Commitment: 2011

Thursday, December 29, 2011

Making a Clean Break-Excerpt from Commitment-A Novel

The morning sun cast a brilliant golden canopy across the sky from the east. Off to the west, darkness graduating to blue toward the east. John awoke a few hours before the rest of the village. He sat facing the sun, remembering the evening, wondering if he would survive here. He was already homesick for his old life back in the States, feeling strange and distant. While he was collecting his thoughts, a stoic, older man, small in stature, took a seat near him. The man never said a word, just took a stance of vigilance.

During the pre-dawn hours they shared the sounds of the awakening jungle, hardly recognizing each other’s presence with more than a nod. Insects buzzed, the tiny, black and white Thomas’ leaf monkey skittered through the trees, and birds chirped their good morning songs. This was like so many sounds and experiences he associated with Vietnam, and a reminder of his harrowing night only three weeks before.

John felt homesick, but dismissed the thought of returning to the states. He had to stay at least a year or two. Then he would earn enough hours to apply at an airline. He would be flying regularly and that was good enough. However, something else, another reason to stay, grasped his attention. It had to be the lure of this enchanting woman who gave up her comfortable life to live in these austere conditions.

He looked to his left to see his silent companion shift his weight without taking his eyes off the jungle. Turning back to his thoughts, John realized he shouldn’t fall for someone out here. He needed to know he could make a clean break when the time came.

Remember, 100% of all royalties will be applied to Jeff's mission trip to Asia. Jeffrey W. Bennett, ISP is the owner of Red Bike Publishing. Jeff is an accomplished writer of non-fiction books, novels and periodicals. He also owns Red bike Publishing. Published books include: "Get Rich in a Niche-Insider's Guide to Self Publishing in a Specialized Industry" and "Commitment-A Novel". Jeff is an expert in security and has written many security books including: "Insider's Guide to Security Clearances" and "DoD Security Clearances and Contracts Guidebook". See Red Bike Publishing for print copies of: Army Leadership The Ranger Handbook The Army Physical Readiness Manual Drill and Ceremonies The ITAR The NISPOM

Friday, December 23, 2011

Eating Roasted Grub Worms

“The nuts? There aren’t any nuts here,” she shouted over the din.

“There, that guy is taking them now, and that woman just finished roasting some more.” John pointed to one of the women who stirred the contents around in a hollowed out stone.

“Oh, you mean those nuts,” she said, smiling mischievously. “Sure I’ll pass them, but take another careful look. I think the firelight is not allowing you to see particularly well.”

He waited impatiently for the bowl as anther villager finished raking some into his lap. Finally he had the bowl and began stirring nuts with his fingers. He picked up two of the inch- long morsels and examined them more closely. With the flickering amber fire and pale moon- light the food looked at first glance like roasted nuts. It had a nice golden color, and was firm to the touch.

He brought it up for closer inspection and let out a yell of disgust. Looking lifelessly back at him was a small set of roasted grub worm eyes, John could at last see as the bean shaped pupa suddenly morphed into a fat, earth-boring worm.

“A worm! A fat, disgusting worm!” He jumped up, legs dancing uncontrollably. The bowl went flying, sending the grubs airborne in all directions. He had the shivers, and his teeth itched.

Marta laughed hysterically. It was cruel she realized, but he shouldn’t be acting this way. “Lighten up. They won’t hurt you.”

“I can’t believe Steve left me here like this, eating worms. What have I got myself into, just to fly planes?”

“Don’t be that way. We all went through this at first,” said Marta.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t believe I actually like those things. How could you let me eat them without telling me what they were?”

“Because I didn’t want you to starve to death,” said Marta.

The animal skin drums pounded out a rhythm for the dancers, but as the evening wore on, the drummer’s endurance gave out as heavy arms grew tired. Now all that remained was a gentle drumming that provided only a sense of percussion to keep time.

“I really think they like you. You have made some impression on them, in spite of the act you put on earlier,” said Marta.

“Well, that pleases me to no end,” John replied.

“I know you don’t understand them, but they are saying nice things about you, and to you.”

“I really hope so, because all I have been doing is sitting here smiling and nodding, and I don’t want to be agreeing to something that I know nothing about,” said John.

“You mean you don’t want to marry the chief’s daughter?”

“WHAT?” John yelped in disbelief, waking Tucker.

“Oh relax, I was just kidding.” Marta tossed her head back, flipping her hair.

John looked on admiringly.

“All they have been doing is saying hello and giving you a good welcome,” said Marta.

“You play too many tricks. One day, when you least expect it, there will be one waiting for you.”

“You can’t really threaten me with something fun. I need a few pranks to make things a little more exciting. We have fun here, but imagine trying to tell jokes or play gags on people when there is such a huge language barrier,” said Marta.

The fire began to burn out. No longer did anyone try to feed its remarkable appetite. As the flames ebbed, more people started heading for their huts.

“Well, I think it is time to turn in. I’ll take Tucker to his bed, and I will see you in the morning.”

“Where am I going to sleep?” John asked, rubbing his eyes.

“Oh, I’m sorry; the chief has a place for you in his hut. Hold on, I’ll be back.” Marta walked away and spoke to the chief, who was happily eating leftover food. They spoke for a while before she returned.

“The chief has everything set up. As soon as he goes, he will let you know. Until then, have fun. I’m going to turn in.”

John watched her walk away from the fire. Her image grew faint as she left the light, until darkness consumed her. I wish you didn’t have to leave so soon.

Buy Commitment for your Kindle, Nook or computer....

Remember, 100% of all royalties will be applied to Jeff's mission trip to Asia. Jeffrey W. Bennett, ISP is the owner of Red Bike Publishing. Jeff is an accomplished writer of non-fiction books, novels and periodicals. He also owns Red bike Publishing. Published books include: "Get Rich in a Niche-Insider's Guide to Self Publishing in a Specialized Industry" and "Commitment-A Novel". Jeff is an expert in security and has written many security books including: "Insider's Guide to Security Clearances" and "DoD Security Clearances and Contracts Guidebook". See Red Bike Publishing for print copies of: Army Leadership The Ranger Handbook The Army Physical Readiness Manual Drill and Ceremonies The ITAR The NISPOM

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

What Nuts

The moon was full and the sky cloudless. It was the kind of night where artificial lighting was useless. The only true darkness was cast in the shadows of the tall trees and the huge mountains. John thought it impressive. He sat crossed legged on a mat with Marta and Tucker. On the next mat sat Numah and her new husband. They watched with smiles as the warriors told their exaggerated stories of the hunt. The Cassowary proved to be a difficult catch as it wove in and out of the thick foliage of mangrove trees and lontar palms near the Baleam River. One of the quartet of hunters acted out wide-eyed bewilderment. The whole village erupted in laughter as he strutted about making bird like screaming noises. Two of the others in the group feigned throwing rocks and spears tipped with sharp hornbills. The death of the cassowary actor could’ve won an award as he pled with an unknown bird god before offering its life for the survival of his human brothers.

