When he’d killed Two, he hadn’t given a second thought to what it would mean to the Cabal, apart from the loss of their best weapon. All he’d thought about, all he’d cared about, was protecting Jack. And then Ten had mentioned the final test.
Was that why the bosses wanted him to come in? Had they decided Ethan had finally accepted his destiny?
If that were the case, though, they wouldn’t have sent Four and Ten. Thanks to the loss of Nine and Two, there were only four of them left now. Seven was on her own job and Ethan doubted the Cabal could have spared the remaining two just to pick him up. Zero had been right to warn him.
By Ethan’s estimation, Jack should be in furious motion by now. Hopefully he’d discovered the coded message Ethan had left him and his sister and niece were safe, but he couldn’t risk it. He had to give Jack more time.
“Shall we get underway?” he asked coolly. “I’d hate to keep Zero waiting.”
Four regarded him for a moment longer, then grunted and moved past him to toss the bag into the cabin of the chopper. Ten remained where he was, a silent menace at his back, and Ethan calmed his mind, ready for the instant his brother made a move. Which was to step aside, into Ethan’s peripheral vision.
“Don’t worry, little brother. You won’t be late.”
Leaving Ethan to parse his words, Ten went and began to warm up the engines on the chopper. Four came by, splashing petrol on everything, readying to burn it all. Clearly, this would be a one-use-only exit point.
Wondering if this was when it would happen, Ethan was both surprised and pleased when Four finished his job and motioned him into the helicopter. Perhaps they didn’t want to risk it going haywire this close to their starting point. It worked in Ethan’s favour, so he climbed into the cabin with Four.
The interior was relatively plush with leather seats for five passengers, cup holders and lots of bubble windows for site seeing—a potential charter craft used to allay suspicions. Ethan sat on the back bench and Four in one of the individual seats facing him. They all put on the headphones, for the noise cancelling properties only. All communication could be done through their implants.
In the pilot seat, Ten flicked switches, swift and sure, as the engine vibrated solidly. The only reason Ethan trusted him when they flew together was that crashing might kill Ten as well as anyone else, and Ten had a strong survival instinct.
Which meant that this might just work.
Overhead, the rotating blades swept shadows across the windows in increasing frequency, like they were slicing off the minutes and seconds of Ethan’s remaining life. Each dark blur brought him closer and closer to the end.
Ten eased up the collective and pulled back on the stick, the chopper lifting smoothly, slowly taking them up and forwards. When they were high enough, Ten circled around the hanger and Four produced a remote trigger from a pocket. Flicking up the cover, Four put his thumb over the switch and pushed it.
The explosion was muffled and the pressure of it pushed against the chopper. Ten made another slow circuit so they could make sure everything had been caught up in the flames, which it had thanks to Four’s liberal application of accelerant. Certain there would be little to no evidence left, Ten straightened out their trajectory and they shot into the sky.
When they levelled out, the chopper was headed in a northwest direction. Perhaps they were aiming for the Darwin exit point, though they’d have to stop and refuel a couple of times. Or they were just headed for the remotest, emptiest place they could find in order to kill Ethan and dump his body.
There was no doubt now in Ethan’s heart and mind. Zero’s warning had put the idea into his head and Four’s reaction to the ice cream had confirmed it. This was most definitely a them-or-him situation.
Ethan didn’t relax into his seat. There was no point in pretending. They all knew what was coming, even if Ethan didn’t know when. All he could hope was that they would hold off long enough to give Jack as much time as possible. And that he would be able to do what was necessary when the moment came.
It was nearly midday when Ethan decided he couldn’t wait any longer. It was likely they would wait until they landed to refuel, to make it two against one, but he’d given Jack as much time as possible. If he tried for more, the chances he wouldn’t be the one to start things rapidly increased.
With a flex of his wrist, Ethan popped the clip on his hidden sheath. The knife slipped towards his palm. Locking down the memory of Four giving him the last scoop of ice cream, Ethan resolved himself. It was him or them, and if Jack was ever going to be safe, it had to be them.
