The Dragon Writers Collection

by DragonWritersCollective

  "Why did you raise the shade?" he grumbled. "I was having the best dream."

  "Was Ruby in it?" I said with a chuckle.

  "As a matter of fact, she was. In my dreams is about the only place I can handle that fire-cracker. Where are we anyway?"

  "About half an hour away from touchdown," I said. "Seems like it was an uneventful flight."

  I read a few more sentences on the phone and waited for Smith's grizzled remark. It never came. I looked over to see him losing consciousness as two hands clad in black gloves closed around his nose and mouth. I jumped to my feet and nearly knocked myself out on the overhead compartment. Smith slumped forward as his assailant abruptly let go of his face.

  Whirling to face the attacker, I spun myself out into the aisle between the seats. The man who had been choking the life out of Smith slowly stood to face me. He dropped off his trench coat and tossed his wide-brimmed straw hat aside.

  His face was covered in the familiar and suddenly even more terrifying tattoos and tribal painted mask.

  I raised my hands in a defense posture, trying to imply that I knew any kind of martial arts that would do something other than make this man laugh.

  "No one to charge to your rescue this time, little one," he said with a sneer I could hear more than see through his mask. "I'm going to be crushing you again in a few seconds - of that much you can be sure - and I will get the answers to my questions."

  "Oh no," I said, trying to sound brave. "This time I'm the one that is going to get some answers. Starting with who the hell are you?"

  The man in the mask sauntered out into the aisle.

  "Your detective friend is dead," he said, indicating Smith with a slight nod. "You have no combat skills to speak of and I can do this -"

  He reached out a meaty paw and crushed the headrest of a seat into a powder of foam and metallic shards of pulverized springs.

  "Why on earth would I answer any of your questions?" he finished.

  My mind raced as I poured through everything I had ever learned to find some way out. Suddenly it hit me. I took about five steps back, and my attacker slowly followed.

  "Because there's information in my brain you want," I said. I stopped walking and put my hand out to grab the emergency handle on the plane's hatch - that was now directly to my right. "And if you don't cooperate with me, I'll make sure that information dies with me!"

  I cranked the door handle halfway toward open to emphasize my point.

  "Easy, little one," he said. "No need to do anything rash. My name is unpronounceable to your gringo tongue, but you may call me Eduardo."

  It seemed like such an unassuming name for such a deadly man. He had killed my mother, perhaps my father and April and as I stole a furtive look toward Smith's unmoving body, I began to suspect he had finished off the old detective as well.

  But wait, Smith showed signs of life! He came to, and immediately locked eyes with mine. He moved one finger toward his lips and mimed that I should not say anything to indicate he was awake.

  "Ok, Eduardo," I said, trying to sound tough. "Back off, or I'll jump!"

  My voice squeaked just a bit right on the last syllable and I knew he wasn't going to buy it.

  "Ah, raton, you are too timid to hurt yourself," Eduardo said as he slithered toward me. "Let us discuss the binoculars and I can promise you your father and lovely April will be just fine."

  Smith jumped over the back of the seats in front of him, weapon drawn, as I dove at Eduardo's diminutive legs. We collided with him at the same time, but the combination of Eduardo's insanely top heavy frame and Smith's momentum meant it just sent the masked man crashing down on top of me. As we wriggled around in the center aisle, the rest of the passengers began to panic and a flight attendant screamed.

  Eduardo was obviously an experienced grappler - maybe he was a wrestler - and was about to lock me up into another death hold, when Smith finally brought his gun to bear.

  "Don't be a fool, Eduardo," Smith said through clinched teeth. "You know if I fire this gun in a pressurized cabin, it'll ruin your day. Let the boy go and I won't have to hurt you."

  Eduardo called Smith's bluff and wrapped one enormous hand across my nose, mouth and most of my face. Smith fired one shot and incredibly, Eduardo seemed to duck out of the way of the bullet. It hit the hatch I had been pulling on earlier and blew open the door to the plane. The sudden change in cabin pressure caused several things to happen at once. The emergency oxygen masks fell out of the ceilings above the passenger seats. Several people screamed in panic and the pilot tried to get the plane to a lower altitude to stabilize the cabin pressure. The aircraft pitched violently.

  Not that I, Eduardo or Smith had much time to notice any of this as we careened across the aisle --- and right out the open hatch.

  CHAPTER FIVE:

  Welcome to the jungle

  When you're facing certain death, they say your life flashes before your eyes. For me, it was more like someone was scrolling through an Internet scrapbook of my life. I saw myself as a young boy - maybe about 5 or 6? It was the day that my mother had tried to get us all together for a family photo in our Easter outfits. My dad was dressed impeccably in a blue suit, my mother in a beautiful floral pattern dress and I was trying to look like a little gentleman in my own version of a blue suit - with shorts and a bow tie.

