BajaNomad

A story

fishbuck - 6-29-2009 at 10:42 PM

From "Volar, mi Bonita, volar" or Baja Moon
By Fishbuck

A full moon is a beautiful thing at night.
Even more beautiful in Baja...
at 7500 feet... alone... in a plane.
Ya, it was beautiful alright. Just like all the fullmoons in a plane... full of ... cargo.
How many times had I wondered how this hell had happened to me. For sure on every full moon.
And again force myself not to ask that question who's answer grow more complex each day... or night... with a full moon.
No, better to think of the good times... with... her.
Yes, those were some very good times... the best. The very best.
The old Piper was droning along nicely when I was jerked out of my "Baja State" by the slightest little engine noise. Well not a noise really more like a "silence".
I could swear I heard the engine miss just once. One time. Only once.
I think my ears grew about ten inches long in a second.
They strained to detect the slightest noise... or miss.
The old Piper was a veteren of many trips up and back down the pennisula. Steady as a rock all those times.
One time I woke up at the resort from fishing and drinking to fly home. Plane all loaded. With "cargo".
Dead battery. Damn!
My only option was to call a taxi and make sure he had jumper cables.
I had to pull a piece of the cowl off and you should have seen taximan's face when I told him to hook up the cables.
When that big motor fired he was so surprised. I was afraid he would walk into the prop but he didn't.
I had him hold the brakes on while I screwed the panel back on with the engine running. His first flying lesson. Now he works for me. One of my best pilots. Juan. A good man Juan.
There it is. Again! One engine missfire. One fraction of a second with no drone of a perfectly tuned engine.
I'm sure I heard it! That brief empty spot in time. That silence. When it seems as the earth stops spinning oh so briefly. One heartbeat.

... to be continued ...

[Edited on 7-1-2009 by fishbuck]

fishbuck - 6-29-2009 at 10:46 PM

... Heaven or hell?... hell...hell... where the hell is my damn flashlight?
Okay, best glide is established.
Good!
Okay find that damn flashlight. It should be in my "flight bag" in the "copilot's seat" with my WAC chart and passport and... other stuff.
Man, those were the day's when I had "copilots".
It really is the "forward right hand passenger" seat. No copilot is required on light aircraft.
But if your my "copilot" you better hand me that damn flashlight if the engine quits at night.
I had lots of "copilots" before. Back when flying down the Baja pennisula was still fun. And only about fun.
Nice people who wanted a more personal flying experience loved to charter the piper. Fishermen, campers, divers and people who really loved Baja.
Or people who wanted to go to the remote runways.
True Baja lovers.
Rafael was one of those Baja lovers. Or so it seemed.
Okay, best glide... check! Mixture full rich.... check! Fuel pump on... check! Fuel tank selector to fullest tank... a... let's see here. It's on the fullest? Okay no time to be techinical. Switch to the next fullest tank... any other tank!
Try all the tanks! Come on baby!!!
Damn it. No fire.
I have told Fernando at
least 100 times to let that Pemex gas settle for an hour and pour real slow. And leave some in the can.
Water in the gas again!
Okay forget about the water. It will be joining it's cousin in the ocean soon if I don't figure this out.
So looks like "sensimilla airways" will be landing a little ahead of schedule today folks.
The captain has turned on the seatbelt sign.
Man, I hope he strapped all that weed down good. I like some good weed now and then but I'd rather not have any right now.
Passing through 4000 feet. The ground is looking much closer thanks to the full moon.
I see beach! I'm near the beach!!!
The beautiful beach!
Gods natural runway for " sh!t outta luck" pilots.
Thank you lord!
A long stretch of moonlite beach.
Moonlite walks on the beach... with... her...on the beach...in the moonlite...with...her...

[Edited on 7-2-2009 by fishbuck]

fishbuck - 6-29-2009 at 11:12 PM

... okay 2000 feet. The beach is looking extra beautiful this evening. The moon is giving her that... glow...
I can see the "wet patch" between dry sand and the water. The moon is shining right down the beach. Like a runway centerline.
I need to stay out of the dry sand and out of the water too.
The prop quit spinning right around 3000 feet. As the plane slows there isn't enough airflow to spin the prop with a dead engine.
I was ready for it. But still...

