15
Ryan was more than glad to be leaving. Rather than have Miles taxi the floatplane up to the beach by the village, Jackie convinced Ben they should just go down to where Miles had camped for the night.
Jackie and Ryan had headed out first, Ben not so far behind. As he was taller than the Indians accompanying him, it gave him an air of authority, as if he were their warrior chief. At least that is how Ryan interpreted the sight every time he looked over his shoulder.
It was early light when they arrived where Miles had camped out. He had already packed up his things and had taken the time to rake over the fire pit, restoring the spot just the way he had found it.
The pilot was sitting in the cockpit, consulting his notebook and going through his system check-off list.
“Morning,” Jackie said, climbing through the open passenger door.
Miles grunted a reply and kept gazing down at the binder.
Ryan handed the two daypacks up and Jackie carried them to the back of the plane and stored them behind the rear seats. They both sat in the same seats they had occupied in the previous flight. Looking out the side window, Ryan could see Ben bidding the villagers a farewell like a missionary promising to return with hope for a better life. The goodbyes stretched on for minutes.
“Come on, Ben!” Jackie called out.
Ben eventually disengaged himself from the villagers crowded around him and backed up toward the plane, all the time waving.
“He can be so pompous at times,” Jackie said in a low voice so only Ryan could hear.
“Sounds like someone got up on the wrong side of the hammock.”
“Not funny.”
Ben lobbed his rucksack into the cockpit, pulled himself up onto the copilot’s seat, and closed the door.
Everyone put on their headsets as Miles primed the oil pump and checked his gauges. He started up the engine and the propeller whirled outside the windshield. Even with the headphones, the noise was loud.
Miles steered the floatplane out into the middle of the river and throttled the engine. The aircraft continued to gain speed until it finally left the water and soared up over the treetops.
Ryan looked back out the window expecting to see the Matis village, but the plane had already banked over the misty rainforest canopy. Now there was nothing else to do but sit back and relax. He was looking forward to getting back to the resort. Having a shower, and getting some food, especially since he had skipped the meal served at the longhouse. As he hadn’t slept well the previous night, he decided to grab twenty winks and closed his eyes.
He was in a deep slumber when Jackie shook his arm.
“What...”
“Jesus, Ben, do something!” she yelled.
“I don’t know how to fly this thing,” he screamed back.
Ryan opened his eyes and sat up in his seat. “What’s going on?”
“Miles just had a heart attack.”
Ryan unbuckled his seatbelt so he could get a good look at the pilot. Miles was slumped forward with his eyes closed and his chin on his chest. “We need to try giving him CPR.”
Ben started to reach over and unbuckle Miles but when he did, he bumped the yoke and the plane’s nose started to dip.
“Pull it back, pull it back,” Jackie screamed.
Ben grabbed the stick and drew the yoke back into position.
“Jackie and I’ll try to revive Miles,” Ryan said, surprised he was the one taking control of the situation instead of the two older college students.
Ryan reached around and released Miles’ seatbelt. He grabbed the man around the chest and hoisted him out of the seat. Ryan stepped back and pulled Miles down on the floor between the passenger seats. He unzipped the pilot’s bomber jacket, placed one hand over the other palm down on the center of the man’s chest and immediately started chest compressions like he had learned during a special session in his physical education class when he was a junior back in high school.
Once he had counted off thirty chest compressions, he sat upright and nodded for Jackie to perform mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.
Jackie checked to make sure Mile’s airway was clear and he hadn’t swallowed his tongue. She tilted his head back and pinched his nose then leaned down and blew two quick puffs of air into his mouth. Sitting back, she gave Ryan room so he could lean over and continue the compressions.
They kept up the medical emergency, alternating back and forth.
“Maybe we can reach someone on the radio,” Ben said. He placed his hand on the console and fiddled with a dial. “Mayday, mayday, this is the...” he stopped and looked around the cockpit. “Hell, I don’t even know our call sign.”
“Just tell them its Miles Gifford’s plane,” Ryan said, pumping on Miles’ chest.
“Wait a minute,” Ben said, tapping the side of his headset. “Is this thing even working?”
Jackie turned and sniffed. “I smell smoke.”
Ryan could smell it, too. It was coming from the console. He took off his headset and could hear a crackling sound. And then he saw sparks. He looked down by his feet and saw a fire extinguisher clamped to the bulkhead. He stopped the compressions realizing there was no point reviving the pilot if the plane was on fire. Undoing the clamp, he grabbed the canister, pulled the pin, and blasted the dashboard with white fire retardant and put out the small fire.
“This is not good,” Ben said, gazing at the foam-covered instrument panel. The electrical fire had fried the wiring, as all the needles on the gauges were no longer registering.
“Now I have no idea of our heading,” Ben said.
“Or how much fuel we have,” Ryan said. He looked down at the ashen-face pilot lying on the floor.
The plane lurched as the engine sputtered.
“Oh my God, we’re going down,” Jackie said.
Ryan pulled his cell phone out of his pocket to text his mom goodbye.
