Imagine (Fuzed Trilogy Book 2) Page 6

  The right engine began to sputter.

  Looking at the engine instruments, Josh saw that the right engine had no oil pressure. Sure enough, oil was streaming out of the engine cowl.

  Montoya said, “Must have damaged it when we clipped the tree tops.” He shut it down and feathered the prop.

  Josh asked, “How’s our fuel?”

  “We used up most of it when we went to full power.” Looking at the gauge, he said, “I think we only have a few minutes left.”

  On either side, they saw nothing but forest extending up into the clouds. There was no sign of civilization.

  Josh said, “I don’t suppose anything looks familiar?”

  Montoya, sweeping the ground, shook his head. “We’re too low to see anything.”

  Josh saw a small river channel — more of a creek — directly under them. It wound like a snake through the heavily forested valley. Josh pointed at it. “Let’s follow that. It’s running downhill.”

  Montoya said, “That’s good because,” he nodded at the altimeter showing 8,700 feet, “with this load, we can’t maintain altitude on one engine.”

  Josh slipped his headset off and leaned back. Speaking loudly but calmly, he said, “We’re probably going to have to make an emergency landing. Secure or stash as much of the loose equipment as you can, and make sure your seat belts are tight.”

  Instinctively, Josh wanted to fly the plane, but with no experience in this type of aircraft and no time to get a feel for it, he knew it was better to let Montoya do it.

  Putting the headset back on, Josh said, “Let’s find a place to set down before we run out of gas.” Even with his exceptional vision, the only thing Josh could see ahead was heavy forest and clouds. There was nowhere to put the little plane without hitting trees.

  Looking directly under the nose, he saw the tiny river they were following ended in a small waterfall. Below the waterfall, the river widened a little. As they continued to lose altitude, Josh shook his head. “We’re going to have to put it in the river.” Josh pointed ahead where there appeared to be a straight stretch. “Looks like our best bet.”

  Montoya nodded.

  Josh made one more sweep to see if he could find any place that looked even vaguely like a clearing. There was nothing. On top of that, the river was crowded with trees on both sides, and the distance between the trees was narrower than the wings.

  The left engine sputtered.

  Montoya reached over and flipped a fuel control valve and the engine ran normally. He didn’t have to say anything. Josh knew they were on fumes.

  Smiling, Josh said, “If they can put an Airbus 300 into a harbor, we can put a Beech 18 into a river.”

  Montoya gave him a nervous smile.

  Glancing back, Josh met Elizabeth’s eyes. She nodded and silently mouthed, “I love you.”

  Josh smiled and winked. Looking forward, his smile faded. Projecting their flight path, he realized that even if they could slip the wings past the trees, there wasn’t enough straightaway before the river turned.

  Montoya saw this too and said, “Not enough room. I’m going to try and make the turn, see if it gets any better ahead.”

  They couldn’t see what the river looked like beyond the turn. Josh knew it was a gamble, but he would have done the same. Trying to sound enthusiastic, he said, “Sounds good.”

  As they reached the river bend, Montoya pushed the throttle on the remaining engine forward, banking the airplane to follow the river. In the turn, just above the treetops, the last engine began to miss again. Holding their breath, they completed the turn and rolled out to see a river slightly wider ahead. It was still barely wider than the wings, but at least they had a kilometer of straightaway before the river turned again.

  Josh said, “Let’s put it down.”

  Montoya was a good stick. Josh watched him slip the little plane between the trees on each side of the river, the wingtips barely clipping the leaves. Once below the canopy of leaves, it was obvious how little straightaway they had.

  Montoya flared the plane perfectly just above the water. He didn’t have to pull the throttle to idle because the engine quit.

  Fighting himself not to grab the yoke, Josh said through clenched teeth, “Nice and easy.”

  With the gear still retracted, Montoya greased the belly onto the water.

  The landing was as smooth as glass. The two engines, slightly lower than the belly, kicked up spray on both sides as they skimmed across the water like a speedboat.

  Unfortunately, they weren’t slowing down fast enough and were rapidly running out of room. Looking ahead, Josh saw that the river didn’t turn ... it disappeared.

  As they realized what that meant, someone yelled, “Waterfall!”

  9

  WATERFALL

  Just beyond the waterfall, they could see a 100-meter drop! Josh and Montoya simultaneously stomped the left rudder, trying to drive the plane into the shoreline. It didn’t work. They were too slow for the rudder to be effective but too fast for the aircraft to stop hydroplaning.

  Fifty meters from the falls, the plane started settling into the water and scraping the river rocks ... but it wasn’t enough. They were going over!

  A few meters from their death, the plane’s nose slammed into a large submerged rock. It ripped a hole in the fuselage in front of Josh’s feet and threw them forward against their seat belts. Pivoting the plane around its nose, the tail lifted high in the air. This gave them a panoramic view of the fatal plunge in front of them.

  Still standing on its nose, the little plane debated whether to fall back onto its belly or flip over on its back, taking them down the waterfall. It hung there for a very long second ....

  Then, ever so slowly, dropped back on its belly with a loud splash and crunch. With the nose wrapped around the rock and one wing tip jammed into a shoreline tree, the plane was wedged. The roller coaster ride was over.