Did you know that the propeller is really there to keep the pilot cool?
Ya, well you ain't seen a pilot sweat until that prop quits spinning!

It's an old aviation joke... but so damn true!
I wish I could sweat now... or swallow... or even breath.

So, time to try one last start before I turn off the master switch and radios. Ha, the radios, they have been off for hours. There is no one here to talk to.
No navigation aids... nada!

Throttle closed... check, Fuel pump on... check, mixture rich... check, Magnitos to both...check, engage starter... come on baby! Come on...! Thottle open... please God...please...

fishbuck - 6-29-2009 at 11:13 PM

God... God is my copilot.

Well God, unless you are in the mood for the "Miracules Ignition" I suggest you tighten your seat belt!
10 angonizingly slow spins of the prop and nada. Not a pop.
No use. Okay.
Master swithch off... ... ... check.

"Folks this is you captain speaking. We are on short final for Unknown Beach Airport. Please keep your seltbelt fastened until the seatbelt sign is extinguished"
Passing thourgh 1000 feet.
Best glide... check, flaps 10... check... Door unlocked and unlatched... check.
This incase you land in the water or bend the airplane... you want that door to open!
So I think I will fly it best glide right onto the sand. No flare. A flair might mean a stall with no power... and that would suck.
So just like some of the short runways I use. No flare.
Just hope the sand soaks up the hit.
The Piper can take it... I hope!

500 feet...

[Edited on 7-2-2009 by fishbuck]

fishbuck - 6-29-2009 at 11:22 PM

I deleted the second "chapter" by accident when I was moving it. Does anyone know if there is a way to get back a deleted post? A trash bin?

airmech - 6-30-2009 at 01:34 AM

JEEZ. How long am I gonna have to hang at 500 feet????

fishbuck - 6-30-2009 at 01:55 AM

Quote:
Originally posted by fishbuck
From "Volar, mi Bonita, volar" or Baja Moon
By Fishbuck

A full moon is a beautiful thing at night.
Even more beautiful in Baja...
at 7500 feet... alone... in a plane.
Ya, it was beautiful alright. Just like all the fullmoons in a plane... full of dope!
How many times had I wondered how this hell had happened to me. For sure on every full moon.
And again force myself not to ask that question who's answer grow more complex each day... or night... with a full moon.
No, better to think of the good times... with... her.
Yes, those were some very good times... the best. The very best.
The old Piper was droning along nicely when I was jerked out of my "Baja State" by the slightest little engine noise. Well not a noise really more like a "silence".
I could swear I heard the engine miss just once. One time. Only once.
I think my ears grew about ten inches long in a second.
They strained to detect the slightest noise... or miss.
The old Piper was a veteren of many trips up and back down the pennisula. Steady as a rock all those times.
One time I woke up at the resort from fishing and drinking to fly home. Plane all loaded. With "cargo".
Dead battery. poop!
My only option was to call a taxi and make sure he had jumper cables.
I had to pull a piece of the cowl off and you should have seen taximan's face when I told him to hook up the cables.
When that big motor fired he was so surprised. I was afraid he would walk into the prop but he didn't.
I had him hold the brakes on while I screwed the panel back on with the engine running. His first flying lesson. Now he works for me. One of my best pilots. Juan. A good man Juan.
There it is. Again! One engine missfire. One fraction of a second with no drone of a perfectly tuned engine.
I'm sure I heard it! That brief empty spot in time. That silence. When it seems as the earth stops spinning oh so briefly. One heartbeat.

... to be continued ...


Heartbeating... check, breathing deeply... check, nerves to stanby... check.
Okay, maybe I'm a little edgy tonight. A little over sensitive. Hearing things. Pliots get that way. Every little pop or crack or silence.
The Piper was singin her happy song and cutting through the air nicely.
Singing... she was singing to me last time I saw hear. So beautiful. She's on the beach in the sunshine... singing... like a beautiful mermaid. I'm under her spell.
But then I can't hear her. Her lips are moving but no song...
No song!
The Piper quit running. She's not singing to me.
Ah, okay there's a checklist for this. There's a checklist for everything when you're a pilot.
Keeps you calm in an emergency...

