The airship lifted and swayed as the ropes holding her down released with a great snap. The sun was burning orange and would continue to do so now that it was nearing nightfall in Africa and in the distance giraffes were poking their heads just over the branches of a group of acacia trees to get a better view of their new visitor. The sun gleamed gently on their long necks. The airship continued to ascend quietly making several large loops around the airport before finally disappearing from view behind the tattered control building. The air field was now completely quiet as if the heat was muffling sound, exhausting it before it could be heard. Vincent wiped his head, looked around, and then walked to a tree and sat down in the dull orange dirt. He was now only fifty feet away from the airport, but could see all of it. There was a small building. The tin rusty roof with some panels curling exposed rafters. The light grey plaster spread over the walls were starting to come off and the place had a door way but no door still hung there. The small runway behind this beaten building looked nothing like other airport runways. It was nothing but dirt and the infrequency of planes landing there allowed small weeds to creep up. Pulling the large bag off his back he opened it and started looking inside for the first aid kit lying neatly inside. Finding it he pulled it out and began stitching up his eyebrow with the needle and mirror he had used so many times before. He finished quickly and before putting it all away took a quick look at his general appearance. It had taken two weeks to make it this far in the slow traveling airship and his light brown beard reflected the length of the trip. Staring back over his shoulder his shocking blue eyes spotted something moving quickly behind him. Vincent quickly laid flat on the ground. From this vantage point he could only see the dust cloud coming from the speeding automobile in the distance. He had to get out of view, he had to hide or all would be lost. Jumping up and hunched over he made his way to a small patch of thorny brush over fifty feet away. Forcing himself inside he made it just in time to be out of view. The small dust storm that was previously chasing the light brown range rover now engulfed its prey as the wheels came slamming to a halt. Before the dust had cleared a tall man walked out of the car. His dark face was a mixture of panic and anger. Looking left and right and finding nothing went back to the car pulled out a rifle and binoculars. His young face spoke greatly of inexperience and while he seemed confident with the gun he was still quite young. Looking to the sky now with the binoculars he was searching for what he had seen just twenty five minutes and fifteen seconds ago from out in the wilderness to the north. The large blimp was easy to see when low to the ground but staring at the sky was making it difficult as dusk was beginning to approach; Even now the small building was beginning to stretch taller and taller on the ground. “Damn Poachers” he muttered under his breath. Walking back to the Range Rover he placed the rifle and binoculars back into the truck and then seemed to do a regulatory inspection of the airport to see if anything was missing. Looking inside the small building he saw the old headset and radio equipment was still there with the notes he had taken earlier that afternoon. He picked it up again and read the message, “Suspicious airship in area, watch for poachers, lethal force permitted.” Walking out of the building he made his way to the Range Rover, got in and drove over to the small building and began to unload wooden boxes. Vincent had been watching intently and saw that some of the boxes said “Maize” and “Beans.” Supplies he thought to himself. The young African finished unloading and walked into the small building, trying to avoid boxes, and pulled a piece of twine dropping a mosquito net that fell to the ground covering the door. Lighting a match he lit his lamp and picked up the headset and putting them on he flicked the on-switch on the radio equipment. The radio crackled and he made the first attempt to call headquarters. Outside Vincent stood up and began to walk closer to the home. In the now dark of dusk stars were beginning to pop against their dark curtain. Every step needed to be placed perfectly as to make no noise. He was now only a few feet away from the wall that still radiated the heat of the day. He wanted the Rover and knew that force may be necessary. It was his only hope to catch up to the now distant airship and maybe just maybe beat it to its destination. There was only one man that was stopping him. Vincent smiled; “Easy enough” he thought to himself, he had done it several times before.
