Into the Sunset
"Oh... what the fuck." I work the throttle and spin the number two. It is excruciatingly slow. I flash to Jimmy Stewart in "The Flight of the Phoenix" with his last starter shot. The motor catches near the last of the juice. I breathe a premature sigh of relief. Hand starting an engine this size is pretty much out of the question. As I squeak the fuel into her, not wanting her to quit on me, I hear the report of Lou's AK as he tries to keep them off of me while I get her going. There is a moment when the gunfire halts for maybe a five count. Lou jumps aboard.
"GO GO GO... "
"But I don't have the number one started."
"FUCK THAT... GO."
I push the throttle for Abby's number two to the stop and she powers up. It takes a four count on the way up to about 75% when I release the brakes and we lurch forward.
"Lou, get up here. If we are gonna leave the ground we need that number one engine. I can't fly and start it at the same time."
I hear him scrambling up behind me, then several shots and I hear him fall. Somewhere near the pit of my stomach I panic, but then he is pulling himself into the right seat.
As we roll away and head down the dirt runway we feel dozens of impacts from small arms fire. My window shatters next to me. The next shot I feel rather than see or hear. My chest is on fire and it feels as though the wind has been knocked from me. I keep at the controls and am aware of the number one engine as Lou gets it started and on-line.
"Now we're cooking with gas." I choke and feel blood in the back of my mouth.
More gunfire, several rifles to our right firing at us as we pass. A round blows through the floor at the right seat and catches Lou in the leg.
"You MOTHERFUCKERS."
I pull back on the stick and we begin to lift off. Several more shots pierce the cabin and just behind us. I feel a stinging in my lower back and then realize that I am in big trouble.
"Lou... give me a little right rudder."
"Can't, one of those bastards got my right foot."
"You better use your left then, I can't move either of mine."
I feel the cold numbness of paralysis below the belt as we lift off and are airborne. Lou give it his best effort on the rudder and we manage to bank over and out of range of those on the ground.
My breathing his short and painful. The blood I tasted at the back of my throat is now coming up and out onto my shirt every time I breath. I fight the urge to cough, knowing the pain might black me out. Then there is the acrid smell of urine. I have no control of any function below the gunshot wound.
Climb... climb... climb. We make it above a thin layer of cloud that has formed in the last fifteen minutes and are now at about a thousand feet.
We are up and away, safe from ground fire. But I don't think that matters. The damage has been done. This will be the last time Abigail takes us up.
"What the FUCK?" Lou's head goes back and he closes his eyes, then opens them wide and reaches down to his damaged leg. He stifles the pain, a sound I haven't heard in all this time with him.
"Awe... shit."
"What?"
"I'm bleedin' out, Jake... too much, too much."
"Tie it off."
"Can't get to it. They hit me in through my right side. I think they got my liver. There is a hole the size of a shot glass."
"Well... shit."
We fly in silence for a second or two. Long enough to realize that we better say what we want to say before we both give up the ghost.
"How did you manage to get on the plane without getting nailed?" I've got nothing.
"The... " Lou takes a sharp breath. I feel that panic again. He is on his way out.
"The boy, the hand grenade paperweight. They thought it was real. Must have... "
He draws up tight for a moment and makes another sound I have never heard him make before.
"Hey, I get it." I look over at him and he is looking at me like we are saying goodbye.
"It's been a fucking blast, Jake. What a run, man... what a run. These last years have been the best I've spent."
Now that is something coming from Lou. I always see this guy like a super-hero and don't expect to have him die right in front of me. But it's coming.
"Hey... Lou, thanks brother. I would have been dead a hundred different times if it weren't for you saving my ass."
"Yep."
Time passes without a sound. Only a minute... maybe two, but it seems like an eternity. It isn't until I hear his voice that I know he isn't dead yet.
"How much fuel does she have?"
A good question. I look to the gauges and for the first time realize that the circuit that lights them is shot out.
"Your guess is as good as mine. But if I know Jerry she's full."
At the mention of his name we both go silent. Oh man... Jerry. We didn't have time to grieve him, and it doesn't seem as though we will now either.
"Jake... "
"Yeah?"
"I could use a Walker."
"I would have to chew it, Lou. I think I took one through the chest."
I hear the Zippo and then the sweet smell of Lou's Walker. He draws in a hit like it is his last. Then passes it to me.
I know this isn't going to work, but I take a toke out of honor. It stays put... no choking. We both exhale at the same time.
"Hey Jake... "
"Yeah... "
I never know if he responds, or if I am dead when he does.
Abby flies on. I trimmed her out just before I passed out. Even with the fuel bombs on board the old girl will find her balance. She will find a way to stay aloft until the very end. It shouldn't be hard to find the wreckage. We fly her last flight... two warriors on ride into the sunset, and with us we carry honor, kinship, and memories worth more than any treasure can be to a man.
