Asteroid Destruction

by Bobby Akart

  Chapter 30

  The Darién Gap

  Near the Colombia-Panama Border

  The AV-280 aircraft hovered low over the thick canopy of jungle as it descended toward a barely visible clearing created by a small meteorite that had leveled the surrounding foliage. The black charred spot, created by the intense heat of the space rock, generated a fire that had eventually been extinguished by the jungle’s natural suppressant—rainfall.

  Bear and Cam exited the Valor, immediately noticing the oppressive heat and humidity in the surrounding atmosphere. The air was thick, choking the fluids out of anything it came into contact with.

  Living near the Gulf of Mexico for most of their lives, the two operatives certainly understood humid conditions, but the Gulf breezes generally provided some relief. Here, the wind was virtually nonexistent, and the thickness of the surrounding jungle stifled any air movement.

  Bear was sweating profusely. The large-framed man, whose body fat was low, still had a propensity to sweat.

  Cam was mostly unaffected by the unusual environment although she was somewhat nervous with anticipation. During the flyover, she’d had a better view of the debris field than Bear, who was focused on finding a place to land the tilt-rotor aircraft. She concentrated on searching for signs of life.

  The two collected their gear from the aircraft. Both had chest rigs with protective plates inserted. They were outfitted as if they were conducting a hostage rescue. They carried flash-bang grenades, smoke, and a variety of explosive devices to be used to breach the compound.

  In addition to their regular tactical gear, each was equipped with night-vision goggles, knives, sidearms, and a fully automatic M4 carbine. They wanted a compact and light weapon because they anticipated close-quarters combat in the event of a hostage situation.

  Cam inhaled, closed her eyes, and soaked in the last few seconds of respite before they made the perilous trek through the jungle toward the last known location of Gunner’s satellite phone.

  The landing area they chose placed the Starhopper wreckage in between them and the drug cartel compound, but also within the radius of the signal’s location identified by the Jackal.

  “Are you ready, Cam?”

  “Yeah. We’re two miles north of the crash site. We’ll start there and make our way toward the signal.”

  They stood next to one another and compared their GPS devices. There certainly were no roads in the vicinity, and they didn’t expect a path to be available, which meant Bear would have to make it for them. Cam would be responsible for monitoring the jungle for threats, both human and animal, while Bear would use two sharp machetes to cut a path through the jungle thicket.

  On any given day, the two of them could’ve walked two miles down the street in less than thirty minutes at a brisk pace. In the jungle, a mile an hour was an accomplishment.

  The Darién Gap was a thick, unruly wilderness that was nearly impenetrable. Known for its biodiversity, the dense vegetation produced a perfect cover for smugglers of drugs and humans alike. Throughout the jungle, roads could suddenly appear out of the tree canopy and just as quickly disappear. Donkey trails were abundant, used by migrants carrying their worldly possessions toward the United States, not to use once they entered, but to trade for protection or transportation along the route.

  As Cam intently studied the jungle surroundings, she realized how it was impossible to discern east from west without the aid of GPS. The jungle canopy was so overgrown that the sun was mostly blocked out, creating near nighttime conditions. Without a guide, or advanced technology, she surmised, one could spend days on end walking in circles like a dog chasing its tail.

  “Stop!” Cam shouted as she swung around. The crunching sound of an animal approaching from behind them caught her attention. She swung around and dropped to a knee.

  She didn’t hesitate as she fired several rounds toward a fast-approaching jaguar. The animal was riddled with bullets just as it began its leap toward her. Howler monkeys roared in disapproval, and birds roosting in the trees above them flew off in fear.

  Bear ran past Cam, hopped over the clearly dead animal, and raced back down the trail with his weapon trained on the path they’d just made. He looked around and then relaxed.

  “Jaguars live and hunt alone,” he said reassuringly as he returned to Cam’s side. She stood quietly over the dead animal. The jaguar’s powerful jaws were open, revealing the sharp teeth capable of killing its prey with one crushing bite.