“Was that bird praying?” John asked.

“Yes, it is an honor for him to die for such a noble cause. See, a few of the villagers still practice animism, or the worship of animals. The high spirit, if gracious, will allow the killing of its own to show pleasure in mankind,” Marta whispered.

Tucker kept smiling over his shoulder at John, then leaned back to rest on him. John looked back to Marta, who in turn smiled with approval.

“I think he likes you,” said Marta

John didn’t say anything; he was too uncomfortable. He let the boy stay that way until the chief of Tarampura called for Marta. John saw her smile and extend her hand to the chief, then to him. Pulling himself up, he rose to stand beside her.

The chief addressed the village giving a formal welcome to John, while Marta translated. After the formal welcome, the musicians banged out a harmony on the python skin drums as several costumed dancers pranced in front of the village. Red and blue feathers of the blue-streaked lorry and the green jungle fowl decorated their bodies. The outfits shimmered with iridescent life, as light glanced off the multi-faceted wings of giant beetles.

John reluctantly ate from large wooden bowls passing by him. The cassowary looked and tasted like most fowl, but he especially liked the tender and juicy wild pig. He ate greedily from another bowl of large nutty pieces. “Hey Marta, can you pass those Brazil, Macadamia, or whatever those nuts are back this way?”

Friday, December 16, 2011

I Can't Wait

To the southwest, the mountain range covered the retreating sun, leaving behind a tell-tale eerie pink and blue. Still a few hours before sunset, the village was in the shadow of the mighty Maoke Mountains. As if cued by a legendary director, the entire village came suddenly to life with shouts of triumph and laughter, as they buzzed excitedly around the hunting party.

“Wow, what got them on the warpath?” John asked.

“Sounds like the hunting party is back. Come on, let’s see what they bagged,” Marta replied.

John laughed at her choice of wording and took up a quick stride matching her. As they neared, John saw one of the party hopping around with the ugliest bird he had ever seen slung across his shoulders.

The bird had the longest legs, save for the ostriches he saw in zoos and on Wild Kingdom. Instead of feathers, it sported long fine hairs. Blue and red adorned its neck, reminding John of the bright colors of a baboon

“THAT’S disgusting!” John exclaimed wide eyed.

“THAT’S dinner,” Marta said.

“I’m not eating it, if that’s what you think,” John replied.

“ I’m recalling our conversation about being courteous and non-offensive, is what I think.”

“You are a tough one, Marta Springer.”

“It’s not like you have to eat the whole thing. There’s probably only enough for a taste. I recommend you at least have the courtesy to try,” Marta said.

“What is it?”

“That is the Cassowary, they call it... hmm, I guess the best translation is ugly stilt bird,” Marta said.

“I’d say. But look, I can relate to those wild piglets they are showing off,” said John.

“You are in for a real treat fireside tonight-chockfull of adventurous hunting stories,” Marta said.

“I can’t wait.”

Monday, December 12, 2011

But at what Cost?

“Here comes Tucker,” Marta greeted.

“What happens, Mrs. Springer and Mr. Braddham?” Tucker said, strutting in his usual happy way. He was the type who liked to learn.

"‘What’s happening,’ Tucker,” she corrected.

“Yes, what is happening?” he said, smiling broadly.

“Do me a favor and call me John, okay?”

“Okeedokee, John. Do you take me flying?”

“Someday I will, when I have the plane?” John said.

“When is someday? I hear about it always?” Tucker asked.

“Someday is very soon. In fact, the first time that I fly here to visit, I will take you for a ride. How does that sound?” John asked.

“It sounds like bzzzzzzzz!” Tucker replied with his arms stretched like wings as he ran around imitating an airplane.

“I think my question was lost on him.”

“He is my best English student. Still, I can’t help feeling guilty,” Marta said.

“Guilty? I think you’re doing an excellent job with him – in fact, with everyone. This village loves you,” John replied.

“They have more or less adopted me, but maybe to their detriment. Tucker’s father is dead, and his mother is dying of leprosy. She has been for years, and she doesn’t have much longer. He has accepted me as a guardian, but I have to face the fact that I will leave here, and what about him?”

“I am sure he will be taken care of,” said John

“But it goes beyond me leaving him. I have ‘Americanized’ him. He is no longer just another simple Dani, living a simple life. You see how he dresses. He almost always speaks English and he has accepted living my way of life. Actually, by just living here, I have altered everyone’s outlook. Even those villagers who refuse Christian teachings are indirectly affected by the lives of those who haven’t. Their culture has irreversibly been altered, and possibly lost,” Marta replied.

“It can’t be that bad. People still are carrying on traditions and customs,” John said.

“A foreigner is learning their language, and now beginning to translate Bible verses. There is an airstrip in the middle of an almost prehistoric culture. They are using stone axes, and until two years ago, had never seen an airplane. They rely on modern means of transportation to conduct business. How can they ever return to their way of life? What will Tucker do when I leave?”

“I don’t know. But when you and Raymond decided to come, you did so because God put it on your hearts. Do you think he is going to let this be destructive?” John said.

“Let’s just say I never thought of the consequences. But you are right. God did put me here and great things are happening because of Him. I didn’t mean to make you think otherwise. I worry about these things, you know? It weighs heavily on me.”

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Why I'm Here-An Excerpt from Commitment-A Novel

Though the Dani had little notice, they immediately wanted to celebrate John’s arrival with a feast. The men sent out a hunting party and children and women gathered wood for a fire, sweet potatoes and local delicacies for food, but Steve had no choice but to decline. He radioed base to get approval to continue the route that day without John. After he was sure John would be taken care of, he checked the plane, and lifted off into the early afternoon sky.

Four elder men sat under an overhang of a grass hut contemplating life. As they squatted in the shade, John tried to imagine what they were talking about. These men reminded John of all men everywhere. Whether huddled together in the middle of a jungle, in a barber shop, or a street corner, these gatherings were practiced religiously in all walks of life.

Still, this was a harsh environment. Here, a cold could turn to pneumonia, a fever could kill, and small cut could turn into gangrene. Food wasn’t guaranteed and water wasn’t pure. No wonder medical personnel kept vigil over westerners in the region and stressed sanitation. In Vietnam, John had witnessed firsthand what could happen to a platoon of soldiers who relieved themselves too close to water and food; days of cramping sickness.

