Flying Over the Jungles of Africa

It was muggy and hot. Real hot. Sweat dripped from every part of my body. And I do mean every part.

The little plane bumped and bounced over the tops of the jungle's trees. The growth was thick. And the green of the trees was almost oppressive, it was so all-pervading.

Suddenly the engine on the right started sputtering. I leaned out of the side of the plane, and saw smoke streaming into the air.

"Hey!" I shouted at the pilot, grabbing his shoulder. "What's wrong with the engine?"

It was then that I noticed the small dart sticking out of the right side of his neck. He slumped over, either drugged or dead.

I sat back in stunned silence, sweating and all alone. "Don't panic," I told myself. "You can do this. You gotta get yourself out of this one."

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