  Bear knelt down and touched the dead jaguar’s torso.

  A tear came to Cam’s eye as she studied the beautiful animal. “That sucks,” she said solemnly. “I didn’t have a choice.”

  Bear stood and hugged his friend. “Cam, it would’ve torn us apart. I’m glad you heard it. I was thrashing away and completely—”

  Cam interrupted him. “Bear, what does it say about me that I can shoot a hostile, the enemy, without remorse or hesitation, but killing an animal makes me sick to my stomach.”

  Bear hesitated, unsure how to respond. “Well, here’s the way I look at it. This jaguar was doing what its instincts told it to do. Hunt, kill, eat. People are different. They kill because they want to, not because they have to. When we deal with the bad guys, it’s either kill or be killed. So, as I look at it, killing them first is self-defense.”

  Cam sighed and rubbed the jaguar’s fur one last time before slapping Bear on the back. “Let’s get going.”

  They continued their trek through the jungle and eventually found their way to the crash site. Bear took a moment to rehydrate and wipe the sweat off his face. Cam remained vigilant, searching the site and the surrounding thicket for any form of movement.

  “I don’t wanna say it out loud,” began Bear as he joined her side.

  “Then don’t,” Cam shot back. Deep down, she couldn’t imagine how anyone could survive the wreckage. “Come on. Stay frosty.”

  The landscape on both sides of the clearing created by the crash of the Starhopper was overwhelming to Cam.

  Bear noticed as well. “These trees look like skyscrapers.” He carefully pulled at a piece of the parachute that had been deployed just before the crash, and looked underneath. “Well, they don’t do much about blocking out the sun’s heat. But have you noticed something?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Since we left the Truman, I haven’t observed any more meteorites. Maybe their predictions are correct about the debris field moving farther north into the upper latitudes.”

  “Good.” Cam’s camouflaged pants got caught in a tangle of thorny plants and she pulled her leg away, causing a ripping sound.

  They made their way up the debris field, climbing over the corpses of fallen trees that were strewn about until nature eventually swallowed them up over time.

  The heat and strenuous trek through the jungle had taken its toll on them both, but they pushed on through the wreckage. They came upon the decomposing body of Semenova, which dangled from a tree branch. Small animals and birds had begun to pick at it, leaving it riddled with open holes. The stench of the corpse immediately caused them to cover their faces.

  “That’s not a NASA uniform,” observed Bear.

  “One of the Russians, female, I think,” added Cam.

  They continued, finding larger pieces of the Starhopper and pausing to inspect them all. More body parts were found, including the remains of two other American astronauts. Each time, Bear and Cam mustered the fortitude to inspect them, looking for any signs that they might belong to Gunner.

  As they approached the end of the wreckage and the nose of the Starhopper, their hopes were raised. First Cam and then Bear began to jog toward the crew module when they saw the front row of seats intact. They jumped up to the platform, where they discovered the large amounts of blood created by the intense battle in space, coupled with the anaconda’s devouring of Commander Sokolov.

  “Jeez, Cam. What the hell happened here?”

  “I don’t know
. Look, the seats are intact, but there’s blood everywhere.” She walked toward the pilot’s seat to get a closer look. “Holy shit!”

  “What?” asked Bear, who refrained from joining in her excitement. He hustled toward her, stumbled, and the two almost crashed into one another.

  Cam picked up the seat harness and showed Bear. “These have been cut through. Bear, somebody survived this!”

  Bear swung around and began to scan the debris field from a different perspective. With the aid of being elevated five feet off the ground, he could see more of the remains of the Starhopper.

  He slapped Cam’s arm and pointed toward a large section of the outer shell of the spacecraft. “Do you see that? Does that look like a body?”

  Fear and apprehension washed over Cam’s body. Someone had survived, but there was a body that was wrapped and preserved forty feet away.

  She exhaled and wiped her face with both hands. “We’ve gotta go see.”

