The Plan

The Dominican Brother's pool and cabana area in back






At some point in time after the executions, I zone out. I only notice that I haven't been "here" when Lou slides the ashtray over toward me. My cigar ash is almost two inches long. He has been covering for me for I don't know how long. I look up at Arturo and give a weak smile.
"Excuse me... I think I am still a little tired."
"It is okay, my friend. Louis and I were just discussing your flight from Mexico City and the payment you are bringing back to Medellin."
I look at Lou, who manages to wink at me without winking. Whatever lie he is into I have no choice but to play along. I notice now that Paulo is not at the table.
"Yes... they can get pretty pissed when they don't get their payment."
Lou scoots to the edge of his chair, looks at me and smiles. "I told these gentlemen that we could help them out as long as we can make our delivery to our bosses in Medellin." He turns to Arturo and now Paulo as he retakes his seat, "We are already overdue and they will be sending a unit out to find us."
"A unit?" Paulo says.
Lou regroups, he might have overstepped his knowledge, "Uh... yeah, unit. The guys with no tongues, the La Segunda Vida. You guys aren't the only ones that use them."
"It is a kind of custom in our industry." Paulo says as he restokes his cigar. "I am aware that we are not the only ones that allow this mercy. I can assure you that we will allow you to make your delivery. But first you must ask for your assistance to take care of something for us."
Paulo stands and snaps his fingers. One of his staff appears with a map and a few charts and lays them out on the table. Paulo whisks the man away with the wave of a hand and then looks at me. I stand and join him on his side of the massive round table. Before he can speak, the sound of another aircraft fills the air.
"Ah, the other cargo plane is here." He looks at his watch and then at Arturo, "Right on schedule."
Lou looks at me as he steps up to the maps and charts. "Sounds like Abby."
Arturo nods, "It is a plane just like yours. We find this plane to be better for negotiating the terrain and for short take off and landing, as you well know."
Paulo claps me on the back, "But this man is our number one pilot. You are quite good at the "stick" of this machine." I nod weakly. Paulo turns to his charts and maps, "Now, let's get down to business."

Paulo ends his briefing and is drawn away by a telephone call, Arturo along with him for the moment. I look at Lou and we both breathe a collective sigh. Instead of being forced into their employ running product from Cali, we have been tasked with something a little less permanent. It seems that we are to make a cargo drop along with the other plane in the mountains just south of here. I don't know why they can't use the plane that just landed to make two trips, but apparently the logistics won't allow for it. Tomorrow we fly out of here behind this other plane and make the drop as soon as they start theirs. According to Paulo we will fly back here and pick up our money and be free to go, I hope.

Arturo returns after several minutes and invites us to pool area. It is getting hot once again and I am sweating up a storm. Lou is like a weather chameleon, he seems to adapt to whatever climate we are in. He doesn't look the worse for wear but invites the chance to get into the cool water.
"There is everything you need in the changing rooms, gentlemen." Arturo gestures to the cabanas up the stairs past the pool. "I hope you don't mind sharing the pool with our ladies." On cue four extremely beautiful women walk past, two each stopping at their perspective cabanas, waiting for us to enter. Arturo smiles suggestively, "Please enjoy yourselves."
Lou looks and is speechless for a two count while he took in the scantily clad bronze beauties. "I've had threads hanging off my shirts that cover more than that."
"You complaining?" I start for the cabanas.
"No... less is more."

The pool is refreshing, the drinks are exotic and potent, and the company is affectionate and willing. We are left to ourselves for several hours. I have always been told not to swim after a large meal, but sex in a drug lord's pool seems to be okay. So I just sit in the shallow end and
enjoy the company. Before long we are joined by several more people, including Paulo who inadvertently strips us of our female company when he steps into the pool. They know who pays the bills.

After our swim we catch a ride back down to the hanger. Now next to Abby is another DC3, a vision of what Abby might have looked like in her heyday. This plane looks like something you might see at an airshow.
The hanger seems deserted. This is the siesta and many of the workers are taking a bit of a break. I walk over to Abby and look inside the cargo bay. I still feel the sting of that money being out of our possession. We can only hope that these guys are on the level. Inside her cargo bay is our next disaster waiting to happen. I look back for Lou and he is looking inside the other plane.
"Hey Lou, come take a look at this."
I am joined at the cargo door and we both examine the cargo and the drop line to which each flat is connected. "We're making an air drop?"
"The other plane is set up the same way." Lou tells me. "What is this shit?"
"Air drop." Antonelli says as he walks up behind us with the remains of a six pack in one hand and a half finished beer in the other. He joins us at the door and peaks his head in. "I thought they briefed you."
"All they said was that I was to fly behind the lead plane and do what he did when he did. He said nothing about an air drop."
"Well, now you know." He finishes his beer and tosses the empty toward the wall of the hanger. "Beer?" He peels one out of the holder and hands it to Lou. I pass.
"So what is this shit?" Lou points to the cargo.
"You don't want to know... I don't want to know. You ask to many questions then they cap you for knowing too much." He tips his beer and empties half of it. I get the feeling that Antonelli is a little nervous. "I'll be helping you get this shit out of the door, me and another guy."
"And that's it? Just make this drop and we are going to be allowed to go?"
"Is that what they told you?"
Lou kills his beer and tosses the can, "Yep, that's what they told us."
"Let's hope so then. They usually do what they say they are going to do."
Antonelli looks at the cargo one last time and then turns. He has started to sweat a little more than usual. He pulls a shop rag from his pocket and mops his brow. "The other pilot and plane are the replacement for Guenther and his ride. So I know they aren't going to hijack you for the long run."
I don't like the way he is acting, a lot more nervous than the first couple of times we saw him. "I want to know what this stuff is, Antonelli. Is this coke, heroine, what?"
"No, man, don't worry. Believe it or not it isn't anything illegal, I don't think... not like that anyway." He shoves another beer to his lips in hopes of keeping his secret safe.
Lou jumps in, knowing that Antonelli is just a little on edge when his space is invaded. "What is it that we are dropping here?"
"You guys don't want to know. Trust me."
Lou gets within inches of his face. "Either you tell us, or we'll tell Paulo that you tried to get us to smuggle some of their shit out of here for your retirement fund."
"High explosives, man. You happy? Now you know. You got enough high explosives in these two planes to take the top off a mountain."

