By the Skin of our Teeth

We stand in the cushioned silence as we watch the block burn, not quite sure what to do. Running would be the correct thing, but that doesn't occur to us, not at first any way.

Time passes and the flames die down somewhat. That is when we realize that there is quite a crowd on the main street side of the debris that had been the bar. There is an old fire truck off to one side. They have probably decided to allow the mess to burn itself out rather than rely on the old street plumbing and lack of training in the midst of the audience that has assembled.

Some of the men are working over a couple of the victims that survived the blast when they were blown through the open door. If they had their bell rung anywhere near as bad as we have, they are not too sure of their surroundings right now. One of them props himself up on his elbows. For a few seconds he stares into the flames of what had been a Huatulco city block.

Lou puts his hand on my shoulder. He does this because he is as deaf as I am right now and he is letting me know that he is going to speak. I turn and watch him talk. That and the muffled sound of his voice allow us to communicate.
"What is he looking at? Us?"

I turn back to the man, surrounded by at least twenty or thirty people on the other side of the flames. The man is to his feet now, and is gesturing in our direction.

I turn to Lou.
"He might be just looking at the fire?"
"And pointing at us?"
"Why would he be pointing at us?"

Now the crowd around the smoldering man is looking our way. More of them are pointing now, some straining to see us through the heat and flame.

"Yep, they are looking at us." Lou nods.
"We better get out of here, don't you think?"

Lou looks on the ground, first at his feet, then he spins and looks behind him.
"What are you looking for?" I say loudly.
"My pistol."
I grab his shoulder and then the wrist of his right hand that is holding the weapon. He nods.

We break left and start down what is left of the alley from the direction we had come. The heat is tremendous, but there is only one way out for us. We don't know if the crowd saw where we went, but the smell of burning hair might tell them. By the time we have run to the end of the block we are both smoldering. With a quick jog to the left we are standing on the main street.

There is a huge crowd down in front of what had been the bar. Several of them are peering through the flames... trying to see us I assume. Along with the flames are several beams of light playing off of the smoke and debris. The explosion must have knocked out power for the surrounding area. A couple of those beams of light start tracing up the street toward us. They silhouette the old Impala taxi cab that had taken us here. Lou spots the hack as well and starts toward it.

The driver is standing at the back of the car watching the fire. Lou stays low to the ground and comes up behind him. Now there are several flashlight beams aimed our way as Lou puts the barrel of the gun into the small of the driver's back. He says something in Spanish to him and they both walk backward toward the front passenger's door.
"Come on, Jake... we're leaving." Lou yells, motioning the startled driver onto the bench seat. He slides in behind the wheel and Lou sits down next to him, gun at chest level. With Lou yelling and the doors slamming, behind us the onlookers have now turned their attention to the end of the street. The cabbie starts the car and we sit for a moment in plume of oil smoke.

"I thought you fired six shots with that gun." I take little inventory in my head. There were no other cartridges... just what was in the six shooter.
The driver, who didn't seem to understand plain English when he dropped us off, looks right at me, then Lou. He reaches under the seat for something and doesn't find it, then bails out of the driver's door.
"Shit."

Lou slides behind the wheel and I roll over into the passenger seat. Behind us the driver is running toward the crowd, yelling in mother-tongue. The mob starts moving toward us now, the cabbie meeting them in the middle and turning to join them.

"GO GO GO... " I am turned in the seat looking backward out the rear window when the first shot from the crowd shatters it in front of my eyes.
"SHIT." I duck down and turn forward.
Lou throws the cab in gear and hits the gas. We lurch forward. Behind us the crowd parts and the high beams of the first vehicle bathe the inside of our cab through the shattered glass.

If this thing has a V-8 then half the cylinders must have the night off. We make the corner and for the moment there is no one behind us. Lou drops the shifter down a notch and coaxes as much power from the old engine as possible.

"Do you know the way to the airport?" Lou asks me.
"ME? This was your town. Why don't you know the way?"
"I never flew in or out of this hell hole... so fuck off."

