Bungle in the Jungle
We are in a bit of a quandary as to what to do. I think there is some mental catastrophe associated with burying your dead body and then flying away as though nothing happened. I have the urge to salvage any fuel left in the tangled wing tanks and burn this mother down.
I am standing over my body as Lou comes up beside me, his foot... his dead body's foot, in his hands as he drags his corpse to a stop. The look on his face is one that you might have seen in an Nazi death camp newsreel.
I point to my body,"Does my ass look big in those pants?"
Lou looks at me and in a moment and that horrible look on his face is replaced with a smile and then a quick laugh.
"You're sick, Nancy." He drops the foot and we drag what is left of me from the cockpit as well. "We can't just leave ourselves here."
"We bury the bodies and we can burn the wreck. Or we just burn the bodies in the wreck."
"Won't the fire draw someone's attention?" Lou asks, looking at our surroundings.
"It's not like they have a police department that will be able to check our dental records."
Lou looks skyward for a moment, "I don't even have dental records. Not in this country, anyway."
Even though the wings are a mess, there is still a half a gallon or so of fuel to start things off. We don't have the time to strip the wreck of identifying markings. I doubt anyone will come before the plane is cooked and our bodies are just dust in the wind.
Inside of the folded fuselage we find a case of ammunition for the Fifty. The big gun itself is nowhere in sight. I am hoping it is with Abigail. There is half a case of what look like Korea era hand grenades... the kind with the segmented wire wrap around the explosive center, then wrapped in a smooth, round case. There is a duffle with two .45s and what looks like Lou number two's handy work of rolled Walkers, a bottle of tequila, and a roll of hundred dollar bills as thick as a soup can. We take all of it with the agreement that we don't touch the happy stuff until we have met up with Jerry and all is safe.
We take the goods and walk them back toward the trail, then go back to stage the bodies on the remains of the wing tanks to provide a thorough burn.
"Man, this is fucking bizaar." I heave my headless corpse up on the wreckage, lifting the legs and shoving as hard as I can. It slides on its own gore like an oyster from its shell.
"Think fast." Lou throws my head and I manage to duck away just in time.
"That's not funny, asshole."
"Stop being a pussy and grab the other end of this."
Lou's body is bloated and soft, like a man size piece of liver in a flannel shirt.
"You stink more than you usually do."
We grunt as we sling the carcass up on the wreckage. The stink of death is all around us, on us, up our noses and in our clothes. The fire is lit and there is the whoosh of combustion. Before the meat begins to cook we let the heat bake the smell out of our clothes and hair, then we walk back to the head of the trail.
"I sure hope we wake up from this fucking nightmare soon."
Lou reaches down and picks up the grenades and the duffle and I grab the Fifty rounds.
"This isn't going to get better, but it is liveable." I reposition the ammo box in my arms.
"Wasn't to liveable for those two bastards."
When we get to the plane we realize that their might have been a little more AV-Gas in the flora and fauna than we expected. There is a blaze twice as high as the treetops and probably three times larger than the wreck. Nothing we can do about it. Nothing we want to do about it.
We fire Naomi and try to sight the best piece of the road to use for our take-off. We head up the road a piece. The hole thing is shit, full of holes and washboard, but we give ourselves enough room to go with full take off flaps. I hold the brakes and throw the coals to her. The Wasps fill the cockpit with a deafening roar and I feel her skid just a bit before I release the brakes and we jolt down the dirt road.
Our speed doesn't improve the fact that this road is just a collection of holes
"She's gonna shake apart, Jake."
"No... no, she'll hold. We'll get her up where the road turns."
"The road... turns?"
I gesture ahead of us, both hands holding onto the controls for dear life. Fifty yards ahead the road makes a lazy turn to the left and the path ahead drops off and down a bit of an arroyo. We will either be airborne or we will be the second set of bodies and Goose to loose it in this part of the jungle.
To our right the blaze from our inadvertant scortched earth policy has grown to the size of a football stadium in a matter of five or so minutes. I glance down at the fuel gauge for a split second as the turn in the road fills our windscreen... more than two thirds of our fuel. That plane must have soaked the ground with enough fuel to cook the Mall of America.
"UP" Lou pulls on his control wheel.
"Not so much, we don't want to stall... "
There is a tremendous shudder as we leave the road and engage the burm as it makes the turn. We leap into the air, judging the tree tops ahead and the ground dropping away below us. The old girl responds to our urging and lifts us up and out of the jungle, scraping the gear in the tops of the trees as we pass.
"Jesus Christ... "
"What I wouldn't give for a little community airport next to a nice green golf course." I pull the handle for the gear and Lou moves the flaps to full up.
"Well, we don't have any of those out here in the jungle, Nancy, no tee times or pro shops either."
"I'm getting too old for this seat of the pants shit."
We decide to bank around and do a fly over of the crash site. As we line up for our fly by we can see that the fire has subsided a bit as the fuel burns away. It will probably burn itself out soon enough. In the center of the blaze the wreck is a slurry of blackness and pooling metal. Our bodies are no more than large chunks of charred bone.
We leave it all behind us and get back on a heading for Mascoala. We have brought along all of the pertanent cargo from the other plane. I can only hope that slight delay didn't put us out of reach to help Jerry and this Taylor fellow.
