The Bad Guys

Tapia's airstrip after the sunrise. The La Dora River is over the burm to the left.




That is the last thing that we hear from Jerry. If either Lou or I knew the scientific name for the generic form of Ketamin, then we would know that Lou had probably overdosed him on animal tranquilizer. The kind they give to horses. One of those would have been enough to take Ollie out for a few hours, two is near overdose for a guy Jerry's size.
We don't realize our mistake for about thirty more minutes. By that time enough of the drug is in Jerry's system to make him completely useless. After his short bout with consciousness, and a few questions about Abby, he is silent. I don't turn to look at him, and Lou is sitting beside me up in the cockpit. Like I say, after about thirty minutes of silence Lou decides to check on him.
"Uh oh..."
"What?"
"I think Jerry's is trouble."
Not what I want to hear at this point in time. Just when I thought we were out of the woods. "More would be nice."
"He puked on himself."
I can hear Lou slap him across the face a couple of times. "JERRY... come on Jerry, snap out of it."
"What did you do, Lou?"
"It looks like he puked up whatever he had in his stomach, so any extra medicine isn't going to make it into his system."
"Great, now your thinking. You better read that label on the medicine bottle."
Silence now, just Abby's one good engine and Ollie's timber rattling snore. Lou pokes his head inside the cockpit, "Can you read spanish?"
"Damn it Lou, you know I don't even speak spanish. Why can't you read it?"
"I'm an illiterate bastard when it comes to spanish." He looks back over his shoulder, "Hey, he's moving on his own."
I can hear Jerry puking again. Jesus.

An hour has passes and Jerry is still out of it. Dr. Lou has told me that both his pupils are responsive.
"Great, so you're telling me that he doen't have brain damage? That's encouraging. Who's going to land the plane, Lou? Want to give it a try?" I don't attempt to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.
"No, I think you should land it. You're the co-pilot."
"NO... Lou, I am not the co-pilot, I am a mechanic who is going to get you and those other two guys killed. Tonight."

Another hour passes and I realize that we aren't going to make home on what fuel we have left. We either have a bullet hole in a tank somewhere, or just the way I have her trimmed up is not right and we are using more fuel to go the distance. Either way I have to find a place to attempt our landing. It is while I am on this train of thought that we cross over a familiar site.
"Hey, that's the Mujer Silvestre, the Wild Woman."
"Where? Big tits?"
"Down there, that river... its the Mujer Silvestre. You can tell because of the way it winds back and forth."
"You're gonna put us down in that river."
"No, we are going to Tapia's... he's a friend of ours. He is on the east fork of the La Dora River. The La Dora flows into the Mujer Silvestre." I do a quick sweep of my instruments as I talk. "Tapia has about the best stretch of runway out here, plus he is equipped to deal with both of the boys back there."
"How far from here?"
I look at the compass, then shake my head. "I don't know. I thought I was on the same heading Jerry took from the compound, but he must have changed course. Sometimes he does that just to keep the sun out of his eyes."
"So you don't know where we are?" Lou says with a tone.
"I don't think I would have to worry about where we are if you hadn't overdosed our pilot."
"So, where are we?"
I take a look out at the landscape. "The Mujer Silvestre really starts to straighten out the further you go into Guatamala. When it gets to Belize it is just a straight river. So at least we know we are on the right end of it."
Lou looks out of his window, "I see farm land out of my side."
"Me too, bean fields, I think. We are south east of Tapia's. We are going to have to head up river."
I slowly make a course correction, gaining a little altitude in the process. No danger out here of being spotted on radar. I would have to be a little higher anyway for my approach. I line Abby up on the river and we head toward salvation. It is late. We have been airborne for four and a half hours.
"Fuel is low, but that is good."
"How is that good?"
"Less chance of a fire when we crash."
Lou looks at me with the first worried look of the day. "Is there anything I can do to help you land this thing?"
"Just sit back and don't touch any controls"
He digs in the pocket of his shirt and pulls out yet another Walker. He fires it up and takes a long hit.
"Jesus, Lou, you think this is the time?"
"No better time to be stoned out of your mind. You're gonna take us down, I'm just along for the ride. Better to be stoned and dead than just dead. Besides it calms my nerves. Just takin' the one hit."