  It was quiet except for the gentle sound of water rushing outside the fuselage and heavy breathing.

  Josh broke the silence. “Is everyone okay?”

  There were some grunts and nervous laughter, but everyone nodded.

  Josh couldn’t resist. “Please be careful opening overhead compartments, as some items may have shifted during landing.” Before anyone could groan, he continued, “There’s no danger of the plane sinking; water’s a half meter deep and we’re totally wedged. So don’t be in a rush to get out. It would be way embarrassing to survive a crash and then fall in the river and over the falls.”

  Montoya crawled back through the plane, opened the main door and jumped down into the shallow water. With Josh’s help, they got everyone out of the plane and to the river’s edge a few meters away. Josh passed the gear out to Montoya, who passed it to those on the shore. After they were finished, no one could resist peeking over the top of the waterfall. It was a breathtakingly beautiful and lethal drop.

  Elizabeth asked if anyone had a cell signal. They all checked and shook their heads one-by-one.

  Josh said, “We’re all OK, and we know they’ll be looking for us. When the clouds clear, an airplane sitting in the river will be easy to spot from the air. Our best bet is to stay here and make camp.”

  Montoya nodded.

  Josh stopped and really looked around. They were standing next to a pristine mountain river with lush foliage on both sides. Above them were mountains carpeted in green that rose into the clouds. It had that haunting beauty he’d always associated with rainforests. His childhood imagination pictured a Tyrannosaurus charging out of the mist. Despite the drizzle and high elevation, the temperature was surprisingly warm. Rain, however, no matter how light, would eventually soak them. They needed shelter.

  They found a small clearing about 100 meters from the river. While shuttling supplies to the clearing, Josh and Elizabeth were alone for a minute. With a smile, Josh mimicked her. “It’s not like I’m going to be trekking through the mountains and jungles.”

  She pun
ched him hard in the chest.

  Looking surprised, he said, “What was that for?”

  Through clenched teeth, she whispered with force, “When was the last time you were in a cockpit and actually had a successful landing on a runway!” She shook her head. “That’s it! I’m not flying with you anymore. You shouldn’t even fly with you.” As she stalked off, he heard her add, “I can’t believe you survived as a test pilot.”

  Shrugging, he said softly, “I didn’t.”

  Davidson picked up his phone.

  Jocelyn Mendoza said, “Sir, sorry it took so long to get back to you. Things are still chaotic down here. Unfortunately, the U.N. deployed Josh and Elizabeth Fuze to one of the disaster areas as part of a five-person medical team. Yesterday, they flew to a small city in the south called San Juan de Pasto.”

  Davidson said. “So, no encrypted line. Can we reach them via cell phone?”

  Mendoza said, “No sir. The cell towers in that area are still out of commission, but even if they worked, it wouldn’t help.”

  “Why?”

  “Their airplane never arrived.”

  Davidson frowned. “It crashed?”

  “They don’t know. There were no radio transmissions or emergency transponder signal.”

  “They’re searching for them?”

  Mendoza said, “They say they will as soon as the weather improves. The ceilings are too low to send out search aircraft, and their assets are tied up with rescues and medevacs.”

  He sighed. “OK.” Pausing, he added, “Jocelyn, these individuals are important to ... an ongoing investigation. Please keep me informed.”

  “Yes sir.”

  As he hung up, he paused and then picked the phone back up and said, “Pat, I need to reach Tim Smith.”

  “Not familiar with that name. Is he an agency operative?”

  “He used to be.”

  They made a small camp in the clearing. Dieter built a fire, and Josh, recalling his pilot survival training, tied a couple waterproof tarps between the trees over their heads. It created a nice dry sanctuary from the rain, and the fire kept them warm. They had plenty of military pre-packaged rations, blankets and water. Rubbing sore arms and stiff backs, the mood was surprisingly light. Josh knew from experience, there was nothing more exhilarating than facing certain death and walking away. They were already embellishing the story of the crash.

  As it got dark, Josh quietly asked Montoya, “What type of animals should we keep a lookout for at night?”

  Montoya shrugged. “I don’t know. I grew up in the city.”

  Josh had obtained a Glock nine-millimeter pistol while he was in Bogota, and they had a flare gun from the plane. Knowing he could exist on very little sleep, Josh said he’d stay up through the night and keep watch.

  As they were settling down around the fire, they all felt the earth move. The earthquake aftershock shook them gently, accompanied by a very low frequency rumble. It went on for 10 seconds. They all looked at each other, but no one said anything.

  Josh suggested everyone get some sleep.

  As they were making nests around the fire, Elizabeth came over and sat on an equipment bag next to him. She said, “I’m sorry. When I get scared, I get mad.”

  He put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. “I know.”

  With a small smile, she said, “Well, I did say I wanted to see the world, the more exotic the better, didn’t I?”

  Josh just smiled back.

  They sat there quietly staring into the campfire.

  After a while, Josh sniffed the air and asked, “Do you smell anything unusual?”

