Then, voices. “That’s it, right over there.” I lay still in the hammock willing my brain to kick into gear. It came back to me slowly. I had been pushed scores of miles off course by storms and forced to overnight at this little airport off my route. I looked at my phone, 9:30 pm. I had been asleep for an hour already. Peering out of my hammock I was blinded by headlights. Judging by the shape, they belonged to the brand-new blacked out Land Cruiser I had seen earlier that day. The voices came closer, a group of them. “Amigo,” someone called in a low voice. A fresh wave of tension swept over me. Why were they back? This was not a curiosity visit. I had been warned that there was a lot of suspicious traffic in this remote town and no normal folks drove brand new Land Cruisers. These guys seemed to run the airport since it was mysteriously shut down a month ago. A man sidled up to my hammock. “My friend wants to talk with you… can you get up?”
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