Excerpt - The Man Who Could - Chapter One by K.R.Dunn

[Note: Final draft, 2,882 words. Full Manuscript 91,000+ words, 50 Chapters.]

Chapter One

January 2020

Camarillo, California had become Joe’s safe place. He had settled into it quickly, easily adjusting to the suburb life outside of Los Angeles, about an hour and thirty minutes from downtown. That was if he didn’t hit traffic, which is nearly impossible these days. Even with the widened five lanes in each direction via the 101 and 405 freeways, the sheer mass of cars was bound to cause long slow-downs. It was quite a change from where he now stood, looking out over Victoria Falls, Africa.

The torrent, as it falls off the precipice with 625 million liters of water per minute, roars like a hundred jets that surround the never-ending deluge. Having just walked over the old bridge into the Zimbabwe side of the National Park, Joe now hiked along a cobblestone path which offered views of the falls through cut-outs in the vegetation that had been chopped down for the tourists. Only a rudimentary, dilapidated fence kept onlookers from getting too close to danger. No traffic here, Joe thought.

Wondering how it felt for those early explorers when they came upon this spot, he sat and closed his eyes against the mist. At this moment, he felt as if he were the first to discover it, the rumble of the falls through the jungle beckoning him to seek out its mystery. No one could possibly be prepared for the reality of its majesty as it came into view.

Exploring here was incredible, but he had always been an explorer. As a child, he had traversed the mountains next to his home. The desire to travel carried into his adulthood, leading to trips around the world, exploring while on vacation or escaping from work, and now back home in Camarillo. Joe had picked his townhome just over the hill off the 101 freeway because it was adjacent to a vast natural playground of trails, parks, and hidden oases which can lead into towns or down to the beach. The area had also made hobbies more accessible, which satisfied the thrill-seeker in him. He had reveled in the vast roads and backcountry to explore on his mountain bike, motorcycles, and jeep, and even added skydiving to his list of passions. The house had been close enough to his ex-wife and daughter to be there when they needed him, but far enough away to allow him his own space.

Throughout those changes in his life, he had tried to take care of himself. The location he had chosen to live had been a sincere attempt to do so. Looking down on the beauty before him, though, the realization of that failure grew. The years after his divorce had brought him nothing but sadness, mingled with short distractions. Thinking back, regret still tugged at his mind now of how he used to dwell on the bottles that had been in his hand far too often. He had struggled to make anyone job stick, which certainly hadn’t helped. Despite his interest in the outdoors, his love of In-N-Out Cheeseburgers had become the reason for the thirty extra pounds he once carried. He was tall, standing just over six feet, and was now in good shape, but the added weight that previous had formed a beer belly around his middle, still reminded him how easily it could come back.

Beads of moisture danced as they fell away from the cascades, settling on Joe’s bare head, and bringing him some relief from the heat. He had surrendered to his receding hair by finally shaving it all off in the years following the divorce, leaving just a shadow of his former self at the sides and nape. He usually kept his style pretty casual, but it may need to change into something more practical if he continued to be sent on these kinds of missions. While the polo he wore wasn’t too bad, the jeans were not nearly as breathable in the humidity he was currently subjected to. Otherwise, he felt like his preparation for today had gone fairly well. Trading out his typical sneakers for some more serious hiking shoes had been a great idea, and the backpack and tracking device that was installed on his belt wasn’t too heavy for the job at hand.

Hiking out to where he now sat hadn’t exactly been easy, but he’d managed it without too much difficulty. Still, he paused to dig for his pillbox from his pack and popped the blood pressure and cholesterol medicine that his doctors had placed him on a while back in hopes of keeping him above ground. At least now he was able to take them in smaller doses since improving his health regime. Before closing the box, he glimpsed the reflection of his eyes in its metal surface, noting how the creases, while still there, seemed to have lessened. Wondering if there was any sort of improvement, or was he just perceiving himself in a more positive light now? He had stumbled across a deeper sense of purpose. His mind couldn’t help but trace back over the toll that the last several years had taken on him.