  She eased herself off the crew module and waited for Bear to join her. Together, they trudged through the low-lying tallgrasses in the direction of the body. After Bear killed a snake in their path, the two worked together to retrieve the body off the metal and set it on the jungle floor.

  Blood had soaked through the parachute material, which only added to the grim reality that Gunner might be dead. The two shouldered their weapons and slowly unwrapped the shroud of material.

  Once again, the heat and humidity of the jungle had caused the body to decompose rapidly. The stench was overwhelming, but the two persevered. Finally, the rotting corpse was rolled over so that it could be seen in its entirety.

  “Oh my god!” shouted Cam, who stood and walked away. “It’s not him. Bear, Gunner’s alive. I knew it!”

  “It’s Chief Rawlings,” said Bear, tapping the astronaut’s name stitched on his uniform. He quickly covered the body back up with the parachute material, replaced it atop the spaceship’s wreckage, and joined Cam back on the ground. “Only Gunner would’ve taken the time to do this. Besides, I think we’ve accounted for all of the astronauts except for one Russian and Gunner. Dude, our boy’s alive!”

  “Yes. Yes, he is,” said Cam with a sigh of relief.

  Chapter 31

  Drug Cartel Compound

  The Darién Gap

  Colombia, South America

  Gunner’s captors were busy going about their business and for hours had left him alone. He noticed that the meteorite activity had stopped, and the constant flow of vehicles traveling through the compound was an indication that the cartel had more important things to do than stick him with a cattle prod.

  He took advantage of the hiatus from his torture to rest his body and clear his mind. Despite his weakened state, he was certain he’d be able to fight if the opportunity presented itself. He considered taking his friendship with the boy to another level.

  He’d already asked the boy to find a key to open the cell door, assuming the kid understood his attempt via primitive communications. The next logical step was to ask for a gun, but he was afraid that would lead to severe punishment for the boy if he was caught. Besides, the guards who checked on him from time to time never appeared to carry a weapon within the compound’s prison. The cattle prod was their means of subduing the prisoners.

  Gunner stood as he heard the heavy metallic locks turn, and a rush of moist but fresh air entered the cells. The sound of women whimpering indicated a new contingent of captives had arrived and were being introduced to their temporary home.

  One by one, they were thrown into their cells, accompanied by a jolt of electricity being administered via the cattle prods. The intense surge of energy was designed to beat them down physically and emotionally, thus creating a subdued prisoner.

  Gunner counted three new captives, and after the guards verbally beat them down, they laughed and left. As was always the case, the women began to chatter away, asking questions of the other prisoners. They were, of course, greeted with the customary shushes.

  All of them complied except one. She began to speak rapidly in Spanish and refused to stop.

  Gunner liked her feistiness, so he took a chance and called out to her, “Hey, can you hear me? Do you speak English?”

  The woman became quiet, and after a moment, she replied, “Yeah. My name is Caroline. What’s yours?”

  Her Spanish accent was not as heavy as the other women. “Wait, are you an American?”

  “Sort of. I was born in Mexico but went to California with my family. What’s your name?”

  “Gunner.”

  “Gunther?”

  He laughed. “No, that was my grandfather’s name. I’m Gunner. Listen, can you answer any questions for me?”

  “Shhh!”

  The other women scolded Gunner and Caroline, but the two ignored them. Gunner felt like the guards were busy assisting with the constant flow of vehicles in and out of the cartel’s hideout and obviously weren’t monitoring the jail cells.

  “Yeah, I’ve been here before.”

  “As a prisoner?”

  “Um, no. Not exactly. I used to, well, I got caught up in some bad stuff, you know. I was brought here, to the cells, but then, well, I talked myself into another room, if you know what I mean.”

  “I understand,” said Gunner. “You don’t need to say more. Your English is great, by the way.” He was trying to establish a rapport with the woman.

  “I started school in San Diego when I was six. I’m more American than I am Mexican.”

