The Miracle Cure

THE MIRACLE CURE

This is a story I have been thinking about for some time. It is about a pilot named Quinn Reynolds, and he has lost everything. His 5 year old daughter, Chloe, has leukemia, and has a month or two to live. He has lost his faith in God, along with his will to live. He thinks all is lost, then He hears of a tribe in the rain forest where some of the men live to be up to 150 years old. An explorer named Jacob Malloy (Quinn's friend from college), went looking for the tribe, but he went missing months prior.

Jacob's wife approaches Quinn and asks him to fly her there so she can find her husband, naturally he refuses, not wanting to leave Chloe's side. Once she shows him the notes her husband left behind (All the search party found was Jacob's research data), Quinn is convinced that this lost tribe holds the cure for his daughter. He decides to accompany Jacob's wife and a small contingent of Marines to the rain forest to investigate, and possibly find a cure for Chloe.

What they don't know is that several other groups have also heard of the tribe, and they also are racing to find it, to steal the tribe's ancient secrets and use it to sit their own needs.

CHARACTERS

Quinn Reynolds
Age:35
Occupation: Pilot
....................
Chloe Reynolds
Age: 5
Quinn's daughter, sick with leukemia
....................
Jacob Malloy (Quinn's friend from college)
Age: 36
Occupation: Explorer
...................
Cindy Malloy (Jacob's wife)
Age:27
Occupation: Nurse
.......................
Marcus Slade
Age:30
Occupation: Lieutenant, USMC
......................
Jamon Reed
Age:28
Occupation: Sergeant, USMC
.....................
Luther Anderson
Age: 42
Occupation: Sergeant, USMC
......................
Ruben Salazar
Age: 22
Occupation: Private first class, USMC
...................
Terry Phillips
Age: 29
Occupation: Corpsman (Medic), USMC
.................
Jonathan Travis
Age: 28
Occupation: Corporal, USMC
....................
Mitchell Parker
Age: 23
Occupation: Private, USMC
..................
Jenna Dohlman
Age: 27
Occupation: Corporal, USMC
..................
Jonathan Travis
Age: 51
Occupation: Professor (Archeology) at Harvard University, linguist and expert on rune symbols
................
Mirim
Age: 17
Indian tracker/guide

CHAPTER ONE

Quinn looked down at the still form of his five year old daughter, his head in his hands, his mind racing. It’s not fair. Why Chloe?..... She looked so at peace, if it wasn't for the sickly color of her skin, one would never know she was gravely ill. Chloe had been diagnosed with acute lymphoblastic Leukemia a year prior, and, despite intense radioactive treatment, her condition worsened by the day. Her doctor had told Quinn that Chloe had a little more than a month to live, maybe two.

Quinn had kept his hopes up for the past twelve months, praying that one day the cancer would go into remission, but to no avail. Looking at the crucifix hanging from her neck, Quinn felt a wave of disgust. What kind of God would do this to him? It was never ending, it seemed, the pain of losing loved ones. Quinn’s wife, Deborah, had died giving birth to Chloe. Quinn had thought about remarrying, but he still loved Deborah deeply, and he decided it would not be fair to marry someone while he was such an emotional wreck. He had been raising Chloe with the help of his parents, but two years ago they had died in an automobile accident. The one person Quinn had left in this world, besides Chloe, was his brother Michael. Michael had been a Marine stationed in Iraq, but he had been killed in action six months ago. Chloe was all he had, and it didn’t seem fair to be robbed of her. Quinn silently cursed God. He hated him. He absolutely believed in him, but despised his methods, denouncing him and sinking into a deep state of depression.

Quinn was a pilot for a small charter airline based in Miami. He and his friend, Bill, had started the airline twelve years ago, and it had flourished. Quinn had finally made his mark in the world, had met Deborah, fell in love, and they had wed soon after. It was a year later that Deborah died giving birth to Chloe. Despite being devastated at the loss of his wife, Quinn carried on, and then his parents had been taken from him. Quinn struggled, had moments where he questioned his faith, but again, Chloe needed him. Quinn was beginning to recover, but then Chloe had fallen ill. Michael being killed was a blow, but the final straw had been a week ago when the doctors had informed him that she was dying and that there was nothing left they could do for her. On one hand, Quinn felt like an empty shell, losing all of his loved ones in such a short period of time. It was only sensible to blame God.

