by Mike Gomes
Falau hit five thousand feet in a rush and wasted no time pulling the chute. The air filled it like a balloon and pulled him hard and back causing Falau to feel like the air had been knocked out of him.
Falau reached up and pulled hard on the cords trying to slow his descent. A short distance away Falau saw a small lake that shimmered in the night and in the heart of the jungle. His speed was too fast to risk a crash into the trees. The lake was his only option, but it held a host of issues of its own. Falau had no idea how deep the lake was or what was in the lake. He did know that all the creatures of the jungle would be around it drinking their fill in the protection of the darkness of the night.
Falau loosened up on the cords trying to keep up a decent speed of descent mixed with the angle he needed to reach the water. If he were to pull back to slow his speed there would be no way for him to get the distance he needed to land in the lake.
The trees approached his feet faster and faster and Falau lifted his legs out of instinct fearing a repeat of what happened on his first jump in Guyana. As he raced past the treetops the birds and animals squealed with fear at the unknown object that invaded their territory.
Feeling his feet hit the last tree before the lake, Falau hit the water within two seconds. Curling his body into a ball at impact he smashed hard having the water feel more like cement than the pliable water. His head snapped, and his body rolled before being pulled under with the ropes of the parachute wrapped around him.
Chapter 28
BREAKING THROUGH THE surface of the water Falau’s body pulled down hard dragging him to the bottom of the lake. His body finally came to a stop banging against the rocks that lined the bottom of the lake. His back hit first bending him backwards and pushing a puff of air from his lungs. The cords of the chute wrapped around him as they caught up to his body and he recoiled back into them.
Falau fought the instinct to try to draw in a breath of air and cursed himself for dropping the bottle of oxygen while cruising over the tops of the trees in the wingsuit. Placing his feet on the top of a rock the big man pushed himself upward only to be abruptly stopped by the cords attached to his parachute harness.
Looking down through the murky water Falau’s vision was limited and he could feel that one cord was pulled tight against his leg. It had to be caught under one of the rocks to be having this effect. The big man pulled hard upward with his leg trying to drive his knee upward, but nothing happened.
Letting out a small bit of air from his mouth he saw the bubble move up across his nose and eyes. He was now sure that his body pointed up by the movement of the bubbles. The idea of being caught upside down and moving the wrong direction was a death sentence.
Attempting to reach down, Falau’s arm was hung up with another cord and he was unable to move it more than six inches from his body. Crashing under the water mixed with the rolling of his body to the bottom got him thoroughly entangled with the workings of his parachute.
The air in Falau’s lungs started to disappear being absorbed by his body. His chest started to slowly warm and would be moving into a burning sensation the more his body looked for new oxygen to fill it. The big man’s hand reached down and opened the pocket of his cargo pants and he slid the stiletto out from its hiding spot. Falau grabbed it firmly and pressed the button snapping out the four sided blade. The sharp clicking sound he could hear through the water and filled him with optimism. Pulling the blade up he ripped it once across the cord holding his arm. The sharp steel of the blade made short work of the cord separating it into two pieces like a knife through butter.
Falau wasted no time reaching down and cutting the cord that bound his legs. His chest started to burn and his desire to open his mouth for air was overwhelming. The color started to evaporate from the world in front of him and he would pass out in moments. Using the slight amount of strength still held in his oxygen depleted body the big man kicked again off the rocks with just enough power to push him toward the top of the lake. Falau held his arms close to his body minimizing the drag of his body against the water. His speed slowed as he looked up and could see the light of where he needed to be. In a final and desperate motion he flapped his arm and kicked generating movement upward again. His eyes started to roll back into his head and his mouth opened slightly letting the water of the lake in.
Cresting the surface of the water Falau spit out hard forcing the water out of the inside of his mouth and drew in hard taking all the oxygen in he could. His heart pounded in his chest as he coughed at the air refilling his lungs and bringing his body back to life. Wasting no time the big man started to pull the parachute toward him knowing that leaving it in the water was a clear giveaway that there was someone in the area. With just his head above the water he scanned the banks of the lake and could see only darkness. The light had yet to penetrate its way through the trees of the jungle.
With his body resupplied with oxygen he finished bringing the parachute in and started to make his way to the shore. Occasionally a creature of the lake would move in front of him and cause him to change his course. With the darkness still in play most of the aquatic life would stay clear of something the size of Falau in the water.
Reaching the bank he rolled the parachute and forced it deep into a rotted log keeping it hidden from any of the guards that Whitmore could use to patrol the jungle. Falau rolled the cord into a large loop and slung it over his shoulder the way a bandito would do with a bandolero. In the jungle rope was a high commodity that had various uses and could never be left behind.
