Station Breaker

39 Border Patrol

Seriously? My moment of freedom is ruined before I even get one lungful of fresh desert air. In the distance, kicking up a dusty tornado as it races along the furrow I dug in the ground, is a sand-colored Humvee.

It’s coming at me from the Mexican side of the border and the whoop-whoop sound of its siren is vaguely different than a US civilian or military one. I mean, it’s not blaring La Cucaracha, but I’m petty sure this is Mexican military or border police.

Did they see me attempt to land and come to help? Or were they warned I’m coming? The former means I might have a chance to slip away. The latter means I’ll be slapped into handcuffs the moment they get inside.

The truck comes to a halt by the tail of the plane and starts to slowly drive around the wing towards the front.

I spot four men with rifles. Okay, not exactly a rescue team.

Since I lost the front landing gear, the forward hatch is just a few feet above ground. All they have to do is back their Humvee up to the plane and they’ll be able to open the door and get to me.

I pull my head in and slam the window shut. I’ve only got seconds before they figure out how to work the door from the outside.

The mere fact that they’re not waiting for backup is all the evidence I need that their intentions don’t have my own best interests in mind.

I’ve heard that some of these regions are controlled by the military who often have some shady dealings with the cartels. I guess it’s possible the Russians may have made them an offer. Also just as likely, these four bozos want to be the first to arrest the fugitive American astronaut.

Only seconds to go, David. Think of something…

There are several other doors I can escape from, but that won’t matter if they shoot me. I need to slow them down so I can get away.

With what? Throw honey-roasted almonds in their faces?

I can hear their voices from outside. They’re backing their truck up to the door.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK It’s not a patient sound.

I think about how I planned to leave the plane if I’d been able to land in some place a little more sane. What are all the things they tell you to never ever do?

Well, I could…

Oh, this is stupid.

Just do it, David.

I pop open the overhead luggage compartment door in the first class section and pull myself inside then try to keep it as close to looking shut as possible.

This is idiocy, David.

When it doesn’t work and they start laughing at you, maybe you can try to escape then…

THUNK…goes the door.

SSSSSSS…the almost properly pressurized cabin hisses.

BANG! The door hits the exterior of the plane as they slide it open.

STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP They all pile inside. First they run to the cockpit and find it empty — well, empty except for Cap’n Crunch.

There’s a bunch of chatter in Spanish. I can barely make out any of it.

CREAK They shout and yank open the forward bathroom doors.

STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP

Four pairs of boots run past me. As soon as they’re in the middle of the plane I swing my door open and drop down into the aisle.

The man in the back, closest to me, stops and turns around.

“Mira!” he shouts.

All the others spin around and point their rifles at my head.

My right hand is in the air and my left is still on the ledge of the overhead compartment.

They start walking towards me.

Wait for it…

3…

2…

1…

I pull the cord attached to the rolled up bundle in the compartment.

And…nothing.

They give me a confused look. I shrug.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSBOOM!

The emergency exit slide belatedly inflates and shoots down the aisle, knocking the men down, then pinning them to the ground as it keeps filling with compressed air.

That will hold them until they try slicing it with a knife. I’ve got maybe a thirty second head start.

That’s thirty seconds to figure out how to disable their Humvee and make a run for it before the helicopters show up.

I jump through the door and land on top of their vehicle then leap onto the hood before hitting the ground.

The driver left his door open. I peer inside for some way to disable their ride.

Trying to pop those tires is impossible. I could mess with the engine…

I look under the dashboard for a release, then remember that you get access through two latches on the hood.

There’s a lot of screaming from inside the plane. Sooner than later one of them is going to crawl out and try another exit and come shoot me.

I’m about to raise the hood when something occurs to me…

They left the keys in the ignition. In fact, this thing is still running.

You would think with as much recent experience as I’ve had stealing things lately, I’d be really keen to notice little details like that.

I blame the jet lag.

I run around the Humvee and climb inside, slam the door, pop the shifter out of park and send up a cloud of dirt as I press the accelerator into the floor.

POP! POP! POP!

And they’re shooting at me.

Wonderful, David.

You’ve been in Mexico all of two minutes and you’ve already got the Mexican army after you.

Wait, I crashed through the border fence… this is US territory.

The Mexicans invaded to get you. Well, that’s some kind of achievement.

POP! POP! Crack! They just put a bullet hole in the passenger mirror.

I keep my head low and my foot on the gas as I bounce over the desert, north, hopefully towards a highway and something resembling civilization where I can hide before all hell breaks loose around here.