He had been away from the airline for six months now, Bill hiring a temporary pilot to fill in. Bill assured Quinn that all was well, to take all the time he needed. He knew his job was waiting for him, but what was the point? Without Chloe, he had nothing to live for. Everything had been taken from him. He had pondered suicide, even going as far as placing a gun at his head, but he swore he would not do it until Chloe died.

Quinn was lost in thought when a nurse walked in. She gave Quinn a sympathetic nod, and then tended to Chloe. Quinn watched as the nurse checked Chloe’s vitals, making notes on a clipboard. The nurse left as quickly as she came, leaving Quinn alone with his daughter. As he sank back into a chair, he heard Chloe stir. She rolled her head slowly to the side, saw her father, smiled, and said “Hi Daddy.”

Quinn stood and walked over, kneeling and stroking her hand. “Hi, baby” he said. “How are you feeling?” Chloe winced in pain, saying “It hurts. Daddy, why are you crying?” Quinn suddenly realized that he had tears flowing down his cheeks. He cleared his throat, wiped his eyes, and said “It’s nothing, baby. Go back to sleep.”

Chloe’s eyes started fluttering, and within seconds her breathing fell shallow as she fell into a deep sleep. Quinn looked down at her, amazed at how peaceful she looked. He stood there watching her sleep for an hour before he realized that his stomach was growling. Looking at his watch, he saw that it had been twelve hours since his last meal. Leaning down, he kissed Chloe on the forehead, and exited the room, headed for the hospital cafeteria.

Quinn poked his food around, taking an occasional bite, his thoughts on Chloe. He glanced to his left and noticed a man with his daughter. She was about Chloe’s age, and was tugging at her father’s hand, trying to get him to buy her an ice cream. In the end, the father conceded. Quinn watched them go, remembering the way Chloe would look at him doe eyed whenever she wanted something. Quinn always seemed to melt when she did that, always giving her what she wanted. A sudden surge of anger washed over him. He set his fork down and ran his hands through his brown shoulder length hair. The tears were flowing again freely, splattering down onto the table below. An employee stopped as she walked by, asking him if he was all right. He must have shot her a venomous look, because she turned away quickly and left him alone. That’s right, make a fool of yourself. Chastising himself silently, he picked up his fork and shoveled some food into his mouth. It was bland. The food itself was good, he knew, because he had eaten here several times over the past year. It was as if, since learning of Chloe’s fate, his senses had dulled. Even the air seemed to have a foul scent to it. It was at that moment that realization hit him. It was over. Life was over. What was he to do? Go on alone? Remarry? NO……..

As Quinn sat there pondering his options, a woman entered the cafeteria. Quinn looked up and saw her looking around, then fixing her eyes upon him. She looked as if she were in her mid twenties, with long red hair flowing down her shoulders. She was quite attractive, petite, and was dressed in a black business suit. She walked over and stood across from him, and asked “Quinn Reynolds?”

Quinn looked at her blankly before saying “Yeah, who wants to know?”

She looked suddenly uncomfortable, glancing at the door, before she pulled out the chair across from Quinn and sat. She held a manila folder in one hand.

“My name is Cindy Malloy. My husband, Jacob, told me to contact you if anything were to happen to him.”

Jacob Malloy…… His old college friend. Jacob and Quinn had been inseparable in their college years, and for a few years after. But, like most friends, they grew apart. Quinn had gotten married and started his airline, while Jacob had become some kind of explorer. Then it hit him, something had happened to Jacob? Figures.

Quinn cleared his throat and spoke. “Look, if something happened to Jacob, I am truly sorry, but my daughter is here in the hospital, dying from leukemia. I don’t know what more I can do, other than offer my condolences.”