THE END
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I hear the murmur of voices. I is as though they are behind the glass in an aquarium. I feel a thud, then another. Like someone is slapping a canned ham. Again, panicked voices, then... calm and reassurance. Light... brighter than the sun to me. I feel a hand cover my eyes, then the feeling, it is my own. If this is heaven, then I think I have been ripped off.
"Mr. Allen... Jake, come on Mr. Allen."
I feel my breathing, no pain. I think I wiggle my toes and then thrash my legs a bit.
"He's coming around."
I gasp and draw in a huge lung of air as though I were near drowning.
My eyes fly open. I can't focus, but I think I see the fuzzy familiar faces of Dr. Adams and Angelica.
"What the... ?"
"You and Louis were not conscious when you came through. The others seemed fine, but you two have been out for a few minutes."
"A few MINUTES?" I sit up, and to my surprise I am not in any pain what so ever.
"We have been living another life for weeks. We were killed trying to rescue our friend."
"Well, Louis came to just before you and we have sent him back to his room to change. You may join him in the lounge if you wish. The others are there waiting. I have already sent news that you are awake and doing fine."
Oh my God.
I am escorted to my room and I find the clothes I had left there weeks before. My body is prickly, like your foot when it falls asleep and then the feeling comes back. I... I can't believe this was all a matter of seconds from our return from the old west. JERRY, that means Jerry is still okay. That means Corazon is still there, my t-shirt collection, those fucking monkeys, Naomi, oh... God, thank you God.
My door opens and there he is.
"You okay?"
"That's what they tell me." I wipe my eyes, "I can't fucking believe it."
"You too? I thought it was just my dream."
"Dream? Did we get shot up rescuing Jerry in northern Mexico?"
"You know we did."
"Oh man, it was as real as you and me standing here."
"That was a fucking nightmare, man. One that I would rather not re-live."
We both walk to the lounge. The last time we were in here was just before we left for the old west. Seems like years.
Inside we find our friends, some welcome handshakes and several bear-hugs, whiskey and Muerte Verde, even a tray of hand rolled Walkers. Stories start, laughter and back slapping, tall tales that stretch the past to the thinnest veil of reality. I close my eyes and listen to the voices. A feeling of happiness and contentment wash over me. Then I feel Lou tapping on my arm, the Walker. I take it from him and draw a long hit into my healthy lungs. I look at him and nod as I let the smoke out in a thin stream. He smiles and nods. It is like we died and went to heaven.
I want to thank those of you out there that have taken this Journey with us. Keller Texas and Santa Barbara deserve mention for their persistence. And for the rest of you, there have been 4500 visits, dozens of full time readers, over 7800 page views.
We will be checking in later in the year. If you want to shoot us an email and give us an email we can drop you a note on I will let you know when we are starting back up. Lou and I are thinking of heading back up to the states and starting a P.I. agency. Should be a few tales to tell. Thanks again out there.
"GO GO GO... "
"But I don't have the number one started."
"FUCK THAT... GO."
I push the throttle for Abby's number two to the stop and she powers up. It takes a four count on the way up to about 75% when I release the brakes and we lurch forward.
"Lou, get up here. If we are gonna leave the ground we need that number one engine. I can't fly and start it at the same time."
I hear him scrambling up behind me, then several shots and I hear him fall. Somewhere near the pit of my stomach I panic, but then he is pulling himself into the right seat.
As we roll away and head down the dirt runway we feel dozens of impacts from small arms fire. My window shatters next to me. The next shot I feel rather than see or hear. My chest is on fire and it feels as though the wind has been knocked from me. I keep at the controls and am aware of the number one engine as Lou gets it started and on-line.
"Now we're cooking with gas." I choke and feel blood in the back of my mouth.
More gunfire, several rifles to our right firing at us as we pass. A round blows through the floor at the right seat and catches Lou in the leg.
"You MOTHERFUCKERS."
I pull back on the stick and we begin to lift off. Several more shots pierce the cabin and just behind us. I feel a stinging in my lower back and then realize that I am in big trouble.
"Lou... give me a little right rudder."
"Can't, one of those bastards got my right foot."
"You better use your left then, I can't move either of mine."
I feel the cold numbness of paralysis below the belt as we lift off and are airborne. Lou give it his best effort on the rudder and we manage to bank over and out of range of those on the ground.
My breathing his short and painful. The blood I tasted at the back of my throat is now coming up and out onto my shirt every time I breath. I fight the urge to cough, knowing the pain might black me out. Then there is the acrid smell of urine. I have no control of any function below the gunshot wound.
Climb... climb... climb. We make it above a thin layer of cloud that has formed in the last fifteen minutes and are now at about a thousand feet.
We are up and away, safe from ground fire. But I don't think that matters. The damage has been done. This will be the last time Abigail takes us up.
"What the FUCK?" Lou's head goes back and he closes his eyes, then opens them wide and reaches down to his damaged leg. He stifles the pain, a sound I haven't heard in all this time with him.
"Awe... shit."
"What?"
"I'm bleedin' out, Jake... too much, too much."
"Tie it off."
"Can't get to it. They hit me in through my right side. I think they got my liver. There is a hole the size of a shot glass."