“It looks like you have done well adapting to this primitive life,” John said, not fooled by the tempting beauty, but noting the intimidating terrain.

“It’s not the sort of life one would normally subject oneself too, at least not without a firm commitment to helping others learn about God,” Marta replied.

“Don’t get me wrong, but aren’t you intimidated out here? I mean there is no running water or any of the comforts that I would consider basic. Wasn’t it or isn’t it still extremely difficult for you?” John asked.

“It took a lot of getting used to. The food was strange at first and the customs even harder to fathom. But these people, my family, honestly enjoyed Raymond and me. They adopted us to their ways, caring enough to help us survive.” Marta found an opportunity to brag about the people.

“How did they accept you so easily? I understood that missionaries had to more or less be welcomed here, but often reluctantly,” John said.

“Most have had difficulties, and some even turned back.” Marta stopped, facing John, while sweeping the scene with her arms. “We took an interest and sincerely attempted to complement their lives. They were impressed that we didn’t try to belittle them by changing their lives, as others had. We wanted to share God, but try to leave their culture intact.”

They stopped near the chapel and sat on a wooden plank.

“I guess your motivation for being here and desire to learn helped out. But what did you begin with to fit in?” John asked.

“You mean what was the first thing?” she asked leaning on one arm, pressing her hands into the bench. Marta looked up pensively.

“Yeah, exactly. There’s a lot to absorb.” John noted.

“Well, as you noticed, their dress is strange and hard to get used to. Except we tried not to be as obvious as you were about what was hard to accept,” Marta replied.

“You mean how I reacted to the gourds.” John suddenly felt embarrassed.

“Exactly! You know, you could have offended them. If they gave any thought to it, you may have lost all credibility,” Marta scolded.

“Come on, I didn’t react all that badly. I thought I reacted pretty well with the unexpected sight. Admit it, it’s funny looking,” John said.

“It is funny looking, but it doesn’t relinquish you from a somewhat diplomatic duty. We should consider ourselves God’s ambassadors. The last thing we want to do is offend them,” said Marta.

“I didn’t mean anything, really. Besides, how could they be that sensitive in such a rough environment?”

“It is rough out here. But look at how the huts are arranged. The tribal councils’ lodges are in the center of it. Everyone works together so no one person takes too much of a burden. People are rewarded for hard work, and slackers are not tolerated. Respect is very important and so are manners. In a world so harsh, consideration of others’ feelings is pertinent to tribal harmony. Plus, I told you they are my family and I really can’t tolerate rudeness toward them, or their way of life. Do you understand that much?” Marta asked.

“Yeah, okay. I guess I can.”

Monday, December 5, 2011

Accepted into the Fold

John and Steve unloaded mail and a package of supplies. John noticed Marta immediately. Red hair cascading past her shoulders, cotton skirt, and khaki shirt seemed out of place. He could tell she had a unique and special relationship with the Dani people. They looked up at her and smiled, as if to share her joy when the plane arrived.

And she’s beautiful; the voice in his head told him.

He had to subdue that voice, because there was no chance for a relationship. But the voice still spoke to him, silently, seductively.

“This is going to be a hard battle,” he replied a little too loudly.

“What was that?” Steve asked.

“Oh, nothing,” he replied. “Is that Marta Springer, by the way?”

“Sure is. Help me with the supplies, and I’ll introduce you.”

Marta ran up to help. “I was so worried about you when your plane went down. I’m so glad you made it out of there.”

“Besides replacing a window and recovering from a fever, I’d say everything worked out just fine,” said Steve.

“I take it this is John?” she asked.

“That’s right, John Braddham, pleased to meet you,” he said, taking her offered hand. Her grip was tight and sincere, yet her hands were soft.

He was amazed at her emotional and mental strength that helped her endure all the years under the extreme circumstances he had only for a short time experienced. He doubted his fortitude or whatever he might consider a driving force to keep him committed. The incident of the forced landing nearly sent him home packing. Even so, he decided to stay, blaming his resolve to be an airline pilot. I’m committed to something. But is it enough to keep me here?

“Marta, this guy is incredible! He can handle an airplane like a

P.O.W. veteran. In fact, he has already been accepted full-fledged into the program. We’re just getting him familiar with his route,” said Steve.

“Already?” Marta exaggerated her surprise. “Don’t you usually train pilots longer?”

“Between losing pilots and convincing Jason that John is ready, I’m able to accelerate the program,” said Steve.

“I guess you are familiar with Jason’s thoroughness,” said John.

“Yes, I am,” she nodded. “He’s firm but fair. I know he rubs some the wrong way, but he is a wonderful person and a great leader. He just takes time to warm up to, but when you do, he makes a faithful friend. I can rely on him for anything.”

“Well, that’s what I keep hearing,” said John.

“John saved the day,” Steve interjected. “That night was enough to leave an impression on even the toughest of heroes. I’m convinced we wouldn’t have made it if it weren’t for him.”

“We were praying for you all night. As if the weather and landing weren’t dangerous enough, we heard you had to deal with the Yali. I’d love to hear what happened sometime,” Marta invited.

“You give me too much credit. But if you want to hear the scaled down version of the story...” John was about to finish when two strangers came into view.

Numah and a young man named Tucker walked up on either side of Marta. Numah tugged on Marta’s shirt.

“Oh, excuse me. John, I would like you to meet my good friends, Numah and Tucker,” said Marta.

John smiled at Marta’s two companions. The woman was small and dressed in a grass skirt and a dingy T-shirt with “Sunny” emblazoned in bold red letters. The twelve-year-old with her was a little shorter with tattered shorts and a dark, long sleeve shirt. Both were adorned with bone and leather jewelry. “I am glad to meet you both,” John said.

Numah giggled and wrapped her arms around John’s neck. The gesture caught John off guard and after a few steps of back peddling, he regained his balance. He stood a long second with his arms stretched wide before smiling and returning the hug. “You didn’t tell me they were so friendly.”

“We had the same cultural experience. It’s just something they don’t teach you in school,” Marta laughed.

More of the villagers approached and John almost bowled over in laughter. He guffawed audibly before Steve could suppress the rest of his reaction with a timely elbow jab to the ribs.

The circus of assorted characters crested the small hill and walked toward the amused newcomer. Most wore traditional dress consisting of grass skirt with no tops for the women and for the men, nothing, save the gourds of various shapes and sizes.

“John, please,” Steve begged.

“I’m sorry, but this is incredible. They are wearing squash. What does it all mean?” asked John.