The Dominican Brothers

The Dominican Brother's Villa in the mountains of Colombia






I drink my beer in the tiled shower stall, letting the water run down the back of my head and shoulders. Whoever our hosts are they will have to wait until my batteries recharge. My head aches, the granite of my thoughts is hard to penetrate. I just can't see past that matress and white cotton sheets. I can hear the water running in the bungalow next store. Lou has got to be as tired as I am.

I turn in the sweat covered sheets. It is hotter than hell. Whatever breeze that had been cutting through here when I crashed out is long gone. It is dark with the exception of the full moon occasionally spilling a silvery light into the room as the clouds move beneath it. I find relief on the deck outside, a little cooler and a little breeze. I sit in a cushioned patio chair and prop my legs up.

Morning comes with a five star greeting. A serving tray is rolled in with fresh brewed coffee, pastries, and every kind of breakfast item from british bangers and kippers to Lox and cream cheese. I open my eyes and see Lou sitting on his patio with a steaming cup of coffee and a cigar.
"Couldn't let you sleep the whole day away."
"What time is it?" I stand and stretch. Excellant sleep... I feel completely refreshed.
"Hell I don't know, maybe ten o'clock. I just got my wake up from the same little lady." He gets up and walks inside his bugalow. A short time later he rolls his tray into my bungalow and we are eating breakfast together.
"She told me that we are expected at the main house for lunch in a few hours."
"Great."
"I keep hearing a lot of noise coming from that hanger, like they are working an overhaul or something." He draws off of the cigar and lets the smoke out in a thin stream. "The thing is... Abby is the only plane in there."

We make our way to the hanger only to find Abby with her cowls off, fluids draining, some little guy in coveralls lubing the main gear. Antonelli is on the port wing laying on his stomach while he examines the worst of the hits we took when Abby dropped into that canyon.
"HEY," I shout up to him, "What the FUCK are you doing with our airplane?"
Antonelli props himself up on his elbows, "Relax, just changing out your oil and lubing it up. Been a while since I've had my hands in one of these."
"Yeah, well just because we flew your boys back with whatever you were carrying doesn't mean a damn thing. That isn't your plane, or these fuckers you work for."
"SHhhhh... hey man." Antonelli climbs down from the trailing edge of the wing and down a ladder. He walks up to us, scanning the hanger as he approaches, index finger up to his lips. "Hey man, keep that shit down or we're gonna see some executions before lunch. Know what I mean?" He is serious.
Lou looks around, squats down and takes in the hanger. He straightens up and walks over to Abby.
"I don't appreciate you working on this plane without talking to me first, got it?"
"Yeah, I got it, but you're not the one given the orders, not here... not now."
"Well, I'll tell you what... " I don't get to finish before Lou calls me over to the cargo door.
The back hatch has been opened and the bags are gone. I turn and Antonelli is standing right behind us.
"Yeah, man, they took your money inside for safe keeping."
I go to grab him but Lou beats me to it. With amazing speed and leverage he jacks him up to the side of the plane. Then raps him in the windpipe with a couple of fingers to get his attention.
"You get it back, you big piece of SHIT. Do you know what we went through for that money. It's not ours, Jackass, get it back NOW."
Lou backs off and Antonelli brings his hands up to his throat and tries to massage a breath through it. From behind us, a short balding man in white cotton shirt and pants walks up with a small, well armed entourage.
"Please do not take our efforts as an intrusion... we are only trying to prepare your aircraft for departure." He comes to a stop in front of us and his men fall to parade rest behind him. "Please forgive me. I am Arturo Dominican." He extends his hand. I pause for a split second, mad at all of this, but then figure insulting this man would not be our best interest.
"Jake Allen," I shake his hand, "This is Lou." Lou shakes his hand.
"Do not worry about your baggage from the back cargo hold. I have placed it in my safe in the main house. When you are surrounded by cut-throats and thieves you cannot be too careful."
"My thoughts exactly."
"Please come with me. I will introduce you to my brother."
I look at Antonelli who has recovered and is nodding at me. "Is it okay if I finish servicing your plane?"
"Her name is Abigail... Abby." I give him a hard look. "Am I going to have to come behind you and check everything you do?"
"Fuck you."
"Good, that is what I want to hear. She's a lady, man... treat her like one."

Lou and I, Arturo and his boys, we all walk out of the hanger. Arturo takes the lead and guides us over to a Sapphire Blue Cadillac Escalade. We climb in and drive down the airstrip and then take a right when we are clear. There is a dirt road that leads up the side of the mountain.

