Future Writer Chapter 4 (11 pages)

Chapter 4

Later that evening, the navigator was still unconscious. A fire was started from dry twigs and branches in hopes that searcher would see it. Although the weather was incredibly hot and humid, the fire made it much more comfortable than fighting off thousands of flying, biting, and stinging insects. The storm, earlier that day, had disappeared just as quickly as it came. Some of the passengers had taken shelter in the mangled fuselage of the aircraft, while others preferred to remain outside in the breeze.

In spite of our unfortunate situation, the rain forest was aesthetically pleasing to the senses. There was so much life, that it was breathtaking. The fragrance of the jungle is like walking into a floral shop. The sounds which the jungle produced were quite another story. Often members of the group were spooked by the sounds of the lurking critters. The lime green aircraft seemed to blend in with the lush tropical surroundings. This would make it difficult for searcher to locate us from the air. One hundred feet above us was the beautifully green jungle canopy. Unfortunately this also made our position difficult for searchers. As nightfall set in, many of the intimidating sounds and insects resided. We decided to set fire watches during the night for both protection, and in the hopes that the fire would not go out when searching aircraft were to fly over. I volunteered to take the midnight watch. Through the night I kept thinking of the situation, and I couldn't help but think that I had something to do with the fate of the group. I wanted to write but at the same time I was apprehensive. Were the events that happened that day related to the writings of Clancy, or was it just coincidental? I decided to at least fill in the details up to that point. When I filled in the part about navigator I felt compelled to have Clancy write her as coming out of her deep sleep.

Clancy wrote:

(Note: Sam has Clancy write Daniel in his own image.) At four o'clock in the morning, the rainforest comes alive with the sounds of thousands of chirping birds. Daniel is exhausted after having spent the whole night keeping the fire going and watching for overflying aircraft. The canopy of the rainforest makes it very difficult to see into the night sky.

The first person awake is the businessman, Marco Agular. He steps out from the fuselage and takes a seat on a fallen tree next to Daniel.

"I thought you might want some company," he tells Daniel.

"Good morning," Daniel responds.

"Here I brought this for you," says Marco as he hands Daniel a cold cup of coffee from the plastic decanter in the aircraft.

"Thank you," Daniel replies, "What gets you up so early?"

"These damned birds. I'm from the city. You don't get birds carrying on like this in the city."

"I don't think we've met. My name is Daniel," Daniel says while extending his hand.

"Marco Agular," Marco responds.

"What brings you here?" Marco asks between sips of his cold coffee.

"Pleasure," says Daniel, "two weeks in Rio arrange by the company I work for."

"And what company is that?"

"Southwest Oil Corporation."

"That's a pretty big outfit. Isn't that based in Corpus Christi?"

"Yes it is. How do you know about it?"

"It's my job to stay on top of what is going on and where."

"What do you do, if you don't mind my asking?"

"I am an accountant for a subsidiary of an American corporation in Caracas.

It is my job to watch the market for rises and falls so that our company will know when and where to invest."

"What about you? What do you do for Southwest Oil?"

"I'm a welder."

"Underwater?"

"Yea."

"I hear that's quite hazardous."

"Only if you let it be."

"What do you mean by that?" Marco asks.

"Take a roofer, all day long a roofer is climbing up and down ladders and walking along edges of a roof top with nothing below him to break his fall but the concrete sidewalk thirty feet below. He knows that if he stays upright he can walk just as easily as a child balance himself on a curb stone. If he ever doubts himself, THAT is when he is likely to fall. I know that I can do the job, and come the day that I ever have doubt, that will be the day that underwater welding will become hazardous."

"I see," Marco says.

Just then the bushes rattle violently as a dog sized animal rushes through the jungle. The two men are startled.

"What was that?" whispers Marco.

"I don't know," answers Daniel, "Stand by the fire just in case."

The bushes rattle in a wayward motion as if the animal is running away from them. Daniel and Marco just quietly watch.

"Woow!" says Marco.

"Whatever it was, I am glad it's gone," whispers Daniel.

As dawn spreads it light across the sky, others in the group walk outside to take in the fresh morning air.

"Some honeymoon huh?" says John Morris to his newly wedded wife Tammy.

"It's okay darling," she replies, "when were old and gray well look back on this as the best part of the whole trip."

"You're probably right my sweets."