“Nothing in particular. You’ll get used to it,” Marta said sternly. “C’mon, I’ll introduce you around.” Marta took the lead up the path to the village as Numah scampered up from behind.

“He right handsome man, Marta. You like?” Numah asked in her native tongue.

Marta tried to ignore her, continuing up the path in silence.

Thursday, December 1, 2011

Enter the bad guys

CHAPTER 10

High in the mist-filled mountain tops two figures danced excitedly around their chubby friend. Another tall and lanky character observed it from under the wide brim of his bush hat. He allowed himself a rare smile. The boys have earned some excitement.

“Bart found the ore. Finally, he did something besides trying to kill us with his food,” Charles said excitedly, much to Bart’s dismay.

“My food gave you the strength to carry on. Didn’t it, Angus?” Bart said, looking hopefully to the boss.

“Kissing up to him won’t get you much,” said Roger. “But finding this gold will.” He grabbed the short and stout Bart in a headlock and rubbed his dirty hair heartily, excited that the months of mining had finally been rewarded.

Bart smiled in his goofy manner, enjoying the much needed praise.

Roger and Charles let out a roar of pleasure as they tossed the baseball-sized rock back and forth.

“Knock it off for a minute,” said Angus. The quiet droning of an engine alerted him. He squinted solemnly into the first bright sunlight in weeks. “It’s that pilot. I hope his presence doesn’t interfere with our resupply efforts.”

***

Down in the valley, sun-drenched Tarampura was beautiful. Greens and reds radiated from the jungle, proud that the rain had pulled away its obscuring veil. The villagers cleaned their areas diligently. Mud was caked on everything; the Dani were busy with clean up.

As Steve’s plane came into sight, they smiled, and then went back to their tasks. A plane landing was an all-too-familiar scene these days. Many still greeted it and some of those who did got a ride.

Marta noticed the stranger flying the plane and realized it must be John. She watched him step out of the plane. He was quite handsome in khaki pants and dark blue pull-over shirt. He carried himself well and had a determined look. This man could easily be stereotyped behind the yoke of an airplane.

Numah caught up with her, followed by Tucker. “He a pretty man,” Numah whispered.

Marta blushed slightly. “Oh, I hadn’t even noticed.”

Sunday, November 27, 2011

Ready to Solo?

“I’ve taught him everything I know. Especially the few flying restrictions. He likes the idea of uncontrolled airspace,” said Steve.

Jason bristled. “He has to realize uncontrolled airspace or not, I give the final decision about flights.”

“I think John is cool with that. He just has to get used to the idea of falling under your authority and obeying POW-imposed restrictions,” Steve defended.

“That’s your job then. I agree, he is probably more experienced than most of our pilots, but reel him in. It’s not a one-man show.” Jason was hesitant about the idea of giving John a route sooner than usual. “What else?”

“He is aware of weather and terrain dangers. I’ve reiterated that flying in cloud cover and heavy fog is treacherous and unpredictable, strictly prohibited and tightly enforced,” said Steve. “I’ll keep reminding him.”

“Make sure he understands. If not, we’ll keep him in training.”

“Jason, there’s something else.”

Jason flinched as Steve told him of John’s desire to fly for an airline.

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Take off and Landing Drills

“That was an excellent landing,” Steve said once on the primitive air strip.

“This is definitely a smaller area than I am used to landing in,” John said over the running engine. “Plus I’m not used to landing uphill.”

“This is probably one of the toughest landing areas you will eventually take over from me,” said Steve.

“Who lives here?” asked John. Their landing earned only a few glimpses and a wave from the villagers up the hill. John wasn’t sure, but he thought the half-naked males wore gourds to cover themselves.

“A branch of the Yali tribe. They inhabit most of the Balium Valley. We won’t stay though. The missionary that served here had to leave for personal reasons. I don’t know when he will be replaced.”

“Daryl told me that a lot of people end up leaving,” said John. He watched as Steve took the controls and pointed the plane downhill.

“Try taking off this way,” said Steve. “We do have some leaving. The Lawrences were as dedicated as any, but he had to take care of his family. There are a lot of hardships to being a missionary, but it’s tougher when your children don’t adjust,” said Steve.

John could feel his stomach drop as the plane lurched skyward. “Dedication to job verses dedication to the family,” he said.

“It’s going to be just as tough for you,” said Steve. “You’ll get homesick and lonely. Dedication takes on many forms and has many obstacles. I’m sure you are feeling some pangs.”

“Yeah, I guess I am. I’m not sure I will make it as long as most pilots do,” said John.

“Oh, in what way?” asked Steve.

John suddenly felt nervous. “I mean, I have no problem being here but I see myself flying airliners. That’s my future,” said John uncomfortably.

Steve seemed unfazed.

“You don’t see that as a problem?” asked John.

“Somewhat, but I think the Lord has you here for some reason. We’ll just have to work with you while we have you,” said Steve.

Monday, November 14, 2011

The Surprise

Within weeks they had burned away much of the clearing. This method assisted in the hunt for scarce meat and was often used in defense as warring tribes were flushed out of any cover by an all consuming fire. When the burning and stone axes proved futile, there were always the chain saws from Tiom. The villagers loved the loud noise and display of raw power as a fueled chain whirled around chewing up any resistance. Men toiling to move mounds of dirt had the most tedious and back breaking of work. Human earth movers burdened under the weight of the soil, had traversed in monotonous patterns as they had smoothed the landing strip as much as possible.

Finally, one month ahead of schedule, the runway was complete. Marta and the excited villagers had watched as Steve’s Cessna 182 spiraled into the valley. Some of them became jumpy as the engine suddenly went quiet about a mile from the runway. “A young boy named Tucker thought it would crash, but Marta had only smiled. She knew it was part of the procedures to bleed of speed and slow the airplane enough to land.

Marta had seen Steve smiling from ear to ear as he climbed out of his aircraft. In mass, the whole village had moved down to see him, surrounding the man from the sky and touching his blue and white bird. They wondered what kind of magic made this machine soar so high. Some had tried to find out as they anticipated the chance to experience flight; they would become legendary.

“You handled that new runway like the professional you are,” Marta had said.

“It was a pleasure. We worked hard, and it paid off. I’ll try out the takeoffs, as soon as I get some of the weight out.” Steve had pointed to his plane.

“You mean there is more?” Marta had marveled at the supplies Steve had already unloaded.

“Just come back to the plane with me and see,” Steve had said, smiling mischievously.

Together, Steve and Marta had walked back to the plane.

“Do you remember when I told you I had another project to take care of?” Steve’s eyes had hardly contained his excitement.

“Yes, I guess you got it all done. What did you need to do?”