16
A map of the cities surrounding Manaus was spread out on the lobby table generally used for displaying brochures and small booklets with useful travel tips.
Frank was running his finger from one location to the next, reading off city names while James and Kathy consulted their cell phones to see how that particular city had withstood the devastating earthquake. Macky was having problems with his phone and went outside to see if he could get better reception.
“Looks like Caldeira was hit pretty hard as well,” James said.
“We might have trouble getting out of here,” Frank said.
Wanda was sitting on the settee next to Ally and Dillon. She’d taken her cell phone out of her jean pocket as it was bulky and placed it on the coffee table.
“Do you think Ryan’s all right?” Ally asked.
“The way Frank explained it, Ryan’s a good ways away. He probably doesn’t even know what’s happening here. Just as well. I wouldn’t want him to worry about us and spoil his trip.”
“Are we going to sit here all day?” Dillon whined, already bored.
“I know it’s hard for you to understand, but this is very serious. We might be stuck here for some time.”
“Then let’s go do something.”
“Not right yet. You’re going to have to be a little patient.”
Kathy had just finished looking at another city and glanced up at Frank, shaking her head.
“Not looking good,” Frank said to Wanda.
Wanda’s phone binged, signaling she had an incoming text message.
She reached over, picked up her phone, and checked her email.
“Oh my God,” she said, once she’d read the text.
“What is it?” Frank said, turning away from the table and looking over at his wife.
“Miles Gifford had a heart attack.”
“Is he okay?” Frank asked.
Wanda glanced back down at her phone for a second then looked up with a horrified look on her face. “He’s dead.”
“Oh, no. That means they’re stranded at that villag
e.”
“Frank, you don’t understand. They’ve already left.
“What?”
“They’re flying without a pilot.”
17
Ryan had been on plenty of wild amusement rides before but never anything as scary as being trapped in an airplane 10,000 feet in the sky without a pilot and not knowing when the fuel would run out, especially when the engine had sputtered and they thought they were going to crash. Fortunately, he had been paying attention watching Miles fiddling with the mixture levers before each flight and was able to make similar adjustments and get the engine running somewhat steady.
Out of respect, Ryan had taken Miles’ flight jacket off and draped it over the dead man’s head and upper body. Jackie had been especially shaken up and was back in her seat. Her eyes were red from crying.
Even though Ben professed he couldn’t fly the aircraft, he seemed to be doing a fair enough job of it, as they hadn’t crashed yet. Basically, he had been keeping the yoke steady and letting the plane pretty much fly itself.
They had their headsets back on so they could talk to one another.
“How long have we been in the air?” Ryan asked, not sure how long he had been napping before being awaken by Jackie.
“Three hours, maybe,” Ben replied.
Ryan had been glancing out the window on occasion, hoping to see a village or a small town, any sign of civilization, but each time there was only a massive expanse of green. But now he could see a river below with same branching tributaries that looked like tiny veins splitting away from a large artery.
Ben yelled and began drumming his feet down on the cockpit floor.
“What wrong?”
“They’re coming out of the instrument panel!”
Jackie moved forward in her seat. “Oh my God.”
Ryan saw thousands of black specks racing out of every hole and crack in the instrument panel. Some were falling out from the bottom of the housing like ground pepper sifting out of a grinder. “What are they?”
“Crazy ants,” Jackie said, already slapping a pant leg.
“Seriously, they’re called crazy ants?”
“Don’t let too many of them get on you,” Jackie warned, grabbing an old copy of Aviation History tucked in the pocket behind the pilot’s seat. She rolled up the magazine and began swatting at the pesky insects before they could bite her.
Ryan was getting the idea how the insects got their name. The ants were scrambling crazily in every direction like they had just blundered onto a sizzling hot plate.
“They’re probably what started the fire,” Ben shouted, using his free hand to slap at his attackers.
“You’re saying the ants started the fire,” Ryan said disbelievingly but gave him the idea to grab the extinguisher for the second time. He sprayed the cockpit floor, smothering the frantic swarm.
“They eat through the electrical and cause short circuits,” Jackie yelled. “Probably crawled aboard while Miles was camped on the shore.”
“And that’s not all,” Ben said and looked over his shoulder. “They foul up the fuel line.”
And then, as if on cue, the engine quit.
The floatplane continued to glide, but they were losing altitude. Ryan got the same sensation in his stomach he’d get whenever he was in a descending elevator.
The nose of the plane dipped and Ben pulled back on the yoke, which had no effect leveling the aircraft. Instead, the floatplane banked to the right, throwing Jackie up against Ryan and pinning him against the window.
“Get your seatbelt on,” Ryan told Jackie.
Jackie moved back to her seat and strapped herself in. Ryan fastened his seatbelt.
The ants were no longer a threat as they struggled in the thick foam covering most of the floor of the cockpit and parts of the passenger area.
Ryan looked out the windshield.
They were going down fast.
Directly in their path was a long, thin body of water. “Ben, we still have a chance. Shoot for the river.”
It was plain to see Ben had no real control of the plane. If they landed on the water, it would be a miracle.