"This is our base of operations, we... " Arturo starts to say.
"Hey, Mr. Dominican, if you don't mind I would rather not know anything about this place, where it is, or how your operations works... what that business is. You understand, don't you?"
I feel like I better pull it back some or something bad is going to happen. But I don't want to know anything. It gives this guy less of a reason to kill me or Lou.
Arturo turns in his seat and offers a pleasant smile, "Mr. Allen, Jake... if I was going to kill you I would have done that by now. Do you understand?"
I nod. He looks to Lou and he nods as well.
He turns back forward and continues to speak, "I actually have a business proposition for you, Jake. My brother and I know the value of a good pilot and plane. Not easy to find someone that can fly like you. I was informed that you landed in the Desolation Canyon in an effort to save our cargo. No one has been able to do that. And then to take off out of there... amazing."
I am about to open my mouth to tell him that I am no pilot, but get a jab in the ribs and a sideways glare from Lou. It was a "don't tell him anything" look. He was right. We needed to sit at this table for a while and see what kind of cards come out.
Within a couple of minutes we pull up in front of a mountaintop mansion, spread out amongst tropical gardens and fountains. We drive through and around the side of the sprawling grounds until we are in a long circular drive.
"Looks like a damn casino entrance." Lou whispers to me. Arturo turns. "Beautiful." Lou adds.
"Welcome to La Joya de la Montaña." Arturo says as his door is opened along with ours. We step out into a cool breeze and are escorted in from the drive to a patio where a lavish buffet is set up. Looks like something you would see in a cruise ship brochure. Lobster, scallops the size of a baseball, king crab legs, clams, oysters, seered ahi, every exotic fruit you could imagine... very colorful. I am pissed that I even touched my breakfast.
Sitting at the head of the table is a younger man dressed like Arturo. He is talking on the phone, he seems to growl and snarl like a ferrel dog as he talks. This is obviously the other brother, the bad drug lord to Arturo's good drug lord. He sees us come in and motions us to sit while he finishes his phone call.
"Gentlemen, please help yourself to lunch." Arturo guides us over to the buffet and serves himself. We follow suit and when we are seated a servant steps up with a pitcher of emerald green liquid and pours it into a glass. Arturo grabs his, "This is a special Plantation punch we have been making in our family for centuries," He hoists his glass with expectations for us to follow suit, "To our successful venture."
Lou and I exchange a quick look. Play along is the theme of the day. We lift our glasses. It is then we notice the other brother has finished his call and he is standing with his glass.
"Gentleman, I am Paulo Dominican. I wish to welcome you to La Joya de la Montaña. I also wish to thank you for saving our cargo. Without your assistance in this matter we would have been in a serious problem."
We all drink. The beverage is quite good, melon and something... and there is definately a kick to it. Paulo has one of the servants fill his plate and he talks while we all eat. He praises my skills a pilot, talks about the mansion, about Colombia. He sounds like he is from the tourist board. Very proud of his country. Just when we think we were wrong about old Paulo, he shows his colors.
We are all done eating and we are smoking cigars, not yet having been party to any plan or business dealing. Just being treated as honored guests, I guess. Paulo is explaining the value of a good cigar when "Jack" and two of his men are brought up the the edge of the courtyard and are made to stand at attention.
"You will excuse me for a moment. I must attend to small piece of business. Employee problems... they are constant." He nods and smiles graciously.
Arturo looks at the two of us, "You must excuse my brother. He has the constitution to deal with these matters. I do not."
We look on as Paulo steps up to the three men. One of the men that paraded them up to the courtyard hands him a pistol and he proceeds to shoot two of the men through the head. He leaves Jack standing. Paulo says something into the guards ear and he takes Jack away.
Arturo takes a draw off of his cigar and then explains. "Not all of our cargo made it back with you. And if it were not for the fantastic flying you did into the Desolation Valley we would have lost it altogether. These men have failed for a final time. Why he has let this last man live I do not know."
Oh shit. I look at Lou and he shakes his head slightly, don't fall apart now he says without words. I have the feeling old Lou has seen people die in front of him enough to not let it bother him. Me, only in the movies.
Paulo returns to the table, wiping blood from his hands with one of the white linen napkins from the table. One of the servants brings a wash basin and soap on a rolling cart and he cleans up before re-taking his seat.
"These men have betrayed me for the last time. You cannot run a business like this and allow for these errors more than once." He puffs his cigar to life.
"What about Jack?" Lou asks.
"Jack?" Paulo turns, "Oh, you mean the team leader? He has been given many chances. A very big disappointment."
Just then a blood-curdling scream and black billowing smoke rises from somewhere just beyond the foliage by the corner of the courtyard. The screaming stops five or ten seconds after it starts, but it is enough to bring my lunch up to the back of my throat. They burned him, burned him alive. These guys are fucking lunatics.

Valle de Desolación

The valley we flew out of, Lou takes the shot from Abby's cargo door with safety on. Almost lost the camera.



In think I might have pissed myself. I sit in the quiet of the cockpit, my hands shaking, eyes closed. No one is talking. Lou has left the plane and last I saw of him from the side window he was leaned over, hands on his knees and throwing up. I don't move for a time, just sitting there wondering if I might have given up the ghost.
When I finally stand, I am relieved to see that I hadn't pissed myself. It is a miracle seeing that I should be dead right now. I should have at least pissed myself, or worse yet shit myself. But apparently nothing of this nature is going to phase me ever again.
I make my way through the cargo hold. It is dark and it smells like a third world men's room. Someone was making a uniform change, that's for sure. No one is in the plane. There is no greeting party to meet us for whatever reason. I am still shaking as I jump from Abby's cargo door.
"Oh... man." Lou stands, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He turns and is looking at the approach we had made. "Oh Jesus."
I walk up next to him, making sure I don't step in the mud where he just puked. We both look at the sharp walls of the canyon, at the trees, and at the crisp blue sky above us. The air is cool for the season. We are literaly in a chasm of sorts with steep walls that climb several thousand feet from our position. Looking back from where we came there is a clear swath of forest that is missing... the trees topped and eventually cut nearly in two as Abby lost her fight with gravity. I had told them I was no pilot.
"You are so fucking LUCKY. That was the move, man... that shit where you almost stalled it and flared up. Man, I thought we were going to be impaled on those fucking trees man. You just mowed them down. Did you SEE that shit?" Lou is on the edge of insanity, I just know it.
"I had my eyes closed, Lou. I didn't see it because I had my eyes closed."
"You're crazy man, you are a crazy motherfucker."

At the far end of the valley we just crash-landed in "Jack" is walking toward us. I don't know where he and his men went, or when. The last thing I remember is when we ran out of fuel and rode Abby down into this canyon, onto this "airstrip".
"Is this where we are supposed to be?" I ask Lou, who is looking at Abby's leading edges.
"According to Jack we are. You don't remember?"
"Not yet."
"He was directing you for the last thirty minutes or so. You were heading in the right direction, I just don't know if this is as far as he wanted to go. Never the less we are here now. You don't suppose they launched that cargo plane they crashed at Tapia's from here, do you?"
"It's like taking off from inside a cereal box." I look up at the walls, "I don't think we will be able to get her out of here."

