Bad News

The sun is shining. Must be early in the morning because the birds are making a little more noise than they do in the afternoon. I am laying face down in fresh sheets. I don't really care where I am right now, just being in a clean bed is enough for me.
"Senior?"
This is what must have awaken me.
"Senior Jake?"
Voice sounds familiar. I turn to see who is there and catch my breath. It all comes back to me. My wound, although cleaned and treated, is still painful. I roll to a sitting position and try to talk.
"Come in."

The door opens and it is Loco... in a suit and tie no less.
"Who died?"
Loco smiles.
"No one die, Senior Jake. Is Sunday."
"They let a crazy bastard like you into church?"
"The Lord see no crazy bastards, Senior. Besides, my wife is crazy and she kill me if I no go to church on Sunday."

I stand and catch myself on the wall at the head of the bed. Still woozy from whatever treatment I received.
"No, Jake... you no get up. I just want to see you. To say I am here."
"Gotcha."
"I see you later?"
I nod, feeling dizzy. Before the door can close a fairly decent nurse walks in. Now I know for a fact there isn't a real hospital here... certainly not one with clean sheets and a comfortable bed. So where the fuck am I?

She helps me to a chair and talks to me in mother tongue. I catch a few words, doctor, infection, something about blood loss. She holds out two small cups; one with three pills and the other with water. Like a fool I take all three with the water, not knowing what the pills are or where the water might be from. Before I can give it much more thought she has me laying on my stomach as she checks my dressing. And that is all I remember.

It turns out that Loco took most of the money we gave him after our rescue from KOZANOSTRA and actually paid to have the small clinic in town expanded. There are now three small rooms, an actual clean environment operating room... of sorts, and updated equipment and supplies.

People can surprise you sometimes. At our first meeting I took Loco to be a stoner, a wildman, and someone that seemed like he only cared about himself. After I get to know him I find that he was a man that cared deeply for his family and friends. Now I find out that he is so into his little town that he spends his own money on expanding the clinic. Shit... I feel like an asshole. Not because I didn't know this about him, but because I guess I never thought he had it in him. Wouldn't be the first thing I would think of if I had extra money lying around.

I don't know how long I am out this time, or when I awaken or why. But now, in my room are shadows sitting in chairs with faces I cannot see. It is dusk and I can smell Dominican's roasting meat down at the marina. As soon as I stir the shadows stand and walk into the light that the moon is casting in through the window.

"Well... it's about fucking time."
It's Jerry, already busting my chops.
"Good morning to you too."
"It's evening and I am getting tired of sitting here watching you sleep."
"Pervert."
I sit up and swing my feet off the side of the bed. I don't feel dizzy like before.
"How long have I been asleep?"
"A couple of days."
"No way."
"Way."
"What happened?"

Jerry picks up something out of one of the chairs and then sits down beside me on the bed. "You took a spear in the back, man."
"I remember."
"So... you took a spear in the back and whatever was on it gave you an infection that almost killed you."

I mull that over for a moment or two. Then things start coming back to me.
"Lou?"
"Last I heard he is alive. The dart he took in the chest paralyzed him. The doctors in Costa Rica figured that he only had moments to live before Antonelli gave him the kiss of life."
"Breath of life."
"Whatever." Jerry lights a match and sets fire to a large Cuban cigar. Once he puffs it to life, he continues.
"So the oxygen returning to his brain kept him alive and jump-started his system."

I rub my face and look around for my clothes. Jerry takes the cue and hands me the fresh clothing he had purchased in town. As I dress I mull over what he had said.
"So is he... brain damaged or anything like that?"
"Do you mean more than before?"
"That's what I mean."
Jerry takes a draw on the Cohiba and then releases the smoke in a long stream. It smells like a bus station in here.
"Don't know."
He eyes my progress and then goes over into the shadows and comes back with a pair of handmade sandals and drops them at my feet.
"Chris is there with him. He has communication with his ship and the lawyers, and then they are calling the reports into Dominicans... they have a ship to shore radio."

We walk outside. I feel renewed... like I have slept for days. And I have. It is after eight o'clock at night, but the light clings to the top of the jungle to our west in a deep blue hue. It is humid, but for some reason I do not sweat. I look at my reflection in the bank building window as we pass and I am thin and gaunt.
"Jesus."
"Yeah, you lost a little weight. That poison dehydrated you, that and you haven't eaten anything for about a week."

I hadn't given it any thought with all that I to digest in the last half hour, but now I realize that I am hungry and thirsty. The two of them gnaw at me like rats on a mooring line. Jerry takes another hit on his cigar.
"Doctor's orders are to feed you and re-hydrate you."

The Tecate goes down like liquid gold. We stay away from the hard stuff, even though the bar manager has ordered extra skulls of Muerte Verde upon hearing that we were back in town. I order fish tacos and Jerry gets a steak. Before the main course arrives we have a bowl of Conch Chowder, one of the Dominican's specialties that we hadn't tried in our past visits. It is all delicious.

