Instead, a light flicked on in a second-floor window from the very room I had slept in. A masked figure appeared at the window and opened it, revealing the barrel of a rifle. I turned to run, but before I could take a second step, a shot rang out. The duffle bag beside my body jerked. Then another shot, one striking the sidewalk.
I dove behind a palm tree. My throat burned for air. In the silence, I knew I had to flee, so I dashed to the next tree. Another shot dug into the soil beside me. I took another tree, this time peeking around the trunk to find the window barren.
I rushed across the street, duffle bag in tow, and raced along a dark, narrow lane away from the plaza. Here and there, I stopped to catch my breath, but as I did, I pressed my body into doorways. When I looked back I expected to see a pursuer, but none came, so I ran again, diving behind a dumpster at one point when a truck approached. To my relief, it turned onto another street, allowing me to continue. As I ran, I passed windows through which I saw people eating dinner or putting children to bed.
My legs ached by the time I reached the outskirts of town. As I continued, the dwellings were replaced by sugar cane fields, one of which I took refuge in as I groped for my cell phone. An eternity passed before the party answered.
“Krispix, is that you?” the voice asked.
“You almost got me killed!”
“Calm down!” Glenn Bird shot back. “Where are you?”
“In a godforsaken field out of town!”
“Is Muñoz with you?”
“He’s dead!”
“
What
?”
“They blew up the jeep he was riding in and tried to shoot me, but I escaped.”
“Listen!” he commanded. “Stay on the phone; I’m going to get someone else to join us.”
Mosquitoes descended upon me, bringing thoughts of malaria, dengue, and yellow fever.
“Krispix,” Bird finally said. “Alex Winrod has joined us. Are you there, Alex?”
“Yes,” he replied.
“Tell Krispix what you want him to do.”
“I’m coming,” Winrod said, “but you’re going to have to find your way to a different field from the one we landed on; they’ll be looking for you there.”
“Where do you want me to go?”
“What road did you take out of town?” he asked.
“The first one I could find!”
“Give me landmarks.”
I peered out from the edge of the field into the moonlit night. “I’m near a hill with part of its side dug out.”
“Ah, the quarry!” he said. “I know exactly where you are. You’ve got a hike ahead.”
“With a duffle bag that weighs a ton!”
He continued: “You’ll scale that hill you see, and when you reach the other side, there’ll be a valley where I’ll pick you up.” He asked what the weather was like.
“Calm wind, clear sky.”
“Good, I’ll meet you in an hour and a half.”
It took me almost that long to get to the valley. The weight of the duffle bag threw me off balance and I fell repeatedly from the treacherous footing. By the time I reached the destination, my trousers were torn and my arms bruised, but the sound of an airplane dropping from the sky was a balm as soothing as any. It was a rapid descent Winrod made, and one without lights. He taxied up to me and stopped abruptly. With both propellers still spinning, he left the pilot’s seat to appear at the rear door.
“Get in!” he shouted. “I saw a pair of headlights coming around the hill.”
In moments, we were airborne. I sat beside Winrod as he turned the airplane one way, then another to dodge thunderstorms.
“Back to Quito?” I asked.
“Nope, to Colombia.” He was quiet for a moment. “Sorry about your partner.”
An hour passed before we began our descent, and I watched the hands of the altimeter turn. After piercing a layer of clouds, we entered a pitch-black sky sequestered from the moon. Winrod banked us to one side and then leveled the airplane before the wheels touched ground. We stopped beside an immense aircraft.
“C-130
Hercules
,” Winrod
I dove behind a palm tree. My throat burned for air. In the silence, I knew I had to flee, so I dashed to the next tree. Another shot dug into the soil beside me. I took another tree, this time peeking around the trunk to find the window barren.
I rushed across the street, duffle bag in tow, and raced along a dark, narrow lane away from the plaza. Here and there, I stopped to catch my breath, but as I did, I pressed my body into doorways. When I looked back I expected to see a pursuer, but none came, so I ran again, diving behind a dumpster at one point when a truck approached. To my relief, it turned onto another street, allowing me to continue. As I ran, I passed windows through which I saw people eating dinner or putting children to bed.
My legs ached by the time I reached the outskirts of town. As I continued, the dwellings were replaced by sugar cane fields, one of which I took refuge in as I groped for my cell phone. An eternity passed before the party answered.
“Krispix, is that you?” the voice asked.
“You almost got me killed!”
“Calm down!” Glenn Bird shot back. “Where are you?”
“In a godforsaken field out of town!”
“Is Muñoz with you?”
“He’s dead!”
“
What
?”
“They blew up the jeep he was riding in and tried to shoot me, but I escaped.”
“Listen!” he commanded. “Stay on the phone; I’m going to get someone else to join us.”
Mosquitoes descended upon me, bringing thoughts of malaria, dengue, and yellow fever.
“Krispix,” Bird finally said. “Alex Winrod has joined us. Are you there, Alex?”
“Yes,” he replied.
“Tell Krispix what you want him to do.”
“I’m coming,” Winrod said, “but you’re going to have to find your way to a different field from the one we landed on; they’ll be looking for you there.”
“Where do you want me to go?”
“What road did you take out of town?” he asked.
“The first one I could find!”
“Give me landmarks.”
I peered out from the edge of the field into the moonlit night. “I’m near a hill with part of its side dug out.”
“Ah, the quarry!” he said. “I know exactly where you are. You’ve got a hike ahead.”
“With a duffle bag that weighs a ton!”
He continued: “You’ll scale that hill you see, and when you reach the other side, there’ll be a valley where I’ll pick you up.” He asked what the weather was like.
“Calm wind, clear sky.”
“Good, I’ll meet you in an hour and a half.”
It took me almost that long to get to the valley. The weight of the duffle bag threw me off balance and I fell repeatedly from the treacherous footing. By the time I reached the destination, my trousers were torn and my arms bruised, but the sound of an airplane dropping from the sky was a balm as soothing as any. It was a rapid descent Winrod made, and one without lights. He taxied up to me and stopped abruptly. With both propellers still spinning, he left the pilot’s seat to appear at the rear door.
“Get in!” he shouted. “I saw a pair of headlights coming around the hill.”
In moments, we were airborne. I sat beside Winrod as he turned the airplane one way, then another to dodge thunderstorms.
“Back to Quito?” I asked.
“Nope, to Colombia.” He was quiet for a moment. “Sorry about your partner.”
An hour passed before we began our descent, and I watched the hands of the altimeter turn. After piercing a layer of clouds, we entered a pitch-black sky sequestered from the moon. Winrod banked us to one side and then leveled the airplane before the wheels touched ground. We stopped beside an immense aircraft.
“C-130
Hercules
,” Winrod
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