I just couldn't help myself, so I decided to post a new story! But I will never give up on my other strories!
Neal had been planning on going to Burma when Mozzie told him about where Kate was during 'Forging Bonds' and he mentions it during 'What Happens In Burma', the tile of which inspired the name of this story. In this story, it explores what could have happened if they did end up going.
If anyone asked, I'd tell them, straight up, that it was Neal's fault that we had gotten lost in some rainy jungle in the middle of Myanmar, more widely known as its former name, Burma. It wasn't completely the kids fault, but it was the plane that Neal bought that caused us to crash. Okay, so maybe it was mostly the unforeseen rainstorm that brought down the plane, but I always found it easier to place the blame on someone that I could actually see. And since neither Mother Nature nor the shady man that had sold us the plane were with me in this god-forsaken jungle, Neal was the target of my anger.
"This is your fault," I angrily muttered for probably the fifth time.
"It's not completely my fault and you know it," Neal said in a tired tone, his usual response to my accusation, though each time he answered with less and less heat.
"Yeah, but I'm not about to blame this on my expert flying skills."
"'Cause that would be completely off track," Neal muttered sarcastically.
Even though I had taken Neal under my wing and started teaching him the tools of the trade over three years ago, the kid was still young and naïve. When we first met, the kid didn't even look like he could grow facial hair. Now at the ripe old age of twenty-five while I was looking down the barrel of the big 4-0, Neal still had a lot yet to learn about not talking back to his superiors. That still didn't excuse him from being snotty.
I realize that I've gotten a little ahead of myself. You appassionato's for brilliant and imaginative literature probably want to know how this all happened. I suppose that's what happens when I want to vent my anger. Let's go back a few hours...
At first there had been just a few clouds that didn't look that dark, then all of a sudden they were quite ominous as they loomed overhead, bringing with them their aviation-hated friends high winds and pouring rain. It didn't take much for the situation to go straight down the pooper after that.
Mozzie had thought that he was for sure dead when the plane had lost control - he didn't lose control, it disobeyed his orders not to crash - but they had actually survived the landing somehow. Mozzie knew that movies and TV shows portrayed plane crash victims as surviving just fine so the protagonists could be seen traversing through the harsh elements while a few extras were picked off by this or that when they were stupid enough to stray from the pack, but that usually didn't happen in real life when a small bush plane landed in a dense jungle. In short, they were damn lucky they survived the impromptu landing.
The first thing Mozzie did when the plane stopped moving was run his hands over his body to check for gaping wounds. When he didn't find anything other than a few bumps and bruises, he looked to his passenger and partner in crime, Neal. Even though the rain clouds blocked much of the evening sun, Mozzie was still able to make out Neal's admittedly handsome features from the light coming from through the cracked windshield. The young pup was strapped into the seat to Mozzie's right and by all appearances, unconscious.
"Neal!" Mozzie said, his voice possibly an octave higher than normal.
Neal lifted his head with a pained groan and opened his eyes, blinking a few times to clear his vision. He put a hand to the part of his head that Mozzie couldn't see and to both men's surprise, it came back bloody. "Ow..." he said as he stared at the his bloody hand.
"Neal, are you okay?" Mozzie asked as his eyes darted back and forth from Neal's hand to his face. He was not a fan of the red sticky stuff, especially when it was no longer inside of ones veins.
Neal startled and looked over to Mozzie with a confused expression on his face. "Moz? What happened?" he asked, apparently not able to surmise that they had just been in a plane crash even though it was quite clear. If he had a concussion, Mozzie didn't know what he'd do.
"We were in a plane crash, remember?" Mozzie said slowly and clearly so Neal, in his obviously confused state, understood.
Neal looked out the windshield that had spiderwebbed extensively to see the rainy jungle outside of the aircraft they inhabited. The rest of the plane was surprisingly intact for such a violent, unplanned landing. Again, damn lucky. "Oh, yeah," he said, apparently remembering. It seemed that his confusion had been only temporary, Mozzie noted with palpable relief. Despite his exceptional upper-body strength, he probably wouldn't have been able to carry Neal all the way to safety.