Ethan flipped the knife, caught it by the point and threw it at Four all in one swift move, but the man rolled forwards. His headphones pulled off his head as he went and the blackened blade of Ethan’s knife thunked into the leather back of his seat. Expecting it, Ethan spun on the bench seat, back to the bubble window, and kicked at Four’s face, ripping his own headphones off at the same time. One foot connected, the other Four managed to knock down even as his head snapped back. Ethan kicked again, finding ribs. Four oufed but lunged across the length of the seat. The chopper jerked sideways fractionally with the sudden movement and Ten glanced over his shoulder at them. Ethan’s view of his face was fleeting, but Ten’s expression was as bland as it had been on the ground.
Locked together with Four, Ethan had to twist away from his punches, deflecting them when he could. Four inched his way out of Ethan’s hold, driving him harder against the window at Ethan’s back. The chopper shivered with their frantic movements.
Seconds before Four threw himself back at Ethan, Ethan got a foot up and kicked him solidly in the solar plexus. Four tumbled backwards with a grunt, scrabbling at the back of the seat for purchase. Ethan levered himself up and followed him, grabbing the front of his shirt and aiming a short, sharp punch at his face. It landed on his hard jaw as Four pulled back. Four torqued his body, tossing Ethan off.
Ethan threw himself sideways, onto the backwards-facing seat. He slithered through the fourteen-inch space between headrest and cabin top. When he tumbled into the chair beside the pilot the tight confines meant he was almost upside down. Four, bulkier than Ethan, had no chance of making it.
Piloting a helicopter required concentration and coordination, so Ten couldn’t immediately attack, giving Ethan a moment to roll into a slightly better position. Kicking the pilot in the face was not a good thing to do if you cared about not crashing—and Ethan didn’t.
Ten tried to dodge Ethan’s boot, but it caught him on the shoulder, knocking his hand off the collective. The chopper’s nose dipped toward the brown ground far below.
Ethan kicked again, aiming for the stick. It jerked to the right and the chopper turned sharply. In the seat behind him, Four slammed into the window, thrown by the sudden change in trajectory.
Ten scrambled to regain control as Ethan kicked at him again. When he dodged to miss the blow, Ethan got his leg behind Ten’s neck, then pressed his other calf to his throat. Ankles locked together, he twisted and Ten’s grunt was strangled into silence.
The chopper careened wildly as Ten struggled to keep it steady and fight against Ethan’s chokehold. Ethan braced himself and kept the hold as tight as he could. In the back compartment, Four was clambering across the seats, coming for Ethan, but the unpredictable flight of the chopper tossed him one way and then the other.
Then Ten went still. He hadn’t passed out, just stopped struggling. His throat was working against Ethan’s leg, trying to get air to his lungs, and his mouth gaped uncontrollably, but the rest of him was motionless. Then he let the collective go and pushed a button on the console.
The jolt as the chopper’s course corrected rocked them all. Ethan was shaken free of his precarious position and crashed into the console. Ten landed half on him, half on his own seat and behind them, Four slammed into the backwards-facing seats. Within moments, though, everything was stable once more.
Then a large hand grabbed the fro
nt of Ethan’s shirt and closed. Four dragged him up and over the backs of the seats. It was a tight fit but Ethan went without struggling, letting the broad man toss him onto the rear bench seat. Leaving the autopilot in charge of the chopper, Ten started over the back of his seat as well.
This couldn’t go on much longer. It had to end before it became two on one.
Ethan leaped off the seat at Four. They clashed together, Ethan’s trajectory taking them sideways. The chopper shuddered as they hit the side window behind the pilot seat. Ten, halfway over his seat, wrapped an arm around Ethan’s neck and pulled him off Four. Ethan went with him, getting a hand between Ten’s arm and his throat just before he was slammed into the backrest and pinned.
Four remained where he’d been, hands slowly coming up to wrap around the handle of Ethan’s tac-knife. It jutted out at a downward angle under his sternum. The tip of the seven-inch blade was inside his heart. His chest jerked as his breathing faltered.