Jack walks up to us and then pokes his head inside Abby's hold. I never see him look back at the bulkhead door. Never saw him or his men make any attempt to open it or ask for a key. So for now the money is safe. That is if by some miracle we can get her out of here. But that is the least of our worries.
Once he is satisfied with whatever he came to look at, he steps back over to us. He starts to make some gestures and Lou basically cuts him off. Lou asks him a few things in Spanish that only require nods and holding up a couple fingers here and there.
"I asked him if he got in contact with his base. He has and they are coming with trucks for the cargo and fuel for the plane." Jack taps him and we both watch him as he seems to signal that we are to fly the plane into the next valley and land it there."
"Tell him he is out of his fucking mind." I say flatly.
Lou talks to him and I here "piloto". Jack shakes his head and then points to me.
"Looks like you're it, Jake."
"No way, there is no way in hell you can take off out here."

Lou talks with Jack and I walk back behind the plane and head toward the edge of the landing strip. But this is no landing strip, its a mistake. Whatever luck I have had with me since taking off from Ferdi's has got to be spent by now. It was a good thing that Jack had us lining up on the next valley. I would hate to think of what might have been if we were at ten thousand feet and this happened. I look at the situation with Jerry's eye as I start up the incline where the trees are broken off. We raked at least a hundred yards of treeline when we dropped in. I can't believe we didn't bend a prop or fuck up the gear. There were a couple of good dings in the leading edge, but not enough to keep her from flying. At the furthest point from where she sits now I stand at the treeline. We would have to be back this far, brakes on, flaps set for landing, no cargo, hell... no Lou, and just enough fuel to make it up and over to the next valley.

I walk back just as the trucks pull up and off load the cargo. They make quick work of it, a few of them talking back and forth... not La Segunda Vida. When they bring up the fuel trucks I tell Lou to tell them just to put a hundred liters or so. That should keep us running at all angles until we make it up and out of this hole.
"Think that will be enough?" Lou asks as he watches the crew run the fuel into the port wing tank.
"It will make less of a fire when she goes down for the last time."
"Think there's any wind up there?"
Now that is a good question. One that I haven't even thought of in my planning my second day as a pilot. "Why don't you start for that end of the valley and let me know. Give a whistle or a shout or something."
Lou starts off, moving a few large rocks out of Abby's path as he goes. There is just a slight breeze down here, but it is possible that up a little higher in this pit the wind may be blowing hard enough to help us over the ridge.
The crew puts the other half of the fuel into the starboard wing. I watch Lou climb the far end of the valley and then his whistle can be heard. He has his shirt off and he is holding it at arms length over his head. It is blown straight by a decent breeze a third of the way up the sloping exit of the valley. From here it looks fairly smooth in comparison to the two sides and the forest where we dropped in. When Lou returns I question him on the terrain.
"Well, out of the four choices it is the best. It sure as hell isn't good for anything. A lot of boulders near the base."
"If I don't quite make it to the top will she be able to touch and go off the upper edge?"
Lou gives me a look, "I don't know, Jake. If you have a choice then I would advise against it."
"No shit?" My sarcasm was lost on him.
"You want me to ride with you?" He looks at the plane and the task at hand. "I mean I don't think my buck forty five is going to mean too much in this operation. Either she can do it or she can't."
"I don't want to kill you, Lou. Not like this anyway."
"Fuck you, I'm going. You may need some help."

We are alone. The crew has gone back out the way they came. Jack and his boys are gone. It is just me and Lou and Abby. There is enough room to turn her and run her back up the hill, then it is show time.

The valley floor stretches out in front of us, a bit of an "S" curve with a near vertical climb. I am at peace with the whole thing. Either it works and we hop over and land in the next valley, or the trip is over and we are done. I am tired as hell, so is Lou. He cracks the last bottle of Tapia's homebrew and the last Coke. We each kill half of each, and set up the flaps set the brakes. We will have to lock the tail wheel in as soon as we get rolling. Once again we run her up until we feel her sliding on locked brakes. I release them and we go.

It reminds me of the Tokyo Raiders when they launch those B-25's from the carrier deck. We are up, it seems, in fifty feet or so. She is set up for lift, but not speed, and that will be a problem.
"Flaps to three quarters." I call out and Lou pops them up. You can feel a little speed and more lift. "COME ON, COME ON GIRL."
I leave the gear down, torn between the barrier they provide and the lack of speed the represent. The wall climbs steep in our windscreen and I pull back as much as I can and still be flying, "FLAPS TO ONE HALF", she is making so much noise in the echo chamber of the valley that I can barely hear myself. Lou moves the flaps up one more setting and we climb.
"NOT ENOUGH... WE HAVE TO PUT THE GEAR UP."
The handle is moved and Abby lets me pull back even more. She bucks and jumps when we catch the wind up the side of the canyon. "YEAH... YEAH BABY... UP, UP."
Lou lets out a whoop and a holler, "GO ABBY, GO BABY."
It seems like we are standing her on her tail as we climb up and up, nothing but the blue sky of heaven out of the windscreen. We climb for what seems an eternity, but she is strong and willing. "SHE'S GONNA MAKE IT, LOU!"

Lou has to look over his shoulder and out of the cargo door to see that we have cleared the peak. "WE'RE CLEAR." He calls over his shoulder. I level her off and he runs back for the picture.
I'm too spent to do anything but line up on the airstrip that presents itself in the next long valley. It is as perfect as anyone could want. Long and straight, a nice head wind. We dropped the gear and the flaps and touched down within a couple of minutes.

A rather large man in a land cruiser drives out to meet us and guide us back to the hanger they have under camouflage netting. Once we are in and turned, I shut her down and once again a peaceful silence. I know Jerry would have been proud of that one.