“Only this.” Steve had reached in and with both hands had struggled with a heavy burden. He pulled half of a canvassed object out and asked one of the men to help remove the covering. “I don’t think an airfield should be without a dedication.”

Marta’s heart had stopped. Her sparkling eyes had blinked rapidly in an attempt to dam the welling tears. She had bitten her lip hard to stop her quivering chin, but all efforts had failed her. She had read the sign over and over again in those few seconds to capture each letter in her mind. Her tears had fallen, but her face had beamed with pride and approval.

“Oh, thank you, Steve, thank you. It is so wonderful.”

One of her closest friends, Numah, who had also lost a husband in the same battle as Raymond, had come to Marta’s aid. Numah did not understand the reason for the happy crying, but had known Marta needed a hug.

“It’s okay, Numah, this is a wonderful gift from our friends in Tiom,” Marta had said.

“I hope you like it, Marta. I took a collection up and had this made,” Steve had said.

“It’s truly beautiful. I know the perfect place for it.”

Remember, 100% of all royalties will be applied to Jeff's mission trip to Asia. Jeffrey W. Bennett, ISP is the owner of Red Bike Publishing. Jeff is an accomplished writer of non-fiction books, novels and periodicals. He also owns Red bike Publishing. Published books include: "Get Rich in a Niche-Insider's Guide to Self Publishing in a Specialized Industry" and "Commitment-A Novel". Jeff is an expert in security and has written many security books including: "Insider's Guide to Security Clearances" and "DoD Security Clearances and Contracts Guidebook". See Red Bike Publishing for print copies of: Army Leadership The Ranger Handbook The Army Physical Readiness Manual Drill and Ceremonies The ITAR The NISPOM

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Making Plans

Time never stood still in the small village of Tarampura, one in a chain along the Great Baliem Valley. This was the home the ornamental Dani. Marta Springer knew her link of the chain all too well. Two years ago next month, she reminded herself, shivering at the repulsive thought. She shook her head trying to escape sadness as she set out to inspect the airfield. I want to make sure it is neat for the new guy. Viewing the landing strip so critically brought back painful memories.

“This is the best way to remember Raymond,” she had said two years before, upon return after burying her late husband. “He had always spoken of making a runway near the village. You know how slow the boats are.” She reminded Jason of the 25 miles from Tiom, forever by boat but only a few minutes by air.

Within weeks some of the pilots had traveled by boat, surveyed the area, and found a place that would be suitable for a runway. They had hired some men from the village who worked with stone axes to clear an outline of what would be a 25 foot by 1700 foot airstrip.

“I’d always wanted to land in your village. You have no idea how beautiful it looks nestled between the mountain and the Baliem River,” Steve had said as he and his crew spent the night.

“How long do you think it will take? I mean, I can’t believe this is all happening. I wish Raymond could be here to see his dream.” Marta had said.

“Raymond would be proud. Proud of the strip, and proud of your hard work. We should be done in about six months provided the weather holds out and the workers keep their interest,” Steve had said.

“I don’t think the Dani will be a hard sell for the idea of a landing strip. I think they’ll be eager to build a place where the aloof motorized birds could roost.” Marta had said of the comments Steve had made. They’d seen planes fly overhead, but had never touched nor seen one up close.

“Just look around. Men wearing nothing but gourds, taming the jungle growth with stone axes. It’s a sight for any anthropologist,” Marta had said.

“The influence of modern technology is leaving its mark. Pretty soon, they won’t remember what life without an air strip was like,” Steve had said.

Thursday, November 3, 2011

The Larvae and the Lontar Palm

“Hey, what’s so funny?” Marta asked as she and Sandy caught up to the cacophony.

“Just a little lesson about how this tree is host to beetle larvae,” John replied.

“Oh, the beetles. Those beetles.” Marta tried but she couldn’t suppress the grin that fought its way over the other muscles around her small but full-lipped mouth.

“Oh, you think this is funny too?” John said, poking her gently in the ribs.

Marta fought to push his hands away. “Stop! That tickles,” she pleaded. Her knees buckled under the sheer exuberance.

“John, stop, it’s... not... appropriate,” Marta said, smoothing her skirt and brushing her hair back, as she shot her tormenter a playful glance.

John took the hint. “So, you think my worm experience is funny?”

Marta caught her breath. Her stomach was sore from its workout during her peals of laughter. “Let’s just say you made the party,” she said between breaths.

“Would somebody please tell me what I’m missing?” Sandy asked.

“Just a story about how John ate almost all the roasted grubs, all the while thinking they were...What did you call them? Oh yeah, Macadamia nuts,” Marta replied.

“Sounds like John is the ‘exotic nut,’” said Sandy.

“Let’s not pick on John. He has learned so much about life here in Irian Jaya. Besides, we don’t want to scare him off, I.....we want him to keep coming back.” Marta relented.

“Thank you for the vote of confidence,” John pretended not to notice her mistake. “It’s been good to learn about this place. How could I not? There is a challenge behind every tree and over every mountain.”

“Not all who come survive as long as you have. In fact, I’ve seen men from different organizations come here to deal with consciences, serve humanity, God, or whatever motivated them and last a scant few weeks. This place can make a mad man out of the sanest,” said Marta.

“Enough fussing over me. I’m no toy soldier. I won’t break. What did you expect to see in me a...’reed shaken by the wind’,” John said, quoting the Bible.

“Now, why don’t you two step back, and let us men get about our business.”

“Maybe we should sit in the shade sipping tea while these big strong men swelter in the sun,” Marta said.

“Yes, let’s. We wouldn’t want to break a nail,” Sandy added.

Once they neared the village they stopped pulling at the giant palm. Two older men brought water gourds, and Marta brought John purified water. It felt good going down, even though it tasted bad.

“Whew, that was tough,” John commented, wiping his brow with a bandanna. “I haven’t worked this hard in a while. Being a pilot has kept me soft compared to these guys who haven’t sweated a drop.”

“Wait until the real work starts,” Marta said. “You still have to strip the tree.”

“That’ll build an appetite,” said John.

“That’s what the larvae are for, feeds the old appetite,” Marta said rubbing her belly. “Other than fodder for beetle larvae, the soft, spongy inside will be ground to a pulp. We eat that too.” She stood resting her hands on her slender hips. Her legs below the hem of the denim skirt were scratched from the branches, vines, and undergrowth thriving in the drenched forest.

John thought she fit the stereotype of the outdoor, rugged, Jane-of¬-the-Tarzan-stories type of heroine.

“John, I hate for you to miss these festivities. But we have a lot of stops to make before nightfall,” Sandy interrupted.