Out in the bay we can see CARIBBEAR at anchor. We have let the manager here at the restaurant know that we are waiting to hear from the ship. They have a radio operator standing by to receive any messages, but so far... nothing.

"I saw Loco today, or yesterday. It was Sunday."
"That was three days ago."
"He looked good."
"Yeah, I am the one that let him know we were here." Jerry takes a long draw on his beer, emptying it. Before the glass is back on the table our waitress is delivering another. "Did you know that he had that little doctor's office expanded into a full blown clinic?"
"Yeah, makes you think, doesn't it."

We are smoking a couple of Jerry's Cohibas when we see the helicopter flying to the ship from the east. Five minutes after it touches down we are handed a message from the radio operator. They are to find us and bring us to Dominican's. Well, that job is done.

We watch the helicopter take off from the ship after half an hour or so and it flies in toward us and finally over to the airfield. Jerry and I sit in silence. If it was bad news they wouldn't have relayed it over the radio. We both start to mark time when the helicopter disappears from view. It takes about five minutes to make the trip from the airfield to here.

Loco's green cab pulls up right in front of us. When I see his face I know it is bad. Antonelli emerges from the back of the cab. He sees us and gives a slight wave... his expression even worse than Loco's. This is bad.

From inside the cab Antonelli pulls two limbs toward him and literally lifts Lou to his feet. His head flops listlessly to one side. It is as though he were unconcious, but his eyes are open and there is determination there.

"Oh fuck." Jerry mutters.
I feel my eyes well up at the sight of this mighty warrior reduced to this. Was it a lack of oxygen to his brain? Did that poison cause permanent damage to his nervous system?
"Oh... man."

Antonelli and Loco each take a side and they pretty much lift him up the steps to the patio. His feet try to move but they clumsily drag on each step. When they come near I can see the wet spot on his shirt where he has drooled. There is nothing worse than this. Even death would be better than this.

I hear Jerry catch his breath, as though he were holding back a flood of emotion. The boys walk him up to our table. I can't even look Lou in the eye.

Loco looks at Antonelli, "His bags?"
Chris says he'll get them and lets go of Lou, but Loco has already released him and turns to get the bags as well.

Lou falls toward the two of us and both Jerry and I leap to our feet to catch him. But when we do Lou steps forward and grabs us both around the shoulders.
"You two Nancys started without me?"

The Fallen

Abigail levels out at about five hundred feet as the jungle below becomes a blurr of emerald and grey. I remain in the right seat, my eyes glued to Abby's instrument panel. I should rush back. I should check him myself. But I carried him to the plane. I realized then that he probably wasn't in there.

At a time when we should be cheering at the top of our lungs of our escape from the Yanomami, the scene is silent save the rumble of Abigail's twin engines.

I feel Jerry's course correction as we head back toward civilization. He taps the fuel guages a couple of times.
"Jake, I need you to make a quick visual inspection of the wings to see if there is any damage. I don't feel anything in her controls so far but I just want to make sure."

I don't move. There isn't any reason to inspect the wings. Can't do anything even if there is something wrong.

"Come on, Jake. I need you."
"Fuck it."
"It is the difference between us making it all the way back or us having to put her down somewhere for a quick repair. Just go and look."

I don't know if he is doing this just to take my mind off of Lou, or if he really needs me to look. I play along.

As I emerge from the cockpit I see Antonelli holding Lou's wrist. There is blood outlining his upper body on the cargo deck. Chris moves his fingers ever so slightly and cocks his head as though he hears something. Then... nothing. He drops the wrist and it hits the cargo deck like a pork chop on a butcher's block. With a swipe of his hand Chris closes Lou's eyes.

A quick look at the wings reveals nothing. I call up to Jerry over the roar of the engines, who waves back in acknowledgement.

Ollie is on the deck, slouched as he rests against the contour of the fuselage. He is spent. Abigail takes a bump or two as we catch turbulence and Ollie winces in pain. When I see this the wound in my back overcomes the fading adrenaline and I am on fire. There is a new bundle of rags that Jerry must have picked up on one of his runs. I pull a couple from the tighly packed block and throw one Ollie's way.
"You better put some pressure on that leg wound."
I fold my rag into a nice little square. The wound in my back is almost to where I can't reach it. I manage to get the rag on top of it, then join Ollie on the deck with my back pressed against Abby's skin. The vibration somehow numbs the pain... but that isn't good enough.

"Chris... "
He turns, wiping his face with the sleeve of his shirt.
"There should be a first-aid kit up front."
He stands and makes his way forward. I see him lean in and ask Jerry. A quick gesture and Antonelli reaches behind the right seat. He looks in the open bag and says something to Jerry again. I can see him nod, and then Chris steps back into the cargo bay. He sits on the deck next to us and opens the bag wide.
"You sure this is it? Tequila?" He picks up a few bottles of pills, "Ketamin? What is Ketamin?"
"Is there any morphine in there?"
He drops the Ketamin and fishes through the kit.
"Morphine Sulfate... 200MG?"
"Those will do. Give us both one."
"Just one?"
"It's fucking morphine. We'll try one first."