As Four slumped to the floor, Ethan fought against Ten but had no leverage, no room to get out of the hold on his neck. His remaining wrist blade was on the arm trapped under Ten’s and his brother was staying low, using the chairback as cover from Ethan’s other hand. Desperate, he let go of Ten’s arm and freed his hand. The strong forearm crushed into his throat without hindrance and air became scarce very fast. Ethan couldn’t tell what was the roar of the engine and what was blood rushing through his ears. But with a flick of his wrist, his last knife popped clear of the sheath and dropped into his hand.
Ethan slashed at Ten’s arm, feeling the blade bite into material and flesh. Ten snarled and his hold loosened just enough to let Ethan pull in some air before tightening again. Desperate, Ethan thrust up and back wildly, meeting resistance for a moment and getting a cry of pain. He lost his grip on the knife as Ten thrashed. Weapon-less again, Ethan grabbed onto the arm across his neck and pulled. He got enough space to sip air but they were evenly matched in strength and they were locked in a stalemate. On the floor, Four was dying fast, his gasping breaths growing shallower and shallower as blood filled his chest cavity, compressing his lungs.
Needing some way of getting the upper hand, Ethan searched for a weapon. He had his Eagles, but if he took even one hand off Ten’s arm, his brother would crush his throat. On the seat opposite him was the small pack Four had brought on board.
Bracing himself against the back of the seat he was trapped on, and using Ten’s arm for leverage, Ethan got his feet hooked into the handles and wrenched them apart. The zipper broke and the contents spilled out.
The small EMP generator needed no further explanation. They’d stop to refuel and with the chopper off, Ten or Four would set it off and while Ethan was in pain from having the implant so cruelly disabled, they’d kill him. Its presence answered the question as to why his brothers had been speaking aloud to him. They had already had their implants disabled, so the sudden loss of it wouldn’t affect them while taking Ethan down.
Right then, Ethan had only one option. One that guaranteed the Cabal lost the last of their weapons and make it just that bit harder for them to go after Jack. If they cared enough about him once Ethan was out of the picture.
Ethan held the EMP generator steady with one foot and pressed the trigger with the other.
The piercing screech of his implant dying ripped through Ethan’s head. His violent, uncontrolled thrashing broke Ten’s hold and he tumbled free, falling to the floor on top of Four’s body. The pain dropped to a lingering ringing in his ears quickly and he became aware of an eerie calm.
The engine—and auto-pilot—were dead from the EMP. The only sound was the continuing whomp whomp whomp of the rotors still spinning. They were dropping fast but weren’t plummeting uncontrolled out of the sky.
Just as Ethan wondered why, the chopper wobbled and started tipping.
Instead of coming after Ethan in those moments of disorientation, Ten coolly turned around and took up the controls once again. The chopper righted itself and their descent steadied but didn’t slow. The ground was coming up very fast.
“How?” Ethan couldn’t help but ask.
“It’s called auto-rotation. Safety measure to help the pilot land the machine in case of engine failure.” Ten’s tone held no hint of alarm. Ethan had never heard him sound anything less than eternally unsurprised. “I’m going to kill you when we land.”
Which was going to be very soon, the brown and green ground rapidly approaching. Ethan had maybe twenty seconds left to end this before things got more or less even between him and Ten.
He threw himself across the rear cabin, slamming into the back of Ten’s seat just as Ten pulled the nose of the chopper up sharply. Scrambling for purchase, Ethan grabbed the headrest with one hand and wrapped his other arm around Ten’s neck and, rather than choke, jerked his arm up. Ten’s head snapped back and he lost his hold on the stick.
Everything was a chaotic blur after that. The chopper rolled and dropped, spinning blades hitting the ground first. Its body was flung over, rotors snapping off as it went, thrashing the rest of the craft about wildly. His hold on Ten shaken loose, Ethan tumbled, colliding with Four’s body, the seats, and the central column. Then the chopper hit the ground, metal crunching, glass shattering, and rolled, once, twice, before coming to a rocking stop.