“I’m glad you both came, and grateful for the difference you made with Digul,” said Marta

“Just keep an eye on him. Why don’t you pack a bag and stay over this weekend? John can bring you by tomorrow when he picks up Digul,” said Sandy.

“Good idea, why don’t you come tomorrow?” John added.

Marta thought for a minute. Did his eyes sparkle? “All right, I’ll be waiting.”

Tucker came up to say goodbye.

John mouthed, “Bring him if you can.”

“He would love it,” Marta whispered back.

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

Bug Man

     “Let’s help them,” Tucker said, grabbing John’s hand and pulling him toward the commotion in the forest.
     The village surroundings had been busy with the sound of leaves crunching, vines cracking, and rhythmic chants for the past 30 minutes. Tucker led laughing gleefully as they went to investigate. Finally they found twenty men pulling on thick vines as they advanced the progress of a huge sago palm toward the village.
     “It is big, John. It will bring us lots of food. The kind you eat a lot of last time,” said Tucker.
     “I don’t remember eating food from a tree. What do you mean?” John asked as he stepped in behind one of the men.
     Both John and Tucker were now struggling with the cumbersome tree. They made slow progress as the tree scraped across the jungle floor inch by inch. Awkward at first, John soon fell in with the rhythm of the cadence and found the load easier to bear.
     “We will bring the tree close to the village and pull it apart. It will die and soon the big bug will come and lay egg,” said Tucker.
     “What kind of bug?” John already dreaded the answer.
     “The bug that is big and we use wings for our decorations,” said Tucker.
     “It sounds like a scarab beetle. What do you do with the eggs?” asked John.
     “They grow the worm,” replied Tucker.
     “Not the grubs! You mean I’m hauling a grub tree!” said John.
     “You like them, yes?”
      “I like them, no,” John replied.
     “The man who ate all the worms says he doesn’t like them,” Tucker translated tauntingly for the benefit of the others.
     “Why are they laughing?” asked John.
     The men continued to cackle as they remembered that famous night.
     Startled, birds fluttered away, and small monkeys shrieked in protest from treetop perches as the laughter permeated the jungle.
     “Have your laugh, but remember the saying of Americans. ‘You are what you eat,’ bug man.”

Remember, 100% of all royalties will be applied to Jeff's mission trip to Asia. Jeffrey W. Bennett, ISP is the owner of Red Bike Publishing. Jeff is an accomplished writer of non-fiction books, novels and periodicals. He also owns Red bike Publishing. Published books include: "Get Rich in a Niche-Insider's Guide to Self Publishing in a Specialized Industry" and "Commitment-A Novel". Jeff is an expert in security and has written many security books including: "Insider's Guide to Security Clearances" and "DoD Security Clearances and Contracts Guidebook". See Red Bike Publishing for print copies of: Army Leadership The Ranger Handbook The Army Physical Readiness Manual Drill and Ceremonies The ITAR The NISPOM

Saturday, October 29, 2011

An incredible opportunity

Jeff wrote about missionaries, now he wants to be one. From now until January 31, 2012, 100% of all Commitment royalties will go to send him on mission.

Just like Marta, Jason and the crew of Commitment, Jeff is gearing up to go on a part time mission trip. Jeff is excited to take part in evangelical and humanitarian assistance in Asian countries.

You can help in five ways:

1. Commit to pray for safety and the opportunity to teach the Gospel to many who have never heard

2. Purchase your copy of Commitment. Jeff will commit 100% of his royalties toward the mission

3. Tell your friends and family

4. Follow this blog and the Facebook page for updates

5. Consider joining your church in your own mission opportunity

Thursday, October 27, 2011

Going Home

As he neared the end of the runway, still only five feet above field, he tried to pull the yoke back. Nothing, it wouldn’t budge. He glanced right and noticed the unconscious Steve slumped across the controls.

“Oh no, you don’t,” John said. He pulled Steve upright.

Steve came to and yelped as the plane headed straight for the natives. He closed his eyes, anticipating the deadly propellers slashing them. Instead, the equally horrified people ducked to the ground as John pulled up and to the right. The plane responded with a slow roll as it climbed higher into the late morning sky.

***

The same horrifying dawn brought a beautiful sunrise to the residents of Tiom. Some who had gotten sleep awoke to a crystal clear sky painted with the same pale blue and yellow that John had witnessed. Rachel stared at the morning, welcoming it as a promise of a safe delivery of her husband.

“Men, you have your missions,” Jason said. “Scan the sectors here and here.” He indicated with a pointer. “See if there is any wreckage, but by all means, don’t land. I can’t afford to lose anyone else.”

Jason turned to Rachel who was steadily giving up hope. She had kept her vigil at the radio in hopes of something, anything. The wait was the hardest, probably harder than any bad news could ever be. “Hey, it’s not over.”

“That’s right,” Sandy, Jason’s wife said. “Just don’t give up.”

“Thanks, but I just don’t know. I expected to hear something by now,” Rachel sobbed.

“Tiom base, this is N7724V. Fifteen miles to the West, inbound for a landing.” The radio crackled to life.

“Hey, that’s John! Oh, thank God!” Rachel exclaimed through choking sobs of excitement.

They watched hopefully from the window, as the plane grew from an insignificant speck to a proud vessel bringing home their treasured ones.

Jeffrey W. Bennett, ISP is the owner of Red Bike Publishing. Jeff is an accomplished writer of non-fiction books, novels and periodicals. He also owns Red bike Publishing. Published books include: "Get Rich in a Niche-Insider's Guide to Self Publishing in a Specialized Industry" and "Commitment-A Novel". Jeff is an expert in security and has written many security books including: "Insider's Guide to Security Clearances" and "DoD Security Clearances and Contracts Guidebook". See Red Bike Publishing for print copies of: Army Leadership The Ranger Handbook The Army Physical Readiness Manual Drill and Ceremonies The ITAR The NISPOM

Sunday, October 23, 2011

Up, Up and Away

A hastily fired arrow struck the back window and deflected high above John’s head. He jumped up and shoved the propeller with all his might as he came down. John ran a wide arc around the spinning propeller and entered under the left wing.

The roar of the engine frightened the natives, causing them to take cover on the ground. The propeller sent wet leaves and vines like miniature missiles flying in their direction, forcing them to stay prone until the plane pulled away.

As he taxied down the strip, John cranked the flap setting to full in preparation for a short field take-off. As the wing’s trailing edges lengthened, he turned to check on Steve. His buddy was still restless, and not of much use. John set the brakes, running the engine to maximum power. The brakes groaned and the wheels longed to be free. John saw a blur pass before him as he realized the arrow assault had resumed. Something else caught his attention, and he saw how a character ran full speed toward the plane, a stone axe raised in attack.