Okay start timming for best glide speed. Trade your airspeed for attitude. Look for someplace to land.
At night the Piper can climb pretty high even loaded down with... cargo.
So 8500 feet should give me about 7-10 minutes. I know about where I am but even with the full moon I can't see much yet.
I hope there is a smooth patch of beach or something.
Where will I be in 10 minutes? A nice smooth sandy heaven or a cold rocky hell?
Heaven or hell?

[Edited on 7-2-2009 by fishbuck]

fishbuck - 6-30-2009 at 01:59 AM

Quote:
Originally posted by airmech
JEEZ. How long am I gonna have to hang at 500 feet????


Ya, sorry. I had to fly back up an rewrite the part I deleted.

Sharksbaja - 6-30-2009 at 02:02 AM

Quote:
Originally posted by fishbuck
I deleted the second "chapter" by accident when I was moving it. Does anyone know if there is a way to get back a deleted post? A trash bin?


If you right-click in the message box you can click "undo" for mistakes but mind you, once you have typed something else the undo feature will reflect that last change. In other words, if you accidentally delete something you only have one chance to get it back this way.

capt. mike - 6-30-2009 at 06:06 AM

Bucky - simple, compose in word files and cut paste on to nomads.
and save your work frequently as you write in word.

do you actually free write this stuff on nomads as a post?? not the best way, no way to save.

Martyman - 6-30-2009 at 08:56 AM

Go Fishbuck;
I just twisted up a fatty for the rest of the story.

shari - 6-30-2009 at 09:02 AM

is this the birth of new fishbuck? a waxing poet? sensitive writer? or maybe a troll took over his avatar?

N2Baja - 6-30-2009 at 02:09 PM

Great story!! Can't wait to read what happens next......

MikeLikeBaja - 6-30-2009 at 03:00 PM

Just want to let you guys know what happened. He landed safely and then was eaten alive by cannibals

Iflyfish - 6-30-2009 at 03:10 PM

"eaten alive by cannibals "
Or was sucked under the surf by his cannon balls?
Or smoked alive with cannibust cargo?
Or saved in the nick of time by someone who sees a sputtering seed filled roach arching down to the surf?
Or imortalized in a NarcoTrafficante Tajino ballad dedicated to him by an adoring teen age garage band?
Or getting so high he floats out of the plane at the last minute and lands safely on a bale of "hay" and floats blissfully to shore.

I guess we will all have to wait, some of us with baited breath, some with out baited breath, you know who you are.

Iflyfishandsometimescannotresistagoodbitofpun-ishment

fishbuck - 6-30-2009 at 05:35 PM

Quote:
Originally posted by MikeLikeBaja
Just want to let you guys know what happened. He landed safely and then was eaten alive by cannibals


No it was chupacabras. Remember this is baja.:cool:

fishbuck - 6-30-2009 at 10:22 PM

Passing through 500 feet. About 30 seconds until the moment of truth.
Best glide... oh ya... got her trimmed for perfect hands off 90 knots. I can't remember what the book says but 90 should work.
So we're looking good, almost routine.
Except this is the classic "Dead Stick' landing. Pull back and you're dead, push forward... yep... dead. 0 margin for error.
At this point I'm a passenger. Everything that I can do is done. Just ride her down now.
Man, I wish I could feather just a bit of power to smooth out the landing.
Passing 200 feet... not much longer...almost there...
Ah, the rate of decent feels a little high maybe I better flair just a little...
BAM!... OUCH!... whoa baby... on no... she bounced...she's nose high...ah stick back easy... stall it... don't let the nose fall through...dump the flaps...
Bam... a another bounce...smaller...keep flying her... don't quit now...hold that stick back...keep it stalled...
Bam...bam...bam...ha, ha she's rolling...we're rolling!
Okay keep her out of the water. Up the beach a little but don't get stuck in the loose sand. Work it, work it!
Silence. Except for my heart beating through my chest, silence. I'm not breathing. Okay breath. Did I hold my breath? No I think the wind got knocked out of me when we... landed. The first breath doesn't come easy.
Ha,ha... I'm alive! And the plane looks okay. But where?
I want to get out and look around but my legs are shaking. Maybe I better sit for a minute. Hey, I think a drink is in order!
I always bring a bottle of tequilla. It makes sleeping on the ground a little easier when I'm at the remote pickup locations.
I'm going to crack that baby and take a big gulp. No salt or lime needed.
Not after a dead stick landing boy!
I pulled a big swig that was probably 3 shots before my throat called foul. Pure fire water man. But who cares, you're alive! Ha,ha!
Another swig, smaller and I feel okay now. My legs aren't shaking... as much. I think I can walk. But to where?
The door latched itself back shut during the... landing. So it's true. They say you should put your shoe or something in the door jamb to keep it from slamming shut. But I was thinking I might need to kick my way out so I left my shoes on. Make a note of it. New checklist item. One I hope I'll never need... again.
Outside the plane it's a nice warm night. Waves are crashing and the moon... so full and big. It would be romantic... if she was here. My vision blurs and tears well a little.
Hey man, snap out of it. No time for feeling... sorry for yourself.
Ya, that's right. You heard me!
You better straighten up and fly right boy!
My dad use to say that to me... alot! Rest his hard a$$ redneck soul!
Ya, and he meant it too! Unless you wanted a size 12 Wellington boot up your a$$ you better straighten up and fly right in a hurry!
That was a man! And one of the best pilots on God's green earth too!
Okay, assess the situation.
Nothing obviously bent on the plane. I'll take a closer look in the morning.
I''ve got water, some food, another bottle of takillya... and plenty of weed... maybe later...
Near as I can tell I'm on the back side of Magdelena Island. Never been here before.
Don't guess I can walk out of here tonight. Better gather up some wood and make a fire. And settle in until daylight.
I've got my sleepingbag but doubt sleep is going to come. It will probably take this whole bottle to knock my adrenaline down. Maybe both bottles!















[Edited on 7-1-2009 by fishbuck]

dtbushpilot - 6-30-2009 at 11:24 PM

Hey fish, love your story, cant wait to hear what happens. You have awakened my creative spirit, maybe I will try a story of my own.

If you're going to run drugs you need an appropriate aircraft. I can teach you how to drive one.....




I hope we can go flying some time.....dt

fishbuck - 6-30-2009 at 11:43 PM

Yep, that's a real plane!:coolup:

what - ??

capt. mike - 7-1-2009 at 06:22 AM

Quote:
Originally posted by Martyman
Go Fishbuck;
I just twisted up a fatty for the rest of the story.


you have sixx with overweight contortionists?:lol::lol::lol:

woody with a view - 7-1-2009 at 06:29 AM

don't worry bucky. if you land on the "right" beach i'm sure the sacred saints of the secret surfspots, lurking in the shadows, will be more than happy to help get you flying again and it'll only cost you a "little" cargo.:rolleyes:

fishbuck - 7-1-2009 at 04:10 PM

Quote:
Originally posted by woody in ob
don't worry bucky. if you land on the "right" beach i'm sure the sacred saints of the secret surfspots, lurking in the shadows, will be more than happy to help get you flying again and it'll only cost you a "little" cargo.:rolleyes:


:o

Skipjack Joe - 7-1-2009 at 04:39 PM

Oh my gosh, that was beautiful ...

