The night was dark, but clear. Most of the time, the only light inside the plane was the dim glow from the instrument panel. Through the front and side windows millions and millions of points of light filled the sky. Sheila traced the line of the Milky Way. Its stars burned at temperatures too hot for her to fathom, but they were too far away to cast significant light or warmth on the land below. She felt very small and alone. She thought of all of the people who had lived and died and of those who had made fabulous contributions to the good of mankind and of those who had committed horrible atrocities. Flying through the darkest night that she’d ever known, none of it seemed to matter. Worst of all was the feeling that her task, supremely difficult as it might turn to out to be, and whether it ended successfully or not, meant nothing in the grand scheme of the universe.
Sheila rested her head against the window frame. She and Bird didn’t speak. Drifting in and out of sleep, she thought of the things she imagined everyone flying into the unknown thought about. Home. She regretted that the tiny cottage, which suited her so perfectly, would be hers no more. Nicholas. She regretted treating him so poorly and not loving him more. Richard, The Big Dick, she regretted no getting to see him to pick up her statement and check, especially because he probably thought he’d scared her off with his tough stance. Tom. Don’t die. Don’t die. Don’t die.
Born, not with the gift of faith, but with unflagging optimism, she turned her thoughts to the near future. William had been a dour sort. She had often encouraged him to paint pictures of the future in bright colors. Nothing was worse than finding herself in the position of having to take her own advice. She imagined a condo near the beach that she could actually afford. She imagined Nicholas forgiving her for disappearing again and treating her to a homecoming dinner without making a proposal she didn’t want to accept or turn down. She imagined Richard putting the statement and a certified check into an account he’d opened for her at her bank. When cows fly. She imagined Tom healthy and busy looking after his flock in Mateo. She’d give up all the rest for that.
Perhaps they’d flown through one of those time/space worms because suddenly it was daylight. The face of a huge mountain loomed in front of them. She grabbed her seat belt with both hands and braced her feet against the floor. “Pull up!” she screamed.
Bird did just that. The engines strained mightily. Sheila wondered if they could take in enough air to burn fuel at this elevation. She inhaled deeply as if that would help. She didn’t exhale until they had cleared the top of the mountain and were on a wild dive down the other side.
“You snore,” Bird said.
“I do not,” she said and then she screamed, “We’re going to crash!”
“It’s a dainty snore,” Bird said seemingly oblivious to the ground rushing up toward them. The plane banked and turned and leveled off frighteningly close to the tops of the trees. “You can relax. They call me El Pajaro because I fly like a bird.”
“Why fly so low?”
“Suppose someone on the ground wants to take me down. The lower I fly the faster I move relative to his position. Throws off his aim.” After a moment he added, “Gonna land now. Hold on. Brace yourself. No screaming.”
Sheila did as he said, pressing her lips together tightly to keep silent. The last thing she wanted to do was distract him as he guided the plane toward a mere grassy swath in the forest. They touched down fairly gently, but immediately bounced and tipped this way and that over the rough terrain. Branches of trees that hadn’t been felled to make the very narrow landing place slapped loudly against the windshield and sides of the plane. She feared one or more might crash through. Pajaro did things with the controls and once again stood on the break peddles to stop their forward motion. The whole process was incredibly noisy. Finally they banged into something and jerked to a halt. A troop of uniformed, armed men emerged from the trees. Leading them was a large man in civilian clothes.
Pajaro stood up and said, “After you.”
Sheila put on the backpack and walked to the back door, which stood opened with the steps down. She stood inside the plane for a moment. Outside, it was hotter than hell. The humidity had to be over one hundred percent, if that was possible. Tiny droplets of perspiration formed at her hairline. The air was laden with many smells; foremost among them was that of a massive herb garden growing on rotting vegetation. Just like in the movies, birds and wild animals called to each other.
Pajor nudged her forward, “Not nice to keep his majesty waiting.”
She made her exit with Pajaro right behind her. When they had stepped won, he swept her up in his arms and kissed her. There was plenty of head and hand movement and guttural sounds on his part, but he in no way opened his lips or attempted to put his tongue in her mouth. “I told you this was a beautiful place,” he said. He stepped forward a few paces and stood with his legs spread and his arms out, obviously so one of the men could pat him down. “You, too,” he said over his shoulder to her.
Sheila hated the idea of rude hands touching her, but she complied. Oh for the much maligned metal detectors in airports. She prepared herself for the worst.
“I will handle this,” the man in civilian clothes said. He came and stood in front of her, but not so close to intimidate, although she was sure he’d used his size to frighten people many times. “Whom do I have the honor of addressing?”
Sheila, wondering if it was an insult to look him directly in the eyes or an insult not to, decided to risk looking at him and told him her name.
“You can call me Vilar. I’ll ask a question. You will answer truthfully. Comprende?”
She said, “Yes.” He did not respond. She tried, “Si, Vilar.”
“Excellent. Do you carry a weapon?”
Play the game, she thought. She said, “Si, Vilar. I have a knife to protect myself from…from…wild animals.”
“No wild animals in my compound, but you may keep it. What is so important that you carry it on your back?”
“Personal items. Things a woman needs.”
He reached for the backpack. If he saw the medicine, he’d probably take it from her and the whole trip would be a waste.
She looked him right in the eyes, “I also have some drugs.”
Vilar laughed, “This is Colombia. Who doesn’t?” He stepped back, “Don’t worry, I’m not going to take your fun away.”
Hey amiga,
On the line where he saus...I'll ask the questions....(the word you want is Comprende
Posted by: Sue Bigatti | August 23, 2006 at 05:59 PM