She gave an understanding nod, and then placed the manila folder in front of him. “Mr. Reynolds, I am very sorry to bother you during all of this, but Jacob insisted that if something happened to him, to show you this.” She opened the folder and Quinn saw a map of the Amazon rain forest. There were scribblings here and there, some cities highlighted, and a red X in the middle.”

“Here,” she said, pointing at the X, “Is where he was last seen, he was part of a ten man team who were enlisted to find a lost Amazon tribe. Apparently there were rumors of the tribal members living to be 150 to 175 years old. Jacob was sure it was nonsense, but he chose to go along with the others. He was gone for six months before he stopped contacting me.”

Cindy stopped for a moment to collect herself, wiping a tear from her eye. Quinn felt nothing. Maybe a mild annoyance at this woman, but that’s it. After a moment, she continued.

“It was strange. Every week he would send me an E mail letting me know where he was and that he was O.K., but the last month he seemed a bit off. He said he had seen things, had witnessed some Indian tribesmen performing certain rites and rituals that seemed to frighten him. In the last Email he sent, he was very afraid, but also in awe. Here,” She offered Quinn a sheet of paper. Quinn took it and saw it was a printout of an E mail Jacob had sent her. What the hell, might as well entertain her. Quinn read it silently as he ate.

Dear Cindy…..It’s so strange. The woman was near death, but now she is up, walking around! She is actually chanting and dancing! I was THERE when she was wounded. That tiger mauled her beyond repair. Dr. Smith examined her and did what he could, but in the end, he gave up. The tribesmen took her into a small hut, where we were sure she would die. The next morning, she was up and about! Her wounds were gone! Only the scars remained. Dr. Smith examined her again, and, despite being over sixty years old, she seemed as healthy as a woman half her age. Smith and I approached the village shaman and Smith linguist that he is, questioned the shaman as to what happened, how they cured her. The shaman smiled and pointed to his hand. In his hand were some oddly colored roots, blue/green/gray in appearance. Smith went to grab one, but the shaman pocketed them quickly, shaking his finger and walking away. Smith went to follow, but was stopped by several younger tribesmen. The shaman the motioned me over, suggesting that I follow him into his hut. I followed. Inside it was dark, with a fire burning. Despite the intense heat of the rain forest, it was actually nice and cool inside. He sat down and motioned that I sit across from him, and he spoke in perfect English to me…..

“We of the Yamamura have lived here for centuries. The forest is our home. We depend on the forest, and the forest depends on us. These roots are the most sacred item the forest provides us with. They can prolong life, and can heal the sick. Only the most trusted of outsiders do we offer them.”

At this, the shaman offered me a small piece of root. It felt rubbery and slippery. He motioned for me to chew it, so I figured what the hell. I placed the root in my mouth and chewed it. It was very bland. As I swallowed, I felt nothing. The shaman looked at me, smiled, and cackled a laugh so loud it hurt my ears. Well, remember my knee injury I got years ago while rock climbing? It had been bothering me the last few days. I shook my head in disgust and rose to leave, convinced this man was a nutter, and I realized that my knee did not hurt. Not at all. I also noticed that through my glasses, the world turned blurry. Taking my glasses off, I was shocked that I saw the world in perfect focus without them. Shocked, I put the glasses back on, took them off, put them on again, and tested my knee. It was amazing! I asked him to explain, but he merely laughed and guided me back outside.

I told the others what had happened, but they wrote it off as a hallucination. They didn’t know of my knee injury, and assumed my glasses were for reading. I pleaded with them to listen, but they refused. They left about an hour ago, but I felt the need to stay behind and learn more about these people.

I’ll write again next week, Love, Jacob….

Quinn was dumbfounded. Had Jacob gone mad? Or had he really run across some sort of miracle drug? Then it hit him. IF this was legit, IF Jacob had found some unknown cure for any and all types of ailments, Chloe! His mind raced. How could he track Jacob down?

Then he realized what he was thinking. There were no miracle drugs there was no cure for Chloe’s condition. He tossed the paper back to Cindy and smirked.

