The storm was so fierce, and Paul and Steve were concentrating so hard on landing safely that Paul forgot about something -- he forgot to look for the village signal showing whether or not it was safe to land.

The plane bounced and pitched in the wind, but finally they were safe on the ground. Steve let out a long sigh of relief and Paul praised him on his neat landing as the plane rolled to a stop.

Finally Paul looked out at the village. "Man, this doesn't feel right," he said, frowning. Usually there were Puinaves around the landing area. Today nobody was there, not even Tim or Bunny. Strange, since Tim had called for the plane.

Then Paul saw guerrillas coming toward them from front and behind. The guerrillas looked scary, with long tangled hair. They carried guns and had hand grenades hanging from their belts. The guerrillas ordered the pilots to get out of the plane.

"We are the FARC, and you are our prisoners," the guerrillas told them.

"We want you to take two of our men to another airstrip.If you help us, we will let you go. Does it take two pilots to fly this plane?"

Steve spoke quickly, "It makes it easier."

Meanwhile, Paul was thinking: Steve does not want to fly alone with these fellows! And if he has to fly over a part of the jungle where he hasn't been, he will get lost. Besides, it sounds like they just want the plane and a pilot. If they get that, maybe the guerrillas will let the other one go. (By now Paul was sure that Tim and Bunny had already been taken captive.)

"Steve is a new pilot. I'm the senior pilot, so I'll take the plane," Paul volunteered.

"Get in the plane then."

"Where are we going? asked Paul, "I have to make sure we will have enough fuel."

"How much fuel do you have?"

"Two hours' worth."

"That's plenty. Let's go!" commanded the guerrilla leader while pointing his gun at Paul.

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