Landing Antonelli

The Jungle on fire after our drops.





The explosions are horrific. I can barely hold the controls as each blast rocked Abby to her core.
"Jesus Christ... HOLD ON." Whoever this Bolivian ordinance expert is that made these fucking things didn't give too much thought to what would happen when they went off under an aircraft.
"HEY," Lou grabs my shoulder for good measure, "BIG CHRIS..." Another explosion jars the both of us, "BIG CHRIS FELL OUT."
I don't see the other plane in front of us. I fly through another of his blasts before I am able to take evasive action. An expanding mushroom cloud of fire superheats the cockpit and I am sure the cargo bay as well. I am pulling back with all my might, the throttles are full on and we are gaining altitude. I am trapped in the trough valley and until I climb out I can't get out of the way of these explosions.
"WHERE'S THE BOY?" I ask Lou. He turns and looks over his shoulder, and then with a start he is out of his seat and making his way back to the cargo door.
I take a quick look over my shoulder and see the boy and Lou trying to see out of the cargo door. Lou turns on his heel and runs back to the cockpit. We have cleared the canyon and I level off. The noise from Abby's twin radials tones down as I set her into cruise for the flight back. The controls are a bit jumpy and I can feel a bumping.
"Hey... " He starts.
"I think we might have some flight control damage from those blasts. She is handling like I am running the rapids."
"That's Antonelli. He didn't fall out. Well he DID fall out, but he has the safety on. He is getting the shit beat out of him."
I tip Abby on her wing and start a slow turn with Antonelli on the inside. "There is a hand winch in the equipment box. Hook it up to the "D" ring in the ceiling near the bay door. You're going to have to hook the other end to the safety line and then disconnect it somehow from the door frame."
Lou turns and is already in the equipment box freeing up the hand winch. The bumping stops with my turn which means he is now just swinging in midair out there. I look down out of my side window and can see the aftermath of the explosions. Most of the forest in the canyon is levelled. There are many fires that are being fueled by an underground cache of chemicals used to process the cocaine. I see bodies scattered like the downed trees. I glad I am up here rather than down there to see what they really look like.
Lou is working feverishly to get Antonelli back in the plane. He has the winch hooked up to the safety strap and is tightening it.
"THERE'S A BOLT CUTTER IN THE BOX," I yell to him. He runs back and grabs the cutters and then is at the door frame.
Lou reaches back and jacks the winch handle to make sure that there is max tension. He pulls the kid back from the door just in case the cable breaks. With the tension of Antonelli's body and the drag it could cut someone in half if it broke. He cuts the tie down bracket that the safety line is attached to and the whole thing breaks loose. There is a snap and now the strap holding Antonelli is connected directly to the winch. Lou starts cranking.

As Chris makes his way closer to the door, I see flashes on the ground. "Their shooting at us." I watch the ground errupt with rifle fire and feel some impacts in the fuselage.
"HEY... THEIR SHOOTING AT US."
Lou jacks that handle for all it's worth. I watch as Antonelli's lifeless body comes into view and eventually is half way in the door. That is good enough for me. I straighten out and try to climb out of range of the rifles.

The other plane is gone. I don't know if it made it back to base or was consumed and was now part of the flaming jungle we left behind. At first I am a little disoriented with the continual turn I was making. I fly off in the wrong direction and have to double back to get back to the Dominican Brother's strip.
In the back of the plane Lou is working over Antonelli. There is a lot of blood. The wind has stripped him of most of his clothes. What was left has been reassembled by Lou to keep the man's dignity intact.
"HE'S NOT BREATHING," Lou shouts.
"YOU BETTER DO SOMETHING. WE ARE AT LEAST TEN MINUTES AWAY FROM THE AIRFIELD."
Lou is the kind of guy you want in an emergency of this nature. He doesn't think... he acts. He takes his own shirt off to use to wipe the blood away from Chris' face and chest. He has the boy pump on Antonelli's chest... six times, and then Lou pinches the nose and breathes a long breath into Chris' lungs. Six times... breath, six times... breath. It goes on until I am on approach to land at the Dominican brothers airstrip.
It seems like second nature right now, setting up to land Abby on this strip. I don't worry, taking my cue from Lou I don't think, I just act. Before I know it I am backing off the throttles and braking as we slow down toward the end of the airstrip. I unlock the tail wheel and spin her around, punching up the throttles to speed back to the hanger.
"HE'S BREATHING" Lou shouts. He feels for a pulse on the artery under the jaw, and then reaffirms it with the wrist. "Have a pulse." He says... more to himself than anyone else.
We scoot into the hanger and I spin her around and shut down. I look down at my hands. They are shaking like I have Parkinsons or something. Holy shit. I am glad we don't have to do that again.

