by Tom Hunter
Once the team was piled in the truck with Thomas at the wheel, the questions flew. Abby propelled herself into the backseat as Alexia took her place in the passenger seat next to Thomas.
“Are we heading back to camp?” Robbie asked hopefully.
His face became a mask of resignation as Thomas shook his head.
“Not exactly.” He turned the truck around and aimed it toward the hangar.
“What are you doing? Are you insane? We were just there!” cried Pediah, flush from the fight, bruises beginning to color, and fresh scratches decorating his face, neck, and arms. His jaw dropped as they flew past the hangar, kicking up dust as Thomas thrust the gear shift downward. The truck jumped forward. “Oh.” Thomas’s contingency plan clicked into place.
The looks of the others had mirrored Pediah’s questions and now they too understood the new plan. PING! Their split second of realization was shattered with a hail of bullets. POW! POW! PING! Shots peppered the air pockmarking their vehicle.
Just don’t hit the gas tank. Just don’t hit the gas tank, prayed Thomas as they careened through the soldiers jumping out of their way, but still shooting. Though most shots were wild, some hit their target.
“Get down!” Thomas shouted as he ducked toward the steering wheel in an effort to keep his eyes on the road. He spun the wheel hard to the right, then again to the left. At least a moving target is harder to hit. He swore under his breath at the turn this night had taken.
Fifteen
From the hangar, Ramon had been checking his weapons, gear, and making sure his plane was in working order when he was alerted to the intruders. Reports of shouts and gunfire crackled over his radio as he listened for additional details from his men. He frowned. Damn! Not quite finished. A few more minutes and we’d have been outta here! He wiped a meaty hand across his forehead and cursed the gods for not giving him more time.
He turned to two of his commanding officers. “You two. Finish the make ready,” he ordered. “I’ve got to go and see who came for a visit.” His men nodded and bent their heads to their tasks, as he climbed down the few steps from the plane.
Ramon tilted his head. The sounds seemed to fade, then grow louder. In the fading light of day, he could just make out a few shapes and in the tangle of bodies, it was difficult to tell who was who.
Ramon strode first toward his command center, which was a small office toward the front of the hangar. He toggled through the surveillance camera angles. One was connected on a direct visual link with his men and their night vision goggles. He pulled his hand held monitor from his hip belt and synced his shoulder radio with the one in his hand.
Good, now they were all connected visually and verbally. “Keep me posted,” he’d advised his team. “Now, it sounds like they’re coming from the south…” He paused. “How did they know to come this way?”
Someone ventured a guess. “Well, we just had a crew return from – “
“Shit!” He slapped a palm to his forehead. “Did anyone think to check and make sure they weren’t being followed?”
When no one spoke, the answer was clear. “When this all over, whoever was in that last group to come in will report to me, capiche?” he hissed.
“What’s your twenty, Team Number One? Can you see who it is?”
Only half-listening to the tinny voices over the radio, the message that the intruders were heading straight for the hangar brought him to full attention. He looked up and caught a glimpse of the truck in the bright glare of a search light.
“I repeat, they are heading for the hangar door!” the voice over the radio repeated.
“We can see that!” Ramon spoke each word slowly; the word “idiot” implied by the tone of his voice. He was frustrated that they all just seemed to be watching. Waiting.
What the hell are they waiting for? Me? He rolled his eyes. “Damn!” He turned from his post and headed back inside the hangar to grab his weapon.
“You! And You and…you!” He shouted and pointed at three of his men.
“Sir!” They answered in unison. Ramon nodded toward them and then jerked his head toward the bay doors.
“Forward position,” he growled as his eyes swept the room. He needed to buy time. The men moved toward the doors, their weapons at the ready. Ramon’s pistol was at his side, but he needed something bigger. He reached for his assault rifle.
He checked the ammo and that the safety was off on both his weapons. For good measure, he grabbed his hunting knife. Never hurt to be overprepared. “I’m a god, boy scout!” He tipped his head back and roared at his joke.