John released the brakes and plowed full power toward the end of the runway, but not before the foe released his ax. Striking Steve’s window, it splintered the glass like a complex spider web.

John held the yoke back as far as possible to keep the nose wheel up. So far he had eaten a lot of ground and still hadn’t gotten off the strip as the long wet grass slowed them. He pulled the throttle to idle and crawled to a stop. At the end of the runway, he increased power to turn around before setting the brakes again. “I’ve got to make it this time,” he groaned, clenching the yoke with his left hand. With his right, he pushed the throttle.

John released the brakes and began rolling. It wouldn’t be too hard to pick up speed as he headed down hill. He looked down the runway to see four people running in defiance toward him. As the plane lifted, he was encouraged as the sound of grass scraping the wheels was replaced with silence.

“We’re flying!” John shrieked.

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

The Escape

His plan was simple. He would help Steve the seventy-five or so yards to the awaiting plane and take off straight down the runway. The airstrip sloped upward about five degrees, so he would need all the power the plane had. He nudged Steve, who less than alert.

“It’s time to go.”

“Huh? What’s going on?” Steve lifted his pale face, his glazed eyes trying to focus.

“I need you to be alert. There are very dangerous people after us. We need to get to the plane. Do you understand?” John spoke slowly, hoping the words would break through Steve’s clouded mind.

“Just help me up and I’ll race you there.” Steve sobered suddenly, as he clumsily labored to his knees.

John helped him and sighed in disbelief as his disoriented companion stumbled in the opposite direction. “I think you’ve been disqualified from this heat. Here, let me lead you.”

Both scurried to the plane. It was like a nightmare as John imagined the plane getting farther away. Finally reaching it, John shoved Steve into the passenger seat.

Running around the plane, checking for damage and remaining debris, he made a hasty pre-flight check. Satisfied, he reached to turn the power switch on-nothing.

“Oh no, what next!” John punched the instrument panel.

He immediately cut it off and back on. He heard the faint sound of the gyro and turned the key. Not enough power remained to start the motor. “Steve, Steve,” John yelled shaking his buddy.

“Hmm?” Steve answered groggily. He wore a stupid smile.

It’s not over. I need you to take the controls so I can prop the plane. Those guys drained the battery.”

“Ok, fly to get more batteries,” Steve said in his delirium.

“No! no! no!” John yelled. “I have to hand prop the plane. Listen; just hold your feet on the brakes.”

John climbed out and turned the propeller a couple of times and prepared for a starting kick. Then he saw a commotion in the jungle. Some of the natives were holding up the ponchos where he and Steve had been. So far they hadn’t seen him.

“Please, God, let this start,” John prayed before throwing the propeller downward.

It spun around sputtering but not catching. The alerted natives looked and moved slowly toward the plane, taking cover as they advanced.

“Great, an audience.”

Sunday, October 16, 2011

Hiding

The leader, dressed in a loincloth and wearing a necklace of bones and ornamental feathers, motioned for one of his subordinates to try the doors. The lackey finally figured how to open the pilot’s door and curiously played with the controls and buttons. He tripped the main power switch, activating the electronic gyro. The slow electrical windup suddenly turned into a high- pitched whir sending everyone scuttling for cover.

John snickered at the comic relief, but only briefly. He needed to get Steve back to safety, and he knew the natives would soon recover from the scare. He rose to help Steve and timidly headed toward the plane. John ducked as the leader turned in his direction and pointed the others to fan out. John knew the leader had sent out a search party. He pushed Steve down and jumped to his side, quickly pulling the poncho over them. At least the ponchos are green, John thought. Lying there, he heard the brush around him parting as a few people crept through it. They stopped within a few feet and talked. John could see their dirty feet from under the poncho and prayed they would leave before the sun revealed their hiding place.

Time passed slowly that morning. The natives searched for hours before finally leaving, or at least that’s what John hoped they’d done. The sun was higher in the sky and began burning off the rain water that fell the previous day. Once again fog and steam started to form, leaving John hoping for a gentle breeze to disperse it.

Monday, October 10, 2011

There, In The Jungle-Survival and Evasion

The sun painted streaks of pale blue and yellow through the morning sky. Birds were awake, singing to anyone appreciative enough to listen. The moon was full and bright as it still sat high in the western sky.

John listened intently. He was used to the sounds of the jungle, something he would actually miss. Gone were the distractions of machines. However, he prayed that they would soon be getting back to the plane that would take them back to their world–civilization.

Suddenly he was aware of something new–silence. The singing had abruptly stopped, but why? Birds go silent as a survival instinct, he thought. He listened more intently, as the ground would be soft, muffling any footsteps.

There! In the brush – a slight movement. He focused his eyes to one side of the dark, heavily vegetated area hoping to catch something in his peripherals. Behind about fifty yards, vines and branches moved in one direction as a few stealthy figures filed through. John estimated six people moving in the direction of the clearing. With any concentrated effort, the group would discover them. He nudged Steve, who had suffered with a fever since midnight.

“Wake up,” John whispered, placing his hand over his buddy’s mouth. He waited a moment for Steve to recover from the surprise. “There are people heading our way. You’ll have to keep quiet.”

All Steve could do was nod his head in agreement.

The half naked group, armed with spears and bows and arrows, and one with a stone ax, fanned out once they neared the clearing. They moved in unison like a well-rehearsed infantry unit. Someone gave a bird call upon seeing the camouflaged airplane and the rest moved cautiously toward the source of commotion.

John saw them move slowly toward the plane, and huddle around the leader. They looked for tell-tale signs of trouble, then regrouped as the leader gave instructions. On cue, they began removing the bushes and curiously rubbed their hands across the smooth surface of the plane. Some of them swung from the wings and struts, while others played with the control surfaces until the leader yelled a warning.

***

Sunday, October 2, 2011

The Secret Stays in the Cabin

“Okay, I’ll demonstrate flying through these passages before these clouds get too low,” Steve yelled over the roaring engine. “Do you see the break in the mountains ahead? Fly to those, staying as far right as you can.”

“I’m staying to the right, and I don’t mind telling you this is a little nerve racking.”

“I’m with you, but this is the only way to some of the villages.” Steve knew John would have a hard time at first. “Just remember to stay to the right. That way if you find you may have mistakenly flown the wrong passage, you will have ample room on the left side for maneuvering.”

“Well, I can tell you that this barely leaves enough to turn. I’d hate to have to make a hasty U-turn or other emergency procedures,” said John.