“So,” he said, “What do you want from me?”

She placed the paper back into the folder and looked him dead in the eye. “I want you to fly me to where he was last seen. A team and I are ready to go. We can leave in six hours.”

Quinn stifled a laugh. Was this woman nuts?

Quinn stopped laughing. She was serious. She believed that Jacob had found some breakthrough in science, some sort of drug that cured all diseases and physical abnormalities. He choked down a bite of meat, and then said “Look, you seem like a nice lady, but come on. You really think he discovered what he said he did?”

Cindy looked down and replied “Yes. Jacob was as sane as they come, you know that as well as I.”

Quinn nodded to himself, Jacob was not a crazy man, at least he wasn’t the last time they had talked. Jacob was always the level headed, more decisive of Quinn’s friends. Jacob had lost his mind in the jungle, it was the only conclusion Quinn could come to. Cindy seemed to read his mind, shaking her head vigorously.

“No,” she said, “He was not crazy. A bit shaken, definitely, but not crazy. Think of your daughter, what if this is true? If this is for real, you can cure her!”

Quinn was furious now. She was using his daughter against him, trying to guilt trip him into flying her to South ****ing America. He had done his best to maintain a polite demeanor, but now he was at wits end.

“You *****,” He said, “You come in here and approach me while my daughter is dying, asking me to fly you to South America to chase down some bogus wonder drug? THEN use my daughter as leverage? This conversation is OVER.”

Quinn rose to leave, but she stopped him.

“Quinn, I am so sorry, I didn’t think his through. I came here on a moments notice. Here,” she handed him her card. “If you change your mind, please call me. And again, I am sorry.”

She turned and left. Quinn looked down at her card. Dr. Cindy Malloy. A doctor. He started to rip it to shreds, but decided not to, he might want to check later on to see if she had heard from Jacob.

Quinn swallowed down the last of his food, then walked briskly back to Chloe’s room.

Half a world away, a group of soldiers were prepping their gear, doing last minute inspections. They were all former Spetsnaz commandos, all and picked by their commander for the task at hand. Dressed in black, wearing ceramic body armor, they moved about with speed and efficiency, loading several crates into the belly hold of a C4 cargo plane.

Their commander, Gary Killett, watched from a railed walkway above. Killett was an ex U.S. Navy S.E.A.L.. He was a fugitive, having escaped from a military prison years ago. Now he was a mercenary, his base of operations in the Ukraine. The members of his team were highly disciplined, well trained, and they were being well paid for their services. Standing 6’5 and weighing 230 pounds, Killett was a mountain of a man. At 49 years old, he was in better shape than most men half his age. An unknown benefactor had contracted him to lead his men into the rain forest and kidnapping some local shaman, apparently the man was of some importance and had knowledge that, if exploited, would be worth tens of millions of dollars. Killett cared only for the paycheck, he could give a shit about the fate of an innocent man. So the subject was a shaman, revered and loved by his people. To Killett, he was a mark, plain and simple.

Killett had the utmost faith in the twenty Spetsnaz commandos, both in training and in loyalty. He also viewed them as expendable. They knew what they were doing when they took the job. Fingering his holstered Desert Eagle .50, he looked down and saw that the cargo plane was fully loaded. His lieutenant looked up at him and saluted. Killett returned the salute and made his way down to the plane. Seeing that the pilot was doing a last minute inspection on the plane, he ordered his men aboard. They quickly boarded the plane, stowed their gear, and strapped in. As the C4’s engines whined to life, Killett smiled and boarded the plane. If all went according to plan, he would be twenty million dollars richer.

The South African Special Forces Brigade, popularly known as "Recces", were among the best in the world at bush warfare. The 1 Reconnaissance Commandos were the elite of the elite, the most deadly of the South African special forces. It’s commander, General Fritz Cunningham, was known amongst his men as a cruel but fair commander. As long as they did their job, he treated them well. If someone failed him, he handed out severe punishments. A year prior, a sergeant had bumped into him in the mess hall, spilling his food on the General’s uniform. The General drew his sidearm and killed the man where he stood.

Cunningham, at present, was aboard a cargo ship and heading for South America. The ship was disguised as a commercial freighter, but deep in it’s hold, the Recces waited patiently for their orders. Thirty strong, they once held their ground against a small army, a force numbering close to two hundred men. They sustained no casualties, not an injury, not even a hangnail. The General was as proud of his men as he was vicious to them.

The General was currently reading a file he had received days prior from his superiors. Apparently there was a man of some importance in the Amazon rain forest, someone who had information the South African government was desperate to get it’s hands on. Looking at the picture of the man in question, the General was not impressed. Why send the Recces on such a mundane mission? His men were killers, surely there were no trained soldiers in the rain forest, why the overkill?

The General knew better than to question his orders. He was confident that once the mission was accomplished he would understand why he and his men were entrusted with it. The Recces were not as well known as some special forces units, but they were by far the most deadly, in his opinion.

Sitting in the passenger seat of a Humvee, he was the epitome of soldiering. His close cropped hair was graying at the temples, and he had the body of a world class athlete. At 41 years old, he had earned more medals than he could remember. His Jungle camo was ironed and pressed, his Colt .45 gleaming in it’s holster.

Looking again at the picture of the man they were to apprehend, he smiled and told himself that this would be an easy mission.

Quinn was dreaming again. In this dream, he and Deborah walked along a beach, Chloe running around in front of them, looking to and fro for seashells. It was near dark, there was a slight chill in the air, everything was perfect. Quinn turned to Deborah, and, cupping her face with his hands, leaned forward to kiss her. Then, in an instant, she was gone. Quinn looked around for her, but she was gone. He looked up and saw his parents and younger brother a hundred yards or so ahead of him, waving to him, beckoning him. Chloe was oblivious to this, her attention elsewhere. Quinn ran to grab Chloe, tripped, and ended up face first in the sand. He raised his head, seeing that Chloe too was gone. He got to his knees, roaring to the heavens, and then his family disappeared. At that moment, the sun set, and his world was plunged into darkness…….

Quinn woke up sweating, then calmed down as he realized it was just another dream. He looked and saw that Chloe was sleeping peacefully, her chest rising and lowering in the rhythmic way that showed she was in a deep sleep. Shaking the cobwebs from his head, he got up and walked to the window. It was raining. The night was darker than usual, or so it seemed. Quinn knew it was probably his imagination. Quinn decided to lay back down on the spare bed the hospital had brought for him when he noticed a large brown envelope on the nightstand. It had his name on it, no return address. He picked it up, opened it, and found a video cassette inside, unlabeled. Confused, he went to the nurse’s station to find out who delivered this package.

The night nurse’s name was Patti, Quinn had gotten to know her quite well. She smiled as he neared.

“Hey, Quinn, can’t sleep?” She asked.

Quinn shook his head, held up the cassette, and asked “Who delivered this to my room?”

Patti looked at it and shrugged. “No clue, sorry.”

Quinn looked at the cassette. Who would give him a damn movie?

“Do you have a VCR I can use?” He asked.

Patti nodded and replied “Yes, down the hall on the right, family room B.”

Quinn nodded his thanks and made his way to the room. It was empty and the lights were off. He walked over and inserted the tape into the VCR, turning on the TV. At first the camera was all over the place, as if the camera holder was running. Then it settled, and Quinn saw that the inside of a hut was being filmed. A man lay on the ground, surrounded by several indian tribesmen. One look told Quinn that the figure was dead dying. The tribesmen began chanting, sprinkling ashes on the body, while one who wore a huge headdress knelt down and poured some sort of clear liquid into the persons mouth. What the hell was this? The figure with the huge headdress stood and turned his palms to the sky, saying some sort of prayer. It was at that moment that the body on the ground stirred.

Quinn was riveted. The person sat up, slowly got to his feet, and was embraced by the others. What had just happened? As Quinn sat staring in wonderment, the camera shifted, and a familiar face appeared on the screen…….JACOB…..

Jacob smiled and said “It’s real, Quinn. I’ve found it.”