It is about five minutes later when they actually have Chris Antonelli out of the plane and onto the back of a truck for transport. I don't know where they are taking him, but I hope it is a hospital. As the truck moves out of sight, Arturo pulls up in the Escalade and motions us to join him. We hop in and we follow the truck straight up to the house on the hill.
"Don't you have a hospital or something?" Lou asks, never taking his eyes off the truck.
"We have a small medical staff right here on the property. I assure you whatever is wrong with Mr. Antonelli we will be able to tend to his needs here."

We all ride in silence behind the truck. There are two men riding in the back with Chris, and the boy... who is holding his wrist in an attempt to find the man's pulse. He has seen Lou do it and thought it was just a matter of grabbing him. We see Antonelli move his head just a little, and Lou breathes a little easier.
"I think he'll be fine."
"You did good back there."
Lou starts to say something, but then stops. He regains his composure. "First one I have been able to save in a long time."

It is well after dark before we find out that Chris Antonelli got the shit kicked out of him. He had several facial fractures, a concussion, two broken ribs and a broken leg. But he was alive, thanks in large part to Lou who brought him back from the dead.

We had intended to make the drop, grab our money, and go. But as things turn out that doesn't happen. While waiting for news on Chris we find out that he isn't just a wrench working for these guys. He is from a large "family" that works with the Dominican Brother's organization. Chris' Uncle was called immediately upon our arrival and news of his progress was relayed every fifteen minutes or so. Appearantly there are some very grateful people in the Pittsburgh and Rochester New York area that consider Lou their hero at the moment. And what makes them happy makes the Dominican Brother's happy. So... they throw us a hell of a party.

As far as I can tell they must have trucked half of these women into the compound, or flown them in. There are at least ten of these beauties to every man. All of them dressed for a day on the beach in Rio. I am just hoping that our hosts have made sure that they are all disease free because I'm not asking. I'm pretty sure that firing squads would be involved if one of these guys caught so much as a cold from one of these girls. So I'm pretty sure I'm safe.
I lose track of Lou. The last time I see him is when we are smoking some of the local shit. It is a nice way to leave the tension behind. He is really happy he could help old Chris, who I am told is now conscious and wishing he were at the party. I am assured by Arturo that he has control of his own morphine and is having a little party of his own.

Paulo finds me in the corner of the pool, "You sir, you have done a fine job today." He claps me on the shoulder. "Our competitors are no more, and Mr. Antonelli is back safe and sound."
I'm a little taken back. This is the same guy who shot two people right in front of me and set Jack on fire. But it seems that they might have been a little cavalier with ole' Antonelli's services and were now glad that he was back safe and sound. This guy may think he is one crazy fucker, but he's not crazy enough to think that a game of one-upmanship with the East Coast Mob would be a good thing.
"Well, uh... we just got lucky." I try to occupy myself with my tumbler of whiskey.
"Not lucky, senior, you and Miss Anson make a good team."
"Miss Anson?"
"Yes," he looks across the room and then gestures to a short brunette standing near the ice sculpture on the food table. "She is our pilot to replace Guenther."
She turns when he speaks her name, but with the music and the noise of the party it is sheer coincidence. She's really cute and the whole pilot thing is a tremendous turn on. I wanted to kick that pilot's ass when we got back on the ground for nearly blowing us out of the sky by dropping too low. But it wasn't all her fault, and I could never be mad at a face like that.

The music plays on. The pool is alive with naked bodies. We are honored guests with drug lords in our debt. Life is good.