Hell of a Way to Make a Buck

Action and adventure in the deep jungle

The blades from the Huey whipped up dust from the dry path as she flew overhead. Tossing the hair around the heads that sat atop meter tall posts that lined the way into the ceremonial square and the crumbled—and, apparently, still in use—temple beyond.

I flipped the girl over my shoulder and yelled, “GET TO THE CHOPPER!” in my best Arnold Schwarzenegger. 90 lbs of lifeless of dead weight. Not fun for the run. But what the hell? She was the reason I was here. The reason I now had a bunch of very pissed off cultists, all clad in a odd mix of robes and automatic weapons, pursuing us.

Fifty yards from where I stood, my ride back to the real world hovered. I knew the pilot was ready to run as soon as things got too dicey for him. Thankfully, I had the forethought to put Steve in the gunners well, manning the 30mm mini-gun that we had just for that possibility of hairness. When he saw our evil little people grinder being installed for this little incursion into the back jungles, I knew he was thinking that maybe, just maybe, money wasn’t everything. But he had debts. Just like us all. But now that he was in the thick of it, with deadly lead flying all around, that it might be time to leave before we all boarded. Hence, Steve, not only there to man the gun was also our insurance policy. And while not a pilot in any sense of the word, was versed enough in the flight operations of the old Vietnam era bird if it came down to him canceling our pilot’s contract.

The whine of the mini-gun was a good sign that things were still going somewhat to plan as it unleashed a hellish carpet of death and destruction in the primary direction of our new friends as they exited the strange-looking temple they called home. Chewing the first group into pieces who never saw it coming. Unfortunately, the rest weren’t as dumb as they saw the ground meat that were their compatriots, and realized what was coming. Grabbing cover wherever they could.

I, however, wasn’t going to wait around to see what they planned next. What I saw was enough to know that I didn’t have to run, shoot and dodge, all while trying to balance the girl at the same time.

The rest of my team had a head start and was already hitting the Huey’s deck, with two guys going all the way through to the other side. Shooting wildly out that door into the jungle to keep the heads down of anyone trying to flank our LZ.

I huffed and puffed my way towards them. Steve still doing his thing with the mini as the two others that weren’t occupied stowed their weapons and got ready to pull me and the package inside.

I chuck all 90lbs of girl to their waiting hands and was barley inside when the pilot finally had enough and yanked the control sticks and lifted off. The world around me of trees and foliage melted into one big blurred mass of green as I hung onto the landing strut. Strong hands yank me the rest of the way inside.

“Fuck me,” I said to no one in particular. As I laid on the deck. Catching my breath. Having had enough fun for one day. “Hell of a way to make a buck.”

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