It is another forty minutes or so before we bank off and follow the La Dora, and another fifteen or so when the landscape starts looking really familiar. Before I know it, we fly right over the landing strip and Tapia's ranch. There are no lights on in the ranch house, but a helluva bonfire out in the back forty away from the airstrip.
"Well, someone is up."
We bank around. I am feeling more comfortable with each passing moment handling Abby's controls. I bank around wide, trying to guage my landing strip and any obstacles. That is the nice thing about Tapia's. The airstrip is made for big planes, so there is nothing in our way and plenty of room to stop.
Below us, there are headlights heading from the bonfire. "Good, we have a greeting party." I look over at Lou, who is craning to see out of his side window. "Is Jerry in a hammock or on the deck?"
Lou starts moving, "I'll get him in a hammock."
While Lou is setting up Jerry for landing, I take Abby back a ways to give myself a good approach. When Lou returns I bank Abby over and we line her up.
I start my checklist, and Lou is right there with me. "Flaps?"
"Flaps are up."
"Set them to ten."
"Flaps to ten." He moves the handle.
"Gear?"
"What about them?"
"Gear lever down." Fucking Lou.
Lou throw the lever down. I check the indications, all three show good.
With the increased drag Abby slows quickly and we start to go down. I hold her nose up and pull back on the throttle. To fast, she is dropping like a grand piano. I start to jam on the throttle but pull back on my panic and just give her a little juice. With that I pull back ever so slightly, extending our distance without too much descent. I can see the end of the airstrip in the moonlight. I am coming down short.
"Hey, man, you aren't going to make that." Lou tells me, like I don't know.
"No shit, Lou." At this speed its like trying to navigate an aircraft carrier up to a local fishing pier. "Come on Abby, you bitch, help me out here."
"Do you really think you should talk to her that way?"
"Now's not the time, Lou." I give her more throttle and flirt with a stall condition trying to make the edge of the airstrip.
"That's what I'm saying, man, don't call her names when we are asking her help to land."
"You're stoned, Lou. Shut the fuck up and brace yourself."
We cross over the edge of the strip and I cut the throttles. We are too high and she crashes down with a hard impact. Up again and then we crash down a second time, this one knocks the both of us out of our seats. I scramble to lift myself back into a sitting position so I can see where we are.
"HOLD ON."
We are bolting off the airstrip toward the La Dora. The tail isn't down yet. I tap the brake on the right rudder pedal and she straightens out. As soon as I see that we are semi-lined up I stand on the brakes and manage to get her stopped three quarters of the way down the strip.
"Yeah, JAKE... you did it, man."
I let out my breath. Didn't even know I was holding it. I take Abby to the end of the airstrip and before I lose my forward moment I spin her around just like Jerry would. She is all lined up for departure.

We are on the ground for a minute or two before we hear the trucks. Jerry and Ollie are still sound asleep, no idea how close they came to buying the farm. Me and Lou are celebrating with a couple of warm beers, smoking what is left of his Walker when the trucks come racing up toward us. As soon as they stop and the bright lights are on us, I know something is wrong.

"Don't move, Gringos." Not Tapia, not his men. They all know us, they know Abby. We would be knee deep in fucked up ranch hands by now. But here we are, frozen in the headlights. I am hoping they aren't Federales, friends of those guys we left behind at Ferdi's, or worse yet, they know about he plane that Lou shot down.
Lou is oblivious to the danger, or he just doesn't give a fuck. He takes a long hit off of the Walker and then passes it to me. I am going to object, under the circumstances, but then it occurs to me that we can't get into any worse trouble than we are in already. I take a long hit myself and as I hold it, a man crosses in front of the headlights and stops. It is impossible to see who it is, but what I can see is that he is holding an automatic rifle.
He motions to someone in the truck and a second person is shoved out into the glare of the bright lights. This person is not armed.
"Jerry? Is that you?"
"Tapia?" I would know his voice anywhere.
"Jake... you shouldn't have come."
Two men come from the shadows and into the light, grabbing Tapia, manhandling him back toward the truck. The elation we felt moments ago at not dying is now replaced with a dull nervousness. Man am I glad I took a couple of hits off that Walker. This sucks.