Chapter Twenty One
Days without Chloe Sullivan: 63
"Mr. Queen, we'll be right above your landing point in five minutes." The pilot spoke through the microphone connected directly to the loudspeaker in the jet.
Oliver stood up. It was time to get ready.
It had been a long time since he had done this, and he had to walk himself through the steps, since the pilot was getting paid enough to keep quiet. He pulled out the gear from underneath his seat, and unzipped it.
He made a quick check list of the contents. There was nothing missing. It took him 3 of the five minutes to get everything on, but he found himself opening up one of the doors to his jet in no time.
The wind was rushing to his face, as he stood gripping the jet. He knew exactly what he had to do here, but it was just so hard to step off of the plane. He thought about Mia, and how she kept saying that he needed to be more careful, that this whole thing was a bad idea, especially since she didn't bring any backup.
If he didn't make the smoothest of landings, then there was a chance that Mia would be right. And Oliver still had no idea how he was going to get out of this country an alive and free man.
He checked his watch. He had twenty seconds before he had to jump, otherwise he would either land in the wrong place or his pilot would have to make a circle and turn around. And now the seconds were disappearing quickly.
He took a deep breath as he looked down, clouds blocking the image of the rough country he was about to land in. He had never been to Cuba- he had no idea how the people were going to treat him, and even though he had the exact coordinates of the house he was supposed to check out, he didn't know if he was going to find Chloe or not.
5 seconds. He had to do this. It was now or never. His helmet was secure, his parachute and duffel bag was strapped to him. He put on his sunglasses and let go of his jet.
Oliver leaned forward, letting gravity claim him and the wind swallow him. He extended his arms and legs, and thought about his sense of direction. The satellite images showed that if he landed a little bit more to his right, he should be okay with location.
He felt the adrenaline flow through his veins as he felt himself fall faster and faster. It was too soon to use the parachute. This was no time to be scared. 3 seconds would guarantee his safety.
2…1…and now. He felt the wind's rush slow down significantly as the parachute popped up. He breathed a sigh of relief and held onto the ends of the parachute. He was so afraid that it wouldn't work, that the parachute would be stuck underneath the duffel bag. All he had to do now was focus on the landing, and the GPS system on his cell phone would take care of the rest. Hopefully, he would be able to find a way out safely.
But where was he going to land? Not in the middle of the city, and he didn't see the little forest that was on the satellite images. The images were probably old, and the forest was probably industrialized. Damn.
He was going to have to land on water and improvise from there. He looked down, and saw a dock nearby. Time to navigate the parachute over.
Oliver found it hard to concentrate on his location when he was constantly looking up at the parachute to move it over, but he made his way over to the nearest dock, and plunged into the water.
The parachute and the rest of his gear was weighing him down, and preventing him from reaching the surface. He quickly disconnected the parachute, and watched as it sank below him. No time. Need. Air. Fast.
He broke the surface of the water and inhaled sharply as he floated. Okay, step one: completed. He swam over to the dock, and pushed himself onto the wood.
He unzipped the skydiving gear , and stepped out of it. He opened up his soaked duffel bag, and pulled out his cell phone to call Mia, but it wasn't turning on.
So his phone was now water damaged. Great. He grabbed the handle of the duffel bag, and walked around the docks until he found a nearby pay phone. He put in a couple of foreign coins in the phone, and dialed Mia's number. It rang only once before he heard her voice.
"Oliver, is that you?" she asked in a worried tone
"Yeah, it's me. I'm here." He answered
"What happened to you r cell phone?"
"I had to take an alternative landing point. It got water damaged."
"Do you have a backup GPS system with you?"
That would have been a good idea, but he had a feeling that even the backup would have been water damaged as well. "No, I don't."
"Okay, I'm pulling up Google Earth right now. It's no GPS system, but it's going to have to do for now."
He was about to thank her profusely when she cut him off. "You can thank me when you come back, in person. And don't start going around calling me Watchtower either. This is a one-time thing."
He chuckled. "Okay, Map quest. Where am I?"
"You should start walking. You're in Varadero right now. You're about an hour's walk away from your location."
Oliver looked around him, and saw a car rental service in the distance. He smirked to himself. "Trust me, I have no intention of walking."
"Make sure you aren't recognized as an American. Cuba is crawling with government officials, and they don't like Americans too much."
