ManInTheLoft
Really Experienced
- Joined
- Apr 25, 2018
- Posts
- 170
"...the forest for the trees"
Closed for MarieDavisRPs
Closed for MarieDavisRPs
Robert Phillips sat at the edge of the clearing, hidden by thick foliage and the dark of night, waiting. It was Drop Night, and all across the thickly forested island, others were hiding and waiting as well.
To his left and right were those who'd sworn their fealty to him, members of the band of people Robert called The Reborn. They, like he, were convicted criminals, the worst of the worst, murderers and rapists and more. They'd been sent to this island to live out their remaining days, whether many or few, without the need or cost of jails and the men and women who ran them.
Although he didn't know where it was exactly, Robert knew that the island was somewhere amongst the Queen Elizabeth Islands in the extreme north of Canada. There was no other land in sight and no light pollution over the watery horizon at night to indicate any sense of humans in the vicinity.
There were only two signs that life continued to exist out in the world beyond this island: the occasional passing of international and military aircraft high overhead, and the bimonthly passing of a lower flying craft that delivered supplies to the island.
Drop Night was the only indication to Robert, The Reborn, and the other island inhabitants that anyone beyond their home cared a rat's ass about them. The convicts hadn't been sent here to die, per se; they'd only been sent here to forgotten by the rest of the world.
Robert had been on the island since shortly after his 34th birthday. He'd been in the Army for 8 years, most of it as a sniper. After his service, he'd become a very successful and well paid assassin. He'd killed men and women all over the world, more often than not yet not exclusively while looking at them through a scope from a very long distance.
The irony of Robert's being here now was that his most frequent and best paying client had been the very government that had sent him here. He considered himself lucky to be here, though: most people in his line of work were liquidated when their services were no longer desired.
Robert had been amongst the third group of convicts transferred en masse to the island from prisons across North America. After the fourth transfer, convicts had generally been dropped here one at a time, sometimes several a month, until finally new arrivals were very rare, maybe three or four a year.
Robert had been here now for 15 years.
"It's coming."
Robert looked to his left to the much younger man who everyone called the Gnome. Patrick O'Callaghan was a short, stocky man with a full beard, all of which together had resulted in his nickname. The Gnome, originally from England, had been part of a Canadian bank robbery gang that had during their long career been responsible for the killing of 9 innocent civilians and 3 police officers. He'd been sent to the island after killing an inmate and a guard during a failed escape attempt from his previous location of confinement.
The Gnome pointed to the southeastern sky, adding, "There. Maybe ... six, seven minutes. The wind makes it hard to tell. Maybe less."
Looking left and right, Robert told others from The Reborn, "You know what to do. Same shit, different day."
Six Reborn headed out slowly and cautiously into the scattered cover and gentle rolling ground of the clearing before them. Another six were already to the east and west, also hiding inside the tree line, and they headed forward as well. They moved silently and crouched down, to hide their presence under the light of an unfortunately bright full moon.
Robert wasn't expecting any trouble from the other organized bands or lone individuals living in this vicinity of the island, but you could never be too careful. All of his people were armed with bows, crossbows, and blades made of a variety of materials. The last two Drop Nights had gone without serious incident, but the one before that had included a fierce battle with a neighboring band. Two of the Reborn had died of their injuries, while the other band had lost three during the fight and, Robert had learned later, two more from injuries their bodies simply couldn't sustain.
Robert listened for the plane, then caught sight of it as it cleared the tree line to the south. The Gnome had been right on with his direction and distance, and less than 30 seconds later, the dark colored fabric of the parachutes of three replenishment pallet could be seen opening up.
Although only three were coming down within his sight, Robert knew that another three to eight had already been released farther south over the island. Each pallet held the same treasures: medicines, associated medical supplies, nutritional supplements, packaged foods, water purification treatment pills, clothing, blankets, and other supplies that sometimes varied between drops.
Typically, at least two pallets were released within sight of Robert's position, falling into the area controlled by The Reborn. The plane's crew wasn't intentionally aiming for the open clearing, of course, so often, Robert's people had to cut one or even both of the pallets out of the canopy of the thick forest either north or south of them.
But tonight, Robert was tickled pink to see that the furthest pallet visible to the south was going to fall inside the clearing, while the second would come down smack dab in the middle. He felt confident that his people would get to them first: his three scouts, who had been hiding out in the clearing since the night before, had given no sign that others from outside the Reborn had ventured to this particular clearing in the past 24 hours.
The plane passed almost directly overhead, the sound of its two propeller engines disappearing beyond the forest in which Robert's people lived and died. The Reborn's territory was at the extreme north of the island, and he expected to hear the crashing of yet a third pallet in the woods behind them, safely within their collection area.
And yet, the sound he heard behind him was far too subtle to be that of a four foot by four pallet of 200 to 600 pounds of supplies crashing through the forest canopy. He rose from his hiding position, listened a bit more, then hurried back into the forest as he called over his shoulder, "Gnome! Let's go!"
Robert ran back into the woods, following the well known and meandering trail for more than a hundred yards before suddenly coming to a stop. Gnome asked him in whisper, "What is it? What's wrong?"
Robert shushed him, then whispered, "Small drop."
Gnome knew what that meant, and even in the near darkness Robert could see the man's eyes widen in surprise. There was a sound off to their right that might have been a branch breaking. Robert gestured a direction with an extended finger and told Gnome, "Silently."
They two men headed off in paths that spread and then paralleled each other for another 60 yards or more. Robert searched the ground and canopy both, finding nothing for what seemed an eternity.
Then, he found branches that had been newly severed from a tree, and looking up into the canopy found the camouflage colored load. It wasn't a pallet but was a cylinder with a rounded bottom. It was a bit more than 12 feet in length and 5 feet in diameter: just large enough to house a human being and his or her initial supplies for life on the island.