french_man_crying.jpg - 50kB

fishbuck - 7-2-2009 at 01:45 AM

Oh man! My back. A stabbing pain in my back.
And my head. Throbbing.
What happened? Where am I?
I vaguely remember something about the plane.
I'm in my little sleeping bag cave and don't want to come out.
The sun will be out there. And those waves! So loud.
And my back. It hurts. And that stabbing. Stabbing?
Something is stabbing my back!
I always sleep with the magnum. I slowly pull the hammer back. Someone or something is poking me in the back.
Probably a vulture. Checking to see if I'm dead yet. Not this time pal! You first!
I throw open the sleeping back and roll over into a two hand grip. Die vulture!
The sun is bright and my eyes are crusted over. It hurts to look.
But I can see that it's no vulture. A man is over me. He's got a machette. But I've got the drop on him. No way he gets me first and he knows it. He can't get c-cked back to strike before my slug hits him right between the eyes.
I see fear. It's a good thing.
Click-click..." Drop it gringo!"
A woman's voice..."Drop it now!"
I look to my left... a horse... with a woman... and a pistol... a big one... pointed at my head.
"If I wanted to kill you, you'd already be dead! DROP IT!!!"
Classic Mexican Standoff.
I better drop it. I toss the magnum away. And close my eyes.
Click-click. She gently lowers her hammer. I open my eyes.
Machetti man has stepped back and has my mag.
He gives it to the horsewoman.
"Get up" she says.
I crawl out of the sleeping bag and to my knees. I see the empty tequilla bottle. It all starts to come painfully back.
"What are you doing on my father's beach? Why are you here? You're trespassing!"
I try to speak but my mouth is dry. My tung swollen. A croaking sound comes out of my mouth. It hurts.
"Water, I need some water." I find a bottle and drink some. That hurts too.
"Well, I waiting"
"I had an emergency. The engine quit. So I landed on the beach."
"On my father's beach"
"Ya, on your father's beach"
"What's in your plane?"
"Cargo"
"What kind of cargo?"
"Precious cargo" I smirked a little.
Her thumb moved back up to the hammer of the revolver. She seemed to be thinking it over.
"Precious cargo?" She sort of spit at me a little when she said it.
"Ya"
"Pablo, get your horse and give it to this man. You stay here with the plane and the... cargo"
I thought she pulled the hammer of the pistol back a little when she said "cargo".
"You! Can you ride a horse?"
"Ya, as long as we go slow. I'm a little sore from the... landing"
"You mean your head hurts from that bottle of tequilla"
"Ya that too."
"What is your name!?"
"Buck, Joe Buck"
"Joe Buck? The drug runner?"
"No! Joe Buck the pilot"
"My father has told me about you. We must hurry. He's waiting."
My eyes had cleared by now. She was on a black horse. Tight jeans with boots. A White bloise and white cowboy hat.
The bloise was unbuttoned halfway. And a red bra and big...
"I said hurry!"
I climbed on my horse. I rode up next to her for a better look.
She c-cked her pistol. She held it up but in my general direction.
"And don't ride too close to me. Or I might have to shoot you."
"Well how far back do you want me?"
"Don't get to far away. Or I'll shoot you for trying to escape"
Both horse and rider flashed their eyes at me.
In one fluid motion they spun around and leaped away toward a trail.
"I said hurry!" And punctuated her command with a shot in the air from the pistol.
Worst hangover even man!
The pistol shot was still ringing in my ears when my horse went to full gallop toward the trail.





[Edited on 7-2-2009 by fishbuck]

Great story

mooose29 - 7-6-2009 at 02:14 PM

Fishbuck

when do we get the next instalment?

Martyman - 7-6-2009 at 03:28 PM

Quote:
Originally posted by capt. mike
Quote:
[you have sixx with overweight contortionists?:lol::lol::lol:


That would be my dream come true!

Cypress - 7-6-2009 at 03:32 PM

"Full Gallup"!:tumble:

fishbuck - 7-8-2009 at 03:31 PM

Quote:
Originally posted by mooose29
Fishbuck

when do we get the next instalment?