  It was great idea on mom's part, to have that picture taken. Unfortunately, like most little boys, pristine photos were the last thing on my mind when a yard full of mud and bugs was so readily available for playing. I had fallen into a mud puddle and covered myself in brown streaks on the right side of my suit. Ever the resourceful one, my mom grabbed a chunk of mud and streaked the other side to almost match. In the final photo, I looked like I had been wearing a blue suit with brown stripes the whole time.

  Another image flickered by and I saw the first time I met April. She had been a vision of college boy dreams. She had an athletic build and wore a short plaid skirt with a t-shirt for some throwback punk band. Her dark hair was pulled up into two puffy pigtails and she had on green and black striped knee socks. The outfit was not only appropriate, but it fit her just right. I knew that day that if I didn't go ask her out, I would regret it the rest of my life. Amazingly, as I sat there trying to generate enough courage to make a move, she came over and started talking to me.

  Time flashed again and I was at my father's office. He was trying to explain to me how Inferno Industries could become the most powerful space company in the world if he could just find the right kind of fuel for his new engine. I wasn't paying attention, until he came over and told me, "Adrien, no matter what you do in life, I'll always be proud of you - just keep your head up son...keep your head up..."

  The words echoed in my mind. No, they weren't an echo, someone was yelling at me! The voice was Smith's, he was somehow just above me. The air whipped at my face and I was shaken from my near death reverie.

  We were plummeting toward the ground and I had no idea of anyway we could survive this. But I did as Smith said and kept my head up. I scanned the horizon.

  "What can we do?" I yelled over the din of the atmosphere thundering in my ears.

  "We've got to slow our descent somehow," he barked. To emphasize his idea of 'somehow' he tried fanning his arms out in his trench coat. The garment billowed up and filled like a balloon, but in seconds it whipped over his head. His fedora finally blew off. I marveled at how tight that meant the hat must be and then marveled at how I could casually observe this as I plunged to my death.

  "It's no good," I said. "We can't survive. At least we know Eduardo is a goner, too."

  I looked around and scanned the horizon for any signs of the assassin. I saw nothing. I looked down and then over at Smith. His face was a mix of peace and regret.

  "We're not going to make it are we?" I said.

  "Sorry, son, but I didn't exactly pack the parachutes in my pants," Smith said. He eked out one last grin. We both instinctively spread our ar
ms and legs to at least slow our descent. "It's a beautiful country. I guess there are worse places to die. Check out those green trees, cascading rocks and the crystal clear lake."

  We both craned our necks to look at the lake.

  "A lake!" Smith yelled. "It's our only chance."

  We squirmed, kicked and flailed our arms, doing our best bird impressions as we tried to maneuver to hit the lake. I reminded myself that there was a good chance slapping the water at this velocity would still lead to me snapping my neck and dying, but a slim chance was better than no chance.

  After getting into the best position I thought I possibly could, Smith and I tucked our heads and braced for impact. The fall was impossibly fast, but since we were in what felt like the final moments of our lives, everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. I closed my eyes and waited - for water or for eternity.

  But neither came. Instead, I somehow landed in a net. I opened my eyes and saw a rope net, springing back up toward the sky as it recoiled from the impact of Smith and me. Gently, we bounced up and down for a few moments as the net straightened out. We were about 30 feet off the ground, in what appeared to be a hand-made rope net suspended between two of the massive trees near the shore of the lake we were aiming for.

  "Smith?" I said as I looked around for the old detective.

  "I'm right here," he grumbled. "Somehow, I'm right here."

  We looked around. The trees were the only things moving as their leafy tops leaned inward to support the ropes of the net. A few birds flew off, their colorful feathers looking like rainbow exhaust from our impact in the net.

  "What happened? Why is this even here?" I said as I rolled over and tried to stand up. The net was enormous. It had to be close to the size of a football field and while it looked handmade it was strong enough and sturdy enough to survive our impact from very far up.

  Smith got his bearings a few seconds after me, but it was too late to keep me from standing up.

  "Wait!" he said. But at that moment the net seemed to give way underneath us. We plunged toward the forest floor once again and at the last possible second the net stopped us, wrapping up around us as we dangled a few feet from the ground like prey caught in a hunter's trap.

  And that's exactly what we felt like as a group of men in military fatigues, armed to the teeth, emerged from the trees.

  "Well, well, what have we here?" I heard a feminine voice say. I struggled to turn myself in the net, with Smith now stacked on top of me. I couldn't see her, but I could hear her silky smooth Central American accent. "Who is trespassing in my jungle?"

  "Your jungle?" Smith said. He was turned the other way so must have been able to see her. "Madam, I assure you this portion of Guatemala belongs to the world in the wildlife and rainforest preserve."

  "Hah!" the mystery lady laughed. "Rainforest preserve! These capitalist pigs know nothing of preserving or our beloved rainforest. You have five seconds to tell me who you are or I have my men cut you down like dogs for trespassing."

  She started to count.

  "Now, just one minute..." Smith said. I cut him off.

  ~

  Book Two of The Balance of Power

  Empire of Fire