Chapter 2
The ocean breeze tossed the curtains in the far corner of this lofty apartment in Greece, the distant smell and sounds of the ocean gently washed through the window. Lifting himself off the ground was a dirty hairy man. He bore a perplex look on his face and the bottle in his hand was empty but it had done its job well enough. He was staring at the bottle hoping for another drop to quench his mind more than his thirst; he threw the bottle to his lips again. There was nothing but the smell of rum. Staggering he made his way to the rough shaped window. The whole apartment was dirty and dark and newspapers differing in age were strewn all around. On the table lay the day’s newspaper with the hairy man’s face staring back at him. Sitting on the small bench he could see the sun now marching its way westward, every minute it seemed to mock him, scorn him. His old weather face went from hatred to instant terror and losing his grip he dropped the fragile old bottle which broke on the old floorboards. Below was a young man dress well and clearly not from the area walking toward the house. He looked…American. The echoes of the breaking glass made the stranger look up. In a strange moment they both stood fixed staring at each other, each unable to move. Then, as though a gun was fired, each burst into motion. The hairy man ran for the back door that would lead up through the winding town and into a maze of streets, He would be safer there. The stranger swept, not to the front door, but up the alley along the side of the large whitewashed building. Pulling out his gun and cocking it as he moved, he raced up the steep embankment the house stood on, pushing away a beggar. Reaching the end of the alley and building he put his head against the building, listening. There were heavy footsteps, like someone running toward the opposite side of the house. Whipping around the corner and down the back side of the house, the stranger placed his ear to the building again. “Ahh, the back door”, he thought to himself. Un-cocking his gun and placing it back in its place near his right hip. He then listened again to the wall. Noises of struggling echoed through the concrete wall. Looking up at the building and lighting a cigarette he thought,”It will be over soon” and exhaled.
Upstairs the hairy man lay gasping for breath reaching for something, anything to get out of the strong hands now holding his throat. He saw a bottle but his eyes were swimming. Reaching out he tipped it over and it rolled slowly toward him. The hairy man would have one chance, but with a loud cracking noise it all went dark.
Vincent crawled out from underneath the hairy man whose neck was now broken. He then began looking through the garbage of the apartment. The door behind him began to open, spinning around he saw the well dressed American. “Leo!” Vincent said gasping. “I almost killed you just now.”
Leo just smiled.
As these thoughts stirred in Vincent’s mind he was now close enough to the door of the shack to touch the mosquito net. The African was babbling in a foreign language into the radio and writing intensely and quickly. “Where are the keys?” Vincent thought. Scanning the table he couldn’t see anything. Walking backward slowly he then moved toward the Rover. Peering inside he saw a set of keys gleaming in the moonlight hanging from the steering column. Opening the door he quickly turned off the dome light, started the car, and flicked on the headlights to bright.
The cars taillights gleaming bright and the smell of exhaust made the young African throw his headset down. He saw the brake lights go on and the heard the door slam shut. He grabbed his pistol and ran out the door, around the front of the truck, and to the driver side. With his pistol aimed right at the driver side door and his eyes burning from the glare of the headlights he started yelling in African. “Get out!” he was saying. “You can’t get away now, GET OUT!”
“I already am!” a chilling voice behind him said.
Chapter Three
The young African felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle and goose bumps rush down his the right side of his body. The gun he was holding dropped toward the ground as his hands lost their strength. He could feel the warmth of the man standing behind him and as if paralyzed, he watched a white arm begin wrapping around his armpit. It reached around and grabbed the back of his neck and with a surprisingly strong motion a knee crashed into his stomach. The gun fell completely from his hands as quickly as the air left his lungs. He was then thrown backward to stare at the night sky. Unable to draw breath he lay there in the dull dirt awaiting death. “So this is how I will go”, he thought to himself.
Vincent reached down and retrieved the gun un-cocked it and placed it in the Range Rover. Turning around he saw his victim writhing on the ground. He was starting to breath slightly, but before he could get more than four breaths he turned over and passed out. Vincent smiled, “At least he didn’t vomit” he muttered. “They always vomit.” Going to his backpack he rummaged through it and found some zip ties. Vincent threw the body into back of the Rover and after loading some supplies and fuel headed south.