"Looks like they shot you out of a fuckin' cannon man." The big man says as he climbs down out of the Landcruiser and walks over to the both of us as we climb down out the plane. "When you shot out of that valley you looked like you were going straight up, man. I didn't think that old plane could fly like that. You must be one hell of a pilot, man." He wipes the sweat out of his eyes with a well used shop rag.
He extends a hand, "Chris Antonelli," he makes the introduction. We both give him a nod and a shake and tell him who we are. Young kid, nice enough. The climate melts him like a snowman. He is constantly busy wiping sweat out of his eyes, off his head, off of his neck.
"You're not Colombian." I state the obvious.
"Italian, but I look the part so I think that is why they hired me. I've spent the last five years working for the Dominican brothers. They haven't shot me yet, so I must be doing something right."
"These guys are Dominican?"
"No, man, they are Colombian. Their last name is Dominican. They are some bad motherfuckers. I work on their planes when they land them here. I take it that Guenther's plane is down somewhere?" He runs his hand over his scalp and the quarter inch of hair he has growing there.
"That must be the plane they crashed at Tapia's. Your boy is dead, man. Plane was totalled." Lou tells him.
"Oh, shit man, they are going to be pissed about that. Those boys that flew here with you, as good as dead for losing that plane." Chris walks toward a beat up metal cooler against one wall of the hanger and lifts the top. "You boys want a beer?"
"A beer and a place to sleep. Haven't been to sleep for two days."
"Yeah, that won't be a problem. They have the bungalow ready for you guys. The brothers will want to meet you, man... to thank you and shit. They're really generous when shit goes their way."

Muy Peligroso

Climbing out after take off from Tapia's





By the time we get to the ranch house with the maps and charts Jerry has already been medicated. Luckily he is awake, but man is he fucked up. We walk in and Mari is by his bedside.
"Tapia communicated with the men that are holding us." Mari tells us as she checks the dressing on Jerry's hand. "They say that when you fly out of here we can take these boys out of here and get them to hospital in Belles."
I don't like the sound of this. I am being forced into this flying gig and I don't like it. "Jerry... I don't know if I can do it, man."
Jerry answers but doesn't open his eyes, "Sure you can, Jake. You made it here, didn't you."
"Come ON, Jerry. I almost got us killed." I look down at him. He is pale and his wrist is still bleeding through the bandages. Mari tells me she is afraid to wrap it too tight because of the shattered bones. Jerry has an armful of morphine to take the edge off. I doesn't make him stupid, but leaves a permanent grin on his face.
"They want us to fly to Colombia, Jerry... Cali.
"Yeah, man... Colombia is nice this time of year."
I look at Lou, then Mari. "How much of that stuff did you give him?"
"He is in a lot of pain, Jake. He needs to get to hospital or he may not use wrist and hand again."
"Good thing I'm right handed." Jerry says from behind closed eyes. "Cali, alot of mountains."
"Any advice?"
"Don't crash."
"Jesus Christ, Jerry, I don't think I can do it."
"Watch for up drafts when you get near the mountains. Bad wind conditions. I don't know where you will be landing so I really can't think of anything to tell you." He moved a little and winced with a quick intake of breath. "These guys aren't operating in the middle of town. They are usually in the foothills or worse. Bring that guy in here, their leader."
We grab "Jack" and have him come in to talk to Jerry. With Jerry talking and Jack listening, Jerry has him point out on our chart of Colombia where exactly they are going. For good measure Jack pushes Mari and Lou out of the room and then shows us on the chart. Jerry asks him a couple more questions and then waits for the answer in hand signals, questioning him on some of the meaning.
"It looks like you will be going into the mountains. Sometimes they do that to make it hard to find them from the ground and by satellite."
"Well that's just fucking great." I look at Jack and he peers at me from behind the red bandana and the brim of his fatigue cap. "Did you tell him that I'm not a pilot?"
Jerry looks at Jack while he talks to me, "He understands everything you say. He speaks English... or at least understands it."
"Well what the fuck then?"
"He doesn't have a choice. You're as close to a pilot that he has right now. He was suppose to have this shipment back to Colombia by now. He will be lucky if they don't kill him and his crew."
A flurry of hand movements from Jack and a couple of jabs at the chart yield more information. Jerry seems to know what he is getting at.
"He says once he explains what you did for the men he works for, they will pay you handsomely."
"I don't give a shit if I get paid, I just want to get out of this alive."
Jack points to himself and nods.
"You too, huh?"

I think they are rushing it, but the guards fuel the wing after three hours and it seems to hold. That is on the ground with no vibration. Who knows what will happen when she starts, or even worse when we get her in the wind.
Now that I know Jack understands us, I let Lou know not to talk in front of him. I also tell Jack that I won't fly this thing with a gun stuck in the back of my head. He seems to understand.
Lou and I give Abby a quick walk around. When we are out of earshot from Jack, I tell him about Jerry's pistol.
"What are we going to do with that?" Lou says as we round Abby's tail and I give the elevators and rudder a shake.
"Nothing, I hope. But it is there if we need it. Jerry usually keeps one in the chamber so its ready to fire."
Lou nods. "Let's go through the checklist to get her in the air."

Mari brings out two baskets, one for Jack and the guards and one for us. Tapia has our charts and a old wooden rack of pop bottles. "You boys take these four up front." He winks and Lou stashes them in a side pocket. "The brown ones are Cokes, the other two are homebrew."
He hands me the charts we removed earlier and I put them in their perspective places. "Jerry says to stay at ten thousand feet and fly at the heading I wrote on this chart." He hands the chart to me and I look at the heading, then at him.
"This scares the shit out of me, Tapia."
"It is going to be okay, Jake. Jerry says you can do it. You can do it." He reaches out and grabs my hand to shake it and then pulls me in for a hug. "You be careful mi amigo." He turns to Lou, who extends his hand. They shake hardily, "Vaya con dios."
I look back from the cockpit and see the four of the six men seated on the floor up in front of their cargo to balance our load. Jack and one of the other men are sitting in the hammocks. I turn back to the instruments, "Well... let's do this."

Below us Tapia gives us the thumbs up for us to start Abby's engines. I turn to Lou, "Keep an eye on what I am doing, you never know when you might make left seat." I set up the switches and then give Tapia a thumbs up and fire the engine. Number one fires up after a few revolutions and runs up to idle. I check the guages... all good. I look down a Tapia and he give me a thumbs up for number two. This one worries me a little. I hope that it doesn't fire. In that instance I wish I would have managed to sabotage it when I had the chance. But it fires up and runs to idle like it never had a problem. A quick check of the guages... all good. I look out at Tapia and wave him closer to the window.
"Check that wing patch. See if it is leaking." I yell at the top of my lungs.
He disappears from view and comes out with a thumbs up. No leaks. I give him the sign to pull the wheel chocks and he disappears once again. Then behind me in the cargo bay I can hear them clunk in through the door. "Good luck, Amigos" he calls.

