look to be inhabited. Everything appears to be grown over.”
Fontana made note of several things he wanted to look at when they got on the ground and sketched out a rough diagram on a notebook Madeira handed him. It looked like a constellation.
Behind him he could hear Payne snapping pictures of the area.
“Okay, let’s find a place to put down.”
Madeira pulled on the control stick and banked away. “There was a spot about two miles back along a river. We might have to bushwhack a bit.”
“That’s fine.”
He kept the location of the camp in the back of his mind as he watched the terrain below them. It was jungle-like, of course. When they’d started from Pablo’s airport, there had been mountains and rocky valleys, but the further south they’d flown, toward the mighty Amazon, the flora grew. Overgrown and thickly lush, it was going to be difficult to get through.
Madeira circled a small clearing next to a lazy river. The rocky beach appeared to be stone, so their footing should be secure, but it would still take skill to land on the narrow area.
“Dropping down, Shane,” Madeira murmured into the mic, humor lacing her voice. “There are bags beneath your seat if you need one.”
Fontana grimaced. He’d puked on turbulent flights before and it was no fun.
Shane kept his guts where they needed to be, though, and when they set down lighter than a butterfly, he let out a relieved sigh. So did Fontana, but he didn’t let the others see it.
“Okay, Alpha Team, let’s get the fuck through this jungle.”
Madeira completed the post-flight process and the engines whined down. The rotors still turned lazily, but they would eventually still. He looked at her across the width of the cockpit. “Good job.”
“Thank you for not blowing us up,” she grinned.
Damn. He hadn’t even really thought about keeping a rein on his abilities. He hadn’t had a chance to because he’d been so focused on her and the surroundings.
He looked at where they’d set down. The beach appeared to be connected to an old homesite, abandoned long ago. The only reason the grass hadn’t invaded here was that it appeared to have a rock walkway, laid decades ago.
The group gathered at the back of the chopper to retrieve their gear. They left their helmets and combat gear, but took their survival bags. Madeira leaned into the depths of the space and dug around. When she pulled out she held three long, well-used machetes. She handed one to Big Kenny, who had the height and width on all of them. The second went to Fontana and she kept the third.
Fontana headed in the direction of the camp. They hadn’t seen any roads going in or out, but that didn’t mean that nothing was there. With a slow swinging rhythm, he started through the jungle. As his muscles warmed, he sped up, slashing more effectively. Thoughts of the last time he’d been in the jungle nagged at him. Last time he’d done this, he’s ended up at the bottom of a muddy ravine with a broken leg and a machete in his ass. Leg aching with remembered pain, he tried to push through the vivid memory.
It wasn’t easy.
Forcing his arm to swing harder, he buried the agony in work.
“My turn, boss man,” Kenny called a while later.
Fontana eased up, sweat dripping. His t-shirt clung to his chest and body, and he could feel his palm burning from the rub of swinging the machete. He looked at Kenny. “I just started.”
“Nah, you been swinging like a mad man for about twenty minutes now. Let some of us have a go before you hurt yourself.”
The big man took the machete from his hand and passed it back to Payne, and Madeira stepped forward to push a bottle of water into his hand, cap off. Fontana looked at it blankly for a moment before tipping his head back and drinking it down in one go. It was warm but he didn’t care. He hadn’t realized he’d lost himself.
Madeira watched him with concern in her expression. She pushed her sunglasses up onto her head so he could see her eyes. “Are you okay?”
Fontana forced a nod. “Last time I was in the jungle it wasn’t a pleasant experience.”
“Ah, so that’s why you were trying to kill it.” She smiled gently. “I get it now. Let’s let the big man take over for a while, shall we?”
Fontana glanced at Kenny. The huge male swung the machete like he’d done it before, and sweat had already begun to bead on his dark skin, running down his head in glistening tracks. They were all sweating, but that was intensive work.
Fontana also noticed that he’d changed directions a bit. “Was I off?”