Pulling out his GPS he linked to the satellite with a simple press of the button. Having preloaded the exact location of Whitmore’s mansion Falau read that the he was twenty one miles away. This was a full day’s journey in the jungle if he were lucky. Flipping his coordinates he then saw that the outpost was another twenty miles away from that. In the struggle to get a safe place to land Falau had placed himself on the opposite side of Whitmore’s mansion compared to the mining operation and the outpost with Father Locke. There would be no way to get help if he ran into serious trouble like an injury. His only help would be to hope that his medical readouts and location on the chip would give some indication to Tyler of a problem.
Falau wasted no time and set out on his journey. In his front pocket he pulled out some iodine pills and dropped them into a bottle that held two quarts of water. The big man leaned over and filled the bottle noticing an anaconda slowly swimming by less than ten feet away.
Falau put the pack on his back and adjusted the drinking hose to hook to the front strap. He would only need to turn his head to take a sip. Falau’s hand again fished into his pocket and produced two salt pills that he promptly put in his mouth and swallowed without the help of any of his water. The salt pills would help him conserve his hydration as long as possible in the humid and overheated jungle. Pulling a protein bar from his back pocket the label was wet, but he ripped it open and took a small bite. Intermittent fueling in small doses was the name of the game on a journey this far. He preferred to ration the minimal food he had keeping his body running at eighty percent over the long haul than to eat it all at once and have his body at top working order for only one period of time.
Making his way through the jungle Falau kept the GPS off and only returned it to the on position to check his location and to make sure he had his bearings right. In the jungle it was easy for him to lose track of the sun and the movement of it. Navigation by just the land and sun was impossible for a person that did not have jungle specific training in this area. The high canopy played tricks with where the sound was coming from and rarely gave a clear view of it. Falau preferred to use the GPS in a short spurt and line himself up with the proper direction. As the big man walked he took the stiletto and would put a single gash in the backside of a tree every fifty to one hundred feet. He could then look back and see all the trees lined up then he knew he was walking in a straight line. If they were off he needed to calibrate again and start over. The te
rrain made this act more difficult with overgrown areas and dips in the land. Animal trails that were unused were grown over quick leaving traffic areas nonexistent.
Falau’s tactics of travel slowed him considerably but kept him true to his course. The day was merciful keeping the heat into the low nineties and an afternoon shower clooled him on his track. Time was of the essence. An hour before sundown Falau reached the hill that Father Locke had shown him just a few weeks before.
Falau climbed the hill and dropped to his belly to slide up to the crest of the hill. The weight of his feet and his body laying on the ground was welcoming for Falau as his feet throbbed in his hiking boots. Drawing out a miniature pair of binoculars Falau focused them on the house. The front driveway was filled with several cars of great worth. A Ferrari, Lamborghini, Bentley, Rolls Royce, Bugatti, and a Tucker.
Looks like Whitmore is having a party with some big time players, thought Falau focusing in on the cars looking to see if anything unusual jumped out at him. The cars all had international plates and in the front window of each was a diplomatic designation sticker showing they were from foreign governments.
They all have diplomatic immunity, thought Falau turning the binoculars to the house. The windows were open inviting in the cooler air as the night came on and people started to pass in front of them. People with money wearing stylish clothing that was not off the rack from a local department store. Falau could see Whitmore pass in front of the window holding bottles of champagne and ready to fill the glasses of his guests. So this is how he keeps the government off his back. Nice little kick back parties, thought Falau knowing that each attendee of the party would most likely go home with a envelope filled with money to look the other way for just a bit longer as Whitmore ran his slave operation. Paying off local officials was one thing but getting the foreign embassies to look the other way made sure that the operation never became a human rights issue in the international press.
Darkness fell across the night sky as Falau watched the party go late into the night. He doubted anyone would leave the party before the break of dawn. Tonight would not be the night to fulfill his mission.
Whitmore stopped in front of the window and held up a glass that looked like champagne. Falau watched as he called something out that was followed by a cheer. He was toasting his guests with the best champagne in the lavish house that was built on the backs of the slave labor he controlled. As he lived the lavish lifestyle of the rich his workers laid on thin mats in quarters that only hoped to keep the disease infested bugs out for one more night.
Wishing he could have just convinced Tyler to let him bring the high powered rifle he knew at this distance with Whitmore smiling in the window that the mission would be over by now. The bullet would have passed through his head and Falau would have the rifle disassembled and he would be on his hike back setting up a pick up before the people of the party stopped screaming. It would have been simpler and quicker to do it this way, but the parameters of the mission were absolute, and he understood why Tyler wanted them carried in a specific manner.
Despite his desire to see the mission through in as fast a way as possible, Falau let his mind drift to Father Locke as he laid on the grass. He felt he needed to speak to him. He felt he owed him the explanation of why he simply disappeared and that he was back to make good on his promise.
Exhausted by the hike Falau rolled onto his back and pulled the tall grass up around him to conceal him lying there. The big man closed his eyes and let out a small yawn. In the morning he would set out again. This time he would find Father Locke and let him know that things were about to change for the better.