Well, I just got back from a real trip. So when the real hangover fades maybe I'll think of something. Maybe.:cool:

Sharksbaja - 7-8-2009 at 03:39 PM

"overweight contortionists"

Is there such a thang?:lol:

fishbuck - 7-9-2009 at 01:49 AM

Pablo was laughing. One of those deep fatbellied Mexican laughs. He might have been rolling on the ground laughing.
I would have looked but I was a little busy trying to hold onto "my" horse. I was about one or two gallops from falling right off his a$$.
All that was keeping me on was one foot in a sturrup and one hand holding the reins.
I grabbed his mane with my free hand and tried to pull back on. My horse felt it. But it only seemed to make him annoyed that my riding skills were not up to his standards.
He grabbed the bit in his teeth and jerked me back into the saddle by the reins. I grabbed more mane with my other hand and leaned right onto his neck.
He started running faster. He knew the way home!
He knew every turn and twist in the trail. I was getting the impression that these two horses had run this race before. And neither liked to lose.
The lady glanced back. I was hoping I wasn't too far back. Or too close. She was pretty good wth that pistola.
But I sure did want to get closer to her. Pistol or not.
I must have been too close. She gave her horse a gentle slap on the rump with her hat. His pace doubled in a heart beat and they started to ride away.
The two horses seemed evenly matched. But the way she rode her horse he went harder and faster with each step. Perfect synergy. Lucky horse!
My horse tried to keep up. But with me on his back it was a lost cause. Again he seemed annoyed with me.
We climbed a hill and rode into a big orange grove. And vineyard. And palms and other green plants.
We rode through at full speed. And then a clearing. And a huge wall. And a huge double wooden gate.
The gate opened as we approached. And we were in.
My horse hit the brakes as soon as we cleard the gate. I almost went flying off. But I had a death grip on his mane and I couldn't let go.
The lady was already off her horse and walking into a courtyard towards a huge hacienda.
A man, also armed, had my horse by the reins. He was telling me in spanish to get down.
I slid off the horse onto shaky legs. He and the horse both laughed a little. Must be Pablo's brother.
The lady saw it too. She smirked a little this time. And walked into the hacienda as a servant open the door for her.
It closed with a small slam. Pablo's brother was barking some spanish at me and motioning for me to follow him.
We weren't going toward the hacienda. After a walk through the grounds we were at the stable. He gave the horse to a boy and both horses were getting walked for a cool down.
More rough spanish and he motioned me toward what looked like a bunk house.
Or maybe an improptu jail cell for the tresspassing drug runner.
I was having a hard time figuring out if I had just been rescued or captured.
Or both!
I really needed another drink.

[Edited on 7-9-2009 by fishbuck]

Skipjack Joe - 7-9-2009 at 01:45 PM

Quote:
Originally posted by fishbuck
All that was keeping me on was one foot in a sturrup and one hand holding the rains.
I grabbed his mane with my free hand and tried to pulled back on. My horse felt it. But it only seemed to make him annoyed that my riding skills were not up to his standards.
He grabbed the bit in his teeth and jerked me back into the saddle by the rains. I grabbed more main with my other hand and leaned right onto his neck.


Careful now, DavidK may be lurking ....

Just remember:

"The reign in Spain falls manely on the plain" .

Cypress - 7-9-2009 at 01:52 PM

Riding horses can get you hurt, especially if you get in a hurry.:lol:

fishbuck - 7-9-2009 at 03:10 PM

Quote:
Originally posted by Skipjack Joe
Quote:
Originally posted by fishbuck
All that was keeping me on was one foot in a sturrup and one hand holding the rains.
I grabbed his mane with my free hand and tried to pulled back on. My horse felt it. But it only seemed to make him annoyed that my riding skills were not up to his standards.
He grabbed the bit in his teeth and jerked me back into the saddle by the rains. I grabbed more main with my other hand and leaned right onto his neck.


Careful now, DavidK may be lurking ....

Just remember:

"The reign in Spain falls manely on the plain" .


It's all part of the creative process. I don't worry about the spelling until later when I feel like it.

sourdough - 7-13-2009 at 03:52 PM

Are we through with this story? I hope the self-appointed editors haven't peeed Fishbuck off to the point he's finished with the tale.

fishbuck - 7-13-2009 at 03:55 PM

No I appreciate the editors. They make me laugh a little and helps with the process.
I'll get back to it. I've been a little busy planning a real trip next weekend with my son. Probably no drama involved... unless your a yellowtail or a tuna.:cool:

Iflyfish - 7-13-2009 at 07:30 PM

Is this a farmer's daughter story in the making?? I have this suspicion that there are sparks in the air?!

