James Grippando - Last to die

Theo stopped at a crossroad for no apparent reason. They were surrounded by cocoa fields, far from city lights, shrouded in darkness by the gathering clouds overhead.

“What now?” asked Jack.

“We walk from here,” said Theo.

“Walk where?”

Theo checked his map, which was nothing more than some indecipherable lines he’d scrawled on the back of a napkin while talking on the telephone to his Belgerian friends. “Down this road. Airstrip should be on the other side of those trees.”

“The road goes in that direction. Why can’t we drive there?”

“Because they told me not to.”

“Why?”

“Why, why, I don’t know why. We got drunk together. I gave them my phone number in Miami and said come get a suntan. They gave me the number of friends they were staying with in Man and said to call if I need anything. I called. They helped. Period. Isn’t that enough?”

“Only for Belgerians,” said Jack as he opened the door.

The three of them stepped out onto the dirt road. The rain was more like a mist, but the worst of the storm clouds were backlit by a full moon, and they were starting to look threatening. Jack put on his Australian-style hat and got his duffle bag down from the luggage rack. It wasn’t all that heavy, but he wasn’t thrilled about lugging it on his back for who knew how long in search of some hidden airstrip.

The steady hum of an airplane engine rippled across the farmland. Jack looked into the sky but saw nothing. The noise was coming from somewhere on the ground, presumably the airstrip beyond the tall stand of cocoa trees.

Theo checked his watch and said, “Shit, man. We gotta run.”

Rene said, “I’ll drop off the Land Rover as soon as I reach Korhogo.”

“Thanks,” said Jack. “And thanks for everything. I mean it, you were a great help.”

“You’re welcome. Sorry we had to meet under these circumstances.”

“Me too. But if you’re ever in Miami.”

She smiled and said, “Right. And if you’re ever in Korhogo again…don’t call me, because it means you are absolutely out of your mind.”

Jack smiled, and then with the speed of a hummingbird she gave him a quick and tiny kiss on the cheek. “See ya around,” she said.

“Yeah, see ya,” he said, definitely caught off guard. He watched as she walked back to the car, got behind the wheel, and drove away.

Theo cleared his throat and said, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, and you’ll always have Paris. Now come on, Bogie, the plane’s leavin’.”

Jack checked the night sky, which was definitely promising serious rainfall. The airplane engine was whining even louder. “Let’s go,” said Jack.

They jogged side by side down the rutted path of dirt, taking care not to turn an ankle. Jack was huffing, Theo was grunting, and the plane was sounding awfully close. “Just-a little-further,” said Theo, struggling for breath.

“Will he wait for us?”

“Hell no.”

“You mean if we miss this plane-”

“It’s you,” he said, huffing, “me, and the antelopes.”

Jack took it to a higher gear, and Theo was right with him. The road cut through the stand of cocoa trees, though it was overgrown in spots with big fanlike banana tree leaves. The mist had turned into real rain, and Jack could hear the big drops pattering against the leafy canopy. They sprinted through the foliage until they reached a clearing on the opposite side. As soon as they were out in the open, the rain became a downpour. In seconds, they were soaked.

“Shit!” said Jack.

“There’s the plane,” said Theo. He was pointing to a pair of headlights at the far end of a so-called airstrip that was nothing more than a field of grass and packed dirt.

“You said it was a prop-jet.”

“I lied.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a twin engine Cessna.”

“A puddle jumper? I told you, I don’t do puddle jumpers.”

Theo looked up into the driving rain. “Then you can spend the night here sleeping in the puddles.” He turned and ran toward the plane.

Jack thought for a second, then started after him. As they reached the end of the airstrip, a man jumped out of the aircraft. He was easily as big as Theo, dressed completely in black. Jack and Theo froze. He was pointing a gun at them.

“Easy, dude,” said Theo. “We’re friends of Hans and Edgar.”

“The Belgerians,” said Jack.

“What be your names?” He spoke with an accent that Jack couldn’t quite place.

“He’s Jack, I’m Theo.”

He smiled and put the gun in his belt. “I’m Lutu. Get in.”

Theo stepped forward, but Jack didn’t move. Theo said, “Come on, Jack.”

The rain was falling, the engines were howling, and this friend of the mad Belgerians was packing a pistol. Jack said, “I don’t think so.”

Just then, another set of headlights appeared at the other end of the airstrip. It was an open Jeep filled with men. Two of them had rifles strapped to their shoulders.

“Oh, boy,” said Lutu.

“Oh, boy, what?” said Jack.

“I knew I should never have been waitin’ on you gents so long. Looks like we won’t be takin’ dis here plane without a fight.”

“What do you mean ‘taking’?” asked Theo.

“What do you mean ‘a fight’?” asked Jack.

“The owner of dis here plantation don’t pay his bills, we take dis here plane back. Dat the way it is. But maybe dat don’t make the owner so happy, you know what I saying?”

Jack glared at Theo and said, “We’re on a repo mission?”

“How was I to know?”

Jack whacked him about the head and shoulders with his soaking wet hat.

“Hey, hey, hey,” said Theo. “You want to get home or don’t you?”

The crack of gunfire echoed in the darkness. The Jeep full of armed guards was speeding toward them.

“Holy shit!” said Jack.

“Get in!” said Lutu.

They scampered up the wing and climbed aboard. Lutu took the yoke, Theo strapped himself into the seat beside him, and Jack sat behind them. The plane was moving before Jack could find his seat belt, and the engines roared as Lutu asked for every bit of power they packed. They were speeding down the bumpy dirt runway, the entire plane shaking so intensely that Jack was bouncing like a pinball from one side to the other.

“Sorry,” said Lutu. “Got to get dis here plane up fast!”

Jack wedged himself between the seats to keep from slamming his head against the ceiling. The rain was cascading off the windshield, the wipers working furiously. He managed to catch a glimpse of the fast-approaching Jeep. It was a game of chicken, the plane against the Jeep, Lutu against the lunatic aiming his rifle straight at them. Jack saw the sudden recoil in the man’s shoulder.

They’re shooting at us!

“Wooo-hoooo!” shouted Theo, loving every minute of it.

The plane hit another huge hole in the airstrip, and Jack went flying. He had to grab something, so he grabbed Theo by the throat.

“Woooo-glupp!”

Lutu pulled back on the yoke, and the bouncing stopped as they lifted a few precious feet off the ground.

“Pull up!” said Jack.

“Watch this,” said Lutu. He held the plane steady, exactly the right altitude to decapitate everyone in the oncoming Jeep.

“Are you crazy?” shouted Jack.

The flying plane was closing fast. The men in the Jeep jumped out just before the plane passed, ditching the Jeep but saving their scalps.

“Wooo-hoooo!” shouted Theo.

“Oh shit,” said Lutu.

The tall trees at the end of the airstrip were fast approaching. Lutu pulled back on the yoke, all the way back, sending the plane on a mean vertical climb. Jack fell back in his seat and banged his head, nearly knocking himself silly. He fought to keep his bearings, got on his knees, and watched, his eyes shifting back and forth between the rising altimeter and the approaching treetops.