"This isn't China", he reminded her. "I know Spanish pretty fluently."
"You don't know the Cuban dialect", she said. "They'll pick up on it. Please be careful."
"I promise. I'll keep you updated."
He hung up the phone, and walked across the street. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills. If there was one thing that he had learned from scouring the globe looking for Chloe, it was that money always kept people quiet.
He slapped the bills on the table, and watched as the manager's face lit up in surprise. He started speaking to Oliver in Spanish. Mia was right; the dialect was throwing him off. But only slightly.
The man asked if he wanted a large or a small car. Oliver responded by saying that he just wanted a fast car with a GPS system. The man nodded his head and opened up a drawer. He pulled out a set of keys and slid them across the table. Oliver grabbed them and followed him to a parking garage.
If the man picked up on his dialect, he didn't notify him of it. Which meant that either something was going to happen to him in the parking garage, or Oliver was in the clear. He followed the man carefully so that there wouldn't be a repeat of China. The man in China had taken him completely by surprise- he made a mistake then, but he wasn't going to let it happen twice.
The man pointed towards a car, and Oliver carefully walked behind him and over to the car. He unlocked the door, and got inside. Good, they drove on the right side of the road in Cuba.
He rested his duffel bag on the passenger's seat next to him, and took a look at the GPS system. He punched in the coordinates that he had memorized, and waited for the system to calculate a route. He checked the time. He should be able to get to his location by sundown. He nodded his thanks to the manager, and started the car.
The drive into the city wasn't too bad, and it wasn't as long as he thought it would be. The silence made Oliver more anxious than anything else. He had no idea what he was going to say to Chloe if he found her here, and he had no idea what he would say to a complete stranger if he didn't find her at the house.
How was he going to convince someone who was willing to erase a chunk of her memory that it wasn't worth it? Especially when she had gone through everything that she did? She had already sacrificed everything for the greater good, and had escaped to save her own humanity. How could he be selfish enough to ask her to drop everything for him again?
Yes, he had a promise to Lois to fulfill, but it had been a long time since he had checked in with her regarding anything at all. And he had made a decision to find Chloe before he even dropped by the apartment to talk to her cousin.
The truth of the matter was that he was selfish. Chloe had pulled him out of the gutter, and he repaid her by insulting her when she was just trying to come up with a backup plan. He didn't even know why the weapons had such an effect on him.
It was probably because if there was one thing that he knew, it was guilt. He didn't let people in his life very quickly. He was cordial to complete strangers, but he also kept people close to him at an arm's length.
Usually, whenever he let people in his life, he had control over how close they got to him. But Chloe- she just showed up at his penthouse one evening, saying that she knew his secret, and that he had to help get Bart and Clark out of a 33.1 facility.
He threw her a headset and told her that she was Watchtower, but it wasn't as if he had a choice in the matter. She was going to help them, and she was going to walk the team through the facility, and that was all there was to it.
She walked into his life quickly, and that was how fast he hopped on a plane to another 33.1 facility across the globe. She continued to work part time for him from Metropolis, but there was nothing too personal, nothing too face to face.
"Are you going to steal that generator or not?" her voice sounded in his head
When he discovered the truth about the death of his parents, he ran and drank. He country hopped. The whole point was to stop staying in one place for very long. But she caught him in between flights, and ordered him to steal a generator from Tess Mercer so that she could get Clark out of the Phantom Zone.
He knew that something was going wrong, but he did so anyway. And he was right- her eyes turned white while hacking into the generator, and she knocked him unconscious. She wasn't in control of her own body that day.
She gave him a sense of purpose that day, gave him a taste of what it was like to be a hero again. But he ignored it. She told him when he had crossed the line by killing Lex Luthor, and was there during Doomsday.
Chloe Sullivan forced her way into his life, to the point of saving his life. And to repay her, he insulted her and drove her out of town. Some friend he was.
"Approaching destination on the left", the GPS sounded. He slowed down, and parallel parked the car. He opened the car door, and walked up to the door.
He took a deep breath. It was now or never. He rang the doorbell twice, and waited with his hands in his pocket. If the resident here was Chloe, then she probably would slam the door in his face. She wouldn't invite him in, but thankfully he had his lock-pick with him. All he needed was a confirmation that it was her before breaking in.