Shaking his head, he smiled slightly at how far he had come in such a short time. Now he just had to wait for his target. Not a bad place to wait, Joe thought. This was, after all, a place considered by many to be one of the top wonders of the world. A blend of rough squawks and gentle bell-toned bird calls drifted to him from the branches behind, with the occasional peal of a monkey’s laughter. His eyes were focused on the moist vapors rising in front of him, rolling off of the falling water as if to caress the surrounding trees, an effect that had brought on the nickname “Smoke that Thunders.” The spray rose up over a thousand feet into the sky, creating a brilliance of colors as a rainbow shined over the gorge. He had never realized it was so much bigger than Niagara Falls. The pictures really don’t do it justice, he thought as he settled himself back with a sigh and feeling the misty spray of the waterfall even from this great distance.

Joe was glad that the therapist he had visited helped him get through his anxiety and depression issues. They used to cripple his ability to function and go out in the world at times, and could still occasionally rear their ugly head. That combined with the depression, drinking, and the loneliness he had felt back then, Joe was surprised he even made it through those dark times in his life. He was still alone, but now he felt he had a purpose. This new-found inner strength has emboldened him to accomplish even more and fight through any mental issues that may still linger.

Things weren’t always that way. Joe had grown up in the Sierra Mountains of California. As a kid, he loved the outdoor life of hiking, snowshoeing, skiing, swimming, and the sights and sounds that only high altitude can bring you with fresh crisp air. He had moved to Southern California at the age of 18, on the idea of becoming a model or maybe even an actor, but mostly to get away from his abusive father, who had only gotten worse after his mother’s death. On the nights his father felt the need to take his anger out in the form of sharp, chaotic blows against his wife’s frail form, Joe would scream, “Stop hurting my mom.” His feeble attempts at defending her had always been met with the same result, being thrown across the room and into the wall.

Clenching his teeth against the pain that racked his small body, he always went back for more, never conceding to the abuse his mother would face. All the while his father spat the words ‘worthless’ and a ‘waste’ at them both. Joe was glad to be out of that misery, and his years of fear.

Arriving in Southern California with big dreams, he found himself working in restaurants cleaning tables and serving food like lots of hopeful actors did in Hollywood as they waited for that big break to happen. For leisure, Joe had purchased a new Suzuki GSX-R600 sportsbike to ride in the local canyons where he met more serious riders, who talked him into going to the local racetrack called Willow Springs Raceway, to prove his mettle. This separated those who thought they were fast from those who were truly fast. They called it the dance, as the riders tossed their bikes from side to side through the corners of each turn at high speeds.

Joe finally did get into the industry, but not as he had planned. His career was launched as a Film Set Construction Assistant. Thanks to also being a skilled rider, he was accepted into the elite group of Hollywood stuntman he had met on set and became a back-up recruit whenever they could use some extra staff. The pay was paltry, but Joe enjoyed it. On their breaks, they enjoyed feeling the wind on them as they rode sportbikes capable of tripling the national speed limit. The joy on kids’ faces when he waved at them while they rode by the stereotypical family minivans on the highway had been a fun highlight his group always enjoyed. The little ones stared intently at the colorful riders fully armored in leather as they passed by them, surely comparing them to Power Rangers in their small minds.

Just the thought of riding his motorcycle made Joe miss it like crazy. With his schedule so crazy going from one mission to the next, and spending that much needed time with his daughter exploring, he didn’t have time to ride. It is well worth it for the time I get to spend with Megan, Joe thought. This jungle reminded him of his honeymoon with his ex-wife when they were down south of Playa Del Carmen in Mexico. That was a good memory before the bad years.

Funny, look at all the tourist walking around here in their cheap plastic rain hooded poncho’s. The bright yellow and green ones reminded Joe of walking vegetables. Ha, Joe thought. Joe had been working on a movie when he met his wife. She was playing hooky from work as an extra in a western movie that Joe was working on nearby. She had gotten his attention in her 1800’s Victorian style, porcelain blue prairie dress, which the wardrobe people had dressed her in. With confidence, he got her number on a lunch break that she supplied him on a napkin. He asked her out two days later and proposed just eight months after they first met. We probably moved too fast, but we were young, Joe thought. A few years later they would give birth to a beautiful baby girl named Megan.