More gunfire as the vehicle that started after us makes the corner. I dive over the back of the seat and hit the floor.
"Are you hiding, Nancy? You PUSSY."
"I'm not hiding, asshole." A shotgun blast sprays the back of the Impala and Lou takes another corner, slamming me up agains the left hand passenger door. I slide down toward the floor and start feeling.

"What in the FUCK are you looking for?" Lou takes another right and hits the gas.
"This is a taxi cab in a dangerous part of town, so what do you think I am looking for? Store coupons?"

I come up with a sticky .380 semi-automatic. I try to pull the slide back and my hand slips off. I don't know what is on it and I don't want to know. I wipe my hand on the torn vinyl seat and then on my pants.
"Pistol, can't tell if it's loaded."
"Shoot the fucking thing, that's a good way to find out."
"You shoot it, I don't want to waste the shots."
"DRIVE."

Lou hops right in the back seat and now we are both back here.
"NOW."
I roll over the top of the seat and behind the wheel. "Where am I going?"
"AIRPORT." Lou peels off a shot and one of the headlights on the vehicle chasing us shatters into darkness.

"Oh for Christ's sake." I try to remember where we are and where we came from. I see the dim streetlights of the main thoroughfare, the only lighted street I remember from our drive. Now left or right... I rurn toward the water and hope this is the way.

More shotgun blasts. There is a second vehicle in the chase. I can see it weaving in and out from behind the first. My left foot feels something on the floorboard and I reach down and feel for it. An old cane... I throw it on the seat.

Lou fires a second shot. I see the vehicle behind us take a hard right and it crashes through the corner of an old building. Must have flattened his front passenger tire. I swear to God... an egg beater would be lethal in Lou's hands.

I have the pedal to the metal and we are only doing sixty. A cloud of oil smoke nearly drowns out the light from the remaining vehicle on our tail. Must be a truck, there are a second set of lights up high... maybe on a roll bar.
"We aren't going to lose them on any straight-away."

A shotgun blast peppers the trunk lid and the catch gives. It comes up slowly, blocking the glare of the lights and giving us a little protection. There is a space at the bottom of the broken window that Lou fires from, putting out a headlight.

"I see IT. The airport is off to the left."
Up ahead in the darkness, there is an aerodrome beacon rotating slowly through the jungle.
"Looks like about two miles. Can you keep them off of us that long?"

A rifle shot from our pursuers blows a hole through the trunk lid and I feel it whiz by my head before it punches a large hole in the windshield. I am now looking through a broken web of glass. Lou returns fire and I see the remaining lights weave hard in the road. He must have caught a front tire. In my side mirror I can see the lights in the cloud of dust sideways in the road. They back up and proceed after us, now almost a mile behind us.

"We won't have time to get the plane started and rolling before they are on us." Lou says, joining me up front. He plops down on the seat and then lifts up immediately, grabbing the cane I had thrown on the seat.

Along side of us is some kind of crop. It ripples by, the height slightly above the side of the cab. Some where behind us I can see the lights back on the road and trailing us. Lou looks over his shoulder at the on coming lights and then leans over me and turns off our headlights.

"HEY... I'm using those."
"Turn."
"Turn where? You see an intersection here?"
He grabs the wheel and yanks it over into the crop.
"Aim toward the airfield until these guys turn off. Then crank this sucker back toward the road."

I think for a moment. Lou props the cane up between his legs and holds it there.
"Oh... I get it."
We slap the crop down for another ten or fifteen seconds, putting a decent stretch between us and the truck on our tail. Then the lights pass our entrance into the bush as the truck passes. It is a moment later that they turn in to pursue us.
I reach down and turn the lights back on.

"What are you doing, Jake?"
"We are bailing out of here, right? You are going to jam the accelerator with the cane? I just thought that we should let them see where we go. We can bail when we turn and they won't see us, but we want them to see where the cab goes, don't we?"

"Yeah, that's it."
I get the feeling I am the one with the plan at this point.

I yank the wheel away from the airfield and we arc toward the road from which we came. As I scoot to the side, Lou jams the gas pedal with the cane and we both climb up and out of the windows and onto the cushion of crops to the side of the path we are making. As I roll to a stop I hope I don't encounter an irrigation system or some farming implement that was left rusting in the field. I end up flat on my back for a long moment, then I am yanked to my feet.