Neal then looked over at Mozzie with a startling amount of concern in his blue eyes. "Are you okay, Moz?"
Mozzie waved off his concerns. "I'm fine, physically," he muttered, then looked over to scrutinize his friends condition. Fortunately he didn't see any gaping wounds on his friend either. "Are you?"
Neal nodded slowly, probably trying to figure out if he actually was okay. "Yeah, I think so... I mean, my head hurts, but otherwise, I'm okay."
Mozzie nodded, then turned back to the matter at hand. The first tentacles of true fear slithered up his spine as he checked the controls of the plane and came to the conclusion that it was dead as the government wanted everyone to believe John F. Kennedy was. He knew that they wouldn't have been able to take off again in a jungle this dense even if the engine was in working condition, but being able to use the radio definitely would have proven useful.
Mozzie tried to breathe deeply and not panic, but this situation seemed like it called for some justified panicking. They were stranded in the middle of a jungle with no contact to the outside world. What the hell were they going to do?!
"Is the radio working?" Neal asked, interrupting Mozzie's imminent panic attack.
"No. We can't call for anyone to come and get us and we can't wait here because no one knows we're out here. We're not even supposed to have been flying at all!" Mozzie said, his voice rising the more he spoke.
"It'll be okay, Mozzie," Neal said in a strangely soothing tone. He then looked back to the cargo area that was mostly devoid of, well, cargo. It was what they had planned on taking out of Myanmar that would have filled the space. Mozzie doubted that they'd have the chance to purloin the rubies now, even if they did make it out of this jungle alive, since their plan had required the now wrecked plane.
Mozzie looked over to Neal when he saw that the younger man was moving. He unbuckled his seatbelt, something that had probably saved them both from doing a header into the windshield, and turned to Mozzie. Mozzie almost cringed it the sight of blood that ran down the right side of Neal's face that seemed to come from a gash that was hidden somewhere in his mop of dark hair. Fortunately Mozzie had been in control of his body's unconscious responses for years now.
"We need to collect everything useful from the plane and start heading for civilization," Neal said, and Mozzie nodded in agreement because that seemed like the most logical thing for them to do, in theory. Which way they'd go, Mozzie did not know.
Mozzie unbuckled his safety harness as well and headed for the emergency kit that the plane had come with while Neal looked through their two small, lightly-packed backpacks. The kit had a useless flare gun, two flashlights - one of which Mozzie tossed to Neal, who, as always, caught it deftly, and used the other to illuminate the bag that he was searching through - a couple of bottles of water, surprisingly, a loaded 9mm Glock and something that might just save them from an unfortunate fate with the indigenous species of the region - a map, one that was sealed in waterproof plastic.
"I got a map!" Mozzie said to Neal in triumph.
Neal looked up from searching their bags. "I thought we already had a map," he said in confusion.
"I have a waterproof map," Mozzie elaborated. The one he had been using to navigate before would no doubt become a useless mess of soggy paper the moment they stepped outside of their temporary shelter. He examined it, but then quickly realized that they had crashed in what was probably the most uninhabited area of all of Myanmar. The closest town was at least a week long walk in this terrain. Maybe they weren't so lucky after all.
Neal came over to where Mozzie was crouched, bringing their bags along with them. "We really don't have much here," he said, looking a little frustrated. "Just the clothes on our backs since this journey was only supposed to have been a few hours long, bride money that's pretty useless in the middle of the jungle, the celebratory bottle of champagne you insisted on bringing, very little food. I'd estimate it'll last us only three days, if we ration it carefully," Neal said, and all Mozzie heard was their chances of survival shriveling up more and more by the second.
"We don't have enough food to wait this storm out. We have to go now while there's still some light," Neal continued as he looked out the side door's small window to the almost monsoon-like rain that was coming down outside.
"Which way would we even go, Neal? East until we reach the Chinese border? If you haven't noticed before, we're in the middle of nowhere!" Mozzie said, totally not freaking out. They were way too far north of Mandalay, Myanmar's second largest city, to attempt to find salvation there and the mine they had planned on liberating from was just about as far.
"Give me the map," Neal requested, his hand stretched out before him, but Mozzie didn't hand it to him.