  “How did you end up in Colombia?”

  “It’s a long, ugly story. Anyway, these guys are brutal. I’m surprised you’re still alive. You must DEA or FBI. That’s valuable trade bait for Jorge Blanco.”

  “I’m not either one of those, but he must think I am. Either way, I’m still alive, barely. Tell me, what else do you know about the compound?”

  “Not all of them live here. They have hideouts all over the jungle, especially down by the Atrato River. If they have to escape, they take speedboats toward the sea and the ocean.”

  “What about security?”

  “They all have guns, and some patrol the fences. Nobody tries to break in here. They get killed before they step foot on the grounds.”

  “Does Blanco have a weakness?”

  “No.”

  “Anything?”

  “No. I was his girl, and we had a kid. My son can’t hear or speak, so he turned me into a mule as punishment.”

  Gunner didn’t mention that he knew about the kid. He decided not to offer up any information in case she had been planted in the cells to befriend him.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Um, why did you come back?” His question seemed innocent enough, assuming he had no knowledge of the boy.

  “I want to take my son to America. I thought I could reason with Jorge. I was wrong.”

  So far, she hadn’t told him anything that he couldn’t assume for himself. Gunner decided to press on. “How close is the town? Any place that might have a phone or police?”

  “There is no place like that here. Mister, you might as well be in outer space.”

  Gunner rolled his eyes. No, thanks. Been there, done that.

  Chapter 32

  The Darién Gap

  Colombia, South America

  Cam and Bear didn’t take the same approach to the drug cartel’s compound as Gunner did. They relied upon their GPS devices and the promise of more favorable terrain by moving toward the west initially and then northward toward the coordinates of the satellite phone’s signal.

  The stream and series of lakes encountered flowed toward the Atrato River. As day turned toward night, a thick fog filled the valley where the water carved its way through the jungle. Cam reached the water’s edge and looked up the mountain and down toward a lake, which widened the stream considerably.

  A slight breeze blew toward them, moving the misty fog to give the stream the appearance that it was breathing. In the fog, the trees of the dense forest becam
e more like silhouettes against the late afternoon sky.

  “It’s too wide to cross,” observed Cam. “I can’t imagine what lives in this stream.”

  “Oh, I can imagine,” said Bear, who was not fond of the ocean, lakes, or streams, especially those in a remote jungle. He pulled his binoculars out of a pouch in his chest rig and looked downstream. “Hey, Cam. I see a canoe on the other side of that lake. Maybe there are some houses nearby?”

  “Lead the way, but watch your step. This time of day, things start to come out of their hidey holes, if you know what I mean.”

  “Roger that.”

  They traveled along the bank for a few hundred yards when Bear suddenly stopped and raised his fist in the air. They both instantly dropped to a crouch and readied their rifles.

  The sound of something rustling in front of them had caught Bear’s attention, and he immediately thought of the jaguar. With his rifle trained on the location where the sound came from, he walked carefully, heel to toe, in an effort to mask his approach.

  Suddenly, a dog wandered out of the underbrush. The appearance of the mangy hound startled Bear, but he held his fire. The dog stopped to sniff the ground in search of food and then sat down. His hind leg furiously scratched at his matted fur to dislodge some annoying fleas.

  Then the dog froze. He turned his attention to the direction that Bear and Cam were traveling, downstream toward the canoe. He sniffed the air. His ears flattened and his tail dropped between his legs. With a slight whimper, he began to hustle along the stream’s bank, obviously disturbed by the scent he’d picked up.

  “I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” whispered Bear.

  “Yeah, me too. Let’s follow him. If something’s spooked him, he’s looking for safety.”

  Bear rose from his crouch and began to jog down the path. Cam was close behind, her head on a swivel, looking for danger.

  As they approached the end of the dirt trail, they reached a clearing that contained a small settlement made up of bamboo walls and adobe-like brick foundations. The roofs were made up primarily of layer upon layer of palm fronds.