Perplex Vision 2000

"Thanks, Peter," Diane called after him.

Peter the Bear waved a small farewell as his truck disappeared into the dense shrubbery.

It took the five of them a while to locate Guss, the bush pilot. Everybody they asked seemed to know the pilot but nobody could pinpoint his whereabouts.

Finally, after wandering through the small community, they noticed a large bonfire at the edge of the water. Several hunters were gathered around the roaring fire, talking about the day's adventures. When Diane's small group approached the fire, the hunters stopped their heated conversation and stared at the newcomers.

"We're looking for Guss Vercourt, the pilot," Diane said, trying to be friendly, as they came closer to the fire.

"You must be new 'round her'. We never seen you 'fore," said one of the hunters, a large man with a long gray pony tail dangling down between his broad shoulders. "You folks hungry? There's plenty food here. It's been a good day in the bush today. Come on and join us," he said, pointing to a few empty spaces on the two logs placed around the fire. There was a wild boar roasting on a spit over the fire.

"We'd rather get back home, we're really tired," Diane said, looking at the people.

"You folks wanna fly out tonight?" a hunter dressed in old, worn military outfit asked them, he was sitting beside the fire where he was turning the pig. "Where about's you wanna go? I got fuel for about two hours flight. About two hundred and fifty miles," he said, looking at Diane with his sunburnt, open face, bright blue eyes.

"You must be Guss," Diane said, looking at the stocky man in his forties standing alone by the fire. "Peter the Bear sent us to you for help. He just dropped us off here a while ago."

"Peter the Bear? He still roaring around these marshes? Son of a gun, I haven't seen that big ol' teddy bear since our last hunting trip in Alaska. Many years ago that was. Where is he?" asked Guss.

"He dropped us off there, at the crossroads. He kept on driving into the marshes. He didn't stop," Diane explained.

"He's a good buddy of mine. Where you folks headin'?"

"We're from Miami. We sank our boat in the marshes. Anything close to Miami would do."

"I got enough fuel to get us pretty close to Miami. I might have to stop over in Gurwall for a refuelling but maybe not. When you folks wanna leave?" Guss asked looking at them.

Guss didn't need an answer. Just looking at the small group's eager eyes, stained and torn clothes, black pouches under their eyes. He understood the situation. "So be it," he concludes turning the roasting pig another two inches. "I'll meet you folks down there by the docks in fifteen minutes." He pointed his hairy hand toward the edge of a canal where a small dock was lit up by several orange-glowing lamps. "Unless you wanna have a bite with us first," he said looking at the group.

Diane turned toward Peter and Vaton with questioning eyes. She noticed Peter staring at the appealing roast. Diane nodded silently. "Actually, we will have a bite. That'd be great. We're all starving to death."