But as they banked over the trees, Ryan saw what he thought at first to be calm waters was actually a fast flowing river. The rapids ran farther downriver to a massive jumble of rocks and a waterfall.
“Brace yourselves!” Ben yelled.
Ryan and Jackie bent forward and laced their fingers behind their heads.
The impact was so great the bolts on Ryan’s seat snapped off and he was thrown up against the upright of the copilot’s seat. He glanced over his shoulder at Jackie, who must have hit her head on the bulkhead. There was blood trickling down the side of her face from a cut on her forehead.
The floatplane took another bounce and came down with a loud screech. Ryan looked out the window and caught a glimpse of one of the pontoons behind, mangled on some boulders.
Hitting the water again and missing a pontoon, the plane’s wing dipped down into the water.
Ben unbuckled his seatbelt and kicked open the passenger door. A forceful gush of water rushed into the cockpit.
“Grab your bags,” he yelled, snatching his rucksack and bailing out the door.
“Jackie, come on,” Ryan said, getting out of his seat.
“I can’t. My buckle won’t open.”
Ryan reached down and tried to unsnap the seatbelt but it was jammed.
The water was already up to Jackie’s knees.
“Ryan, do something.”
He reached in his front jean pocket and took out his folded knife. He opened the blade and began sawing at the strap. It was taking longer than he thought. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d sharpened his knife.
The water level was up to Jackie’s stomach, and rising fast, so he could no longer see what he was doing, or the progress he was making, cutting through the constraint.
The strap finally severed and Ryan pulled Jackie out of her seat. He guided her to the door opening and had to brace himself as he pushed her out against the incoming flood of water. He wanted to go back and retrieve their daypacks but he knew if he tried he’d drown for sure.
He took a big gulp of air, and propelled himself out of the cockpit. He swam underwater, just missing the wing as the submerging airplane was dragged downstream by the strong current.
Breaking the surface, Ryan turned around in the rapids to get his bearings but his only choice was to swim for the nearest shore. By the time he reached the bank, he was totally exhausted and clawed up the muddy embankment on his belly.
Taking a few deep breaths, he turned over, and managed to sit up.
He looked upstream but didn’t see any sign of Ben or Jackie. He gazed across the river and scanned the opposite shore but saw no one. He turned to look downstream but he was at a crook in the river and couldn’t see beyond the tight cluster of trees.
Jackie and Ben were nowhere to be seen; his biggest fear they had both drowned.
Which meant he was now alone—lost in the jungle.
His chances of being rescued were as slim as finding a penny in a copper mine.
.
18
Wanda stared impatiently at her phone. “Come on, Ryan. Answer me back.”
“Try him again,” Ally said.
“I’ve already sent him three texts.”
Frank was still standing at the table. He looked up from the map. “You can’t call him?”
“No,” Wanda said. “For some reason text is the only thing that works out here.”
“Bring your phone over here,” Frank said.
Wanda got up from the settee and joined Frank at the table.
“Show me that app again,” Frank whispered. “Maybe I can pinpoint his location on this map.”
Wanda swiped her finger across the glass face of her phone, tapped on a small multi-colored square and another screen popped up with a zoomed in map of the lower region of Brazil.
“Can you zoom out
a bit?” Frank asked.
“Sure.” Wanda tapped on the screen and the lettering and the dots identifying the cities shrunk so as to display more of the surrounding area.
“I take those two red markers are Ally and Dillon, here at the resort.”
“That’s right.”
“I don’t see Ryan. Zoom out some more.”
Wanda flicked the screen.
“There he is,” Frank said, spotting Ryan’s positioning marker. “Watch and see if it changes.”
They stared at the screen for almost five minutes but the marker stayed in the same position.
“Hmm,” Frank murmured.
“What?”
“It’s not moving. I think the plane crashed.”
“Oh my God,” Wanda said, leaning on the table, trying not to show emotion and alarm Ally and Dillon.
James and Kathy had stepped out to stretch their legs and check up on Macky.
Frank consulted the cell phone one more time before looking back at the map. He ran his finger across the paper. “I believe he’s somewhere...,” he said, then stabbed the map with his finger, “Here!”
“Thank God. So you know where he is,” Wanda said.
“Well, not exactly. That’s sort of no man’s land. I don’t think anyone’s ever been in that region of the jungle before. At least, no one I know of.”
“What you’re telling me is it’s unexplored.”
“That’s right. You have to realize there’s over two billion square miles of rainforest out there.”
“So what do we do?”
“Now we know where he is, we can call and mount an air search. I’m sure Miles’s plane has a distress beacon. Shouldn’t be too difficult to find.”
“Mom, Dillon’s being a pill,” Ally said, startling Frank and Wanda when she suddenly appeared at the table. She glanced down and saw the image on Wanda’s phone. “What’s that?”
Wanda placed her hand over the screen. “Nothing.”
“You have one of those kid trackers on your phone,” Ally said accusingly.
“And it’s a good thing I do.”
“I can’t believe you’ve been spying on us.” Ally turned, walked over, and plopped down on the settee next to Dillon, glowering.
Deep In The Jungle Page 5