Bullets still fired, but they sounded different. It wasn’t the clean hiss of POW! PING! against fresh metal. It sounded more muted, as if what they were firing on was so heavily shot up, bullets were hitting an already scarred and marred surface.
The truck flew into the hangar as Ramon watched his men dodge the oncoming vehicle, their weapons firing wildly. In an instant, he saw the truck was riddled with shots, but it still ran, and it was aimed…at him.
It was swiss cheese on wheels. The windshield was a web of spider cracks and hung on by a thread. The side mirrors hung by cable tendrils like too-large fish caught on a hook. Somehow, only the tires had escaped the onslaught, though they’d seen battle with the rocky terrain and the thick sands of the desert.
Ramon peered through the glass, trying to get a glimpse of the driver. Thomas Knight. Every bit of the Brazilian’s training, frustration, and anger boiled into a concrete stanchion as he planted his feet, raised his assault rifle, and lit up the truck. “I don’t have your stupid relic, you fool! What are you doing here?!” he bellowed, rearing slightly from the gun’s kickback.
The truck stopped. Grille to rifle nose.
Sixteen
The badly beaten truck was swarmed with angry soldiers. Some clung to the back, others grabbed at the hood, though those who did reared back at the intense heat. Thomas saw why. Smoke poured out of the grille like an aluminum-sided fire drake.
Thomas felt the truck shudder and spurt. The truck’s power steering screeched, as he struggled to keep the vehicle aimed forward. Amidst the smoke, he heard the beeps and pings of a warning system issue from the dials on the dash. Red lights flashed. Alarm bells sounded.
Other soldiers fell back to get a better shot and fired. Unrelenting bullets pelted the truck as it careened, skidded, and fishtailed toward their destination.
“You’ve gone completely bonkers!” Robbie shouted over the beeps and hisses of the truck as he white-knuckled the back of the front seat. “I can’t believe you talked us into this.” He laughed hysterically. “Hell, maybe we’re the crazy ones for following you!”
“Relax! I do have a plan.” Well, kinda, sorta, not really, but no one needs to know but me. Thomas pressed his back against the seat and floored the gas pedal. The truck bucked and jumped forward. Through clenched teeth, Thomas laid out his plan.
“As soon as we stop, jump out. I’ll distract Ramon.”
“Are you kidding me?” Alexia shouted. “What kind of plan is that!”
Out of the side of his mouth, he whispered. “Some people call it…’winging it.’”
She stared open mouthed, and was about to say something else when Thomas added, “Okay. I have a sort of plan then.”
“A ‘sort of’ plan?”
“Yes. You and Abby go see if the plane can be hijacked. Me and the boys will take care of Ramon. Got it?” His voice had grown louder and more confident. “Everyone get that?”
Everyone nodded and Thomas drove behind a large stack of container crates to let his team out. As soon as the truck was clear, Thomas floored it, and aimed it directly toward Ramon. Ramon charged toward him in a rage, firing wild. Waving his gun, he’d fire shots in the air, then lower it toward the careening truck and fire. But, as his spray of bullets washed the truck in dents and pockmarks, some bounced and sparked at the feet of his own men. They jumped back to safety.
From the other side o
f the hangar, Robbie and Mochni had watched the scene unfold from the shadows as they skirted the interior walls, keeping an eye on Ramon. They’d need to be in place when the time was right.
“Wow, he can really stop on a dime, can’t he?” Robbie breathed, impressed with the archeologist’s driving skills. “Maybe I should have him on the show.”
Mochni looked at him with a quizzical expression. Robbie shook his head. “Never mind.”
Peering through a shattered windshield, Thomas spotted a wall of fuel canisters. He assumed it was for both the onsite vehicles as well as the plane he could see toward the back. On the opposite side of the hangar was another set of doors, still closed. Thomas wondered if that’s where the airstrip lay. He hadn’t seen one as from their frontal attack. He considered this as he maneuvered the truck through the large space, dodging vehicles and skirting the walls.
As he plowed through the hangar, one wheel met its end and sparks flew as the tread unraveled from the rim and the steel hit concrete. The zigzag driving Thomas had been employing went into overdrive as he began to lose control of the vehicle. The steering wheel turned easily in his hand and with it, the truck. It began to skid. Thomas swore under his breath as he steamrolled toward the soldiers, still shooting.
