Hidden Courage (Atlantis) Read Online Free PDF Page B

inhabitants must use their boats to get everywhere,” Jack said to himself. “What a pain.”
     
    Halfway through the flight, he passed the larger city of San Jose . This town looked like it was entirely supported by the oil industry. Like Galveston , the evidence of oil was everywhere: refineries, oil rigs, as well as tankers in the harbor.
     
    Further on, the coastline was a busy one, with tiny villages and larger cities hugging the beaches.
     
    Then it dawned: ‘ Guatemala must be a wealthier nation then Mexico .’
     
    The evidence seemed overwhelming. Moments later he crossed into El Salvador . The communities continued. They looked beautiful from the air, with large homes on the water and fancy swimming pools attached.
     
    A while later, as he flew down the coastline, the terrain inland turned rugged and mountainous. The shore became rocky and reminded him of the beautiful Oregon coastline he’d seen in calendars back home. He snapped a few pictures as he flew.
     
    Just like his previous airport, he needed to turn inland to the city of Zacatecoluca in El Salvador . Along the way, he took in the sights of the villages and towns, as well as the road that lead to the main city.
     
    “Wow; everything looks rundown,” he said to himself.
     
    As he was scanning the horizon for traffic, something caught his attention. Looking down, he could see that the side of a mountain had slid off and wiped out half the town. The devastation looked awful and widespread. He realized then that tragedies happen all over the world and go unreported, something that was obvious but he’d never given it any thought until the moment. Minutes later, he landed at El Salvador International, where he was greeted by two more military-type customs agents who wanted to have a ‘talk’ with him.
     
    Jack was gruffly ordered to stand clear while the agents made a search of his plane. Even though Jack filed flight plans with every flight he took, something drug traffickers never did, he was still regarded as a possible suspect and treated like one until he was proven innocent after they found nothing. Once cleared, the agents became all smiles and were very helpful. Relieved, Jack accepted their handshakes and asked where the FBO was located.
     
    This was Jack’s home for the night. Having taken care of the usual things – gas, weather for the next day and customs requirements for Nicaragua, Costa Rica and Panama (the next three countries he would be transitioning through) – he was ready for bed.
     
    Unfortunately, Jack’s bed for the evening was a broken couch. The pilot amenities in El Salvador were not up to the standards of the US . The couch, if it could be called that, had no cushions. Instead, someone had laid down old newspapers where the cushions had once been to soften the seat. The backrest was torn, dirty and smelled.
     
    “Holy crap, what a freakin’ pigsty,” Jack announced with dread. “This is a step down even for a skid row bum.”
     
    Hesitantly, he laid down for a minute to test the comfort factor.
     
    “You’ve gotta be freakin' kidding me. On a scale of one to ten, I’d rate this as a negative one,” Jack blurted out in disgust. “I’m outta here.”
     
    He decided that the passenger seat in his plane would give him a much more comfortable rest. He grabbed his things and made his way to the tarmac.
     
    Inside the plane, Jack moved some things around to allow for the seat to recline a bit. He then placed his sleeping bag on it for cushioning and got in and laid down. The temperatures were mild so he only needed his fleece jacket as a blanket. As he started to fall asleep, he felt a little uneasy as he watched the occasional pair of soldiers, rifles slung over their shoulders, patrolling the terminal. As he locked the doors to the plane and closed his eyes, he tried to block out the graphic images of unlawful arrests he had read about in past research. Eventually, exhaustion won out over worry and he