Flying North

Photo by David M. Chambers on Unsplash

‘Mensen’, the owner of a district air charter company discovers that Rager has written a secret report about Mensen paying bribes to district officials. Mensen, a dutchman, is a veteran of the Waffen-SS; a brute who sent people to the gas chamber. He is determined to stop Rager from releasing the report.

The confrontation between the two men occurs in a remote fly-in tourist camp where Rager has been invited to see what needs to be done to improve the camps and how a promised Indian Affairs contribution to the dutchman needs to be confirmed. At the same time, he threatens Rager not to release the report (that Mensen now knows about) that would threaten the contribution and lead to a possible criminal conviction. Rager refuses and is badly beaten up with his jaw broken. As a last measure, Mensen plans to fly north and throw Rager out of the plane – “He was very depressed,” he would tell the police.  

What follows is an excerpt from Part 4, Chapter 3, where Mensen is just about to throw Rager out of the plane at eight thousand feet, when the tables are turned, Mensen is kicked, falls out, and Rager is left alone in the plane on auto-pilot not knowing what to do.

(1)

The Dutchman slapped Rager across the face, leaving a deep, burning mark. The smaller man stood without saying a word.

“Oh, you want more?” He slapped him again.

“Fuck you,” Rager said.

The water in the coffee pot began to whistle; it seemed to be a signal for a compromise. The Dutchman went over and turned the gas off on the stove. It was suddenly dead quiet. Rager could hear a bird chirping outside. “Why do you want to do this, John?” Mensen asked. “You know I can’t let this happen. You know I could hurt you.”

“Go ahead, hurt me. If you think I’m scared, well, I’m not. I never have been scared of you. I never will be!”

The Dutchman punched Rager in the face as hard as he could, twisted him around, and placed him in a choke hold, squeezing until he passed out. Then he dragged Rager outside and tied him to a tree.

At that point, he turned his attention to loading the plane with empty fuel drums. As he worked, he mumbled to himself, “I’m going to teach the fucking little weasel a good lesson, just like we taught the Jews. You start something against me, I finish it. Oh, I’m going to have fun.” He continued mumbling to himself until he was finished loading. He returned, untied Rager from the tree, and poured water onto the man’s face until he regained consciousness.

It came slowly. “What are you doing?” Rager asked.

“Shut up! Shut the fuck up! Are you going to tear up the report and be a good boy?”

“No.”

“No? That is the last word you will ever say to me!” The Dutchman smashed his fist into Rager’s face and broke his jaw. Rager’s head began to spin. The Dutchman hit him again. Then he watched him squirming and groaning. “I tell you not to talk, just listen. You’re going to do what I tell you. You’re going to tear up that report, you’re going to have no report – nothing! Mister, you are going to be good. You are going to work for me.”

Rager tried to speak; only a whisper came out of his mouth.

“What did you say?”

He attempted to gurgle. “No.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter. This is over.”

The Dutchman grabbed him, turned him over like a rag doll, and tied his hands together so it was impossible to resist. “Stand up!” he said. Without waiting, Mensen lifted him up and pushed him as though he were a prisoner. Rager was a man with a broken jaw, his eyes swelled so badly he could hardly see, and he could feel nothing but the bigger man’s arms around his chest, lifting and pushing, at times leaning his knee into his legs as though he were taking him to a cell instead of a floatplane tied to a dock.

Once they boarded, Mensen pushed him into the cargo hold, forced him down onto the floor, and tied his hands to a rail. When Rager tried to speak, he was told, “Shut up!” Mensen went out, untied the plane, returned, took his place in the pilot’s chair, and radioed another pilot. Rager could barely hear the men speaking. “I’m flying north to inspect another camp before heading back,” Mensen said.

“Sounds good, Teddy. See you later, ten-four,” the pilot replied.

Why would Mensen fly north? It made no sense. But Rager had stopped thinking about what the Dutchman would or wouldn’t do. He was unpredictable and capable of anything, even murder. Rager suddenly understood that the Dutchman intended to throw him out of the plane.

In a few minutes, they were airborne with the plane rolling along in the sky. The wind whistling outside softly. After a few minutes, Mensen set the auto-pilot and walked back to the cargo hold. He opened the loading door, then untied Rager’s hands.

“Stand up! We go for a walk,” he commanded.

At the door, Rager could see the lake far below.

“Look, John, there’s the new camp site. See?!”

Without thinking, Rager fell to the side and kicked. It was just enough for Mensen to lose his footing and fall out of the plane.

There was no scream, no sound, only the wind.

“What have I done?” Rager thought.

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