Thomas could see Ramon shouting and waving his gun. Ramon lowered it and fired. A hellish anger was unleashed, preventing his marksmanship. He missed, but the bullet ricocheted and his men dove for cover.
The large steel barrels of fuel for Ramon’s vehicles came into sharp focus as Thomas’ truck careened toward them. He’d thought at first to leap from the truck, but realized quickly if he did so the truck would slam into Ramon and pin him to the wall. That kind of strike could cut Ramon in half and he’d be no good to them then.
Thomas Knight’s eyes roved wildly over the area before him as the steering wheel loosened in his grip. Shit! The power steering was out and now the truck was an unruly mass of metal, chrome, glass, and rubber. Adjusting his grip, he yanked the wheel hard to the right and fishtailed toward the fuel drums. At the last moment, he flung open the driver’s door, leapt out, and sprinted from the danger as the truck finished its spin into the canisters. Explosions rocked the hangar. The blast propelled Thomas into the air and into a pile of wooden crates.
From his vantage point, he looked up first at harsh fluorescent lighting suspended from pipes strung across the ceiling. He curled into a fetal position and rolled, craning his neck to scan for the locations of his team.
Thomas Knight rolled over on his back just in time to see the large nut-brown form of Ramon loom over him. He tried to leap to his feet, but Ramon pinned him down with a heavy steel-toed boot to his chest. His gun was aimed straight at Thomas’ head. Rage filled the big man’s flushed face. His eyes widened and his nostrils flared.
“What in the hell are you laughing at?” Ramon bellowed. “If I miss, which I won’t, there’ll be a dozen others to take my place.”
“Good. I always wanted to go out with a bang.”
Ramon twisted his mouth into a smile and bent low so only Thomas could hear him.
“Guess you shoulda let me drop. Still, at least you made a friend. That Woidnuk kid. Too bad his dad had to go. Wasn’t my fault. I saw what those creatures did.” He paused. “Or maybe it was my fault. I did shoot at them.” Ramon guffawed a laugh from deep in his belly. His eyes were black. Cold. The eyes of a killer.
A shadow and a sudden movement detected in his peripheral vision, Thomas wondered if he should turn to look or trust that it was Robbie and Mochni. If it was, their plan would work. Against his instincts, Thomas Knight struggled to sit up only to be pushed down again by Ramon’s steel-toed combat boots. The weight of the boot settled on his chest and he watched as the long barrel of the rifle aimed downward to his heart.
Ramon’s wicked smile wavered as Thomas mirrored it with his own. “What are you smiling at?” Ramon snarled.
“Nothing.” Thomas cast a glance over Ramon’s shoulder and tensed briefly. He thought he’d seen the looming shadow of Mochni, but his head was swimming and he couldn’t be sure. The Brazilian mercenary stiffened and turned his head slightly keeping his weapon aimed at Thomas.
Thomas shut his eyes briefly waiting for Ramon to pull the trigger. This was it. He would die here.
Then he heard it. A grunt and a thud. His eyes flew open to see Mochni attack Ramon from behind.
In one fluid, practiced movement, Mochni grabbed Ramon from behind and pinned his arms to his side. When the gun dropped from Ramon’s grip, Robbie picked it up. He pointed it at Ramon.
While the men were focused on the truck, Abby and Alexia made their way stealthily toward the plane. They couldn’t believe no one stood guard. “Guess they figured no one would try such a stunt,” Abby whispered.
“I didn’t think Thomas was fool enough to do it, but…” Alexia looked back at the bullet-ridden truck and shrugged. “I stand corrected.” Her mouth set in a firm line, she swept her gaze over the plane. It was four-seater and there were five of them plus Mochni. Would thing even take off with that kind of weight?
“Why does he keep assuming I can fly?” Alexia wondered aloud to Abby.
“He thinks very highly of you.” Abby bit back a smile. This was no time for small talk and they both knew it. Before Alexia could reply, Abby whispered tersely, “Later,” and nodded at the airplane. “What do you think, Pediah?”
