Consequences Unforeseen

Foros, The Crimea - 1 pm, June 11th 1991.

Foros, 1pm, June 11th 1991.

 

He sniffed and snuffled the air flowing down from the mountains. It ruffled his hair which was now slightly on the long side for him. It had taken on a curl as he slept and he brushed it back off his forehead, unused to this new necessity.

Even at this elevation of close to twelve hundred feet he could sense that there was a marked difference in the feel and scent of the air above and below him.

Standing precariously at the cliff’s edge, he savored the feeling of the air movement around him, as the rock face forced the warm onshore sea breeze ever upwards to meet the cooler descending mountain drafts. It caused a wavering illusion around his feet.

Glancing down it was difficult not to allow slight pangs of vertigo to creep into his mind and cause a shiver up his spine. “Dinnae ever look doon,” his Uncle used to say to him, “Ye’ll get dizzy like a lassie and fall for sure so ye will.” He laughed inwardly as he recalled the climbing on the rocks back in Scotland and the big man always driving him on to bigger and harder climbs.

He knew though that he was not alone up here. Big John was right there in his head as usual.

The sun was high and causing even more of a thermal imbalance in the atmosphere.Off to the east he could see the makings of a thunderstorm. He didn’t need his watch to confirm that it was around one in the afternoon when he slipped over the precipice because he felt the powerful heat of the afternoon sun on his back. It was uncomfortably strong, and so, no more than thirty or forty feet down, he used the heat he felt as an excuse to change his mind about his method of descent. He rationalized this away on three counts.

He felt over exposed even dressed in rust and granite tainted camouflage clothing designed to blend with the rock face. In addition, it occurred to him that taking the long way from the rear of the Church would avoid a tiring and tetchy decent on the cliff face plus provide a feel for how long the ‘back route’ would take if he ever had to use it.

His erstwhile bosses if they were witness to this would always consider that he was overdoing these preparations because it was never in the ‘plan’ to use anything other than a direct descent on the actual operation. His attitude was simple and “I don’t like surprises,” were his watchwords. So ticking this alternative route off his mental checklist was better he felt, than relying only on the dragonfly observations he made earlier from the air.

His backpack was light with just swim wear and light jeans and t-shirt for town and beach use. The Kyocera phone was tucked in there as well keeping control of the spotter dragonfly device that followed his every move and scanned the terrain below for any unwelcome guests. The tell tale ‘chirp’ was all it would take for him to halt any movement.

This was a real bonus because once onto the down slope and avoiding the winding dusty road, the trees were high and dense in places, blocking all but the immediate next step.

As he walked, and where the canopy thinned enough, he squinted upwards to see if he could spot the little flying bastard. But even with knowledge of where it was, he was unable to accomplish this. As this irresistible urge persevered, he shook his head often in continued amazement at this technology and what it had allowed him to accomplish so quickly.

Because of it, he felt as if he knew every inch of this hilly descent but still he was impatient to reach the flat ground with its ‘courting couples’ pathways,  so that he could increase his pace.

Once out of the dense forrest but still under cover of the trees and shrubs, he was cooler as well, and made good time to the outskirts of the town.