Fifteen minutes later the edge is off and it is harder to lean on the bulkhead. I feel like a puddle. Ollie taps my head with the tequila bottle for a quick guzzle, but I wave him off.
All I can do is stare at Lou's body. It seems impossible that he is dead. How do you kill Lou? The guy makes Rambo look like Betty Crocker. In the past month or so he has shot down a couple of planes, a few trucks, sank a pirate ship, killed dozens of bad guys, hundreds of crazed natives, been in countless shootouts with just about everybody. I've seen him tangle with a wrestler in the Arizona desert, with pirates in the Caribbean, with drug dealers in Modoc. He is the only person to ever have really shot me and almost killed me. Bastard. I have smoked a bale of Walkers with him, drank a huge family of Muerte Verde Skulls with him, spent tens of thousands on parties with him, met lifelong friends with him. I learned that today was a good day to die.

The morphine is closing my eyes. I have pushed the tree trunk that is Ollie off of me twice now where he has slouched down on top of me. Finally, with great effort, I manage to push him over the other way completely. I see Chris checking his wound. The last thing I remember is the sound of duct tape and its application on Ollie's leg. Chris has covered Lou's face with the grenade vest... the grenades now gone with the last fight. There are clean rags beneath him where the blood had been. And that is it. Darkness and the mumble of a morphine haze takes me deep inside myself.

The bump of a landing wakes me from my coma. I don't know how long we have been flying, where we landed, or for a moment... what had happened. Then I see Lou's body and it all comes back.
"Awe... shit."
Ollie nudges me.
"I thought it was a bad dream." I gesture to Lou's body.
"El está muerto, mi amigo." He rumbles.
"Yep... he sure is."

Jerry spins Abby around and he cuts the engines. I can hear him setting switches and then he walks back down into the cargo bay. When he sees Lou's body he stops and sighs... shaking his head.
"Awe shit."
I nod.
He has known Lou the longest. He had traded with him for years before I met him. But their relationship wasn't quite as intense as ours. Aside from our gold run to Mexico City, the KOZANOSTRA battle, and this little jaunt to pick up Chris, their friendship was more along the lines of bartender and customer.

"I hate to say it," Jerry starts, "But I don't think Lou would have wanted it any other way."
No one says anything, but the question is there.
"I mean... he died in battle saving another man's life. He is like the fucking Klingons, man. "Today IS a good day to die".
He lets the quote fall into silence.

Jerry holds up a couple of Walkers that he found in the cockpit. "I think we should smoke awhile in his honor."

The Walkers are sparked up and the four of us pass them around. One would have been fine, but I think we are trying to get as wasted as fast as we can in Lou's honor.
"That bastard could party."
"Oh yeah... "
Chris coughs hard on an exhale and then moves with a jolt, staring at Lou's body.
He passes the Walker, never taking his eyes off of him.
"Good shit." Ollie says, gesturing at Chris.
"Nancy boy." I tell him.

"Oh HELL no... "
Chris rushes over to Lou's body and tosses the vest aside.
"Chris... come on man, nothing is going to bring him back." Jerry calls to him. "Don't torture yourself."
Antonelli shakes him at first, then gets more frantic.
"Hey, man, leave him the fuck alone." I try to stand, but my morphine legs won't hold me.
Jerry gets up and goes over to him. Chris takes a couple of good slaps at Lou's face. Now Jerry is the one that gets physical and punches Chris in the side of the head, knocking him off of Lou's body.
"He's moving, man... he is fucking MOVING." Chris yells at Jerry.

We all focus on Lou's body and wait. Moments pass as we hold our breath, then we see his eyes flutter beneath his eyelids.
"Shit."
Jerry uses his thumb and pulls up his eye lid. The eyeball beneath it is moving wildly inside the socket.
"That has to be some kind of body reflex." As Jerry says this, the eye snaps to and is directly lined up on him.
"Jesus." Jerry scoots back.
"Hey... isn't breathing."

Chris looks at me and then at Lou. He doesn't hesitate. Within seconds he is giving Lou the breath of life just as Lou had done for him back in Colombia. After a couple of breaths from Antonelli his chest rises and falls on it's own.

Jerry bolts from the plane, yelling and screaming for "MEDICO".

Antonelli opens Lou's other eyelid and both eyes track with his every move.
"You in there, Lou?"
One of the eyelids closes for a long moment and then opens again. A wink.
I laugh and can't stop until I am crying. Ollie laughs with me. At first Chris thinks we are laughing at the two of them. But then he realizes it is just our overwhelming relief.

We already know that there is only a shit hospital here in Puerto Barrios. But with the arrival of Chris' helicopter, his mother, and two of his attorneys, Lou and Ollie are wisked away to a better treatment center.

I will go to the local doctor, the one that treated Jerry and Lou after KOZANOSTRA sank. Hopefully we will hear from Chris shortly. In the mean time, we wait.