The door opened to reveal a large Cuban man. A very intimidating Cuban man. But the man smiled at him politely, nonetheless. "Can I help you?" the man asked him in Spanish
"I'm looking for a short blond woman. I was wondering if you had any tenants", Oliver responded in Spanish.
The man smiled widely before opening the door fully. "Come in", he said.
Oliver walked inside, and the man gestured to the couch. He sat down. "She's upstairs. I'll go get her." He answered
"No, I can go upstairs", Oliver told the man in Spanish. If Chloe was really upstairs, then he wanted to see her as soon as possible.
"Patience", the man said. "You wait here. I'll get her."
Oliver nodded, and waited on the couch as the man climbed the stairs. He set his duffel bag on the floor.
He waited patiently for five minutes, and listened closely, but there was no sound. He could hear a man speaking, but there was no female voice replying. He couldn't hear a muffled voice, or even the indication of someone walking around.
He heard steps descending the stairs, but there was only one set of them. The man was alone. Chloe wasn't upstairs, she didn't even live here.
The man was on the phone with the Cuban police, and they were on their way here. They were going to take him away, and he had to get of here now.
"You know what?" he called out to the man in Spanish as he sat up from the couch and grabbed his bag. He made his way over to the door as softly as possible. "She has my telephone number, just tell her to call me."
He heard a siren in the distance. Okay, time to go. He opened the door, and ran over to the car, not bothering to shut the door behind him. He fished in his pocket for the car keys, and opened the door. He started the car, and started speeding down the road.
He had no idea where to go, so he just pressed the previous location button, and followed the instructions. It looked like he was headed back to the docks.
Chloe wasn't in Cuba. It was illegal, and was a stupid idea. He heard a siren blaring, and checked the rearview mirror.
…And now there were government officials following him. Great. He fiddled with the GPS system, and clicked fastest route. He had no idea how long these guys were going to follow him for. And he had no idea what he was going to do once he got to the docks. The car couldn't exactly drive on water.
He drove as fast as he could, and weaved in and out of lanes on his way to the docks. As he did so, more cars started following him. Great, so he had government officials and the Cuban police trying to arrest him at the same time. And he could see the docks near him.
He couldn't keep using the car- not with the crowd of people around the fish market. The people would slow him down, and the cars would find him. As he slowed down to a stop, the other cars did as well.
They seriously thought that he was going to turn himself in. Dare to dream.
He opened the door, and started running through the fish market with his duffel bag in tow. And they were running after him. The duffel bag was weighing him down, but it had his fingerprints all over it, not to mention the fact that his cell phone was inside. They would be able to identify him, and his face would be plastered all over international newspapers. His company would find out that he had done something illegally. Either get arrested or get publicly humiliated.
He chose neither. Oliver just ran faster, pushing people down to the ground if he had to. He apologized while he ran, but he had to escape these people. He pushed past the crowds, and made it to the water. There was nowhere else to go, and they were catching up fast. There were men working on their boats, not a single one was unattended. No motorboats, no paddleboats. Nothing. There was only one option here.
He jumped.
Oliver plunged into the water, and dropped his duffel bag before he shot up and started swimming freestyle as fast as he could. He was swimming absentmindedly now. He had lost his sense of direction a long time ago, and all he could see now was blue.
He tried to find a sense of direction, but the current was dragging him farther and farther away. He was fighting it so that he could think for a moment, to try and come up with some sort of plan, but he kept thinking that they were following him, that he would be caught.
He couldn't hear anybody. There was no yelling, and he couldn't hear a siren, but he still thought that he was being followed.
His arms were getting tired fast, and he was feeling more and more lost as he kept swimming. The farther he got, the more the current was starting to pull him under. But he couldn't even make his way back. He kept swimming, and tried to stay calm, but there was still probably someone after him, and he couldn't get caught. Getting caught wasn't an answer for him.
He kept swimming, and his motions got slower. The current pulled him down. His breathing started getting heavy. One more stroke. One more stroke.
His body was pulled downwards, but he tried to keep his head above the water. He tried to push himself up, but it was no use.
He was pulled down, his head below the surface. He held his arms up, and tried to kick his way up, but his muscles were tired. His chest was burning- he was running out of oxygen, and hope. And he kept falling.
He couldn't tell how far up the surface was. All he saw was light ahead of him, and eternal darkness beneath him.
Oliver Queen fell into the darkness.