Strangers in Costumes: The Loadmaster

I broil underneath the sun as the heat index climbed over 100 degrees on the flight line. Shade from the plane barely cools me off as sweat trails under my chin before landing on my camouflage top. I watch Oz round the crates one at a time, recording each one before we depart. He’s the only person I talk to when he needs weapons transported undetected and in return, I collect a hefty cash reward.

The money I earned from doing these jobs allowed me to pay off my debt to Ray three years ago. I can recall his threatening tone on the phone when he issued his final warning, mentally recording his abrasive voice as it reverberated in my ears.

“What do you mean you need more time? I’ve given you plenty. You got two weeks, TWO MOTHAFUCKIN WEEKS, to have the rest of my money, Vincent! When I call again, you better tell me you got it!”

Shit!

Yeah I messed up big time back then. Casino nights with the boys turned into a lifestyle I never imagined for me. Gambling became more than a hobby I casually enjoyed and often did alone. The casino atmosphere was my playground away from reality. When I parked in the lot, I turned off my phone and disconnected from the needs and stressors of the world. The minutes seemed to crawl by as I fed my greed and nothing satisfied me more than walking away with a stack of bills in my hands. I was more than a faithful patron. I was a black plastic chip tossed in a pile. A spade shuffled between the king and queen of diamonds. I burned on smooth polyester fibers as I sank waist deep into debt.

Ray, an old friend to my deceased father, was my financial savior when I needed funds to pay my bills while weaning myself of this shameful addiction. When I asked for an advance, he was willing to assist and kept our business confidential. Family friend or not, Ray is about business but offered me grace on repayments. He only made this exception because he cherished the friendship with my father and treated me like a beloved nephew. But when the payments slowed, our emotional bond gradually drifted apart. If it wasn’t about his money, he had no interest in speaking with me.

At work, my good friend, Diaz, informed me about a quick hustle he was doing and asked if I wanted to get in on it. I occasionally heard of loadmasters and pilots participating in illegal transportations but I never found it fitting for me. But in this situation what choice did I have? Ray was watching the clock and our next phone call had to be a pleasing one. If not, repayment would’ve been handled Ray’s way.

“Alright load it up.”, Oz commands his group.

Four men begin loading the crates into an armored truck. The crew members occasionally glance at them as they pack the straps and netting back onto the plane. He walks towards me and extends a dark brown duffle bag, payment for another successful shipment.

“You’ll find a sizable bonus included for this trip. I wish we had more guys like you. You get it done right the first time and don’t ask a lot of questions. Until next time.” Oz’s smile pushes suspicion through his hazel eyes.

We. The word somersaults around my mind like an Olympic gymnast, planting firmly in my frontal lobe. For three years I’ve been at someone else’s disposal and stupidly exchanged one greedy lifestyle for another.

I reach for the bag without hesitation, muffling the shouts from my guilt that’s been caged below inside a musty cell. Momentarily, we’ll shake hands once more and I’ll ride off into the sunset like the greedy bastard I am. Where the cargo ends up after it’s handed to Oz is none of my concern. It’s just business after all.

“Yeah about next time. I’ve been cooperative as your personal courier for a while now. I know why I accepted the first job but I need to focus on my career without anyone having me on speed dial for side hustles. Thanks for everything but I’m done after this.”

Oz stares for a second, calculating my reasons before responding. “I see…well…I don’t need you, and if you want to leave you have to talk to the person that pays you.”

I raise a brow. The weight of his words was heavy but now I’m curious to learn who I’ve been working for. “So who do I talk to?” I asked.

“Someone will get back with you but is your career the real reason why you want to leave? You’re good at what you do with us. Reliable, discreet and let’s not overlook…paid handsomely. More than what the military is paying you and no one has uttered a word to your superiors about your little hobby. I’m afraid walking away isn’t that simple.

Damn! Oz was right. Transporting covertly has been beneficial, and no one’s snitched on me yet. But I wasn’t aware this came with a long-term contract with some secret dealers. What if Diaz didn’t know either? This was supposed to be a temporary thing when I wanted to make some fast cash. Move weapons, get paid and move on. Now I’m worried and probably locked into a contract that prevents me from renegotiating. I can’t believe this shit!

I narrow my eyes mischievously, sucking the front of my teeth.

What happens if I say kiss my ass, screw the contract and ignore their calls? Maybe the worst case scenario is they blacklist me and never call my ass again. Damn the money!

“Dammit Diaz. What the fuck did you get me into?” I cursed to myself.

Oz interrupts my thoughts. “Think about it Vincent. Until then, stay close.”

You made it to the end. Woop woooop!

Share your thoughts.

What part(s) did you like the most?

Do you think Vincent can get out of his contract?

What do you do in this situation? If the money is good, do you mind your business and keep getting paid or find a way out?

Stay tuned for part THREE…the Vigilante Cop.

Did you read part ONE or need a refresher? Here ya go.

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March 9, 2025

“Flight 3756 to St. Louis will be boarding in 30 minutes.” the airline attendant announces.

Thanks for reading my shit. I love you.

alex b.