"There's no nearby town that will suddenly appear when you look at it, Neal!" Mozzie said a little loudly, his hands and the map flailing about. He looked out the window in despair as the severity of the situation hit him full-force. "Oh, God. We're going to die. I'm too young to die, Neal!"
"We're not going to die," Neal said, his voice conveying that he thought Mozzie was being just a little overdramatic.
"You're right, we're going to get kidnapped by a native tribe an-and they'll cook us then feast on our entrails! And you know those long neck ring things freak me out," Mozzie said as he suppressed a shutter at the thought of those metal rings around the tribeswoman's necks. Why they thought they needed their necks to any longer than they already were, Mozzie would never know.
"You know, that option still has us dying," Neal unhelpfully pointed out.
"See, I told you we're going to die," Mozzie responded.
"The tribes of Myanmar aren't even cannibalistic," Neal said with clear exasperation in his voice.
"They may not dine on tourists, but who would miss two lost travelers like us? How else do you think that they have kept their filthy little secret this long? It would look suspicious if the people that visited them suddenly disappeared right around dinner time."
"Okay, I think you've just reached a new level of paranoia," Neal said with a hint of real concern as he shook his head.
"Sometimes paranoia is just having all of the facts," Mozzie quoted with a finger in the air.
Neal had started reaching for the map again, but stopped to look quizzically at Mozzie. "Who said that?" asked the young, naïve man after a moment of thought.
"William S. Burrough. You still need to read more," Mozzie told his young friend.
"I don't read about paranoia. I hear plenty of it from you," Neal retorted, obviously just annoyed at the situation and not at Mozzie. He looked back down at the map. "Can I please just see the map?"
"Fine, but you won't find anything I haven't seen." Mozzie gave his new-found map to Neal. Neal laid it on the non-level floor, flattened it out and shined his flashlight on it.
"Where are we now?" Neal asked Mozzie, who had been the navigator before things had gone south.
Mozzie pointed at the map. "About here. Too far away to try to continue to the mine, or anywhere else for that matter."
Neal studied the map for a moment, then pointed at a spot that looked like the rest of the desolate wilderness that surrounded them. "Our best bet is to go here. It's a small town - just a few people that choose life off the grid. There's a guy there, ex-Air Force, and he has a helicopter. He's not supposed to have it and he doesn't use it, but with the money we have, he'll probably loan it out to us."
"How did you know about that?" Mozzie questioned. Even he didn't know about that and he knew everything about where they were going. Knowing your mark didn't apply to only people, after all.
"I had to do something to keep my mind preoccupied," Neal said a little shyly, and Mozzie resisted the urge to sigh. His young, intelligent mind had been preoccupied with the young damsel by the name of Kate that came between them and their big score a few years ago and he never really got over her when she disappeared. The heartbroken kid had yet to learn how to let go, something Mozzie feared he'd never be able to teach the young, hopeless romantic.
Mozzie squinted at the spot Neal had pointed at. "How far way is that?" Mozzie asked, though he was already running the numbers in his head.
Neal shrugged. "Five days walk. In this weather, maybe more," he guessed, his calculations lining up with Mozzie's.
Mozzie sat back on his haunches. "We don't have enough food for that long of a journey," he said worryingly.
"Yeah, but we can't just sit here and wait for death either," Neal pointed out, his voice grim.
Mozzie sighed, not liking their odds at all. If he were playing poker, he would have folded right around the time their plane fell out of the sky. Much like Kenny Rodgers, he knew when to hold 'em and when to fold 'em. Unfortunately there was no folding in life.
"Okay, we'd better get going if we want to use the remaining light," he said resignedly.
Neal, getting the proverbial green light to start their perilous journey, quickly took everything out of one of their two backpacks and put it in the other one, then did the same with the emergency kit, save for the map since Mozzie had snatched it up from the floor already. He paused when he found the gun. He held it distastefully as he looked at Mozzie, asking the wise man a silent question with a raised eyebrow.
"We should probably bring it, just in case my cannibal theory is proved right," Mozzie said, answering the unasked question.