Madeira held up her thumb and forefinger a fraction apart. “Just a bit.”
Now he felt like an ass. Once again, his emotions had gotten the better of him. He hadn’t shattered glass all over her, but she’d still had to deal with the fall out. “Seems like I’m always apologizing to you. Sorry.”
She shrugged again as they started to follow the others. “You didn’t go off a lot yet, but it would have gotten worse. No harm done. We’re not far away, now. You bulldozed a good chunk of distance,” she laughed.
Fontana looked at her, wondering why she’d become so accepting of him. Nothing much seemed to rile her and he appreciated that calmness. Seemed like his brain had been hyperalert and overactive for the past two years.
“Are you okay?”
Fontana looked down into her concerned eyes and it felt like he stepped through a wormhole. He wondered what having a person like Aiden did now would feel like. A significant other who would accept him just the way he was, warts and all. Horrors and all. The thought was so ludicrous that he almost laughed.
“I’m good,” he said, turning away. “Just ready to get there.”
Jordyn watched the big man close himself off. She could almost see the bricks falling into place around him. It was obvious he’d been disturbed when he’d been hacking at the bush. If he didn’t want to talk to her that was fine, she supposed. But he definitely had something going on.
Slipping her glasses back on, she followed the team as they moved through the corridor Kenny had hacked out of the jungle for them. Then, suddenly, he stopped. “I hit something,” he called back softly.
Jordyn moved forward with the rest to see what he’d done.
It was chain-link fence under a carpet of green. He’d struck the fence high, a bright silver slash amongst the green. The men reached out and began pulling at the pervasive plants, till they had an area cleared and they could look through the fence and beyond.
Jordyn could see the former camp, now, and it gave her chills. This wasn’t the one Fontana and his men had been in, but just the thought of what they’d possibly done here gave her chills, like she’d walked over a gravesite. And it didn’t ease as Payne began to cut through the fence and they entered the actual property.
A constellation of plant-laden buildings spread below them. They would have to go to every building just to uncover and see what it was. There were a few clearer areas which might have been trails or parking areas, and they walked along those to get into the main grouping of structures. It was obvious no one had been here in a long time. At least a couple years. Maybe more.
Fontana shook his head, looking around thoughtfully. He had the machete out but was using it more to push away limbs and stems than anything. It was hard to tell what they were looking at.
Jordyn bent down and poked at something unnaturally shaped with her knife. The tip of the blade hit metal and she pushed the vegetation away. This was the frame of an old aluminum chair. She moved to another lump, smaller and a little more uniformly shaped. A metal water canteen.
In the jungle, water was plentiful. If you knew where to look. For those that didn’t know, canteens were a necessity. She couldn’t imagine anyone losing their canteen and no one else claiming it. The chair she could understand, but the perfectly good canteen could probably be washed out and used today.
She looked around the area and noticed the poles at the end of one of the buildings. They weren’t power poles, they weren’t spaced right. But there were three poles spaced about eight feet apart from one another. Ivy of some type had rolled up the pole, shrouding it in green. What was curious, though, were the lumps in the middle of the poles. They looked vaguely familiar; long, thin from the bottom and up about three feet, then thicker, cylindrical, topped with a small sphere shape. She started walking toward them.
Kenny apparently had the same idea. As they stopped at the base he made a cup with his hands for her to step into. Trusting him, knowing that he wouldn’t allow anything to happen to her, Jordyn stepped into the grip of his hands, then up onto his shoulders. She reached out to brace herself on the lump, and it swung away from her. Gasping, she ripped at the green.
The ivy fell down in a sheet, and she found herself looking almost eye to eye with a human skull.
In spite of her fear she didn’t jerk like she wanted to. She forced herself to look at the skull, and the rest of the bones. The person had been strung up by his or her wrists. There were chains wrapped around the wrists and ankles.
“Do you see any identifying marks,” Fontana asked from below.