He’d come from the other side to flank the flying machine. “Why does he assume I can fly a plane?” Pediah shook his head. “Okay, well, I can’t fly it, but I can start it.” He shrugged. “A trick or two I was forced to learn before I met Thom.”
Abby rolled her eyes. “Who said anything about flying?” She looked from Alexia to Pediah and back again. Blank stares and two sets of raised eyebrows greeted her. “Don’t you get it? All we need to do is disable it so that no one can fly it.” She paused. “Well, maybe not too much damage.” Abby swept her gaze around the room and shrugged at the confused looks of Pediah and Alexia. “What? Never hurts to have a backup plan!”
They shrugged at her flip-flop decision-making and set to work.
Thomas froze as the muzzle of the gun pressed to his chest. He waited for the shot. But, at the last minute, Robbie grabbed Ramon from behind. Mochni jumped in to help and ripped the gun from Ramon’s grip tossing it to the side.
Someone shouted, “They’re getting the Captain!” In the distraction as Ramon turned his head and Robbie and Mochni held him fast, Thomas Knight jumped to his feet and punched him out cold with a right hook fueled by anger, frustration, and fear. Ramon slumped into Mochni’s grasp. The giant youth hauled him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry and trotted after Thomas and Robbie to join Alexia, Abby, and Pediah at the plane.
Ramon stirred as they moved, shaking his head to clear his mind, and was surprised to find himself in the grip of the Woidnuk. The more he struggled, the tighter Mochni gripped him. Robbie caught the movement from the corner of his eye and grabbed a stray gun from the ground. He leveled it at Ramon to ensure his cooperation.
“I was going to kill you,” Ramon snarled at Thomas, who led them toward the plane. His plane. “A shot right through the window. Finish the windshield and you,” Ramon hissed into his ear when he was close enough. “But then I thought…nah…I’ll take it slow.”
Good, you guys. Get ‘er up and outta here, Thomas prayed silently. He’d seen Alexia do something with the fuel line. No, Alexia, we – you’ll – need the fuel. He willed her to hear his thoughts and a wave of regret swept over him. Pediah and Abby had reached the plane’s door and were navigating the high-tech lock. “To keep us out,” Thomas laughed softly, finishing his thought out loud.
A soldier raised the alarm and pointed the others away from the truck and the outer perimeter. “They’re in here, you fools!” he shouted and pointed toward the plane. “See!”
Bullets and shouts flew as Thomas Knight and his team, with Ramon along for the ride, leapt in
to the plane and slammed the door. “Great, now we’re sitting ducks,” complained Robbie. “Now what?”
Thomas pointed to Ramon. “First up, tie and gag him,” he ordered. He looked over to see Alexia with a crow bar in her hand. “Trouble?” he asked amicably.
“Nah. No trouble. Just a couple of guards at the plane who wouldn’t listen to my reasoning.”
He’d followed her gaze toward a scene which to anyone else would have looked like the guards simply fell asleep on the job. Except for matching red welts on their temples. They were out cold, but they’d begin stirring soon.
Seventeen
Thomas slapped his knee and shook his head. He was constantly surprised by Alexia, but he had more to think about right then. Though the soldiers waved their guns demanding their captain’s release, Thomas was surprised they weren’t firing. What the?
He realized it was possibly because they’d been given strict orders not to fire on their escape plane no matter what. Is there something extra special on board? A drum, perhaps? He eyed Ramon curiously. Then, shook his head. Noah cared about the drum. Not Ramon. Thomas frowned. He’d be firing if he was in their place. What was going on?
Offhandedly, he added to Robbie, “When you’re finished tying up big man over there, tie up those two yokels, too. I have no intention of being caught unawares. Again.” A string of what might have been sailor language flavored with Spanish flew from Alexia’s mouth, and Thomas turned to see what had her so frustrated.
Alexia was at the controls, struggling to determine what did what. Abby and Pediah were frantically flipping pages of a manual to try to help her. She threw up her hands. “Ach!” she hit at the dashboard.