Pretty soon the whole group is awake. The pilot feels guilty for getting the group in this situation. He feels that he should have chosen a different route. The newly-weds sympathizes with him by telling him that he could not be responsible for the weather. Fred Clairfield (the man with the tropical shirt) tells him that it was fate that brought them here, while William Johnson, Frank Carlisle, and Millie Smith (the retired group) assure him that it was God's will that caused this to happen. Bob Conners and Ralph Glady (anthropologist on safari) are not buying any of it and claim that we were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Daniel, on the other hand, in not convinced that some other power may have been involved.

"How is the navigator?" Millie Smith asks the pilot.

"She's still out. Her heartbeat and breathing seems fine. It's just a matter of her waking up."

Daniel yawns and stretches.

"You must be tire," Tammy says to Daniel.

"A little," Daniel replies.

"You've had a long night," mentions the pilot. "Why don't you go in and get some rest. We'll take over."

"I think I'll do that." Daniel responds, "If you'll excuse me?"

Daniel gets up and walks into the fuselage. Once inside, he walks past the navigator who is lying back on a chair that has been lowered. Daniel sits in the chair across for her and pulls a blanket to his neck. He lies back in the chair and tips his head so that he can see her.

"What is her story?" Daniel thinks to himself.

"Where could she be from?"

"Could she be the one.... the one to make my life complete.... she could be to me what my grandmother was to my grandfather. She sure is attractive."

Note: In creating a James Bond Girl, Clancy decides to write her as being Russian.

...Daniel begins to close his eyes when he hears movement from within the cabin.

Daniel looks across to see the navigator's short, dark, wavy hair move. Daniel props himself up in the in the chair. The navigator's hand moves to her head and she moans. Daniel jumps out of his seat to see if she is okay. Slowly she opens her eyes and begins to focus.

"Where am I?" she mutters.

"We were in a plane crash," Daniel answers. "How do you feel?"

"I have a headache," she tells him as she stretches.

"Where are the others?"

"They are outside," Daniel tells her, "Can I get you anything?"

"Some water maybe?"

Daniel pulls out a bottle of water from the refrigerator and brings it to her.

"Who are you?" she asks.

"I am one of the passengers. My name is Daniel," he tells her.

"I am pleased to meet you. I'm Alexia."

Alexia drinks the water which Daniel has brought her.

"You have a slight accent. Where are you from?"

I am from small country that is pretty much driven by Russian culture. For me, Russian is my native language. That's what I am, Russian."

I was getting too tired to have Clancy write anymore, so I got up and started walking around the fire. The sky was still dark but the forest was coming alive. At four o'clock in the morning, the sounds of thousands of chirping birds made it difficult to even think. I was very tired after having spent the whole night keeping watch. The canopy of the rain forest made it very difficult to see into the night sky. The first person awake was the business man, Marco Agular. He stepped out from the fuselage and took a seat on a fallen tree next to me.

"I thought you might want some company," he told me.

"Good morning," I responded.

"Here, I brought this for you," said Marco as he handed me a cold cup of coffee from the plastic decanter in the aircraft.

"Thank you," I replied, "What gets you up so early?"

"These damned birds. I'm from the city. You don't get birds carrying on like this in the city."

"I don't think we've met. My name is Sampson, but everyone calls me Sam," I told him while extending my hand.

"Marco Agular," Marco responded.

"What brings you here?" Marco asked between sips of his cold coffee.

"Pleasure," I said, "two weeks in Rio arrange by the company I work for."

"And what company is that?"

"South Texas Oil Corporation."

"That's a pretty big outfit. Isn't that based in Corpus Christi?"

"Yes it is. How do you know about it?"

"It's my job to stay on top of what is going on and where."

"What do you do, if you don't mind my asking?"

"I am an accountant for a subsidiary of an American corporation in Caracas. It is my job to watch the market for rises and falls so that our company will know when and where to invest."

"What about you? What do you do for South Texas Oil?"

"I'm a welder."

"Underwater?"

"Yea."

"I hear that is quite hazardous."

"Only if you let it be."

"What do you mean by that?" Marco asked.

"Take a roofer, all day long a roofer is climbing up and down ladders and walking along edges of a roof top with nothing below him to break his fall but the concrete sidewalk thirty feet down. He knows that if he stays upright he can walk just as easily as a child balances himself on a curb stone. If he ever doubts himself, THAT is when he is likely to fall. I know that I can do the job, and come the day that I ever have doubt, that will be the day that underwater welding will become hazardous."