Time will tell.
I am standing over my body as Lou comes up beside me, his foot... his dead body's foot, in his hands as he drags his corpse to a stop. The look on his face is one that you might have seen in an Nazi death camp newsreel.
I point to my body,"Does my ass look big in those pants?"
Lou looks at me and in a moment and that horrible look on his face is replaced with a smile and then a quick laugh.
"You're sick, Nancy." He drops the foot and we drag what is left of me from the cockpit as well. "We can't just leave ourselves here."
"We bury the bodies and we can burn the wreck. Or we just burn the bodies in the wreck."
"Won't the fire draw someone's attention?" Lou asks, looking at our surroundings.
"It's not like they have a police department that will be able to check our dental records."
Lou looks skyward for a moment, "I don't even have dental records. Not in this country, anyway."
Even though the wings are a mess, there is still a half a gallon or so of fuel to start things off. We don't have the time to strip the wreck of identifying markings. I doubt anyone will come before the plane is cooked and our bodies are just dust in the wind.
Inside of the folded fuselage we find a case of ammunition for the Fifty. The big gun itself is nowhere in sight. I am hoping it is with Abigail. There is half a case of what look like Korea era hand grenades... the kind with the segmented wire wrap around the explosive center, then wrapped in a smooth, round case. There is a duffle with two .45s and what looks like Lou number two's handy work of rolled Walkers, a bottle of tequila, and a roll of hundred dollar bills as thick as a soup can. We take all of it with the agreement that we don't touch the happy stuff until we have met up with Jerry and all is safe.
We take the goods and walk them back toward the trail, then go back to stage the bodies on the remains of the wing tanks to provide a thorough burn.
"Man, this is fucking bizaar." I heave my headless corpse up on the wreckage, lifting the legs and shoving as hard as I can. It slides on its own gore like an oyster from its shell.
"Think fast." Lou throws my head and I manage to duck away just in time.
"That's not funny, asshole."
"Stop being a pussy and grab the other end of this."
Lou's body is bloated and soft, like a man size piece of liver in a flannel shirt.
"You stink more than you usually do."
We grunt as we sling the carcass up on the wreckage. The stink of death is all around us, on us, up our noses and in our clothes. The fire is lit and there is the whoosh of combustion. Before the meat begins to cook we let the heat bake the smell out of our clothes and hair, then we walk back to the head of the trail.
"I sure hope we wake up from this fucking nightmare soon."
Lou reaches down and picks up the grenades and the duffle and I grab the Fifty rounds.
"This isn't going to get better, but it is liveable." I reposition the ammo box in my arms.
"Wasn't to liveable for those two bastards."
When we get to the plane we realize that their might have been a little more AV-Gas in the flora and fauna than we expected. There is a blaze twice as high as the treetops and probably three times larger than the wreck. Nothing we can do about it. Nothing we want to do about it.
We fire Naomi and try to sight the best piece of the road to use for our take-off. We head up the road a piece. The hole thing is shit, full of holes and washboard, but we give ourselves enough room to go with full take off flaps. I hold the brakes and throw the coals to her. The Wasps fill the cockpit with a deafening roar and I feel her skid just a bit before I release the brakes and we jolt down the dirt road.
Our speed doesn't improve the fact that this road is just a collection of holes
"She's gonna shake apart, Jake."
"No... no, she'll hold. We'll get her up where the road turns."
"The road... turns?"
I gesture ahead of us, both hands holding onto the controls for dear life. Fifty yards ahead the road makes a lazy turn to the left and the path ahead drops off and down a bit of an arroyo. We will either be airborne or we will be the second set of bodies and Goose to loose it in this part of the jungle.
To our right the blaze from our inadvertant scortched earth policy has grown to the size of a football stadium in a matter of five or so minutes. I glance down at the fuel gauge for a split second as the turn in the road fills our windscreen... more than two thirds of our fuel. That plane must have soaked the ground with enough fuel to cook the Mall of America.
"UP" Lou pulls on his control wheel.
"Not so much, we don't want to stall... "
There is a tremendous shudder as we leave the road and engage the burm as it makes the turn. We leap into the air, judging the tree tops ahead and the ground dropping away below us. The old girl responds to our urging and lifts us up and out of the jungle, scraping the gear in the tops of the trees as we pass.
"Jesus Christ... "
"What I wouldn't give for a little community airport next to a nice green golf course." I pull the handle for the gear and Lou moves the flaps to full up.
"Well, we don't have any of those out here in the jungle, Nancy, no tee times or pro shops either."
"I'm getting too old for this seat of the pants shit."
We decide to bank around and do a fly over of the crash site. As we line up for our fly by we can see that the fire has subsided a bit as the fuel burns away. It will probably burn itself out soon enough. In the center of the blaze the wreck is a slurry of blackness and pooling metal. Our bodies are no more than large chunks of charred bone.
We leave it all behind us and get back on a heading for Mascoala. We have brought along all of the pertanent cargo from the other plane. I can only hope that slight delay didn't put us out of reach to help Jerry and this Taylor fellow.
Time will tell.
posted by Jake Allen at 10:34 AM
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