It’s amazing how much can go through your head when you have time to relax while in the presence of such an incredible wonder, Joe thought. Now, where is my guy I'm supposed to meet with? Late was not good, that means all of the agency’s special planning may go down the tube. This spy they had working for them in the Botswana Diamond Mining Company was supposed to meet him here. He had proof that the company was illegally mining through the Namibia corridor and Angola, somewhere in the Caprivi Game Park or into Mucusso National Park. They had some new kind of boring machine that allowed them to go underground to find the Diamond Caverns without showing on the surface. When they were done, the tunnel system would not support itself from the annual water flow according to environmental engineers, who said it would flood and collapse into itself. That would be detrimental to the plant life as well as the wildlife that migrates to the area and downstream each year, cutting off their vital sustenance.

Two years prior, another attempt to get information from the elusive group ended up grim, when the UK’s spy turned up dead with only pieces of his body being found down the river. A pride of lions was the official press on his death, but the US and Britain had sent out their forensic experts who determined he was dead long before the lions found him. It was decided that he had been beaten to death. Leaving the freshly mangled body as food for the lions was their attempt to make it look like an accident. Seismic recordings in the area also helped the US conclude that more was going on under the surface than what was being told to the local governments. Or someone was being paid off for their silence.

The US and Britain had united on this one to find proof that the Botswana Diamond Mining Company was behind it at the request of the UN Environment Program, working on behalf of both Botswana and Namibia. The Chobe River flows south from Victoria Falls, separating the two countries and was the lifeblood to the ecology of the area. A spy was sent in to infiltrate the organization and after several months was able to get pictures and documentation of their illegal orchestration. Joe was told his name was Baruti, and he would be wearing a red scarf hanging from his belt. Easy enough, Joe had thought, just a simple pick-up, what could go wrong? That was answered quickly as the sound of a gunshot rang out in the distance. The loud bang echoed in the gorge, disturbing a huge flock of Red-Billed Quelea Birds, which flew into the air in unison, crying out their ‘sweep,’ ‘sweep’ sounds by the thousands.

Men yelling in the distance could now be heard as well. Joe started walking fast in the direction of the sounds and as he rounded a corner, a man ran into him at high speed. They were both knocked down, leaving them sprawling on the ground. The impact had knocked the wind out of Joe and as the man got back up to flee, Joe noticed the red scarf on the ground next to him. He tried to shout out, but he still couldn’t find his breath for his voice. He got up and started running after the man as he clutched his aching side, but he was fast, like cheetah fast, Joe thought. Seeing the man run into a small building off the trail, Joe ran up to the aged Mopane cracked wood door. Despite still being short on breath, he forced himself to speak Baruti’s name, then continued, “Baruti, I’m Joe, the one you’re supposed to meet, what is going on?”

Baruti responded, “They are after me, get yourself away. Not safe for you here.”

“I can protect us both, just come out and we’ll get out of here.”

The door creaked open, and Baruti peered out just as three men came running down the pathway. He said; “They come, must run!”

He attempted to slam the door shut, but Joe blocked the attempt with his foot, saying, “Give me your hand.”

Baruti hesitated in confusion and attempted to push past Joe, so Joe just grabbed his shoulder and materializing them both on the other side of the river at the famous Devil’s Armchair viewpoint. Once a sacrificial location used by ancient natives of the area, now it would be their savior. Rapidly moving water surrounded them up to their waistlines. Baruti looked confused as he looked around and down, realizing his new location as the cool water shocked his senses.

Joe told him he was safe now and asked him if he had the information. Baruti’s eyes bulged like he had seen a ghost, as his shaking hands brought out a small package from the pocket of his shorts. Joe said, “Thank you,” then Baruti’s panic bubbled to the surface. He screamed and ran away, paddling with his hands splashing in the water to help speed his plight. Several tourists turned to the sounds of a Motswana man yelling in his native tongue as he attempted to move through the heavy water, wanting to be as far away from Joe as quickly as possible. Hmmm, not quite the first encounter I had planned with the guy, but not much I can do about that now. Goodbye Victoria, you’re beautiful. I love my job, Joe thought, as he vanished. If anyone had been watching, they might have thought a man had just gone over the falls to his death to explain what they just saw.