"Well... shit."
We fly in silence for a second or two. Long enough to realize that we better say what we want to say before we both give up the ghost.
"How did you manage to get on the plane without getting nailed?" I've got nothing.
"The... " Lou takes a sharp breath. I feel that panic again. He is on his way out.
"The boy, the hand grenade paperweight. They thought it was real. Must have... "
He draws up tight for a moment and makes another sound I have never heard him make before.
"Hey, I get it." I look over at him and he is looking at me like we are saying goodbye.
"It's been a fucking blast, Jake. What a run, man... what a run. These last years have been the best I've spent."
Now that is something coming from Lou. I always see this guy like a super-hero and don't expect to have him die right in front of me. But it's coming.
"Hey... Lou, thanks brother. I would have been dead a hundred different times if it weren't for you saving my ass."
"Yep."
Time passes without a sound. Only a minute... maybe two, but it seems like an eternity. It isn't until I hear his voice that I know he isn't dead yet.
"How much fuel does she have?"
A good question. I look to the gauges and for the first time realize that the circuit that lights them is shot out.
"Your guess is as good as mine. But if I know Jerry she's full."
At the mention of his name we both go silent. Oh man... Jerry. We didn't have time to grieve him, and it doesn't seem as though we will now either.
"Jake... "
"Yeah?"
"I could use a Walker."
"I would have to chew it, Lou. I think I took one through the chest."
I hear the Zippo and then the sweet smell of Lou's Walker. He draws in a hit like it is his last. Then passes it to me.
I know this isn't going to work, but I take a toke out of honor. It stays put... no choking. We both exhale at the same time.
"Hey Jake... "
"Yeah... "
I never know if he responds, or if I am dead when he does.
Abby flies on. I trimmed her out just before I passed out. Even with the fuel bombs on board the old girl will find her balance. She will find a way to stay aloft until the very end. It shouldn't be hard to find the wreckage. We fly her last flight... two warriors on ride into the sunset, and with us we carry honor, kinship, and memories worth more than any treasure can be to a man.
THE END
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*
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I hear the murmur of voices. I is as though they are behind the glass in an aquarium. I feel a thud, then another. Like someone is slapping a canned ham. Again, panicked voices, then... calm and reassurance. Light... brighter than the sun to me. I feel a hand cover my eyes, then the feeling, it is my own. If this is heaven, then I think I have been ripped off.
"Mr. Allen... Jake, come on Mr. Allen."
I feel my breathing, no pain. I think I wiggle my toes and then thrash my legs a bit.
"He's coming around."
I gasp and draw in a huge lung of air as though I were near drowning.
My eyes fly open. I can't focus, but I think I see the fuzzy familiar faces of Dr. Adams and Angelica.
"What the... ?"
"You and Louis were not conscious when you came through. The others seemed fine, but you two have been out for a few minutes."
"A few MINUTES?" I sit up, and to my surprise I am not in any pain what so ever.
"We have been living another life for weeks. We were killed trying to rescue our friend."
"Well, Louis came to just before you and we have sent him back to his room to change. You may join him in the lounge if you wish. The others are there waiting. I have already sent news that you are awake and doing fine."
Oh my God.
I am escorted to my room and I find the clothes I had left there weeks before. My body is prickly, like your foot when it falls asleep and then the feeling comes back. I... I can't believe this was all a matter of seconds from our return from the old west. JERRY, that means Jerry is still okay. That means Corazon is still there, my t-shirt collection, those fucking monkeys, Naomi, oh... God, thank you God.
My door opens and there he is.
"You okay?"
"That's what they tell me." I wipe my eyes, "I can't fucking believe it."
"You too? I thought it was just my dream."
"Dream? Did we get shot up rescuing Jerry in northern Mexico?"
"You know we did."
"Oh man, it was as real as you and me standing here."
"That was a fucking nightmare, man. One that I would rather not re-live."
We both walk to the lounge. The last time we were in here was just before we left for the old west. Seems like years.
Inside we find our friends, some welcome handshakes and several bear-hugs, whiskey and Muerte Verde, even a tray of hand rolled Walkers. Stories start, laughter and back slapping, tall tales that stretch the past to the thinnest veil of reality. I close my eyes and listen to the voices. A feeling of happiness and contentment wash over me. Then I feel Lou tapping on my arm, the Walker. I take it from him and draw a long hit into my healthy lungs. I look at him and nod as I let the smoke out in a thin stream. He smiles and nods. It is like we died and went to heaven.
I want to thank those of you out there that have taken this Journey with us. Keller Texas and Santa Barbara deserve mention for their persistence. And for the rest of you, there have been 4500 visits, dozens of full time readers, over 7800 page views.
We will be checking in later in the year. If you want to shoot us an email and give us an email we can drop you a note on I will let you know when we are starting back up. Lou and I are thinking of heading back up to the states and starting a P.I. agency. Should be a few tales to tell. Thanks again out there.
posted by Jake Allen at 9:13 PM
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