The flash of thunder illuminated the pilot’s steady eyes. He wasn’t happy about the situation but they had traveled quite far and with the oncoming storm he would have to make a decision. He pressed a small red button. “Captain there is a thunderstorm approaching. We will need to either land or head higher to anchor out the storm.” “Do what is best”, a smooth calm voice said. The pilot once again pressed the small red button and began flicking switches and pressing buttons. A familiar hum ground to life in the back of the ship. The ship pulled upward and lurched to the right as an updraft struck the left side. The ship shook violently. The speakers popped to life, “Please be careful Jake, precious cargo you know.” the smooth calm voice said. The speakers popped again. Jake rolled his eyes and said under his breath, “Let’s see you try to keep this kite straight.” Reaching the tops of the clouds the airship smoothed off. The humming slowed to a slight purr and the airship was gently making its way south again. The stars shone drastically against the dark sky. There was no moon and Jake remembered why he loved to fly at night. He turned the ship to autopilot and checked all the gauges. He then turned his attention to the now quickly passing storm. He could see beyond it now. The earth looked dead, lifeless from up here. The sky was an amazing tapestry while the earth was only speckled with twinkling lights. “Humanities failed attempt to copy God’s” he said under his breath. Mulling over these thoughts Jake fought through the night to keep his attention on the gauges in front of him and the heavy eyelids that were caressed by the soft dull glow of the cockpit.
Far below on a road two hours back the compass on the dash of the Rover was wobbling violently up and down. Twice Vincent had missed the correct fork in the road. He felt lucky though for no wildlife had interrupted his journey and he hoped that it would stay that way. Frustration none the less was furling the brow of his head. The cut above his eye was aching and the thoughts of the past days were filling his mind:
“Hello Vincent!” Jake said, I guess we are off to an early start.” He was sipping down a mug of his special imported coffee. The light brown leather bomber jacket made him look much thinner then he really was. “Nice jacket” Vincent said. “This old thing...” Jake began, but Vincent was already smiling. “You always say that,” he thought. Jake was now rambling on about the weather from London to the far reaches of South Africa, but Vincent was looking up to the sky. A bright violet hung on the edge of the horizon and it was a rare day to see the sun coming up in England. Vincent gave Jake a polite “oh I see” to keep him going with his ramblings. The airstrip was empty except for the small crew who were moving supplies onto the airship and Vincent hadn’t given them much attention but rather his focus was on the airship that hung in the air. It was thin, sleek and it looked like on giant wing. It was an impressive sight. The airship was necessary, cheaper and safer then leaving the machine that now hid inside its cargo hold with any airline. “They would kill for it,” Vincent mumbled. Jake's voice blurred back into Vincent’s attention and he was now complaining about his mother, who was very Catholic, and how he was glad to get away. Vincent was glad Jake hadn’t heard him, smiled again. He reached out took the coffee cup from Jake and took a deep gulp and handed it back to him. Jake looked a bit appalled at the cup and tossed the rest of the contents out onto the airstrip tarmac when Vincent had looked the other way. Vincent was staring at the group of black government vehicles now coming toward them on the airstrip. The cars roared up on the small party and almost before the car stopped Leo burst out of the passenger door with a large bag, he quickly threw it at a crew hand and walked toward the ship at almost a jog. Vincent and Jake had to spin on their heels just to keep from being passed. “Where have you been Leo?” Vincent asked. “I had to clear up a few problems with getting air space cleared and you know how the Brits love American diplomacy, Bloody Brits I always say.” Leo said quickly, he wasn’t smiling. Jake started to make noise of complaint, but stopped himself short. Leo turned and gave him a sharp, questioning look. “Who is this?” Leo spurted out, “Why is he dressed like a pilot?” “This is our pilot,” Vincent shot back, “Best pilot I could find after ours couldn’t make it and he came all the way from Manchester yesterday.” Leo stopped walking all together and abruptly turned to Jake. “I am so sorry, he said, “I was simply frustrated at the bureaucracy I had to face in the English courts, a man of action is how I am.” Jake was surprised at this abrupt stop but kindly smiled and said, “That’s alright I don’t care much for the Brits much myself either.” Then they all started walking again, Vincent was surprised at how Leo apologized and how quickly he went from upset to debonair and calm. He was not always so considerate of others feelings, he was playing at something and Vincent couldn’t help but give Leo a questioning look as they walked toward the aircraft…
A flash of lightning broke Vincent’s analysis of the past days, the storm was rolling in fast and the smell of the storm forced its way into the cabin of the car. Another flash of lightning filled the car with light and for an instant two brown eyes peered over the back seat of the land rover at Vincent.
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