  She shook her head and then stopped. Frowning slightly, she said, “I noticed something right after we got out of the plane. Guess I’m used to it now, but it smelled kind of like ...” she looked at him, “rotten eggs?”

  Josh nodded. “Sulfur.”

  She looked at him. “What’s it from?”

  “Not sure, but Pasto sits at the foot of a volcano.”

  She smiled, “That’s right. We may be close to Pasto!

  Josh laughed. “That’s a positive way to look at it.” He loved the way she found the good in every situation. With a major earthquake, they could be sitting on an active volcano, but there was little point in worrying about it now.

  He gently rubbed her back and said, “We’ll need everyone sharp tomorrow. Why don’t you get some sleep?”

  She curled up on a blanket next to him.

  He was surprised how quickly the adrenaline had worn off. It was midnight and everyone in the camp was asleep. The temperature had dropped quite a bit, but with no wind, it was comfortable near the fire. As he poked the embers, several thoughts ran through his head. As far as successful landings, he was technically zero for three. Frowning, he tried to figure out what would cause all their navigation apps to fail. Since it happened on different phones and operating systems, it had to be a systemic problem, but it was hard to imagine a GPS failure that would give erroneous results rather than just shutting down.

  He closed his eyes and listened to the background sounds of the mountain forest. Permeating everything was the soft sound of rain on the leaves and tarp. In the bass part of the jungle orchestra, was a low-pitched croaking sound he guessed was some type of frog. On top of that, was a background chorus of crickets punctuated by random birdcalls. One of the birds had the familiar and haunting sound of an American Whip-poor-will. After an hour, the rain and forest concert became beautifully hypnotic. He found himself zoning out and almost falling asleep.

  A popping sound pulled him awake. He stood up and listened intently through the rain. After a couple minutes, hearing nothing, he sat back down. It was probably just his imagination.

  Then he heard it again. It sounded like a twig snapping in the distance. He held his breath. There it was again. This time it was closer, as if a large animal were moving slowly through the brush. Surrounded by a dark mountain forest, it was easy to let his imagination run wild. He stood back up and pulled the nine millimeter from his pocket. He took another deep breath and held it, listening carefully and scanning the forest. Even with his exceptional night vision, he saw nothing.

  Then he heard it again, still closer, but this time there were two sounds coming from different directions. He quietly pulled the slide back on his pistol and leaned toward the sounds, straining to hear. Several seconds elapsed. Then his sensitive ears caught something else, something that sent a chill down his spine. It was the sound of the deadliest predator of all — the faint but unmistakable sound of a bolt being pulled back on an automatic rifle.

  10

  FARC

  Josh not only heard but sensed their approach. He tapped Elizabeth. When she looked up, he put his finger to his lips for silence. His ears told him there were a half dozen approaching from two directions. He’d studied everything he could find online about Columbia before he came, and Elizabeth had shared the brief Carl had given her. It wasn’t hard to guess who might be moving around at night with automatic weapons. He was sure he could escape, but it would be very difficult to get Elizabeth out safely and impossible to save the others.

  He made a decision and hoped it was the right one. He popped the magazine out of his pistol, ejected the chambered round, reinserted the magazine and stuffed the gun into one of the large medical supply bags. He pushed it as far to the bottom as he could.

  Then, holding his hands in the air, he yelled, “Somos medicos! Estamos desarmados! We are doctors! We’re unarmed!”

  Everyone in the makeshift camp woke up.

  Josh told them to stay on the ground and be quiet.

  He repeated his statement in both Spanish and English several times. His nose told him they were close. A voice from behind him said in Spanish, “Don’t move or you die.”

  Josh froze with his hands in the air.

  Two figures wearing green fatigues came slowly out of the forest to his left and right. They pointed their weapons at those on the groun
d, while several more came in and stood at the perimeter of their camp. They all carried AK-47s. Josh knew the Columbian Army didn’t use the Russian-made rifles.

  Someone patted him down from behind and then spun him around to face a swarthy man about Josh’s height and age. With his AK-47 slung over his shoulder, he pointed a 45 automatic at Josh’s stomach. His eyes darted nervously around the camp. Josh saw no rank insignia, but caught a small chevron shaped patch with yellow, blue and red.

  They pulled everyone up and searched them. After collecting their cell phones and identification, the guerilla leader focused on Josh, asking in Spanish, “You are doctors?”

  Josh said, “They are doctors and nurses, yes. I am a pilot and interpreter.” He didn’t mention their real pilot. He’d probably be safer if the guerillas thought he was part of the medical team.

  The guerilla leader said, “You have medical supplies?”

  “Yes.” Josh nodded toward the bags near the edge of the camp.

  The leader told one of his men to search the bags.

  Josh added, “We were coming to help the earthquake victims, but our plane crashed.”

  After searching through several bags, one of the guerillas —

  Josh realized it was a young woman — said in Spanish, “They are medical supplies.”

  The leader visibly relaxed, as did the other guerillas. “You will come with us to our camp. We have injured people.” It wasn’t a request, but Josh nodded. “Of course.”

  There were at least seven guerillas. In the firelight, he was able to see their faces. Most of them were teenagers, and two were women. They looked both determined and scared — a dangerous combination.