An Unexpected Message

Nester's wife Consuela and little baby Rikki

The ride over to Nester's is refreshing, but hard on the ass. Sitting on that steel bed and taking every rut in the jungle to get to the village is a little too much for me. I get up and stand, holding on to the steel bed wall just behind the cab of the truck. In the space of five minutes I had drank two cold beers to replace the gallon of sweat I had lost since we got home. I actually feel a little buzz off of the deal.

Lou joins me, leaving our hostage sitting alone, his feet dangling off of the bed. We almost lose him once when we jump across a wash in the black of the jungle, but he is launched about three fee up and lands just about in the same spot. It isn't long before he too is scrambling toward the front of the truck bed and gets to his feet.
"This road is really rough, huh?"
I look at Lou, "Road?"
"City folk." Lou winks.
Justin grabs on to the top rail of the bed wall, "This is better." He takes a bug hit and falls back. When he looks at us again one whole lens of his glasses is yellow and has legs. He peels the glasses off and wipes the side of his face with that arm, holding on for dear life to the divider as we jet through the triple terrace jungle.
We burst into a clearing and the headlights reach into the distance to look for dogs, goats, cows, and the occasional wild cat that is tired of working for its food. Nester takes a hard left and we can hear he and Jerry laughing as we bounce and slide. I think they get the wheels off the ground on that one. We run along the back road that skirts the village of Nogales and head toward the waterfall and Nester's house.
As we approach the house, the smell of Consuela's cooking mingles with the truck exhaust. The air is wet and heavy, but cool and I am grateful. The truck lurches to a stop and is shut down. Jerry's door creaks loudly as he gets out of the passenger side, joined by Nester who's door is tied shut with rope. They start inside.

I drop off the bed of the truck and feel my age. Lou, on the other hand, jumps down like he is dismounting a pommel horse in the Summer Olympics.
"Oh... man, does that smell good." He feels in his shirt pocket, then looks inside it... trying to aim his pocket toward the torches that stand on each side of the walkway to Nester's front door. He apparently sees what he wants to see.
I am sure it is a Walker inventory. He looks up at the hostage.
"Come on, Junior, suppers waitin'."
Justin first sits down on the truck bed, then scoots his ass off and drops the twelve inches to the ground. He is still holding the glasses with the bug glue covering the entire lens. His face was smeared with the same disgusting goo. I look at him a gesture at the path and Lou who has already started inside.
"Let's get you cleaned up."

Inside Consuela hugs each of us, rattling on about something in mother-tongue. She stops and looks at the hostage until Lou introduces him, adding something that makes her snicker.
She takes his hand, the one that is not holding glue covered glasses, and ushers him to the sink. She grabs a teapot that is steaming on the stove top and pours some of the water into a basin a then turns the tap on to add some cold to the mix. She mothers him for a moment or two, taking his glasses and and working the bug guts off of them.
"Geez... that guy has to go." Lou grabs a beer out of a top load cooler and hands it to me, grabbing one for himself. Jerry and Nester are already out on the deck, beer in hand, waiting for us.
I look back at Justin. Consuela is now dipping the corner of a towel in the warm water, one hand under his chin holding his face, the other dabbing the wet corner at the goo covered side of his face. Just like she was cleaning up a six year old.
"Okay." I say outloud, turning to the patio as I follow Lou outside.

The evening winds into early morning, the four of us, Nester and his wife, a few of his kids and crew chowing down on tamales and guzzling down Tecate dark beer. By the time we are done eating and the food is cleared away, the best we can do is move our heads and the hand that passes the Walker around.
I look up at the stars, absolutely beautiful in their pinpoint brilliance out here away from civilization. The cool mist of the waterfall, the ever-thundering deluge drones on... filling the audio backdrop, displacing the jungle noise we hear back at El Corazon.
"So, what are we doing tomorrow?"
Justin's inquiry is like a stick in the spokes as this fine evening rolls on.
Lou looks at him, but is now too full and too stoned to jump him for it.
"We don't care about tomorrow, Justin." I offer.
"I... I thought we were flying to Haultulco."
"That is a fact. At some point we are. But no tomorrow, and maybe not next week."
Jerry sits up and puts his hands on his knees.
"You know, there is a bus that makes a run twice a month to that area. We will have to drive you out to it, about fifteen miles, but it will get you where you want to go."
There is silence as the hostage digests that statement. I think he feels a bit put-off at this dismissal.
"Well, I am in no hurry, I guess."
"I will take you out there tomorrow." Lou says from behind closed eyes.
"To Hautulco?"
"No, the bus stop."

For the first time in weeks I wake up in my own hammock, opening my eyes and taking in the room. Jerry is asleep in his hammock across the room. I swing my feet out and drop to the floor.
“Wake up, you old hippie.” I give Jerry’s hammock a kick in the low end.

The aroma of Costa Rican coffee gets everyone’s eyes open and their feet walking. I take my cup and walk down to the planes. It must be eighty degrees already and I dream of that coastal Caribbean breeze. There is a monkey playing with two oil cans it must have pulled out of the garbage. When it sees me it launches on of the cans my way, splattering me with the remains in the bottom of the can.
“You motherfucker… HEY… Get OUT of here.” I yell and kick the oil can his way. He scrambles into the edge of the jungle, then stops and chatters at me.

I take a sip of my coffee and walk slowly around Abigail. There are a few things I need to get done before we take to the air on any cargo runs.
“Hey.” Lou steps up beside me near the tail.
“Good morning, sunshine.”
He hands me his coffee cup. I hold it while he stretches, then hand it back.
“What’s on for today?” He takes a draw off the bean.
“Hell, I don’t know. We have a few things to do to Abby here. We should take a good look at Naomi as well.”
As we stand there Jerry walks up. He has a beer in one hand and half a cup of coffee in the other.
“There’s a message for you in town.”
“What?”
“A message… in town… for you.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because someone left a message here that there was a message in town.”
“But why… “
“Don’t.” He drinks what’s left of his coffee, sets the empty cup on the ground, and then cracks the beer. “You know these people don’t think that far.” A quick up ending of the beer and half of it is gone.

We roust the hostage from the hammock in Abigail and drag him with us in the back of the Land Cruiser. Half way to town, Lou lights up a Walker and he is the only one to partake. I take a draw off of Jerry’s beer, hoping there are more in town. We bounce into the outskirts of Nogales and head up the dirt road toward the little store.

The store is already in motion, three of the town elders are setting out the open market items that draw trade from the people of two neighboring villages. When they see us pull up one of them steps inside and comes back out with a sheet torn from a legal pad. The yellow piece of paper is handed to Jerry and he looks at it.
“Time and frequency.” He looks at his watch. “We have about twenty minutes.”

We find some marinated pork in the ice box, along with a twelve pack with one missing. The rest of the beer is at room temperature… eighty some odd degrees at this point. We crack the cold beers and put together a little shopping list.

“It’s time.” Jerry turns on the two-way radio and tunes to the frequency on the paper. With a couple of hails on the microphone he gets a response. There is so much static on the line that he puts on headphones and then asks the person to repeat the message.
“Repeat that please.”
He checks what he has written down, then thanks the messenger.
“It’s for you, Jake.”