There was only a mile of flying space between mountain–plenty of room for turning a car around, but an airplane is another story. The perception of speed was great as they passed within twenty-five feet of the mountain to the right. The trees and tree top houses were a blur along the mountain side.

“About the U-turn you mentioned earlier,” Steve shouted. “About 18 years ago one of our own was flying a missionary family through a similar passage. They were headed south to do a revival near Agats. He was heading out of the Maoke Mountains, when he realized nothing looked familiar. He rationalized that he must have gone down the wrong valley.”

“How come he didn’t climb out and get his bearings?” asked John.

“Because of similar weather conditions. The pilot opted to continue the route. Visibility was horrible when suddenly a large object loomed before the plane. Instinctively, the pilot initiated a climbing turn hoping to fly back,” said Steve.

“I guess since he was on one side of the valley, he made it okay,” John guessed.

“No, he wasn’t. At that time, pilots were flying down the center to avoid being too close to a mountain; however, the rules have since changed. Anyway, what I am about to say to you must stay between us. It was given to me in good faith, but I feel you should know. Deal?”

“It won’t leave this plane,” John pledged.

“The pilot attempted the turn and almost made it, but the right wing clipped the trees, dragging the plane to the ground. There was only one survivor, and he was found a few days later still at the site. The pilot and Mr. and Ms. Heatherly died. Their son, Jason was the only survivor.”

The Emergency Landing

“Remember that airstrip I was telling you about?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, the abandoned one?”

“I don’t think it’s all that desperate, but help me look. The visibility is too bad and I’m afraid we’re going to have to set her down. I’d rather take my chances with an enemy I can see, than a mountain I can’t,” said Steve.

“You’re the boss,” John said, nervously searching for anything resembling a runway.

“Maybe the rain will cover our landing.” Steve put in a call to Tiom. But he realized they were too low to be picked up. He’d given up trying to reach them when the radio suddenly came to life.

“N7724V, this is Tarampura, over,” Marta Springer said.

“We have a problem. Can you relay to Tiom and tell Jason that we have to set down because of the weather. Our present location is over the abandoned airfield at Wampe. We’re going to try hold out until the rain lets up, over.”

“Steve, be careful ...I can’t handle another tragedy, over.”

“Don’t worry, Tarampua. I’ve got that new pilot with me, and we’ll be very careful. You might say a prayer for us anyway; it’s awful messy up here, over,” Steve said.

“Please be careful and promise to let me know when you get home safely, over.”

“Will do, out.” That was enough chatting. Steve had a plane to fly.

***

“Tiom, this is Tarampura, do you read me?” C’mon, Jason, pick up! Pick up! Images of an overgrown runway, hostile tribes, and deteriorating weather conditions horrified Marta. Her chest tightened involuntarily, making her call difficult.

“Last calling station. This is Tiom, over.” It was Rachel.

“This is Tarampura, I have some important news and I have to get through to Jason, over,” said Marta.

The heavy rainfall severely weakened the signal, frustrating Marta. She caught a few words between surges of static.

“Is that you, Marta? What’s the matter? Over,” Rachel asked.

“Steve is being forced to land because of the weather, over” Marta said, trying to stay in control. She knew it would be too much for Rachel.

“What is their current location? Over,” asked Rachel.

“Listen, everything is going to be okay.” Rachel’s trying to keep the transmission short. She’s having trouble hearing too. “They are going to land in Wampe.”

***

“Was that the same woman whose husband was killed?” John asked over the pounding rain.

“One and the same, a very brave and dependable woman.”

“Well, let’s hope God answers her prayers.” John rolled his eyes in defeat while considering Marta’s track record.

Eventually, John spotted the field from the passenger side window. They would have to set up the landing with Steve viewing the field from his side window. The rain was pounding the windshield too strongly, and seeing anything through it was about as effective as looking through frosted glass.

Steve performed a shallow left-hand traffic pattern as he slowly descended and flew the length of the strip. Seeing no obstacles, he circled and approached from the same direction.

He then bled off speed, let out ten degrees of flaps, and turned left before letting out another ten degrees. He forced the nose over to keep up the present air speed and observed the field. Pulling the throttle back, he dumped full flaps just before flaring out. The RPMs were low enough to prevent anyone from hearing the engine. An eerie whistle of air rushing past the wings accompanied them through the remainder of the flight.

“Okay, you’ve got it, steady...” John encouraged while wiping off condensation from the window.

***

“Great landing,” John said. He leaned back and sighed.

“After I shut her down, we should push her into the undergrowth and try to camouflage her. Our only hope is that nobody saw us, and that Marta got our message out,” Steve said.

“What are the odds of that?” asked John.

“I’m not a gambling person. I put my trust in Marta getting the word out, and God taking care of the rest. In the meantime, we need to hide.”

The rain continued to pound down around them. The poor visibility that forced them down was now their hope of obscurity.

“We really need to go deeper into the growth and away from the plane, just in case somebody unfriendly saw us,” said Steve.

“I agree. The farther we get from the plane the better.” John looked to the south, noticing blue sky. “It looks as if it may clear.”

Steve could only smile. It was very doubtful the rain would let up soon. Fog and clouds spun around the mountains like cotton candy.

Grabbing a few ponchos, water, and snacks from the compartment, Steve and John wove their way into the forest. The canopy was thick enough to stop much of the rain, and forest sounds reminded them they were not alone. The sounds also told them there was life out there more capable of survival.

They stopped far enough away to see the plane, yet remain concealed. Steve started to move vines out of the way, but John grabbed his arm.

“Leave everything as is. You’ll be surprised at how natives would notice anything out of place.”

Both men were drenched, having put their ponchos on too late. They stood for a long time in silence. Wind whistled softly through the undergrowth and water plummeted in large drops from overhead. Somewhere to the west they could hear birds singing, and to the north small animals hopped around in the growth.

“It’s always a good idea to listen and get comfortable with the sounds of the environment. That way, if we hear anything strange we can recognize it immediately,” John said.

“Smart idea, no doubt from experience. I can’t help feeling that we may have company before this is over,” Steve predicted.

They removed the camouflage ponchos and made a lean-to. Green and brown cover concealed their whereabouts, giving them a sense of confidence and courage. Speaking in whispers, they watched as the dismal evening turned into dark night. Each noted how the night was darker than what they were used to in America. There was no glow of electric lights, and in their shelter, they could barely see each other.

Sounds of the night told the story of business as usual. Nocturnal scavengers, hunters, and prey kept the darkness alive, unaware of their visitors’ fear and discouragement. The rain had let up, but they were still drenched, and with the night, cold.

Red Bike Publishing Books