Then the screen went blank. That was it.

Quinn fell backwards into a chair and tried to take in what he just saw. Did he just see a person who was near death healed in seconds? Was this real? He felt as if he were dreaming. Then it hit him again…..CHLOE!!! Could this work for her? Was she saved?

He wasted no more time. Pulling out his cell phone, he called Cindy Malloy. Once she answered, Quinn spoke.

“I’m in.”

Originally posted by Rogue Jedi
CHARACTERS
Jonathan Travis
Age: 28
Occupation: Corporal, USMC
....................
Jonathan Travis
Age: 51
Occupation: Professor (Archeology) at Harvard University, linguist and expert on rune symbols

oh snap... 😂

OK....The Linguist is named Jonathan Travis, the Marine is..... Hell. I dunno, I forgot, I had it written down.

Originally posted by Rogue Jedi
oh snap... 😂

OK....The Linguist is named Jonathan Travis, the Marine is..... Hell. I dunno, I forgot, I had it written down.

Updated characters list, I had two with the same name. 😮

CHARACTERS

Quinn Reynolds
Age:35
Occupation: Pilot
....................
Chloe Reynolds
Age: 5
Quinn's daughter, sick with leukemia
....................
Jacob Malloy (Quinn's friend from college)
Age: 36
Occupation: Explorer
...................
Cindy Malloy (Jacob's wife)
Age:27
Occupation: Nurse
.......................
Marcus Slade
Age:30
Occupation: Lieutenant, USMC
......................
Jamon Reed
Age:28
Occupation: Sergeant, USMC
.....................
Luther Anderson
Age: 42
Occupation: Sergeant, USMC
......................
Ruben Salazar
Age: 22
Occupation: Private first class, USMC
...................
Terry Phillips
Age: 29
Occupation: Corpsman (Medic), USMC
.................
Lance Johnston
Age: 28
Occupation: Corporal, USMC
....................
Mitchell Parker
Age: 23
Occupation: Private, USMC
..................
Jenna Dohlman
Age: 27
Occupation: Corporal, USMC
..................
Jonathan Travis
Age: 51
Occupation: Professor (Archeology) at Harvard University, linguist and expert on rune symbols
................
Mirim
Age: 17
Indian tracker/guide

Aegis Pharmaceutical Corporation was responsible for 79% of the drugs circulating throughout the world. They produced drugs that ranged from over the counter aspirin to cancer treatment, and everything in between. Aegis was a conglomerate, dominating the industry. Established in 1967, Aegis had quickly gotten an iron grip on the worldwide distribution of medicine. It’s base of operations were in New York. To the outside world, Aegis appeared to be legitimate, but, like all giant corporations, Aegis had it’s fair share of shadow operations. It’s latest cash cow was a Bioweapons division.

CEO of Aegis Corporation, Daniel Murphy, watched the video again. He set it on slow motion as he watched the man laying on the ground stirred, then rose, apparently no longer fatally ill. This was unreal, was it a hoax? It had to be, there were no miracle cures, no fountain of youth. Still, what if it WERE true? If, out in the Amazon rain forest, this was reality, then Aegis had to get their hands on it. If it fell into the wrong hands, Aegis was finished. As he pondered his options, the door opened, and in walked a tall man wearing gray military fatigues. He was tall, bald, and wore an eye patch over his left eye. Daniel knew this man well, Karl Steinworth, head of Aegis Corporation’s hazard control department. Karl was a valuable asset, his duties were to oversee foreign operations, covering up accidents, corporate spying, anything that could spell disaster for Aegis. Daniel shut of the video as Karl approached.

“You summoned me?” Karl asked in his heavy German accent.

“Yes,” Daniel replied, “Did you see the video?”

Karl nodded. “Yes sir. Is it creditable, or a hoax?”

Daniel wished he knew. Whatever the case, he could take no chances. He had to get men to the rain forest to find out.

“Yes,” Daniel said, “Or we have to at least assume it is real. How many men do you have at your disposal?”

