Directly behind me was a small conveyor belt and my Host hit a button. Unlike a mechanism there was a slight delay and I could see someone silhouetted against a hot oven’s frame hurriedly preparing a meal. I tried to meet the eye of the cook through the tiny portal but he deliberately avoided mine, and he seemed to be a big fellow too! There was a pleasant ding and my assistant’s meal arrived through a dark shutter on a spring, this time it was some kind of chicken, also on the decorative rice paper with utensils and spices. I looked to my assistant who clearly looked as hungry as I was. I shrugged and set into my lobster. I found rather quickly it was quite spicy and I was coughing. I felt a thump on my shoulder and found that my host had apparently taken it upon himself to pat me comfortingly on my back to help me with the burning in my throat. * * * I coughed a little more, ‘I’m fine.’ I said. ‘It’s really spicy, Gretchen is it? Sir.’ ‘How about some foi gras to help the palate?’. Death maybe? A quick one. Not to be slowly cooked to death under this merciless sun. Could that be what I was begging for? For mercy? There was no mercy here, not in this place, not for me. I gave the radio at my feet a kick. Useless thing! I had tried so hard. For hours I tried. Lifting those damn-all heavy batteries out of the plane. Dragging this worthless collection of wires and tubes out as well, then hooking everything up with shaking hands. I had taken too many of my pep pills trying to get this done and now it wasn’t even going to work. And I was shaking like a leaf in March wind, unable to even pass out and sleep in this oven. ~Heat~ ‘Mercy, please Lord.’ ** ** ** ** *** ** ** I awoke to a sinking sun on the horizon. Blinking, I removed my hands from the stick and looked around me. Why? What? I climbed my way out the cockpit and hung from the side of the glass canopy looking back into the vacated pilot seat. I wished I could have laughed, as I figured out what had happen..
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