"No time to rest, Nancy. We need to make it to Naomi and get in the air before they figure it out."

We just make it into the crop, keeping as low as we can, as the truck passes by behind us, closing the gap on the driverless cab. A few shots ring out as they try to draw a bead on the kareening Impala.

It seems like a hundred yards or so before we will reach the airfield. When we are a few hundred feet from the runway we hear more gunfire just before the explosion. The cab has either hit something solid, or they have hit the gas tank on the old cab and sent her up. Either way it buys us time.

From Naomi we can see the truck outlined by the fire of the cab. They have been there for a time inspecting the scene. There is an uneasy quiet. We can hear them speaking to each other even though they are at least a mile away.

I look at Lou and he at me.
"As soon as we start her up they are coming." I tell him.
"So we start them and take right off, no problem."
I look at the windsock on the terminal shed, "Tail wind, we have to spin around."
"Oh horseshit, we can get her off the ground with two strong engines."

We take our seats and Lou fires engine one. As soon as it catches it seems like the truck headlights turn our way.
"Here they come." I announce as Lou starts turning number two. It hangs and hangs.
"Come on you BITCH."
He fiddles with the throttle to no avail.
"Just go, man... make your turn and we get out of here."

Lou pushes the throttle up and Naomi's one engine drags us to the end of the runway. As he spins her around to line up, we can see the old truck cutting through the crop as it closes on us. Lou tries the number two again, wasting precious seconds.

"GO GO GO... stop fucking with that engine."
He holds the brakes for a moment and lets the rpm's build. He is thinking at least. With only one engine we will need more runway.
"Brakes... " He releases them and we are on our way. The truck is almost to the other end of the runway.
"Flaps? We need more flaps?" He asks as an afterthought.
"Hell, I dunno." I move the flaps down to about ten or so. The truck is now on the tarmack, essentially blocking our escape unless we get over the top. We can see the flash of small arms fire.

Groundspeed is building, but not fast enough. The gap is closing and we aren't going to have enough to get up and over. I put the flaps back to five.
"The prop, feather the prop." Lou points and I feather number two's prop. He pulls back on the stick and we get up. As soon as the gear have cleared they are stowed and we are only ten feet off the runway.

"UP... UP, come on GIRL."
We can hear the gunfire as we make it over the truck and into the night sky. Lou banks hard, too hard for our limited altitude. He is trying to evade the gunfire, but it's too much for Naomi and she starts toward the ground.
"Hold on to her." I call out, grabbing the co-pilot's wheel. Her belly brushes the crops and we are skimming five feet over the earth. Then with a gentle touch we pull back ever so slowly until we are up and over the plantlife and into the night sky.

"Son of a BITCH." Lou takes a wide bank over the airstrip several hundred feet below us. The locals continue taking pot-shots at us.
"Let's get the fuck out of here, Lou."
"Roger that."

With one engine we climb slowly. Once we have enough altitude to attempt another start on the number two engine, I reset the prop and we give it a spin. This time she catches and the airstream helps to bring her up to speed.

Out of harms way. The only thing to show for the trip is an old pistol and about a gallon of adrenaline. As we leave Santa Cruz Huatulco to our six, Lou lets out a sigh of relief.

"I was dreading going back there."
"I can see why. Sorry the way things turned out."
"No big deal. That's exactly the way I thought it would turn out. Just hoped I might get to keep that Scotch, that's all."
I look at him in the glow of the instrument panel. "You were going to blow up that bar this whole time?"
"Fuck 'em."
"I guess so."
He reaches down to his side and comes up with fat Walker.

"Now your talking."

Ahead of us is home... a few hundred miles of jungle away. We pass the Walker, each of us taking a couple of hits before handing it to the other. Nothing like getting blown up, shot at, chased, shot at, and barely making it off the ground to safety.
Well, tomorrow is another day.

Raising the Bar

After a good night's sleep it seems like we never left the place. I awaken to the sound of the jungle, emerging from my sleep as though I have floated to the surface of some remote lake. It is loud for someone who has spent the last several days in hotels or aboard ships. It is a different sound than in the Amazon, more monkey I think. Gunfire gets me out of my hammock and over to the window.