This is it. I look at Lou and he gives me a wink, "Let's fly."
I scoot Abby forward with the throttles and make sure I am lined up with the airstrip, then lock the tail wheel and set the brakes. I check the flaps and check pressures and indicators, then give Abby a pat on the dash and throw the coals to her. Both of her engines spool up and start rumbling the fuselage. I try not to think about it.
Brakes off.
Abby jumps and we're off. She makes quick work of the three thousand feet of dirt strip. I plan to use almost all of it, afraid I might stall it or do God knows what else. Abby lifts off three quarters of the way down and I gently pull up and gain some altitude.
"That a girl." I pull back a little more and chance a quick look out the side window. We are already up about five hundred feet.
"You're doing it, man, you're doing it." Lou shouts over the roar of Abby's engines.
"Gear up."
Lou reaches over and retracts the gear. I set the flaps to full up and a check my engine cowl setting. We climb at about five hundred feet per minute. She is running like a swiss watch. I head her off in the right direction and we continue to climb.
"Fuck yeah... you did it man." Lou reaches in the side pocket and pulls two of the bottles that Tapia gave us, one Coke and one homebrew and uncaps them. "Time for a drink."
"I not so worried about taking off. It's landing her that is the hard part." I take a hit off the home brew and then the Coke.
"Well, we don't have to worry about that for a while, now do we."

We hit ten thousand feet and level off and trim her up for cruising. I set the heading Jerry gave me in the auto-pilot and try to relax. "Jack" appears behind us and I turn. He gives a thumbs up and a nod, then turns and heads back into the cargo bay.
After the third passing of the bottles, I am starting to relax a bit. If the patch holds, if the engines continue to hum, if the landing strip isn't in the middle of some chasm of a valley, if we don't crash her on the way... the approach... or the landing, and if we manage not to be shot dead just for laying eyes on some druglords private airstrip, we might just manage to make it out of this alive.

Working on Abby

Our captors on Tapia's ranch. The leader is this guy with the red bandana covering his face.



We are up until the early hours of the morning trying to convince these Colombians that we can't fly out of here without fixing Abby and getting some fuel... and a pilot. These La Segunda Vida aren't the trusting type.
The whole bunch of us are exhausted, including our captors. They don't seem interested in killing anybody. They just want us to fly their cargo to where ever it is they are going. According to Tapia, they are actually flying payment back to Cali, Colombia. Fucking Cali... that place is a death trap. The whole justice system is owned by the Cartels from the cops to the highest judges. Jerry would never fly into Cali, never. You could lose your life just looking out a window. But now it looks like that's where we will be going.
Lou has retired for the evening, his face hidden beneath a big straw sombrero that had been hanging on the wall. I decide to opt out of this situation myself and just close my eyes in the chair. We have to wait until daylight to work on Abby. We have to find fuel, which really isn't my problem. These dumbshits should have thought about that before they lit up their plane last night.
Tapia is still talking in the kitchen with the leader. They are the only ones in the ranch house that are still awake, aside from me... but they don't know that. I pick up small pieces of Tapia's exhaustive responses. I think he is telling the leader that it will all have to wait for sunrise.
"He is telling that tongueless fucker that this whole bunch of shit will have to wait until sunrise." Lou says from beneath the sombrero as though he were reading my thoughts.
"I actually got that much."
"You think you can fly her to Colombia?"
"No."
"Can you take a bullet and make it to the door?"
"What?"
"Go to sleep. Take it while you can get it."
"Right."

The morning comes with just a little light and the leader smacking the bottom of my feet with a rifle barrel. I open my eyes and see Lou and Tapia at the table drinking coffee. Mari comes out of Jerry's room with some bloody dressings and some other shit on a tray. I get up and make it to the table. A cup of coffee steams in front of me.
"How is Jerry?" I ask Mari as she dumps the contents of the tray in the trash.
"His wrist is shattered, Jake. I cannot make it right, not here." She fixes a plate of food for him and pours him a cup of coffee. "Did you get any more medicine for him?"
"The doctor... what the fuck, she wasn't a doctor, not even a nurse... anyway she gave us morphine and a syringe and those Ketamin tabs."
"Jerry is in a lot of pain. He needs something. I don't think this Ketamin will be good for him after he get so sick. So maybe we try a little of the morphine. Do you have it?"
"It is in Abby, but I will go get it right now." I turn to Tapia, "Tell him I need to get some medicine from the plane for our pilot."
Tapia relays the message and we all walk down to the plane together. The man that the leader put on the plane had been there all night, nothing to eat or drink. With a few croaks and clicks he sends him up to the house to get food and water.
I open Abby's hold and climb in. Lou does a quick walk around on Abby, looking for anything obvious. I hear him call to me from the starboard side of the aircraft. "Great, maybe it will be something to convince these pricks to take another plane," I say to myself. I dig through Jerry's bag he has back behind the cockpit where I am pretty sure I saw Lou drop the morphine. There it is, the medicine and the syringe are right on top. It is then that I feel something big and heavy in the interior side pocket, I unzip it to see Jerry's pistol.
Behind me I sense that I am being watched and I zip the pocket back closed and turn with the morphine and the syringe, holding them up for the leader's inspection. When I climb down out of the plane the leader takes the medical supplies from my hands and gives them to Tapia to deliver to the house. The leader gives me a little shove off in Lou's direction and I find him under the right wing.
"Here's where we lost the fuel. And I assume this is oil?" He rubs some on fingers and smells it."
"It's a synthetic blend, doesn't really smell like oil." I tell him. I look at the damage. Two lucky shots out of however many they fired at us. One of them hit about two feet from the fuselage and about the same back from the leading edge. Whatever fuel we had in that tank was streaming out of a hole about the size of my little finger. The other shot was in the side of the engine cowl, more of a glancing shot with an oblong entry in through the cowl.
"Tell Segundo there that we need the truck to stand on."
Lou relays the message and we get the truck positioned next to the engine. As I lift the cowl I am hoping to see some perminant damage that will keep her grounded. We set the hold opens and then start looking for damage. I feel the truck give a little shake as the leader takes up position behind us.
The oil line from the tank to the engine has been nicked by the round and about a third of the diameter of the line has been breached. I know I can fix it. It isn't a pressurized line, just gravity feed to the pump. The fuel tank leak I have patching material for in my kit on the plane. You pretty much have whatever you would need to fix things like this when you go where we go. Now for the dramatics.
"Well, its shot. We won't be going anywhere with this engine."
Lou looks at it, "You can't fix that?"
I give him a hard nudge, "NO... Lou, I can't fix that without a new line. With that said, I get knocked in the back of the skull, although lightly, by the leader's rifle barrel. He squezes between me and Lou and proceeds to point out, a few hand signs and signals, that the line isn't pressurized.
"Great, this guy is a terrorist and a mechanic."