Neal didn't disagree, putting the gun in with everything else, checking that the safety was on first. He then slung the straps over his shoulders, letting the bag rest on his back. The backpack was small and not too much was in it, so carrying it shouldn't slow Neal down too much. Besides, the kid was young and limber.
Judging by the loud thrumming of the rain hitting the metal roof of the plane, the storm had not let up in the least. Just wonderful.
Mozzie, having donned his standard aviation outfit that consisted of a brown leather coat with an inner layer of warm faux fox fur, thick darker brown pants and classic aviator hat with matching goggles, was bound to fare better in the damp weather and pokey brush than Neal, who did not plan for such conditions either. It was only serendipitous that Mozzie had chosen such weather-worthy apparel.
Unfortunately for Neal, cargo pants of khaki coloring and an off-white short-sleeved button-down shirt that had pockets on either side of the row of buttons were not the desired attire for traipsing through a wet and highly vegetative jungle. Fortunately both men had opted for boots that were optimal for hiking, of which, it appeared, they'd be doing a lot of in the near future.
Being as they were in one of the many mountainous regions of Myanmar and since it happened to be the middle of December, the air was not the usual balmy temperature of most tropical jungles. The fact that it was quickly turning night and pouring out was not helpful either. Neal was going to end up being colder, more scratched up and much wetter than Mozzie. And while the older man sympathized for him, there was nothing he could do to help his friend at the moment.
Once the pair left the relative safety of the small aircraft, they were soaked in seconds by the pouring rain, though Mozzie's jacket saved him from getting completely drenched, unlike Neal, who had no such protection.
Mozzie squinted as he looked around, wondering how many eyes were on them at the moment. Poisonous snakes, giant, man-eating jungle cats that were out there just waiting for their next meal to wander past them and crazy, long-necked cannibalistic jungle dwellers were just a few things that could leap out and kill them in seconds in the depths of this jungle. And if the wild creatures of this desolate wilderness for some improbable reason didn't kill them, starvation or treacherous falls from deadly heights surely would. Their chances were not great at the moment, Mozzie surmised grimly.
The vegetation around them looked a lot like what the island from Lost had looked like. Mozzie was pretty sure that they had recorded that show in Hawaii. Not exactly Myanmar, but close enough. He really hoped that they didn't run into any polar bears, smoke monsters or 'The Others' while stumbling around this place. With their current luck, it was quite possible.
It really was Neal's fault that they were in this situation to begin with. If the smitten kid hadn't been strutting around and showing off his feathers like the peacock he was in a foolish attempt to win Kate back, then he wouldn't have even suggested going to Myanmar to steal giant rubies. Okay, Mozzie was all in when he mentioned the size of the 'pigeon bloods,' as the locals called them. But still, Kate had always been the beautiful wedge that came between them and Mozzie was more than willing to blame her even though she wasn't around to yell at. Her and Mother Nature were to blame for this. Perhaps they were one and the same. That particular femme fatale had always been a bit of a whirlwind.
Neal had yet to learn to let go of 'the one that got away' and Mozzie really didn't know what else to do but help the kid in his foolish conquest. Who would get his butt out of trouble if not him? Mozzie wouldn't have been able to bear hearing that Neal had gotten caught or even killed during a heist because the kid had grown on him, darn-it! It was his natural charm that had gotten Mozzie, he was sure. That kid oozed of it. No one was invulnerable to that friendly smile and that hint of vulnerability and pain that he sometimes showed that made Mozzie want to teach him how to never be hurt by the Kate's of the world ever again. Mozzie was just going to have to stick with him, even when he made bad decisions like buying defective planes from shady salesmen.
Mozzie, having always made an effort to be prepared, brought a compass with them. He quickly surmised that they needed to head west to reach the small settlement that Neal had pointed out.
"Which way?" Neal shouted over the pouring rain and high winds as he looked over Mozzie shoulder to see the navigation devices.
Mozzie lifted his heavily-ringed right hand and pointed to their left. "We are westward bound."
Neal sighed, readjusted the straps on his shoulders, and started walking the direction that Mozzie indicated. Mozzie followed behind his friend, hoping that they'd survive this misadventure.
Well, what do you think so far? I really love writing Mozzie and I hope I got him right!