I will have to reign in my curriosity to see if it hits the plane or the plain.

Iflyfishwithbaitedbreathsodon'tgettooclose

fishbuck - 7-14-2009 at 02:03 AM

The bunk house was looking a little scary. I was sure I didn't really want to go in there.
But what choice did I really have? Slim or none probably.
Pablo's brother urged me on. And to my relief we walked past the bunkhouse. Now what?
We continued into another courtyard. This one had fountains and statues. And songbirds.
If my head didn't hurt so much it might have been pleasant. Those damn songbirds were so loud!
We continued until we came to a beautiful casita. A man, dressed like a waiter, stood by the open door.
"Senior Buck, my name is Enrique. This is your room, please enter". His english was perfect.
He bowed deeply and bide me to enter with a gracious sweep of his arm toward "my" room.
I peered in. It was a beautifully appointed room with a big couch and a stunning horse painting above. Tile floor, high ceiling and very well lighted.
And what looked like a wetbar!
Pablo's brother grunted at me. I sensed that his invitation to enter was not going to be as gracious.
And there was a wet bar. I went in. Enrique followed. He closed the door. I heard it lock from the outside.



[Edited on 7-14-2009 by fishbuck]

fishbuck - 8-20-2009 at 03:57 AM

I froze solid at the sound. Rage started to build. Years of martial arts training and competition were about to be focused on that door. I was about to splinter it into a thousand pieces when Enrique gently but firmly grabbed me by the shoulder.
"Senior Buck, please, you are not a prisoner here. You are our honered guest. The door is locked only for your protection"
I didn't know what he meant but his tone was sincere and soothing. I relaxed a little.
He released his grip. When he did I almost fell down.
"Please Senior, relax on the couch for a while. I'm sure you must be hungry and thisty.
I put some fresh orange juice in the refrigerator. It's from our grove. It was squeezed by my very own wife this morning. Maybe you saw the trees when you rode in?"
"Ya, I got a glimpse"
He helped me to the couch. It was the most comfortable couch I had ever sat on.
"Sure, I'll drink some orange juice. How about a couple shots of tequila in it too."
Tequila sunrise I think they call it in the states.
" Ofcourse, anything you would like. Maybe you are a little hungry?"
"A little"
"I can have the fine ladies in the cocina at the casa grande make you a beautiful breakfest of bacon and eggs"
"How about a shower? You got hot water"
"Si, very hot and as much as you like"
I was starting to like being an honered guest.
Enrique crossed the room and opened a door that revealed a finely tiled bathroom.
He mixed me up a drink with ice and brought it to the couch.
"Senior, please do not drink too much. You have a meeting with Don Orendain later. A lunch meeting. Perhaps after your drink and some breakfest and a shower you would like a little siesta"
"Who is Don Orendain and why does he want a meeting with me?"
"All your questions will be answered at the meeting. I go now to get your breakfest. And please relax. You are a guest here."
He went to the door and tapped twice. A small peep door opened and shut and the door opened. Enrique stepped out and the door shut quickly. And was locked again from the outside.
Again I was wondering if I had been rescued or captured. But after a few sips of my drink and the big couch I was starting to not care as much.
I was worried about my plane and it's cargo. The cargo belonged to some very serious people. And they were expecting it.
But the tequila drink was starting to sink in and all my sharp edges were starting to fade into a warm and relaxed state.
My thoughts wound there way back to my heart... and to her... my beautiful Jovanka.
It was all a little too much and the tears started to well again. One escaped and started to run down my cheek.
Alone here in this beautiful room no amount off harsh commands from my father's ghost could stop it.
I was alone... and helpless.



[Edited on 8-21-2009 by fishbuck]

4baja - 8-20-2009 at 06:09 AM

great story!! please dont stop.:bounce: