El Corazon (3/10)
El Corazon (3/10)
Author: Amy
Pairing: Orlibean
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Never happened. This has been adapted from the movie Romancing the Stone - it does not belong to me no harm is meant and no money is being made.
Warning: There’s a bit of character death in here. It actually happened before the story starts but it’s mentioned a little graphically in this chapter so the warning is here. And yes I really did it…sorry girls...please don’t hate me.
Beta: The lovely giselleslash all remaining mistakes are mine.
Summary: Romance writer Orlando Bloom travels to Colombia to save his sister who has been kidnapped.
Note: This is for the orlibean Summer Movie Challenge. The movie I chose was Romancing the Stone. There are still plenty of movies to choose from so if you're interested in participating please follow the link above and join the fun.
Note #2: The Next part will be Posted on Thursday 8/2
Previous Parts
Thanks to cammissbloom for my lovely banner and icon!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Viggo watched with a smirk as Bloom slowly exited the airport. Bloom seemed terrified and was more than a little skittish so he allowed him space to move through the crowds of people speaking loudly in Spanish, squealing animals, crying babies, and fights breaking out all over the place with a wide distance between them. The environment was so different from an airport in America that Viggo knew it would be incredibly overwhelming for Bloom. He’d taken some time before leaving the US to do some research on his target and had learned of Bloom’s illness as a child and continued panic attacks. Given just enough time and just enough stress Orlando would be primed to latch onto the first person who approached him that spoke decent English. Viggo planned to be that person.
He followed Bloom as he finally made it through the crowd to the line of cabs and buses that lined the pavement. Bloom fumbled with the rolling suitcase he was trailing behind him as he dug through the backpack he had slung over his shoulder and pulled out a shiny, probably brand new, Spanish to English dictionary. He flipped it open to a page Viggo had seen him locate and mark on the plane, took a deep breath and with a determined look on his face took a step towards the first bus he came to.
Viggo hurried forward, the last thing he wanted was for Bloom to get going in the right direction. He needed him isolated and lost for his plan to work. All Viggo needed was a little time and the right circumstances for Bloom’s stress levels to hit maximum and he’d be easy to take care of.
“May I help you?” he asked in a soft voice sliding into the accent he’d picked up easily over the past few years.
Bloom looked momentarily startled at his sudden appearance and he clutched at his book blinking wide eyed at Viggo. “You speak English?” he asked softly.
“Yes,” Viggo said keeping his voice even and unassuming. “You’re not from around here…you are American?”
“I live there, yes…” Bloom said nervously.
“I know how it can be to come to Colombia for the first time. It can be a little overwhelming,” Viggo said in a soothing tone. “Let me help you get pointed in the right direction.”
Bloom eyed him suspiciously for a moment and then nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “I need to get to Cartagena to meet my sister. Do you know which of these buses will go there?”
Viggo looked up at the bus right in front of them and the name plate on the front of it, he was just able to stop himself from laughing in delight. This bus was going far in the opposite direction of Cartagena. It was instead going to one of the farthest and most remote locations in Colombia, a small village deep in the mountain jungles. It also happened to be near to a police outpost, he could easily call on them to his location and grab Bloom and go. No one would take the second look at a foreigner going missing there. The only Americans that traveled there were to be looked upon with suspicion. It was too close to several drug farms.
“This one does,” he said as he pointed at the one in front of them.
“Really?” Bloom asked, relief evident in his voice that things had gone so easy. “Thank you.”
He fumbled with his backpack. As he slipped the book back into it and started to close it Viggo saw what could only be folded parchment, he took a small step forward and could make out writing. His eyes narrowing, he’d only seen pictures of the map but that had to be it. His hand clenched as he stopped himself from reaching out to snatch the bag from Bloom. It would be so easy to do that, just grab it and run. But there were too many people around that could stop him. If there was anywhere in Colombia that he had the least amount of power it was here in the airport. Too many American planes came through her which meant that there were too many Americans milling around, including federal agents. It was much better to wait, in a few more hours he’d have Bloom exactly where he wanted him.
Bloom zipped up his bag and looked up at him. There was a moment of uncertainty on his face then he smiled and turned towards the bus tugging on his rolling luggage, as they got close to the entrance it became stuck and he had to yank on it to try and get it moving again. Viggo reached out and snatched it up, the action caused Bloom to jump and stare at him like a deer in headlights.
He relished that look for a moment and then smiled placidly as he handed the suitcase up towards the man loading luggage up on top of the bus. Orlando relaxed as he realized what was going on and then turned to shove his money at the bus driver. The bus driver smirked as he happily took more than was necessary from what was obviously an American tourist that didn’t know any better. Viggo handed him the correct amount and followed Bloom up onto the bus. Orlando cast an uneasy look backwards at him as he realized what was happening.
“I too am going where you are,” Viggo explained easily.
“Oh,” Bloom said with a nod though he didn’t look completely satisfied with that answer.
“When we get there I can point you where you are going,” Viggo pointed out.
Again Bloom relaxed at Viggo’s easy tone and offer of assistance. He slid into the first empty seat and started fiddling with the window to push the scratched pane, which had been left down by the previous passenger, up. Viggo contemplated taking the empty seat next to him but knew instinctively that that would be too forward and would make Bloom too suspicious. This one had intelligence in his eyes. He was not fully at ease with what was going on but given enough time he’d probably be able to think things through.
Viggo moved on down the aisle, settling on an outside seat a few rows back from Bloom, and settled in for the trip. He remained slightly on edge and left his jacket on even though he knew the bus would soon get sweltering. Bloom glanced over his shoulder and Viggo sent him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. Bloom nodded in his direction and turned towards the front again as an old man settled into the seat next to him just as the bus rumbled to life and started to move.
Yes it was better to let Bloom think he was getting comfortable with his surroundings before ramping up the stress level once again.
All in good time, all in good time.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Dominic rushed into the airport. He was running late. There’d been an accident on the only decent road to the airport and that had caused his delay and he’d missed the arrival of Bloom’s plane. He checked the board and cringed when he saw that the plane had even managed to land early. Bloom had 15 minutes on him but hopefully he’d had to wait for his luggage or was wandering around lost and confused. Of course everyone could be totally underestimating him. He might just have managed to get on a bus going to Cartagena, it didn’t take much to read the sign hanging off the front of the bus.
Hurrying back to the buses he walked up and down the line looking for the ones that were heading towards Cartagena. A window was slid upwards as he passed one of them and he stopped short. He’d caught a glance of familiar dark eyes and hair, glancing down at his hands where he clutched Bloom’s book his suspicions were confirmed. His heart lurched as the bus began to move from its spot in line. He ran after it even though he knew it wouldn’t do any good. The bus wasn’t going to stop until it got to wherever it was going.
“Fuck,” he muttered in annoyance.
With a groan he asked another person who’d just missed it where it was going in stilted Spanish. His groan grew bigger when he heard how far out of the way Bloom was heading. He knew without asking that Colin would demand that he follow it and he hurried back towards the parking area to get back in his car and follow it.
He didn’t bother to hurry, Bloom wouldn’t be able to get anymore lost than he already was. He’d get to the little one horse town without so much as a phone and would still be struggling to figure out when the bus would arrive by the time Dominic showed up. He’d stop and get some gas and some snacks and then head out after it. He’d call Colin when he stopped.
At least nothing else could go wrong.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
He came awake with a jolt. His head aching from where it had smacked against the window it had been leaning against. Disorientated Orlando blinked blearily around him trying to figure out just what was going on before it crashed back down on him.
Oh yes he was in Colombia, trying to rescue Samantha. He hadn’t slept nor eaten since the day before and despite the fact that the bus was hot, smelly, filled with strange people and the road was bumpy he’d fallen asleep before they’d even left town. He glanced at his watch and tried to peer out the scratched and dusty window. What little he could make out was not what he was expecting. Sitting up straighter he reached up and pulled down the window, horror bubbling up inside him at what he was seeing.
The man on the phone had said that it would probably take 2 hours or so to get to Cartagena. That’s how much time had passed since he’d gotten on the bus and instead of the watery vistas and soft ocean breezes the tableau he was present with looked like something out of a Tarzan movie. Dense jungles that no light seemed to penetrate covered mountainous terrain. There was a high pitched screech as they passed a grove a tree and Orlando watched with wide disbelieving eyes as a disgruntled monkey let the bus know how it felt about being disturbed.
Something had gone horribly wrong. Orlando didn’t know much about it really but he was fairly certain that there should be no dense jungles, no mountains and certainly no disgruntled monkeys in Cartagena.
Orlando whipped his head around and let his eyes fly wildly around the bus as his heartbeat began to pick up wildly in his chest. There were other windows open and no one seemed particularly perturbed by the view out of them. Eventually his eyes landed on the man who he’d eventually recognized as being on the plane from New York. The man was staring directly at him. He didn’t even bother to look away when Orlando caught him and the slightest of smirks curled one corner of his lips.
Anxiety welling up inside of him, he whirled to face the front again. In a desperate attempt to ward off the growing panic attack he jumped to his feet and started heading towards the front of the bus to talk to the driver. He needed to find out what was going on. It was possible he was mistaken and this was indeed the way to Cartagena. He hadn’t had time to even look on the map all he knew was that it was on the ocean. He knew he was clutching at straws but if clutching at straws kept him from having an attack he was going to do it.
He mumbled an apology as he brushed passed the old man who’d sat down next to him. The old man didn’t move and Orlando had a fleeting thought that maybe he’d been sleeping next to a dead person for the last three hours. It would be the least of the worries on his growing list he was sure if it was the case. He hit the aisel and continued to move forward struggling to retain his balance as the bus swayed and bumped along the road beneath them.
He neatly sidestepped a pig that was sleeping halfway in the aisle only to be almost dumped into a bigger woman’s lap. She pushed him roughly away from her and squawked at him in irritated sounding Spanish. Orlando was reminded of the monkey in the tree from a few miles back. Eventually he managed to make his way to the front of the bus and settled in the empty seat behind the driver, he leaned forward to address the man.
“How much further to Cartagena?” he asked.
The driver shook his head and started speaking to him in heavily accented Spanish. Orlando fumbled for his backpack to get out his translation dictionary though he pulled it out the driver ignored him as he flipped through the pages. He found one of the pages he’d marked and hoped that it would get him an answer he could understand. He stumbled through the question again in Spanish the driver turned his head and answered him back rapidly.
Orlando was unable to catch even half of what he was saying, shook his head and bit at his bottom lip and shook his head again. The driver, his eyes still not on the road, seemed to realize that he had not been understood and took pity on Orlando and tried again this time limiting his response to two words.
“No Cartagena.”
“What!” Orlando squawked in shock even though he’d already suspected that he’d somehow gotten on the wrong bus.
The driver either recognized that word or just interpreted Orlando’s tone for what it was. “No Cartagena,” he repeated again with a shrug.
Orlando glanced down at his dictionary trying to figure out how to ask the driver where they were going. He glanced up and realized with horror that the driver was still looking at him. The driver seemed to know what he was doing probably having driven this route many times. But as Orlando watched with some admiration as they expertly rounded a corner he noticed a jeep that had been left partially in the road ahead of them. He realized with a start that they were heading right for it.
“Look out,” Orlando yelped waving at the window.
Again, whether the driver understood his words or just the tone of voice, he whipped his head back around towards the road and tried desperately to swing them out of the way of the jeep. But they were already too close to it to stop or move around it and they ended up smashing head on into it. Orlando found himself flung forward and he ended up in a heap on the floor near the driver’s feet, dazed and a little scratched up, but otherwise unharmed.
A moment of complete silence hung over the crashed bus and then the silence was broken by a chorus of angry yells and calls. It was all in Spanish so Orlando was unable to figure out if they were yelling at the driver or him. Thankfully there didn’t seem to be an angry mob coming his way because after a moment the furor died down and the passengers calmly grabbed their things and started exiting the bus walking over Orlando in the process. No one gave him a second glance as they passed him.
He watched everyone go, content to just lie there for as long as possible, but when even the driver stepped over him he finally pushed himself up and followed outside. The heat hit him like a wave, he could already feel the sweat that would bead up in just a few minutes. He pulled at his jacket, slipping it off and folding it into his arms before surveying the chaos in front of him.
The jeep had been toppled over onto its side. It was old and beat up but now it was definitely not useable. The bus was pushed up partially on top of it, also clearly unusable for the time being. Luggage from the top of the bus was strewn all over the place as were crates and other items from the jeep. It seemed to have been carrying live exotic birds. Some that had been released from their cages were hanging around squawking and carrying on as much as the bus passengers. Those that remained in their cages were eagerly snatched up by people as they passed by on their way down the road.
Orlando sighed, he supposed that he’d have to follow them to wherever they were going. Hopefully there’d be someone who spoke English there that could get him pointed in the right direction back to Cartagena, or better yet, a telephone that he could use to call for…something. He doubted he’d be able to get a cab out here but if he could get a hold of Elijah then they’d probably be able to arrange someone to pick him up.
Plan in hand he picked his way around the accident site in search of his suitcase. He found it on the edge of the narrow roadway, just before the land disappeared down a steep embankment filled with trees, grass and rocks. He shuddered as he stared down it, heights were another one of the many things that bothered him. He grabbed the suitcase and yanked if over the rocky road back around the bus ready to hurry after the group that had already disappeared around a bend. As he rounded the back of the bus he stopped short coming face to face with the man who’d helped him get on the bus earlier.
“Oh,” Orlando said as he stepped back in surprise. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to leave here,” the man said in the same smooth slightly accented tone he’d used earlier.
“But,” Orlando’s brow creased in confusion as he stared down the road where the other passengers had disappeared. “What about them?”
“They are…too impatient,” the stranger said with a shrug. “Another bus will be along and the day is hot, no need to hike after them.”
“You said this bus went to Cartagena,” Orlando said after a moment’s hesitation. “It doesn’t.”
“No,” the man admitted with a nod. “I am sorry. These buses often change their routes without changing their destination plates but I did not think this would be the case this time.”
“Oh…” Orlando said with a frown.
His brain told him not to trust this man and not to let him get too close. He nodded and backed away, not willing to turn his back on the stranger, as he moved back around the side of the bus where he could best see anything coming up the road and set his suitcase down. He watched nervously as the man followed him and began to pace restlessly in front of him. He didn’t know why his stomach was churning so much, there was just something about this man that set him on edge. He would wait here for a little while and then if no buses came he would follow the road in the direction the others had gone.
He sighed, he could practically feel the heat wrap around him and settling hard on his chest. He tried not to stare as the stranger paced idly in front of him. Minutes passed in silence, five…ten….and then fifteen. He wasn’t sure how long it would take for the next bus to come. It could be a few more minutes or it could be hours. He could be at the village, hopefully on the phone with Elijah, by that time if he walked. He didn’t know how long he had before his sister’s kidnappers got unhappy but it probably wasn’t long. The man had stopped his pacing and was now standing with his back turned towards Orlando as he stared out over the ravine. His decision made Orlando stood clearing his throat slightly as he did.
“I’m going to follow the others,” he said hesitantly, he turned to grab for the backpack he’d let fall to the ground. “I need to try to get to a phone as soon as possible.”
“I can’t let you leave.”
Orlando stilled from where he was standing back up. He turned his head towards the stranger and yelped as he saw that the man was now pointing a gun at him. He jumped backwards, stumbling over his suitcase but managing to remain upright. “You led me here…” he said as realization dawned. He had been lead to this remote place and now there was no one around to help him.
“You have something I want,” the man said coldly taking a step in his direction.
“I don’t have anything valuable,” he insisted sharply. “Some money…not much and my suitcase…but nothing worth more than that.”
He inched backwards as the man advanced on him. His back hit the bus and he couldn’t move any further. The stranger smirked as he stopped in front of Orlando, his eyes roaming quite deliberately up his body, his hand followed.
“You have much to offer,” he said in a silky tone as his hand settled on Orlando’s hip near the backpack. “And I will take everything…”
“Please…” Orlando let slip with a small whimper, he would not allow himself to beg.
The stranger smirked but whatever his response to that small plea would have been was lost on the wind as it brought the soft sound of whistling to them. The man stiffened and turned his head in the direction the new noise was coming from. Orlando followed his glance with his own wincing, as the hand on his waist gripped tightly.
On the ridge above them a man appeared. He was nothing more than a shadow, his face blocked from view. He had a canteen slung over his shoulder and a cowboy hat on his head. In the strange quietness of his mind Orlando was reminded of Daisy from his books and had to bite back a strangled bit of laughter. The stress of the situation was definitely starting to get to him.
The man on the ridge stopped when he saw them and he yelled down something in Spanish that had a hard and angry edge to it. The man in front of him yelled back and waved his gun. The man on the ridge slowly raised his hands above his head in response.
Sensing that the man with the gun was distracted Orlando moved forward and gave him a hard shove that caused him to stumble and the gun to go off. In horror Orlando watched as the bullet made a hole in the canteen of the man above them. In a blink of an eye the man reached behind his back and pulled out a shot gun and started shooting in their direction.
The man that he had pushed fired back and Orlando suddenly found himself in the middle of a full out fire fight. Yelping, he went for the one place he could think of that would offer him any protection and crawled underneath the bus and pressed himself as low to the ground as he could. He watched as two sets of legs moved around the bus and winced each time there was gun fire. Glass broke on the bus above him and then there were footsteps running through it and out the back door of the bus and down the road from the direction in which they’d come, leaving only one pair of legs behind.
The legs walked to the overturned jeep and there was banging and muttering that accompanied them as they kicked aside some of the debris. “Bloody hell...”
Orlando winced as the angry clanging continued, accompanied by more cursing and muttering. He was only slightly relieved that the voice held a heavy British accent instead of the light Spanish one he associated with the man who’d held the gun on him. Now he was left with a stranger and was the only one around that he could take his anger out on over what was obviously his destroyed jeep.
He stilled as the legs started moving around the bus again, coming over to the side where he’d crawled underneath what seemed like hours earlier. They paused a short distance in front of him. He held his breath and tried not to whimper in fear as the new stranger crouched down and peered under the bus at him. Blocked by the sun he could only make out a long fall of hair and a pair of glittering green eyes before the man finally spoke.
“Hey there.”
* * *
TBC
Forward to: Part Four
Back to: El Corazon Fic Index
Author: Amy
Pairing: Orlibean
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Never happened. This has been adapted from the movie Romancing the Stone - it does not belong to me no harm is meant and no money is being made.
Warning: There’s a bit of character death in here. It actually happened before the story starts but it’s mentioned a little graphically in this chapter so the warning is here. And yes I really did it…sorry girls...please don’t hate me.
Beta: The lovely giselleslash all remaining mistakes are mine.
Summary: Romance writer Orlando Bloom travels to Colombia to save his sister who has been kidnapped.
Note: This is for the orlibean Summer Movie Challenge. The movie I chose was Romancing the Stone. There are still plenty of movies to choose from so if you're interested in participating please follow the link above and join the fun.
Note #2: The Next part will be Posted on Thursday 8/2
Previous Parts
Thanks to cammissbloom for my lovely banner and icon!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Viggo watched with a smirk as Bloom slowly exited the airport. Bloom seemed terrified and was more than a little skittish so he allowed him space to move through the crowds of people speaking loudly in Spanish, squealing animals, crying babies, and fights breaking out all over the place with a wide distance between them. The environment was so different from an airport in America that Viggo knew it would be incredibly overwhelming for Bloom. He’d taken some time before leaving the US to do some research on his target and had learned of Bloom’s illness as a child and continued panic attacks. Given just enough time and just enough stress Orlando would be primed to latch onto the first person who approached him that spoke decent English. Viggo planned to be that person.
He followed Bloom as he finally made it through the crowd to the line of cabs and buses that lined the pavement. Bloom fumbled with the rolling suitcase he was trailing behind him as he dug through the backpack he had slung over his shoulder and pulled out a shiny, probably brand new, Spanish to English dictionary. He flipped it open to a page Viggo had seen him locate and mark on the plane, took a deep breath and with a determined look on his face took a step towards the first bus he came to.
Viggo hurried forward, the last thing he wanted was for Bloom to get going in the right direction. He needed him isolated and lost for his plan to work. All Viggo needed was a little time and the right circumstances for Bloom’s stress levels to hit maximum and he’d be easy to take care of.
“May I help you?” he asked in a soft voice sliding into the accent he’d picked up easily over the past few years.
Bloom looked momentarily startled at his sudden appearance and he clutched at his book blinking wide eyed at Viggo. “You speak English?” he asked softly.
“Yes,” Viggo said keeping his voice even and unassuming. “You’re not from around here…you are American?”
“I live there, yes…” Bloom said nervously.
“I know how it can be to come to Colombia for the first time. It can be a little overwhelming,” Viggo said in a soothing tone. “Let me help you get pointed in the right direction.”
Bloom eyed him suspiciously for a moment and then nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “I need to get to Cartagena to meet my sister. Do you know which of these buses will go there?”
Viggo looked up at the bus right in front of them and the name plate on the front of it, he was just able to stop himself from laughing in delight. This bus was going far in the opposite direction of Cartagena. It was instead going to one of the farthest and most remote locations in Colombia, a small village deep in the mountain jungles. It also happened to be near to a police outpost, he could easily call on them to his location and grab Bloom and go. No one would take the second look at a foreigner going missing there. The only Americans that traveled there were to be looked upon with suspicion. It was too close to several drug farms.
“This one does,” he said as he pointed at the one in front of them.
“Really?” Bloom asked, relief evident in his voice that things had gone so easy. “Thank you.”
He fumbled with his backpack. As he slipped the book back into it and started to close it Viggo saw what could only be folded parchment, he took a small step forward and could make out writing. His eyes narrowing, he’d only seen pictures of the map but that had to be it. His hand clenched as he stopped himself from reaching out to snatch the bag from Bloom. It would be so easy to do that, just grab it and run. But there were too many people around that could stop him. If there was anywhere in Colombia that he had the least amount of power it was here in the airport. Too many American planes came through her which meant that there were too many Americans milling around, including federal agents. It was much better to wait, in a few more hours he’d have Bloom exactly where he wanted him.
Bloom zipped up his bag and looked up at him. There was a moment of uncertainty on his face then he smiled and turned towards the bus tugging on his rolling luggage, as they got close to the entrance it became stuck and he had to yank on it to try and get it moving again. Viggo reached out and snatched it up, the action caused Bloom to jump and stare at him like a deer in headlights.
He relished that look for a moment and then smiled placidly as he handed the suitcase up towards the man loading luggage up on top of the bus. Orlando relaxed as he realized what was going on and then turned to shove his money at the bus driver. The bus driver smirked as he happily took more than was necessary from what was obviously an American tourist that didn’t know any better. Viggo handed him the correct amount and followed Bloom up onto the bus. Orlando cast an uneasy look backwards at him as he realized what was happening.
“I too am going where you are,” Viggo explained easily.
“Oh,” Bloom said with a nod though he didn’t look completely satisfied with that answer.
“When we get there I can point you where you are going,” Viggo pointed out.
Again Bloom relaxed at Viggo’s easy tone and offer of assistance. He slid into the first empty seat and started fiddling with the window to push the scratched pane, which had been left down by the previous passenger, up. Viggo contemplated taking the empty seat next to him but knew instinctively that that would be too forward and would make Bloom too suspicious. This one had intelligence in his eyes. He was not fully at ease with what was going on but given enough time he’d probably be able to think things through.
Viggo moved on down the aisle, settling on an outside seat a few rows back from Bloom, and settled in for the trip. He remained slightly on edge and left his jacket on even though he knew the bus would soon get sweltering. Bloom glanced over his shoulder and Viggo sent him what he hoped was a reassuring smile. Bloom nodded in his direction and turned towards the front again as an old man settled into the seat next to him just as the bus rumbled to life and started to move.
Yes it was better to let Bloom think he was getting comfortable with his surroundings before ramping up the stress level once again.
All in good time, all in good time.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Dominic rushed into the airport. He was running late. There’d been an accident on the only decent road to the airport and that had caused his delay and he’d missed the arrival of Bloom’s plane. He checked the board and cringed when he saw that the plane had even managed to land early. Bloom had 15 minutes on him but hopefully he’d had to wait for his luggage or was wandering around lost and confused. Of course everyone could be totally underestimating him. He might just have managed to get on a bus going to Cartagena, it didn’t take much to read the sign hanging off the front of the bus.
Hurrying back to the buses he walked up and down the line looking for the ones that were heading towards Cartagena. A window was slid upwards as he passed one of them and he stopped short. He’d caught a glance of familiar dark eyes and hair, glancing down at his hands where he clutched Bloom’s book his suspicions were confirmed. His heart lurched as the bus began to move from its spot in line. He ran after it even though he knew it wouldn’t do any good. The bus wasn’t going to stop until it got to wherever it was going.
“Fuck,” he muttered in annoyance.
With a groan he asked another person who’d just missed it where it was going in stilted Spanish. His groan grew bigger when he heard how far out of the way Bloom was heading. He knew without asking that Colin would demand that he follow it and he hurried back towards the parking area to get back in his car and follow it.
He didn’t bother to hurry, Bloom wouldn’t be able to get anymore lost than he already was. He’d get to the little one horse town without so much as a phone and would still be struggling to figure out when the bus would arrive by the time Dominic showed up. He’d stop and get some gas and some snacks and then head out after it. He’d call Colin when he stopped.
At least nothing else could go wrong.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
He came awake with a jolt. His head aching from where it had smacked against the window it had been leaning against. Disorientated Orlando blinked blearily around him trying to figure out just what was going on before it crashed back down on him.
Oh yes he was in Colombia, trying to rescue Samantha. He hadn’t slept nor eaten since the day before and despite the fact that the bus was hot, smelly, filled with strange people and the road was bumpy he’d fallen asleep before they’d even left town. He glanced at his watch and tried to peer out the scratched and dusty window. What little he could make out was not what he was expecting. Sitting up straighter he reached up and pulled down the window, horror bubbling up inside him at what he was seeing.
The man on the phone had said that it would probably take 2 hours or so to get to Cartagena. That’s how much time had passed since he’d gotten on the bus and instead of the watery vistas and soft ocean breezes the tableau he was present with looked like something out of a Tarzan movie. Dense jungles that no light seemed to penetrate covered mountainous terrain. There was a high pitched screech as they passed a grove a tree and Orlando watched with wide disbelieving eyes as a disgruntled monkey let the bus know how it felt about being disturbed.
Something had gone horribly wrong. Orlando didn’t know much about it really but he was fairly certain that there should be no dense jungles, no mountains and certainly no disgruntled monkeys in Cartagena.
Orlando whipped his head around and let his eyes fly wildly around the bus as his heartbeat began to pick up wildly in his chest. There were other windows open and no one seemed particularly perturbed by the view out of them. Eventually his eyes landed on the man who he’d eventually recognized as being on the plane from New York. The man was staring directly at him. He didn’t even bother to look away when Orlando caught him and the slightest of smirks curled one corner of his lips.
Anxiety welling up inside of him, he whirled to face the front again. In a desperate attempt to ward off the growing panic attack he jumped to his feet and started heading towards the front of the bus to talk to the driver. He needed to find out what was going on. It was possible he was mistaken and this was indeed the way to Cartagena. He hadn’t had time to even look on the map all he knew was that it was on the ocean. He knew he was clutching at straws but if clutching at straws kept him from having an attack he was going to do it.
He mumbled an apology as he brushed passed the old man who’d sat down next to him. The old man didn’t move and Orlando had a fleeting thought that maybe he’d been sleeping next to a dead person for the last three hours. It would be the least of the worries on his growing list he was sure if it was the case. He hit the aisel and continued to move forward struggling to retain his balance as the bus swayed and bumped along the road beneath them.
He neatly sidestepped a pig that was sleeping halfway in the aisle only to be almost dumped into a bigger woman’s lap. She pushed him roughly away from her and squawked at him in irritated sounding Spanish. Orlando was reminded of the monkey in the tree from a few miles back. Eventually he managed to make his way to the front of the bus and settled in the empty seat behind the driver, he leaned forward to address the man.
“How much further to Cartagena?” he asked.
The driver shook his head and started speaking to him in heavily accented Spanish. Orlando fumbled for his backpack to get out his translation dictionary though he pulled it out the driver ignored him as he flipped through the pages. He found one of the pages he’d marked and hoped that it would get him an answer he could understand. He stumbled through the question again in Spanish the driver turned his head and answered him back rapidly.
Orlando was unable to catch even half of what he was saying, shook his head and bit at his bottom lip and shook his head again. The driver, his eyes still not on the road, seemed to realize that he had not been understood and took pity on Orlando and tried again this time limiting his response to two words.
“No Cartagena.”
“What!” Orlando squawked in shock even though he’d already suspected that he’d somehow gotten on the wrong bus.
The driver either recognized that word or just interpreted Orlando’s tone for what it was. “No Cartagena,” he repeated again with a shrug.
Orlando glanced down at his dictionary trying to figure out how to ask the driver where they were going. He glanced up and realized with horror that the driver was still looking at him. The driver seemed to know what he was doing probably having driven this route many times. But as Orlando watched with some admiration as they expertly rounded a corner he noticed a jeep that had been left partially in the road ahead of them. He realized with a start that they were heading right for it.
“Look out,” Orlando yelped waving at the window.
Again, whether the driver understood his words or just the tone of voice, he whipped his head back around towards the road and tried desperately to swing them out of the way of the jeep. But they were already too close to it to stop or move around it and they ended up smashing head on into it. Orlando found himself flung forward and he ended up in a heap on the floor near the driver’s feet, dazed and a little scratched up, but otherwise unharmed.
A moment of complete silence hung over the crashed bus and then the silence was broken by a chorus of angry yells and calls. It was all in Spanish so Orlando was unable to figure out if they were yelling at the driver or him. Thankfully there didn’t seem to be an angry mob coming his way because after a moment the furor died down and the passengers calmly grabbed their things and started exiting the bus walking over Orlando in the process. No one gave him a second glance as they passed him.
He watched everyone go, content to just lie there for as long as possible, but when even the driver stepped over him he finally pushed himself up and followed outside. The heat hit him like a wave, he could already feel the sweat that would bead up in just a few minutes. He pulled at his jacket, slipping it off and folding it into his arms before surveying the chaos in front of him.
The jeep had been toppled over onto its side. It was old and beat up but now it was definitely not useable. The bus was pushed up partially on top of it, also clearly unusable for the time being. Luggage from the top of the bus was strewn all over the place as were crates and other items from the jeep. It seemed to have been carrying live exotic birds. Some that had been released from their cages were hanging around squawking and carrying on as much as the bus passengers. Those that remained in their cages were eagerly snatched up by people as they passed by on their way down the road.
Orlando sighed, he supposed that he’d have to follow them to wherever they were going. Hopefully there’d be someone who spoke English there that could get him pointed in the right direction back to Cartagena, or better yet, a telephone that he could use to call for…something. He doubted he’d be able to get a cab out here but if he could get a hold of Elijah then they’d probably be able to arrange someone to pick him up.
Plan in hand he picked his way around the accident site in search of his suitcase. He found it on the edge of the narrow roadway, just before the land disappeared down a steep embankment filled with trees, grass and rocks. He shuddered as he stared down it, heights were another one of the many things that bothered him. He grabbed the suitcase and yanked if over the rocky road back around the bus ready to hurry after the group that had already disappeared around a bend. As he rounded the back of the bus he stopped short coming face to face with the man who’d helped him get on the bus earlier.
“Oh,” Orlando said as he stepped back in surprise. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to leave here,” the man said in the same smooth slightly accented tone he’d used earlier.
“But,” Orlando’s brow creased in confusion as he stared down the road where the other passengers had disappeared. “What about them?”
“They are…too impatient,” the stranger said with a shrug. “Another bus will be along and the day is hot, no need to hike after them.”
“You said this bus went to Cartagena,” Orlando said after a moment’s hesitation. “It doesn’t.”
“No,” the man admitted with a nod. “I am sorry. These buses often change their routes without changing their destination plates but I did not think this would be the case this time.”
“Oh…” Orlando said with a frown.
His brain told him not to trust this man and not to let him get too close. He nodded and backed away, not willing to turn his back on the stranger, as he moved back around the side of the bus where he could best see anything coming up the road and set his suitcase down. He watched nervously as the man followed him and began to pace restlessly in front of him. He didn’t know why his stomach was churning so much, there was just something about this man that set him on edge. He would wait here for a little while and then if no buses came he would follow the road in the direction the others had gone.
He sighed, he could practically feel the heat wrap around him and settling hard on his chest. He tried not to stare as the stranger paced idly in front of him. Minutes passed in silence, five…ten….and then fifteen. He wasn’t sure how long it would take for the next bus to come. It could be a few more minutes or it could be hours. He could be at the village, hopefully on the phone with Elijah, by that time if he walked. He didn’t know how long he had before his sister’s kidnappers got unhappy but it probably wasn’t long. The man had stopped his pacing and was now standing with his back turned towards Orlando as he stared out over the ravine. His decision made Orlando stood clearing his throat slightly as he did.
“I’m going to follow the others,” he said hesitantly, he turned to grab for the backpack he’d let fall to the ground. “I need to try to get to a phone as soon as possible.”
“I can’t let you leave.”
Orlando stilled from where he was standing back up. He turned his head towards the stranger and yelped as he saw that the man was now pointing a gun at him. He jumped backwards, stumbling over his suitcase but managing to remain upright. “You led me here…” he said as realization dawned. He had been lead to this remote place and now there was no one around to help him.
“You have something I want,” the man said coldly taking a step in his direction.
“I don’t have anything valuable,” he insisted sharply. “Some money…not much and my suitcase…but nothing worth more than that.”
He inched backwards as the man advanced on him. His back hit the bus and he couldn’t move any further. The stranger smirked as he stopped in front of Orlando, his eyes roaming quite deliberately up his body, his hand followed.
“You have much to offer,” he said in a silky tone as his hand settled on Orlando’s hip near the backpack. “And I will take everything…”
“Please…” Orlando let slip with a small whimper, he would not allow himself to beg.
The stranger smirked but whatever his response to that small plea would have been was lost on the wind as it brought the soft sound of whistling to them. The man stiffened and turned his head in the direction the new noise was coming from. Orlando followed his glance with his own wincing, as the hand on his waist gripped tightly.
On the ridge above them a man appeared. He was nothing more than a shadow, his face blocked from view. He had a canteen slung over his shoulder and a cowboy hat on his head. In the strange quietness of his mind Orlando was reminded of Daisy from his books and had to bite back a strangled bit of laughter. The stress of the situation was definitely starting to get to him.
The man on the ridge stopped when he saw them and he yelled down something in Spanish that had a hard and angry edge to it. The man in front of him yelled back and waved his gun. The man on the ridge slowly raised his hands above his head in response.
Sensing that the man with the gun was distracted Orlando moved forward and gave him a hard shove that caused him to stumble and the gun to go off. In horror Orlando watched as the bullet made a hole in the canteen of the man above them. In a blink of an eye the man reached behind his back and pulled out a shot gun and started shooting in their direction.
The man that he had pushed fired back and Orlando suddenly found himself in the middle of a full out fire fight. Yelping, he went for the one place he could think of that would offer him any protection and crawled underneath the bus and pressed himself as low to the ground as he could. He watched as two sets of legs moved around the bus and winced each time there was gun fire. Glass broke on the bus above him and then there were footsteps running through it and out the back door of the bus and down the road from the direction in which they’d come, leaving only one pair of legs behind.
The legs walked to the overturned jeep and there was banging and muttering that accompanied them as they kicked aside some of the debris. “Bloody hell...”
Orlando winced as the angry clanging continued, accompanied by more cursing and muttering. He was only slightly relieved that the voice held a heavy British accent instead of the light Spanish one he associated with the man who’d held the gun on him. Now he was left with a stranger and was the only one around that he could take his anger out on over what was obviously his destroyed jeep.
He stilled as the legs started moving around the bus again, coming over to the side where he’d crawled underneath what seemed like hours earlier. They paused a short distance in front of him. He held his breath and tried not to whimper in fear as the new stranger crouched down and peered under the bus at him. Blocked by the sun he could only make out a long fall of hair and a pair of glittering green eyes before the man finally spoke.
“Hey there.”
* * *
TBC
Forward to: Part Four
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