Karl replied with “Seventy four, sir. I can have them read to travel within the hour.”

Daniel nodded and looked out the window. So be it. This must be investigated.

After a moment, Daniel said “Yes. That will do. Brief them and have them in the hangar at 2230 hours.”

Karl nodded and retreated from the room, Leaving Daniel alone to his thoughts. If this was indeed for real, Aegis stood to gain much, or lose it all.

Conroe, Texas….John Deveraux was a bounty hunter. He was the best at what he did. His clients knew this, that’s why they paid him the massive bounties that he demanded. None had ever seen his face, all communication was done via computer, especially wire transfers to his bank account that was under the name “Jerome Williams.” Deveraux took no chances. His computer was state of the art and impossible to track. His home in the wilderness was equipped with a state of the art surveillance system. He had installed the anti intrusion devices personally, everything from window alarms to infrared beams. A high wall surrounded his lush property, twenty feet high and equipped with sensors that most security providers had never heard of. Deveraux had not lasted this long in the business by being sloppy.

Sitting in his den, he looked over the folder that was left in an anonymous PO Box this morning. The first thing that had caught his eye was the higher than usual bounty, twenty million. Intrigued, he perused the material until he came across a picture of an old Indian man, perhaps mid seventies, wearing lavish robes and standing amongst several tribesmen. He looked like some sort of holy man. The next page was a map of the Amazon rain forest. Deveraux winced at this. Although he knew right away he would take the assignment, he did not look forward to such a harsh climate. But such a high bounty for securing one old man was impossible to pass on.

Still, Deveraux would go in prepared, armed to the teeth and ready for war. The only question was how to get there. He picked up his cell phone and called his old friend, Mark Murdock, an Army Colonel who owed Deveraux a favor. The phone rang twice before Murdock picked up.

“Murdock.” The man stated.

“Hello, Mark, how are you?” Deveraux asked.

After a few minutes of polite banter, Deveraux got to the point.

“Look, I need to cash in on that favor you owe me. I need passage to Brazil, preferably by air, ASAP. And I need you to keep this between us.”

Murdock was silent a moment, then said “Done. One of our little operations is in Brazil, and there is a C4 leaving in five hours to make a supply run. Mind telling me what’s going on?”

Deveraux shook his head, then replied “Never you mind. High dollar, low risk, just the kind of job I like.”

The two men exchanged a laugh, shot the shit for a minute or two, then Deveraux hung up. Five hours, just enough time to gather lmy gear and drive to the airport in Houston.

I added four more main characters:

Daniel Murphy
Age: 46
Occupation: CEO of Aegis corporation
........................
Karl Steinworth
Age: 44
Occupation: Head of hazard control, Aegis corporation
........................
John Deveraux
Age: 40
Occupation: Bounty Hunter
....................
Gary Killett
Age: 49
Occupation: Ex Navy S.E.A.L.

So that's the end of part one, all the main characters have been introduced (Minus the Marines, they will be introduced in the first installment of part two.)

Shit, FIVE new characters haermm

Fritz Cunningham
Age: 41
Recces special forces general

PART TWO

Quinn gazed out the window as the Chevy SUV tore down a side road. They had left the freeway ten minutes ago, on their way to a private hangar where the rest of their party awaited. Cindy sat across from him, typing away on her laptop, oblivious to the huge potholes the SUV hit left and right. Quinn noticed the men in the front seat had huge bulges under their jackets, obviously someone felt that an armed escort was in order. Quinn decided to break the uneasy silence.

“How much farther?” He asked.

Without looking up, Cindy answered “Five minutes. You sure you brought enough clothes?”

Quinn looked at the two backpacks he had thrown his clothes into. He figured he would need a weeks worth of laundry. Mostly he had packed tee shirts, jeans, extra underwear and socks. He looked down at what he was wearing and shook his head. Great, Quinn. You are going on a damn safari and you dressed as if you are going to a baseball game.

Cindy looked up and gave him a once over. She had to stifle her laughter, what was he thinking? He wore an old pair of jeans, a white tee shirt, black sneakers, and a baseball cap. Not exactly ideal for where they were headed.