I start to work on Abby's number two engine and have Lou prep the hole in the fuel tank before we seal it up. The patch on the tank should sit for twenty four hours, but I have the feeling these guys aren't going to wait that long. As far as the oil line goes I may have enough slack in the feed line to cut it right at the hole and slide it on up. If not I can use materials on hand to patch the line and seal it up.

Me and Lou work for several hours on the plane with the big Cahuna standing over our shoulders. We slide the line up on the oil tank after taking a clamp off. I try to take as much time as I can. When I have Lou tell him we don't have enough fuel to make it out of here then none of this will mean shit.
While we are finishing up the touches on our repairs, one of Tapia's trucks pulls up loaded with fifty five gallon drums and a hand pump. Tapia climbs out of the cab along with one of the guards.
"What the fuck." I turn to Lou, "Is that fuel?"
Tapia walks up with the answer, "I am sorry my friend. My cousin flew in with this fuel the day after you left us last time. It is his for long hauls. He is to pick it up next week."
I lost it. "Well then have HIM fly this guy's shit out of here." I turn to the leader, "I can't fly this shit out of here. I am NOT a pilot, Jack, never have been."
The leader looks at me and then his men, then gestures to the fuel and the wing. His boys back the truck up and ready the pump and hose.
"You can't put fuel in the tank, the sealant has to cure." I tell him, expecting Lou to translate.
"Shit Lou, do you think this guy learned English since this morning."
"No fucking way."
"Tell him what I said, god damn it."
Lou translates and the leader steps over to the wing and examines the patch, then looks at his watch.
"What the hell, this guy knows how long that sealant needs to cure?" I ask Lou rhetorically.
The guy walks back over to us and points to his watch.
"Twenty four hours." I tell him. Lou translates and he shakes his head and holds up three fingers.
"It'll leak, Jack." I tell him.
He holds his men off and then relays the information to them. Then he climbs into the plane and I follow.
"What are you looking for?" I ask him.
He steps into the cockpit and sees Jerry's bag on the deck. When he reaches for it I stop him.
"Mapas?" I call.
He turns and nods. I step up and reach behind the co-pilots seat and pull every chart we have just to get him out of there. He follows me and we step out of the plane.

Lou is next to one of the trucks smoking a cigarette he bummed from one of the guards.
"Lou, tell him we need to go to the ranch house to talk to Jerry."
The message is translated and the three of us are on our way. I have to talk to Jerry, find out if he will be able to fly. If he can't then I will have to convince this guy that we aren't his best option.

La Segunda Vida

The Colombian's wrecked plane on fire after it is raked with gunfire.


We are escorted to the back of two trucks and searched by a couple of these "visitors". There are four of them here, and according to Tapia another two up at the fire. Their leader jumps into Abby and you can see the beam of a flashlight dance around inside. He comes out with Lou's rifle and the M-16.
"HEY, you better be careful with that." Lou shouts in english.
"Tell him that the men in the plane need medical attention." I nudge Lou, who has to think for a second.
"Los hombres dentro de necesita la atención médica?" He yells.
"It wasn't a question."
"It is when I'm not sure what I said."
Their leader turns and looks back inside Abby's cargo bay. He bounces the light off of the two hammocks, then down on the floor. He doesn't say a word, just uses some kind of crude sign language and a couple of grunts directed to the men that are guarding us.
Two of the men step off toward Abby, the other makes sure we know he is guarding us and that according to the way he is holding his rifle, he will shoot us if we wipe our noses. From the plane we hear a loud thump and the two men that had climbed inside struggle to drag Ollie from Abby's hold. They make it to the door, each of them holding a massive arm. They are about to roll him out of the door when he comes to and tosses one of them out and onto his head.
Not a word is spoken, just the business end of the leader's rifle up under Ollie's chin lets him know that things are much different than they had been the last time he was conscious. Ollie steps out of the plane under his own power and is escorted over to us. He and Lou exchange a few words and then Ollie sits on the ground.
Both men step back into the plane and return with Jerry. He has puke all over his clothes and beard. When the men get him to the truck, they lay him in the back and then wipe their hands on the ground and their pants.
"What has happened to Jerry?" Tapia asks, jumping in beside him.
"He got shot in the wrist when we were leaving. Then Lou here over-medicated him." I still don't know who our captors are, so I am vague with my answers until we get a real chance to talk. "What happened here, Tapia? Is everyone okay?"
One guard jumped in the back with us, another into our truck to drive. The leader and the other guard got in the second truck and they followed us back up the road toward the ranch house. It was only when the truck started to roll that Tapia talked to us in hushed tones.
"About an hour ago we hear a plane, not Abby, but another sound." He looks up at the guard, who could care less about the conversation. He lights a hand rolled cigarette and puffs away. "It sounded like it was in trouble, like it wasn't running right. But it doesn't land, it crashes in the field behind the ranch house."
"So that was the fire we saw. I thought it was a bonfire."
"I didn't catch right away. By the time we made it out into the fields, the fire was starting and these men were unloading cargo from the plane as fast as they could. We didn't know what they were until we were right on top fo them." Tapia looks up at the man with the gun, "Colombians... La Segunda Vida."
"Oh shit... that's not good," I add. Colombians... these guys are like the Borg.
"What is La Segunda?" Lou asks him.
"La Seguna Vida, The second life. I have heard of this from my cousin. They are men from the Cartels in Colombia who have been given a second chance from their employers."
"Hey, everyone makes a mistake now and then." Lou adds.
"No, Senior, these men were to be executed for betraying the Cartel. But their positions within the organization were too important. So they are muted and are sworn to serve the Cartel or face having their entire family removed."
"Removed where?"
"From the planet, Senior. They will execute their families, no matter how large, young or old, right in front of them. Afterward they would be executed as well."
I look up at our guard and then back to Tapia, "What do you mean muted?"
Tapia looks at the guard as well, then leans in to us, "They have no tongues. Cut out by the cartel's and fed to the guard dogs. It is symbolic, so they cannot betray the Cartel by their own tongues."