Lou is outside the perimeter gates firing a pistol. He doesn't seem to be shooting at anything in particular. I half hope he is killing a few of these monkeys.
"HEY... some people are trying to sleep."

He stops for a moment, calling over his shoulder back toward the compound, "Some people shouldn't sleep past eight in the morning."

Eight in the morning. I usually never sleep past six. I walk through the living quarters. Jerry is gone. No dirty breakfast dishes... but we didn't have anything fresh for breakfast anyway. There is a pot of cooling coffee. I pour myself a cup and see a small whisp of steam come up off the top.

Out in the compound I see that the Jeep is gone. Lou peels off a couple of shots and jolts the top inch of coffee out of the cup and out onto my feet.
"Son of a bitch."

"Come on, Nancy, take a couple of shots."
"I'd love to... put a beer can on your head and stand over there."
"Funny."

I finish my coffee, luke warm but strong. Abigail calls to me from her spot in the compound. I have an inspection and servicing to do for Jerry. Naomi is half in the hanger and looks neglected. During a lull in gunfire I convince Lou to open her up and start an inspection. He tells me he doesn't know what he is looking at. I tell him it is an airplane and he flips me off.

It takes about four hours to give Abby a full service and inspection. During that time I patch six bullet holes and a couple of spear hits that pierced the hull in the Amazon. Lou helps me buck a few rivets. While I am topping off her oil tanks I hear Naomi fire up. There is a small cloud of smoke when she rolls over, but it dissipates. After he idles that engine for a while he fires the second engine and lets it run up.

Jerry gets back while we are still doing fuselage repairs. He has brought back fresh eggs, a gallon of milk, and a slab of bacon. By the time Lou has both engines rolling on Naomi, and both he and I are in the cockpit checking things for our flight this afternoon, Jerry waves us down from outside the cockpit windows. He yells over the idling engines that breakfast is ready, even though it is two in the afternoon.

There are four eggs for the each of us, probably eight slices of bacon each, and a huge pour of milk. I can feel my arteries hardening... and I like it. He also has guava and mango sliced up and on the plates. It hits the spot. Everything is fresh as can be. The milk is from one of two cows in the village. Usually we get goat milk, which is hard to swallow some times. It is good to cook with, but try drinking a glass of it when you are expecting regular milk. This is cool, and unpasturized.

Lou wolfs down his breakfast/lunch like it is his last meal. Jerry is heading out first thing in the morning. He has one of Nester's brother-in-laws to help him on the run. Me and Lou are heading for the coast and his bar. He has loose ends... yeah, I know, to easy.


We get going a lot later than we had hoped. We had a little servicing to do on Naomi that really shouldn't have been put off. By the time we are lining up for a landing at the small airport in Huatulco the sun is beyond the horizon and the dusklight is starting to turn the green shades of jungle to grey. Naomi has registration numbers and a radio on which we can talk to any air traffic. There is no tower at this particular airport and we land with line of sight on any other aircraft in the pattern... which there is none. In fact our landing is the only activity we see at this one strip air-park.

"Nobody home." Lou remarks as he eases Naomi down. He is a little long on the runway, so we have to hit the brakes a little harder than expected as to not shoot off into the gravel. To his credit and the limited landings he has made in this little plane... or any for that matter, he touches down flawlessly.

It takes a minute to back track to the small terminal building. Our taxi lights sweep across the barren tarmack until we see the structure. I have seen garden sheds larger than this.
"What about a ride into town?" Lou asks as he shuts down Naomi's engines and applies the parking brake. We both do a reset on switches before we leave the small cockpit.

"I dunno." I look at the small shack. There is an old telephone tacked to the outside wall. "We call?"

"Should have landed at that dirt strip. At least you guys have a truck there."
"I doubt it. You shot that other truck, remember. I'm sure they relieved us of that old truck so they could get back to town and drink all of you liquor."
"Assholes."

We both walk up the garden shack and look at the dingy yellow phone. There is no dial. I pick it up and I can hear a bit of switching going on.

"Hola?" The crackling voice reports from the handset. I put my hand over the receiver and turn to Lou.
"Cool... someone answered."
"English?" I hope.
"Si, English."
"We are at the airfield... uh, airport. Can you send a taxi?"
"Si."

