The cloth was stiff and almost slick to the touch. I put some more pressure against it. It barely moved. Despite the rust, the smoke, and the cacophony of creaks and groans spewing from the ancient vehicle, the military had apparently outfitted it with a new canopy. Without a knife, there was no way I was getting through it. And even then, I was certain my captors would be on me before I could cut a hole big enough to make my escape.
While I turned my brain over trying to figure out my escape, I looked out of the opening in the back less than ten feet away. All I could focus on was how close I was to escaping, and how hard that singular task was going to be. All the while, the truck continued on, bouncing down the road. But I realized we weren't going down at all. We were going up.
The jungle was dense, but now the foliage appeared to drop away on one side. Blue patches of sky and then the darker azure water of the sea peeked through the holes in the trees. We were along the side of a mountain near the coast. The truck wasn't climbing fast, but we were steadily gaining altitude.
I might be able to use that to my advantage. The first wisps of a plan began to form. While I let the plan coagulate, I settled back into my corner and watched the men some more. Every few minutes one of them would look over at me, and then go back to chatting, paying me no mind. With proper timing, and a lot of luck, I thought it might be possible to catch them off guard and dive past them. I could find no other options available to me. Waiting to see what General Bardales had in store was off the table. I had to act, and soon.
I readied myself the best I could, coiling every muscle for one quick leap. If I cleared the men, I'd tuck into a roll as I hit the dirt track, hopefully not breaking any bones. From there it was a quick sprint over to the steep hillside and then down the drop-off. The initial confusion would buy me a head start. Once in the jungle and moving down the mountainside, it would be hard for the men to follow. Their gear and weapons would encumber them, giving me a significant speed advantage.
I didn't bother planning anything else. Escape was where my plan stopped. Once I lost the military, I had no clue what to do. Cubans fled the country for Florida all the time. Surely I could find some way to sneak off the island. Regardless, that was a problem for another time. I had to get away first.
I ran through the plan repeatedly, visualizing it, willing it to happen. But my mind kept coming back to one issue. Jaye Mercury. Getting myself out of this situation would be tough enough. My entire plan hinged on the element of surprise. There was no way I could rescue her as well. "She is one tough lady," I reassured myself. "she can take care of herself." It sounded false. But it was still true. She was on her own, just like I was.
This wasn't my best plan ever, but as the saying goes, desperate times and all that. I moved my right foot, bracing it against the cab of the truck, using it like a running block that high-level sprinters used in the Olympics. I kept my arms behind me, maintaining the illusion that I remained fettered as I focused on the men, waiting for my opportunity.
That opportunity came seconds later. The man closest to me gave me his cursory glance, and I counted down from ten in my head. 10... 9... 8... I could feel my heartbeat pounding violently against my chest. 7... 6... 5... 4... Slowly, I crouched, giving my already coiled muscles a little more explosive power. I said a silent prayer to avoid any sudden lurches that would throw me off balance. One little jostle and my half-cocked plan would be derailed before it got started. 3... 2... 1... Now!
Pushing against the back of the truck cab with all the might my battered body and legs could muster, I launched myself forward. As my weight went to my left foot, I threw my arms forward, creating more forward momentum and readying them for my dive. My right foot came down, now only inches from the unsuspecting troops. My knee bent, and then when I felt I had maximum stored energy, I uncoiled my muscles and leapt headfirst through the small opening in the back of the truck.
As planned, I rolled as I hit the unforgiving ground, pulling my arms up to protect my head. The truck was moving at a faster pace than I had expected, and for the shortest of seconds I thought about how much this stunt was going to hurt once the adrenaline wore off. Still, I found myself miraculously on my feet, having executed the roll with the ease of a Hollywood stuntman.
Risking a look over my shoulder, I could see the men reacting to my escape. I cut to my right, pumping my arms, willing myself to move faster until I pulled up short at the edge of the road where the hillside dove fifty feet at an impossibly steep angle. The first shout rang out behind me, but I didn't bother to look for its source. I've gotten this far, I thought. Might as well push my luck a little farther.
Feet first, I half jumped, half fell off the ridge. My butt contacted the hillside first, reminding me there were rocks under the leaves and decaying plant matter. The ground at the bottom of the hill rushed up to meet me as I slid the last thirty feet