We are at the ranch house within minutes and the guards have us bring Jerry and Ollie inside. There is no one here.
"Where is Mari and the others?" I ask Tapia as we lower Jerry onto one of the beds in the spare room.
"We all went up to the crash to see if we could help. When we got there they held us at gunpoint until we got their cargo out of the plane." He looks at Jerry, "Let's get him into some clean clothes."
Tapia's wife Mari is a hell of a nurse. She could run a hospital with what she has had to do out here in the middle of nowhere. We need her here. Tapia finds a clean shirt and some khaki shorts and we do a quick change on Jerry. Before we can get some water to clean him up, the guard comes in with his rifle and herds us out the door. I can see Ollie on the way out, he is sitting up now. At least he is here to look after Jerry.
Lou is already captive on the truck and we are forced up there with him. We are driven out to the fire and there is Mari and four ranch hands loading some old wooden crates, and some newer gray cases onto the other truck. When we stop, it is understood that this is what we are supposed to do.
Next to the burning fuselage is a body. I step over to look at it, but am pushed back toward the cargo with the barrel of a rifle. Tapia waves me over.
"That is the pilot, I am sure of it. When we ran up to the wreck these men were pulling him from the cockpit window. I am sure he is dead."
Now we are all loading the crates and containers onto the truck, all of us except the leader, who has his rifle at the ready. He is all business. Most of his face is hidden behind a red bandana.
"Tapia, we need Mari to tend to the boys at the ranch house."
He warily approaches the leader and he speaks to him in rapid spanish. The silent Colombian listens, then raps his palm on the butt of his rifle in a kind of Morse Code. One of the guards moves quickly to his side. A couple of hand gestures later he motions to Tapia and he goes and gets Mari.
The truck with the guard and Mari heads back to the ranch house and Tapia is back loading trucks. "I told him that those two men might die, and that Jerry was the pilot. That seemed to matter. I think they will let Mari do what she needs to do."

When all the cargo is on the trucks they move them back away from the plane. Two of the guards grab the dead man on the ground and toss him into the flames like so much cord-wood.
The flames seem to be dying instead of building, so the leader raises his weapon and rakes the near wing with gunfire. There is a huge explosion as the fuel in the tank ignites, followed by a second explosion as the rest of the fuel goes up.
"Well that's the end of that." I snap a quick picture and then feel like I am being watched. I turn to see the leader looking at me and Lou. He motions to his men and we are all loaded into the trucks and driven from the crash site.

When I see our destination I realize their plan. We pull up to Abby's cargo bay and immediately the task of loading the crates and cases into her hold commences. I immediately begin to protest.
"NO... no stop. This plane is only running on one engine. Our pilot is one of the guys you carried out of here. STOP."
Lou quickly translates for me and the leader turns and gestures to me and then the cockpit.
"Oh no, I am not a pilot, I am a mechanic." It try to follow up with some kind of hand gestures. Lou translates.
The leader stops Lou. He looks right at me, and then the plane, pointing first to me, and then the cockpit with finality. I look at him and shake my head. "Then we are all dead and your cargo is lost."
"Entonces somos todos muertos y su carga se pierde ." Lou translates.

Once the onload is complete the leader stations a guard on the cargo and we all head back to the ranch house. The house is now well lit and the smell of Mari's cooking greets us as the trucks park. I am anxious to talk to Tapia to see if he knows these guy's intentions. He can vouch for the fact that I am no pilot. But as soon as we step into the house, the leader takes Tapia to the kitchen table and I can hear him trying to speak. He can say words that don't involve using your tongue, namely "map". Tapia brings him an atlas and he flips through the pages until he is on a map of Central America and the northern part of South America. He gestures for pen and paper and then he and Tapia start a lengthy discussion... of sorts.
Mari manages to cook up a nice meal. She serves the three of us first, me, Lou, and Ollie. Then the ranch hands and our captors. Along with my plate, she gives me a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
"I look in on Jerry. What medicine did he get?" She asks with a whisper.
I shoot Lou a quick look, "He gave him two tabs of Ketamin."
"Ayee, Ketamin we give to the cattle." She gives Lou a scolding look, "Did he throw up?"
"He doesn't smell like that normally, does he?" Lou tries to be funny, but Mari gives him a quick slap on the shoulder.
"That not funny... you could have kill him. If he threw up then that is better for him."
"Twice." I tell her.
"I cleaned him up and he open his eyes, but just for a second. I think he is fine later."

Watching the La Segunda Vida eat was enough to make you put down your plate. With no tongue to help them swallow there was a lot of choking sounds and hand assists that just made you want to puke. Lou and I stood up and went to walk outside when they stopped and held us at gunpoint.
"Go ahead and shoot you disgusting fucker, I ain't gonna sit in here listening to this shit." Lou heads outside and I follow. They watch us from the window as we take a seat on the porch.
"What do you think?" I take a tortilla and fold some pork into it.
"I think these guys are gonna take Abby and make us fly her to where ever they were headed before they crashed and killed their pilot."