The pilot Hernán Martín had mentioned the possibility of delaying for some marginally overdue routine maintenance but Sandy Monroe had urged the pilots to go up anyway. She had an early flight back to the states from Lima the following morning and did not want to miss it. For the first hour the L-410 cruised smoothly southward over the Andes toward the capital city. Sandy sat quietly in the cargo area reading a copy of the Da Vinci code. Next to her was a crate containing two newly purchased crias, as we call young Alpacas.
It began as a low whirring noise, gradually growing in volume over a course of 15 minutes. The starboard engine began to sputter, throwing off a small amount of smoke. There was a jolt followed by some commotion in the cockpit. The crias began to wail. Mauricio, the aircraft's co-pilot, emerged from the cockpit. She interrupted him before he could speak; "What was that, what's happening?" Mauricio obviously very scared replied, "Misses Sandy, please put your seat belt on, we may have to make an emergency landing."
Angry thoughts began to fill her head as she complied, "Why didn't they take care of this plane?, What kind of rag tag operation are these hustlers running? Why me?"...etc. She stopped herself. Forty two years as a visiting nurse, stocking her money away without the knowledge of her drunk of a husband, dealing with her ungrateful brat kids day in and day out, all for nothing. "Buckle my seat belt?" she thought, "fuck you, I'm going to have my Alpaca farm nestled in the grassy hills of Petaluma."
Quickly rummaging through her belonging, she found her large beach umbrella and some rope which she quickly used to fasten herself to the Alpaca crate. Opening the hatch, she threw herself from the airplane. The aircraft shrank into the sky and Mrs. Monroe sailed through the warm dusk air holding onto a rainbow colored beach umbrella with two baby alpacas tied to her waist. She was for a brief moment filled with ultimate regret. However, before she could put too much thought into such a depressing lamentation she was crashing through the dense canopy of the Amazon rainforest.
Weeks later Mrs. Monroe was found alive near the village of Sanchima. Miraculously, the substantial amount of jungle greenery had broken her fall, albeit broken her arms in the process. She was able to subsist in the Amazon for almost a month. Unfortunately, this meant the consumption of one of her prized Suri alpacas and a copy of the Da Vinci Code. On the bright side, she was able to finish the lengthy novel before devouring it. Mrs. Monroe now lives in the rolling hills of Petaluma with her one surviving Alpaca whom she calls "Lucky".
As for the fate of "El Morochuco", the fateful LET L-410 which Mrs. Monroe excused herself from... The aircraft went down somewhere in the Andes along with its pilot, Hernán Martín. However, the co-pilot, Mauricio Fernando De Soto IV, was able to bail out of the plummeting tin can of death. You see, the plane had several available parachutes for use in its weekend role as a skydiving transport. Had she looked a little harder, Mrs. Monroe might have saved herself some trouble. Nonetheless, all road lead to Rome. However, as opposed to Mrs. Monroe, Mauricio landed in a tributary of the Marañón where he was probably eaten by piranhas and snakes.