I hear nothing else.
"Hello?" Nothing.
I hang up the phone.
"What the fuck?" Lou looks at me.
"She said si... last time I heard that meant yes."
"So?"
"We wait."

Lou starts pacing and doesn't stop for the next fifteen minutes. Long enough for him to get pretty pissed off. All of this time he put his anger in his back pocket over this whole getting shot at thing when we picked him up from this place. But now he is as fired up as I have ever seen him. I fear for any man... or group of men that get on the bad end of this evening. What I thought might be a fun trip of drinking and partying sounds like it just might be me having Lou's back in some melee' over this bar.

This place smells... bad. I thought it might just be a passing wind, but it smells like we might be next to the sewage plant. This only adds to Lou's building anger. He has stopped talking and I worry about that.

"Hey, bud... cat got your tongue?"
Nothing.
"Lou, I thought this was supposed to be fun. A little partying, a few Walkers, carting away cases of high grade liqour."
He cuts to me with the narrowed gaze of a man in a fury of thought. He is planning something. "Can you take a bullet and make it to the door?"
"What?"
He turns and paces some more, counting something on his fingers, each of them coming out like a switch blade as he adds to the list growing in his mind.

"Hey, you're scaring me, pal."
"Guns... "
"Don't have any."
"Both of those... C4... no primer."
"Jesus Christ, Lou."

An old Impala pulls up with one of four headlights dimly working. I thought this place had a little more going for it than this. Most of the nice cabs are probably running around the city. I welcome the interruption to Rainman's inventory of destruction. I don't know what I have gotten myself into, but I owe the man plain and simple. Somewhere in my mind I start my own inventory... my own list. How far is it from the plane into town, how much fuel do we have, did I hear that number two engine start hard today.

We climb in the back of the old cab and he asks something in mother tongue to which Lou answers.
"Once around the park, eh?" I say, trying to break this heaviness. The cab driver turns in his seat and looks at me in the darkness.
"Nevermind."

Thankfully we make our way out of this foul air. The cool ocean breeze sweeps by like silk on your skin, taking with it the stench of the open ponds of sewage. Soon we are aimed at the clutch of jeweled light that is the main part of town. Lou is still muttering to himself, one hand clenched in a fist... the steel of which looks at though it could stop a freight train in motion.

I have seen Lou in this mood before, but it was much more short lived. He is back in the jungle, his mind set for survival in a battle that has to be waged. It is a scary thing to witness, but even more horrendous to see to its end. I know he will progress from this stage to the execution of whatever he has in mind. It is then that I will hear him speak again, the resolve in his words will give me confidence and courage. Jesus... what the fuck am I doing here.

Five minutes later we are standing in the darkness watching the single tail light of our cab disappear around a corner. This place is much less inviting after dark. The last time I was on this street was with Jerry when we came in to trade a little of Nester's gold for gas money.

We start walking toward Lou's bar, but down the alley behind it. New smell... rotted food and that sickly smell of garbage dump all together in this alley for our enjoyment. There is something to be said for regular garbage pick up. We step over piles of it as we make our way to the back entrance of the bar.

There is a screen door hanging askew from the hinges. Wooden steps lead up to the back entrance. It is here that we crouch down while Lou pulls a board loose.
"What are we doing?" I whisper.
Nothing. Just him fishing in the hole after pulling that board. He comes up with a pistol in a zip-lock bag and hands it to me. Back in the hole he fishes out a plastic garbage bag with something folded inside it.

We retreat from the steps and now our backs are against the back wall of the bar as Lou removes a canvas bag from the plastic and feels around inside of it for a moment.
He lets out a short sigh... something's wrong.
"What?"
"No primer cord."

He speaks. Well, I know this is about to happen... whatever it is.

Lou pulls the pistol from the bag. It is an old revolver, I mean really old.
"You know what this is?"
"A real fancy cigarette lighter?"
"No, Nancy, it's an 1875 Remington Frontier."
"Looks like a fancy cigarette lighter."

