Marking Time ‘Til We Die

The group caught up with El Comandante a few miles down the road. After establishing that the crews of the two Jeeps were not hostile, El Comandante motioned for them to follow him to Yaviza. The convoy used speed and some judiciously placed shots from the Ma Deuce and various other armaments to clear the way to the small trading town near the midpoint of the Pan-American Highway.

Though seemingly right behind El Comandante’s truck, the group still found the man already ensconced behind a bottle of local tequila when they walked into the unnamed bar where the 4×4 was parked. Over several shots and cervezas, Shanky and company secured the fellow’s aid by offering a combination of money, illicit substances, and a role in the latest Mirabella film up around Panama City.

While the group discussed their options for entering the Frankstown compound, automatic gunfire erupted across the street, where locals had cleared away vegetation to create a rudimentary airfield. El Comandante (nicknamed “El Jefe” by the Atlanta posse) and his soldiers charged out the door to investigate, followed closely by the rest of the party. As the group emerged from the bar, they saw a Cessna gathering speed for takeoff, while a smaller plane was being blocked by a farm tractor pulling a trailer. Five fellows in white uniforms were firing M-16s at the small plane, and a sixth was unloading on the departing Cessna.

The Atlanta posse ran to the Jeeps and laid down some fire, taking out the parishioners in short order. A quick search the plane revealed the slain passengers as Congressman George O’Brien, two reporters, the pilot, and one teenaged member of the Temple, apparently seeking to flee the compound. The reporters’ notes detailed the last few days of frustrated attempts to get into the Temple grounds, and a plan to evacuate several Temple members who Franks had allowed to leave. Given the gravity of the situation, the group took a camera from one of the reporters and used the remaining film to document the scene of the massacre.

Further investigation of the plane revealed that, although the cockpit was shot up and the radio disabled, all of the control surfaces seemed to be intact. When asked, El Jefe said he could probably contact a pilot within a couple of hours who would be willing to help assault the compound, or at least fly a couple of folks over to reconnoiter the place.

The group spent the next few hours preparing their arsenal and going over the napkin-drawn map Tyler had given them back in Panama City. Given their sudden access to a working tractor, a small plane, six M-16s, and five hand grenades, a small boat, and three soldiers courtesy of El Jefe, they quickly hashed out a plan. Discarding the subtle approach, they decided to sow discord, arm any of the black Temple members willing to fight, recover Dorothea and Susan, and scramble back to Yaviza during the chaos.

As soon as the pilot showed up, fortified himself, and got familiar with the plane, the group headed off, intent on hitting the camp near sundown.