“You know,” She said, “Maybe they will have some spare fatigues for you. After all, we are going to be…….”

"I’ll be fine.” Quinn said, cutting her off. The last thing he needed was a lecture about his damn wardrobe. As the SUV rounded a corner, a huge aircraft hangar came into sight, and Quinn got a look at the plane within. It was an Embraer 170 jet. Quinn had never flown one before and it was a bit bigger than the Lear jet he flew currently, but it was nothing compared to the C4 cargo plane he used to fly for Fedex. He nodded in approval, the 170 was a good choice. It had a 70 passenger capacity, plus a sizable cargo hold. It was actually a bit bigger than what they needed, but it was no matter. The 170 would do fine.

The SUV came to a stop, and Quinn saw several men in jungle camouflage bustling about, loading boxes and crates into the cargo hold of the 170. He walked over and gave the jet a once over, impressed right away by it. A good pilot could tell the condition of a plane at a glance, and Quinn could see that this plane was very well maintained. It was painted solid black, with no markings whatsoever. As he ran his hand along the wing of the plane, an older man walked over and offered his hand.

“Mr. Quinn?” He asked, “I am Ivan, your copilot. Nice to meet you.”

Quinn accepted the mans hand and shook it. He didn't really see the need for a copilot, he could fly this plane in his sleep, but hey, this was their show.

“Nice to meet you, Ivan.” Quinn relied. “Where have you flown before?”

Ivan smiled and handed him a sheet of paper, it had all of his qualifications on it, everything from his blood type to his military career. Apparently Ivan was 48 years old, and had flown in the Russian air force before the wall came down years ago. Since then, Quinn read, he had flown for a small outfit that supplied relief workers in Africa. Nodding in approval, he handed the sheet back to Ivan. Quinn noticed that the armed drivers of the SUV were eyeing him, keeping close to him at all times. Ivan noticed it too.

“What’s with the gorillas?” Ivan asked.

Quinn laughed. He actually laughed, it had been longer than he could remember since he had and a genuine chuckle.

“I dunno, man.” He said. “Apparently Mrs. Malloy felt they were necessary. I doubt they will be accompanying us, after all, we have how many Marines with us?”

“Eight,” Ivan answered, “Including Mrs. Malloy, Mr. Travis, and the two of us, twelve passengers total.”

Quinn nodded and looked over at the Marines. They gave him no notice, they were too busy loading their gear. One looked over, smiled, and walked over. He was Hispanic, of average height and build, and walked with a bit of a swagger.

“Captain Quinn? PFC Ruben Salazar.” The Marine offered a loose salute and nodded at Quinn’s backpacks. “Take your bags?” He asked.

Quinn handed his bags over, noticing that Salazar was giving him the head to toe stare that Cindy gave him.

“You know,” Salazar said, “I have an extra pair of boots I could loan you, size 11, if you want.”

Quinn felt irritated. Was this a fashion show?

“No, thank you.” Quinn replied

PFC Salazar shrugged and walked away, disappearing into the hold of the 170 with Quinn’s bags.

Another Marine walked over and offered a much crisper salute. The man was black, a bit taller than Quinn, and muscular.

“Captain Quinn? Lieutenant Marcus Slade, at your service.” He said.

Quinn shook the mans hand and nodded towards the other Marines.

“We all loaded up then, Lt.?” Quinn asked.

Slade nodded and looked at his watch.

“Saddled up, ready to roll, sir.” He answered.

He turned on his heel and disappeared into the belly of the 170, raising the loading ramp behind him. Cindy walked over and placed a hand on Quinn’s shoulder.

“You all right?” She asked.

“Yeah, I'm fine. Let’s get on with it.” He replied.

Cindy and Ivan walked past Quinn towards the jet, leaving him alone. Quinn gave the 170 a final look, shook his head, and silently wished Chloe well.

That finished all too fast. I am never happy until I've finished a book, but I gotta wait for this one to be finished so I can read it... This is gonna be hard.

this is very good RJ