Lou checks the load and then snaps the cylinder back into place. "This pistol has some history. I traded some gold for it when a Federale came into the bar with this strapped to his side. Took some doin' but I managed to separate him from it."
"Wow, old gun."
"No, man... this is an 1875 Remington Frontier. 1875 Remingtons were an old west gun. Single Action, .44 caliber, shorter barrel than the "outlaw". Some say you could get quicker draw because you are a couple inches less on the Frontier model than on the seven and a half inch barrel on the outlaw."

"I think you are one cartridge short of a full load."
Lou uncharacteristically swings the weapon toward me and I jump slightly.
"Don't be a pussy. Feel the balance."
I take the pistol. It just feels heavy. Lou snatches it back. Puts his trigger finger through the guard and then twirls it forward and back. You can tell he has worked with this gun for hours on end.

"Why did you have it stashed under the steps?"
"Let's call it premonition and leave it at that. Things were starting to get a little dicey before you boys showed up. My "wife" and her brothers felt that local ownership of any business should be done by the locals."

"So they were the ones that chased you to the airfield?"
"Yep."

Lou gets to his feet and motions for me to pick up the canvas bag.
"I'm going in first. There are two things I want out of this fucking place and then we toss in the bag."

I peer into the canvas bag and see nothing but darkness. "What's in here?"
"Two blocks of C-4 and a grenade."
"Nice. Knowing you I thought it might be a severed head or something."
"Night's still young."

Lou let's me in on the attack plan. He is going in first... a little recon. I am to pull the pin on the grenade and toss the bag into the bar when he tells me. Not a complicated plan, but I am sure it will be effective.

The door creaks as he opens it, and by the way shakes his head he should have remembered. The crackle of music from a portable radio might have covered Lou's entrance. The lack of action from inside is a good sign. He slips inside and I wait.

There is a gingling of bottles near the door and Lou hands out one case and then another of bottles.
"What the fuck are you doing?"
"That's nearly a thousand dollars worth of single malt."

Stepping over dollars to pick up dimes. We have enough money between us to wash a fleet of planes in the stuff. I set the cases at my feet, then think about it and run them down the alley a ways. I get back to the screen door in time to hear Lou yell something.

I wait. Seconds drag like minutes. Sounds of a struggle. I grab the canvas bag and step inside.

There are three men holding Lou. His pistol is in the hands of the barmaid... his "wife" I assume. One of the men just gave him one hell of a gut punch. I reach in the bag and grab the grenade, dropping the bag to the ground.

"LET HIM GO." I hold the grenade up for display.
There is a second where they all look at me. When they turn back toward Lou to continue, I see the problem. I pull the pin and repeat myself.

"I'll blow us all to HELL... LET HIM GO."
This time it has more of an effect. They release Lou, who grabs the revolver from the girl. At the entrance of the bar are several bystanders who were watching the fun. Now that the tide has turned out come the weapons.
"Shit." I step back behind the bar and Lou drops to one knee.
The shots are peeled off by the patrons, four standing, two with guns. Lou does something quite amazing. I don't know how but in one fanning motion he peels off all six shots. He only hits one man... several times. In the confusion and rapid fire, we make our exit. Almost as an after thought remember the grenade in my hand and manage to drop it near the canvas bag.

Now I don't know how many seconds you have with a grenade, but whatever it is it doesn't seem like enough time. The grenade would have been enough to drop that bar into kindling. The C-4 turns it into dust and launches that dust into a blazing fireball.

My eyes focus and I am on my back, my clothes are smoldering. The fence I have been blown over is on top of me and on fire. I see Lou's feet.
"Lou... HEY."
My voice sounds like I am screaming into a pillow. I shake the feet and his legs move, sluffing off the rubble that is on top of him. He lifts himself up to his knees and winces. There is a shard of glass in his calf the he yanks out when he discovers it.

"To much... C-4." He stands and wavers a bit. He is still holding the pistol in his hand.
"No... shit. Do ya think?" I pull myself to my feet. Everything feels numb.

We both stand for a moment. The whole block is on fire. The building where I set the scotch is gone with everything else. Why we aren't dead is beyond me. The moments before the blast we might have made it over the fence, or we were on top of it when the blast went off. However the hell it happened, we are still alive.