Chapter 29
THE SUN CREPT ITS WAY inch by inch over the eastern horizon casting first a glow to the sky and then shining its rays as it broke over the tree line. Lying on the north side of the hill Falau bought himself a few extra minutes of sleep before the light grabbed hold of his eyelids and pushed their way through taking the black that held his sleep to an orange as sensuousness came before opening his eyes. The big man rolled his body to the west attempting to make the adjustment on his eyes easier.
Pulling himself to the sitting position he scanned the ground at the bottom of the hill and looking into the distance and saw nothing out of the ordinary. Removing the binoculars he pulled them up to his eyes and looked over the terrain further than his eyes could see accurately and saw no disruption or markings of a patrol. The hill was visible from the house and anyone could have access to it. One would think that one of the patrols that Whitmore had constantly watching his land would be assigned to it. Maybe it was just a bit too far out of the way or the guards just didn’t care to make the climb. No matter what the reason Whitmore had left a gaping hole in his security.
Falau scratched his left forearm noticing a insect sting when he did so. The big man sighed as he started to roll up his sleeve exposing the multitude of red dots all over his arm. He knew the other arm, his legs, chest, back and ass all looked the same. Bug bites were common in any situation where someone had to sleep on the ground. From the look of the raised red welts and the distance they were apart Falau felt they were ant bites and mites. In his exhaustion after his hike he had forgotten to tuck the cuff of his pants into his boots and tighten the cuffs of his shirt. Rolling over his arm to look at the underside he saw more red welts and two ticks that had burrowed into his arm. Their heads had broken the surface of the skin, but they had not gotten down to blood so Falau was able to use two small sticks like a pair of tweezers and pull them out. After a thorough inspection of his body for more disease carrying ticks Falau was comfortable that his insect attack of the night was going to be nothing more than an aching nuisance as they healed and when the mission was over he could be checked out by a doctor back at home.
Gathering his gear Falau placed it all into the small pack that he slung over his shoulder. The water was almost out, and dehydration was starting again even before he started his hike to the outpost. Making a tactical decision he drank the remaining water that was just three mouth fulls and tossed two iodine tablets into the pouch remembering there would be several areas of running water on the hike where he could replenish.
Being dressed all in place for his jump and the subsequent hike through the jungle Falau knew he would have to watch himself. If he ran into someone on the trail he would not look like the man from the government or a miner. His gear and look was clearly of a combatant. Sticking close to the tree line would be in order as well as no rushing around corners.
Falau grabbed the last bit of the protein bar he had started the day before and stood up. Working his way down the hill he kept his eyes on the distance and intentionally slowing his pace to maintain safety over speed. The ten mile hike took the better part of the day leaving just a few hours of light as he got to the edge of the outpost with a clear view of the main street.
Digging himself into the high grass he had been in just a few weeks before Falau felt lucky that he did not under shoot the town all together and add more time onto his trip. He pulled up his binoculars to the same view he had witnessed before. The prostitutes on the front porch calling to the men in the bar who at this time were paying little attention to them. On the other side of the street the junkyard that had nothing going on and then the little church.
Zooming in his binoculars on the church Falau could see the windows were open and that nobody was visible. He slowly moved his sight from one window to the next looking for any sign of life but still nothing. Drawing down on the sight line he focused on the front entrance. Red stains were around the door handle in the shape of hand prints. The small front porch had a large discolored area just inside of the door.
That’s where Locke was fighting for his life. Right there in front of his own church and nobody helping him, thought Falau taking in a long slow deep breath dejected that anyone could sit and watch anyone slowly die in the street, and on it was a man of God who lived a life of do no harm to others he felt disgusted.
Pulling the binoculars the other way he looked to the back of the church and could see that the high grass lead within five feet of the church itself. The grass was over three feet tall and would provide ample cover for him to get into the church the back way. It may not have a door but the prior visit to the church had shown that there were windows and they were not too high off the ground to get into.
Over the next hour Falau worked his way slowly and methodically through the grass. He resisted the urge to rush and blow his cover. Instead he plotted his path and stuck to his plan maintaining his composure despite the start of a headache and his hand having a slight tremble. He was detoxifying from the alcohol, but he would not admit it to himself. He passed it off to the extreme physical activity over the last two days.
Reaching the back of the church he moved to the edge of the grass right below the window and looked each way before stepping out. The window was just above his head and he did a short jump to see up and in. Locke was kneeling at the altar in prayer. Another jump and he could see nobody else in the church. Grabbing the bottom of the window he pulled himself up and in, causing the priest to turn and look at him.
“We have a front door.” said Father Locke as he blessed himself and got to his feet.
“Oh, ya, I forgot about that.”
Father Locke crossed the room and extended his hand and it was met with a firm shake. With no hesitation the priest pulled the big man in and hugged him tightly.
“I knew I could trust you. I knew you would be back.”
Falau broke the embrace earlier than the priest would have preferred intimidated by the words he said. Falau sensed that the father was placing all of his trust and the future of his flock in him based on a one day hike and meeting.
