Ben chuckled. “I like your confidence.” He held up a finger. “Watch and learn — so, got any rope left?”
“Sure, but only about 80 feet,” Emma said and folded her arms, looking quizzical. “But it’s our last length.”
“Hopefully we won’t need it anymore,” Ben said. “So, when you were a kid, did you ever own one of those glider slingshots?”
Emma half smiled but shook her head slowly. “Nope.”
“Hmm, deprived childhood, huh?” Ben turned back to the plane, now that he had everyone watching him. He walked around it, and then to the rear, crouching and placing a hand on the tail for a moment, satisfying himself.
“Normal gliders have a hook underneath them, usually at the front, and you attach a lead cable to them so an engine-driven plane can lift them up into the thermals. A toy glider also has one at the front, to attach the elastic from the slingshot.”
Ben then made a V-shape with the fingers of one hand and pretended to pull back on an imaginary elastic between them.
“Then when you let it go, the plane shot forward.” He dusted off his hands. “So, we have our glider, we have our rope to act as catapult, and all we need is the slinging force, and…” He turned about. “There.” He pointed to a small boulder. “We push that rock until it’s right on the very edge. Tie the rope to it, and the other end we hook around the Corsair’s tail, but loose enough so it releases by itself.”
Ben walked forward, staring out over the plateau rim. “The rock goes over, pulls the rope, which tugs on the plane, launching it over the edge, and then we are airborne.”
Walt clapped once and laughed out loud. “I love it — then the rope on release will tug on the tail, also bringing the nose up. This crazy idea could goddamn work.”
“And if the rope doesn’t release when it’s supposed to?” Emma looked unconvinced.
“Then the gliding may be a little bit shitty.” Ben grinned. “And a lot quicker to the ground.” He pointed. “Step one, and last job for the night. Let’s get that rock a little closer to the front of the plane.
It only took Ben, Walt, and Bellakov 15 minutes to muscle the small boulder to the cliff edge and front of the Corsair, and then carefully slide it forward. Ben got down on his belly and inched towards the rim. He peaked over, squinting into the flying grit. It was dark, and he flicked on his flashlight — he could now see that where they perched was basically a jutting lip of stone, and then below them the cliff dropped away until it was well beyond his light.
It could work… it had to work, he prayed.
Ben tied the rope around the small boulder, and then crawled back to reach under the tail and carefully loop it over its underside. He tried the release a few times until he was satisfied.
Ben then stood and wiped his hands on his shorts. “That’s it for now.”
“Good work,” Walt said. “So let me see what I can run down for our dinner.” He checked his rifle.
Ben looked at the hunter and then back at the forbidding dark jungle. “Can’t let you go in by yourself. I’ll go with you.”
“What?” Emma straightened and quickly looked from Ben to the menacing Janus Bellakov.
Bellakov saw the exchange and chuckled. “No, Ben, you need to stay here with your friends. You’re probably a good shot, but I’m a hunter like Koenig. Together, we’ll have more success, and be back here in a flash.”
“Good idea,” Emma said quickly.
“Yep.” Jenny also nodded vigorously.
Ben looked across to Walt, who was stony-faced, but nodded once.
“Done,” Ben said.
Walt Koenig gave him a small salute, and then both men turned on their heel and crossed the lengthy clearing to then head out into the black jungle. Ben watched them for a moment before turning away.
“Can we risk a fire?”
“Probably not,” Jenny said. “But then again, we shouldn’t eat raw meat as we have no idea what sort of internal parasites these things could be carrying.” She grimaced. “Plus, we’re out in the open.” She hiked her shoulders. “I don’t know.”
Ben thought about the pros and cons. They needed their strength, especially for the arduous day he expected for tomorrow, so one way or the other, they were going to eat. He certainly didn’t want to attract anything with the light or smells, but he knew from experience, raw food could be dangerous.
Ben also knew if they became infected, then even if they made it to the ground, they might not survive the trek out of the jungle. He decided.
“We light one, and then let it die down so we can cook in the embers. Keeping the food buried will also reduce the cooking odors. Deal?” He raised his eyebrows.
Jenny bobbed her head. ‘Sure, what’s the worst that could happen?” She smiled, but it didn’t extend to her eyes.
CHAPTER 32
“Think it’ll work?” Walt Koenig whispered over his shoulder.
“Yeah, I do,” Bellakov responded. “I think the plateau will give the Corsair some good updraft. Sure, we’ll come in fast, but provided the landing site isn’t a row of freaking tree trunks, then it should be survivable.”
Walt nodded but had his doubts. They were now about a third of a mile into the thick jungle, and he began to tread more softly.
Walt Koenig crouched and waved Bellakov down. The jungle was near pitch dark, and he relied on peripheral vision. It was an evolutionary thing about the human eye — it had both rods and cones, but it was the rods that were more sensitive to light, and these were gathered in greater number at the corners of the eye. He also relied on sound, smell, and even air density changes. But the biggest advantage he had was his brain.
The pair of men crouched in near silence for a few moments. They heard the drip of water, smelled the chlorophyll and sweet fragrance of blooming night flowers, and heard the tiny scuttling of insects among the leaf detritus. But further out, there was the sound of tentative footfalls.
Walt knew the ideal would be one animal the size of a turkey, or two the size of fat chickens — either would be a good meal for the five of them.
“You’re pretty friendly with Cartwright now, huh?” Bellakov asked, breaking the silence.
Walt half turned. “He’s an okay kinda guy. I guess he knows what he’s doing.”
“Don’t trust him,” Bellakov responded. “Don’t forget whose side you’re on.”
Walt snorted. “There are no sides anymore, dumbass. Barlow is dead. Staying alive is the priority now, and by my reckoning, working with Ben Cartwright will give us a better chance of doing that.”
“Yeah, staying alive is the priority,” Bellakov whispered. “Survival of the fittest.”
Walt noticed Bellakov was now close in behind him and went to turn. The blade entered one side of his neck at the carotid artery level, appearing out the other side in a spray of blood.
Immediately, he felt cold, unable to move, and found himself on the ground. Bellakov ripped the knife free and swung it at the ground a few times, flicking off the thick coating of arterial blood.
“Guess you chose the wrong side, dumbass.” Bellakov reached down to wipe his blade on Walt’s shirt. He straightened, looked around, resheathed his knife, and then vanished into the jungle.
Need to warn Ben, Walt Koenig thought as the cold and the pain went away. He then began to get sleepy. Think I’ll just rest awhile first. He closed his eyes.
Janus Bellakov sprinted from the jungle, head up and waving madly. Ben swung around and then went to one knee lifting his rifle and pointing just past him, waiting for the expected rush of a pursuer.