Ethan curled into a tight ball, hoping that was it, and for a breathless moment it was. Then it rocked a little too far one way, hit a critical point, and toppled over again. It rolled down a slope, crunching over rocks and hard dirt. Compared to the actual crash, this was steady and controlled. Ethan braced himself between seat and central column, only knocked loose when the craft hit water.
Waves splashed up around him and sprayed in through the cracked glass. The most violent motion stopped, replaced by an almost gentle rock and slow sinking. Water starting gushing in and the body of the chopper groaned under a new sort of pressure.
Ethan pulled himself out of the growing pool of water in the cabin. Ten was lodged between the front seats and the controls, a steady stream of dirty water pattering down on his chest. Blood smeared his face and neck, his head lolling back listlessly. Ethan clung to the back of the seat for a moment, watching his brother’s chest for signs of life. As he waited, and the chopper sunk further and more cold water swirled around him, Ethan didn’t know if he wanted to see Ten’s chest move or not.
There was absolutely no love lost between them, but apart from Seven, Ten was the last of Ethan’s siblings. Ethan grieved for Nine and wondered if he would ever stop. He worried that Seven would get to Jack’s family before Jack did, because if that happened, nothing would stop Jack from killing her—nothing would stop Ethan from killing her in that case—but he hoped she would defy the Cabal this once. He wished he hadn’t had to kill Four. And some very small part of him wanted to see Ten draw breath and open his white eyes.
If he did, Ethan would kill him and not regret it, but there was that small, contrary part of him all the same.
Seeing no movement of Ten’s chest, Ethan left his brother behind. After finding his plastic framed glasses floating on the rippling water he hauled himself through a shattered widow unblocked by mud. Sharp edges of glass caught his leg, pain tearing through his flesh as he pulled away from the wreck and swam upwards.
Ethan broke the surface of the murky water, gasping for air. Fumbling in his pocket, he found his glasses, put them on and opened his eyes. The chopper shifted in the muddy bottom, another burst of bubbles exploding from the cabin as the large machine settled into the bottom of the dam. His leg stung and he could feel it bleeding, warmth pooling briefly around his calf before the water diluted the blood away.
He paddled until his feet hit the mud, crawled onto the bank and caught his breath.
It was done. The last of his brothers were dead by his hand, and right then it didn’t feel like a victory. It was a capitulation. A surrender to everything the Cabal had ever wanted him to be. He could kill without remorse and yet
these deaths—and Two’s—he felt in his own chest like someone had punched him in his solar plexus.
Ethan sat there and deep breathed until the anguish subsided, leaving the empty chasm inside him even wider. Which allowed the physical injury to be felt. He prodded at his leg tentatively. Yes, that sharp stab of pain was a decent wound. Tearing off his pant leg showed him several cuts, most of them shallow but one was large and bled freely. Ethan wrapped his torn pant leg around the cuts as best he could, then stood. It stung, but not too badly. Avoiding the freshly turned up dirt of the crash site and roll into the water, he headed up to the top of the raised perimeter of the dam. At the top, he studied the surrounding land.
Open, empty pastures as far as he could see. Just the occasional stand of trees to break the monotony.
A dam meant people, though. Ethan had no idea which direction they might be in, but he’d survived far more desolate treks with less. Simply because it was where he eventually needed to get, he set out eastward.
It took him two days to find other humans. Or signs of them, at least. He’d passed scattered herds of cattle and a few sheep, but no people. At first sight of the house, he held back and studied it from a distance for several hours, seeing an old ute come and go several times, then it left and didn’t return. He took half an hour to get closer, making sure that all residents had departed before breaking in.
Being a remote property, they had a very extensive first aid kit and Ethan cleaned the cuts on his leg, the deepest of which had started showing signs of infection the night before. He took the stock of painkillers and antiseptic cream, then moved to the kitchen.
He filled a cloth bag with canned foods and bottles of water, then set it by the door, ready to go if he needed a quick escape. Only then did he satisfy his empty belly with a simple sandwich, struggling to not eat too fast and upset his tender stomach. Then he left the house and on impulse, checked the large four bay shed out the back.
When Death Frees the Devil Page 4