"I see you point," Marco said.

Just then the bushes rattled violently as a dog sized animal rushed through the jungle. We were more startled than anything.

"What was that?" whispered Marco.

"I don't know," I answered, "Stand by the fire just in case."

The bushes rattled in a wayward motion as if the animal was running away from us. Marco and I just quietly watched.

"Woow!" said Marco.

"Whatever it is, I'm glad it's gone," I whispered.

As dawn spread it light across the sky, others in the group walked outside to take in the fresh morning air.

"Some honeymoon huh?" said John Morris to his newly wedded wife Tammy.

"It's okay darling," She replied, "when were old and gray well look back on this as the best part of the whole trip."

"You're probably right my sweets."

Pretty soon the whole group was awake. The pilot felt guilty for getting the group into this situation. He felt that he should have chosen a different route. The newly-weds sympathized with him by telling him that he could not be responsible for the weather. Fred Clairfield (the man with the tropical shirt) told him that it was fate that brought us here, while William Johnson, Frank Carlisle, and Millie Smith (the retired group) assured him that was God's will that caused this to happen. Bob Conners and Ralph Glady (anthropologist on safari) were not buying any of it and claimed that we were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Myself, on the other hand, was not convinced that some other power may have been involved.

"How is the navigator? Millie Smith asked the pilot.

"She's still out. Her heartbeat and breathing seems fine. It's just a matter of her waking up."

I yawned and stretched.

"You must be tire," Tammy said to me.

"A little," I replied.

"You've had a long night," mentioned the pilot. "Why don't you go in and get some rest. We'll take over."

"I think I'll do that." I responded, "If you'll excuse me?"

I got up and walked into the fuselage. Once inside, I walked past the navigator who was lying back on the chair that had been lowered. I sat in the chair across for her and pulled a blanket to my neck. I laid back in the chair and tipped my head so that I could see her.

"What is her story?" I asked myself just as Daniel did.

"Where could she be from?"

I thought, "Could she be the one.... the one to make my life complete.... She could be to me what my grandmother was to my grandfather. She sure is attractive."

So far this morning has been close to the writings of Clancy. I still could not believe what was going on. I began to close my eyes when I heard movement from within the cabin.

I looked across to see the navigator's short, dark, wavy hair move. I propped myself up in the in the chair. The navigator's hand moved to her head and she moaned. I jumped out of my seat to see if she was okay. Slowly she opened her eyes and began to focus.

"Where am I?" she muttered.

"We were in a plane crash," I answered. "How do you feel?"

"I have a headache," she told me as she stretched.

"Where are the others?"

"They are outside," I told her, "Can I get you anything."

"Some water maybe?"

I pulled out a bottle of water from the refrigerator and brought it to her.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"I am one of the passengers. My name is Sampson but most people call me Sam," I told her.

"I am pleased to meet you. I'm Alexia."

"Wow!" I thought to myself, "Clancy hit this nail right on the head."

Alexia drank the water which I had brought her.

"You have a slight accent. Where are you from?" I asked her. "Wait. May I take a guess?"

"Have you ever been to... yea, go ahead and guess."

"Okay, let's see. I usually make a fool of myself when I do these kind of things. Taking your facial features, your hair, your skin tone and things like that,  mmmm... You look like a mixture of blood between Asian, and Arabic.

"Ha!" she spirts.

"... which would put you somewhere north of Afghanistan."

"Ha, ha!" she laughs a little more.

"... but your clothing style, though is western, I mean your hairstyle, your posture, everything is more western, and that would move you towards Europe..."

"You were," she interrupts, "pretty close with Afghanistan because um... actually I'm from... It's a kind of Asian country, Central Asia. You were right ah.. but um.. yea, I'm not that much into Asian culture, yea, I'm more influenced western, you know? It has always been in my family. Originally I am fro... My family is from ##istan...."

"What was that?" I asked her.

"Have you heard Tajikistan? ah.. It's rather bad place right now.  There's a war going on, but people there, ethnic is pretty close to Afghan people so... Iran people... and like Prussian people and so originally I'm from there... It is small country that is pretty much driven by Russian culture. For me, Russian is my native language. That's what I am, Russian."

I could not believe my ears.

Could I be writing my own future?