The sun’s coming up; a new day is unfolding. The girls are safe and the battle’s winding down. I ought to feel good, but I don’t. Something’s gnawing at me, chewing at my gut and leaving a sour taste in my mouth. It’s Olson. He’s still out there, still alive. He’s the Olson who drove my dad over the edge the night he made my mother a cripple—the Olson who killed his wife, tried to kill me and my newly discovered half-sister and plans to kill my Uncle Gus—the Olson who sells drugs, conspires to kill innocent girls, and sells arms to insane terrorists—the Olson who pretends to be a model citizen of a small town but is a murdering, international criminal. I can’t let him get out of this camp. I owe it to my mom, the innocent kids whose future he’s destroyed with drugs or who’ve been killed by his illegal weapons. Most of all, I owe it to myself. Time to go hunting—time to get him and, if that that evil son of a bitch who killed Levi is still alive—get him too. And, where’s Mia? Please god don’t let her be hurt.
First I go to the platform and look down at Levi. I guess you’re supposed to look peaceful in death but that’s not what I see. He looks terrible: blood spattered, twisted body, hair askew, vacant eyes. I start to shiver. Levi, you saved everyone and knew you’d be killed because of it. Your last words to me were, ‘I could have loved you.’ Truth is, I can say the same thing.
I straighten his body, put his hands across his lap and cover him with a canvas tarpaulin I find folded under the abandoned camera tripod. It’s the best I can do. He’ll stay that way until Joe comes back and carries him up to the cave.
* * *
The last time I saw Olson he was pulling Mia down the hill to meet Jeffrey who was crawling uphill like a wounded crab. Waiting out the battle wasted a lot of time. I’m worried the trail’s grown cold but when I search the spot where they must have met, I find a small patch of dried blood on a leaf. Circling, I find another, ten yards across the hill. The blood trail leads across and down the hill toward where there’s still the sound of gunfire. The spots get smaller and further apart until I lose them in a patch of bare dirt and dried up weeds. I wander in circles trying to pick up the trail. After ten frustrating minutes I sit on the ground, wondering what to do next. I hear a twig snap in the brush to my right, level the Glock in that direction when everything goes black. Before losing track of time and space, I see pinpricks of bright white and feel myself spiraling into a deep dark pit.
Chapter 43
The smell of fuel oil burns my nose, my eyes feel welded shut, and my head feels like it’s inside a steel drum with someone bashing the outside with a hammer. I’m on my back and when I slide out my hands, I feel a metal surface. I try to roll over but only get half way, feel sick and fall back.
I hear voices, but they seem far away and echo like they’re coming from the other end of a long tunnel. Sliding toward the sounds, I reach out again and feel something wet and sticky with my right hand. My eyes still feel sealed so I bring it to my nose, then touch it with my tongue. The coppery smell and salty taste tell me its blood.
My head is exploding behind my eyes. I want to keep them shut but I need to get them open. I want to scream but my throat feels clogged and I only manage a soft gurgle as I force the right one open. For a moment, all I see are shadows and streaks of light. I shut it again and lay back for a few seconds. When I open it again, the left follows and a rounded, metal ceiling gradually comes into focus.
I work myself into a sitting position and see a Nigerian soldier adding a rocket propelled grenade to a stack of an AK-47 rifles, and five, 30 shot banana clips. Pain echoes through my head as he bangs a crow bar on the metal floor to signal he’s ready to receive another item. Someone hands him a shoulder fired rocket launcher through an open door and he adds it to the pile. I see the tanker beside the door and know where the fuel oil smell comes from. Looking to my right, I discover Mia stretched out on the floor.
* * *
We’re in the back storage section of Olson’s helicopter. Looking forward, I see Jeffrey slumped in the seat ahead. There’s an IV tube in his arm attached to a bottle held by my old friend, Ahmed. Olson’s in the front seat and I watch him hand a package to one of the Right brothers—still can’t tell the difference—who smiles, shakes his hand, climbs over the seat and is ready to get out the side door when he sees me sitting up.
“She’s awake Mr. Olson,” he says before sliding to the ground.
My head is still foggy and my arms and legs feel useless. I sit motionless while I watch Olson move back and pull the needle out of Jeffrey’s arm.
“He doesn’t need any more for now. The doc says he’ll be all right if we get him to that hospital in a couple hours. Right now, I want you to keep your eyes on that sneaky squaw back there.”
Ahmed climbs back and sits against the wall on the floor across from me. I notice his suit is suit pressed, his tie is straight, and his white shirt has no wrinkles. I also notice the .45 he’s pointing at me.
“. . . Nice to . . . nice to see you again, Ahmed,” I rasp. “You forgot . . . your briefcase. Must have left it at the—”
“Keep your godamn mouth shut half-breed,” orders Olson. “You squaws have hard heads. You survived that explosion in the Humvee and a crack in the noggin from the National Police officer you tried to run over. Mahmood,” he points to the Right brother walking away in the distance, “conked you good and you’re still on your feet.”
The more Olson talks the more my anger kicks in and the less paralyzed I feel. If I can keep him talking maybe I can do something more than just sit here.
“What about Mia?”
“She got caught in the cross-fire when we were on the way to the heliport. The bullet creased a couple of ribs but didn’t hit anything vital. The army doctor that patched up Jeffrey gave her a shot that will knock her out for a few hours but she’ll come around to enjoy the sky dive with you.”
“Sky dive?”
“First we’re going to take care of those damn volunteers and school girls. I deal in weapons and happen to have two Russian thermobaric rockets and two more with fragmentation grenades. Any one of them will wipe out of everyone in that bunker. If anyone gets out, we’ll get them with the AK-47.” He smiles, proud of his plan. “I’ve turned my luxury twin-engine Airbus into an attack chopper. Not bad for a country boy from Buck Brush Falls.”
“You’re truly insane.”
“Wait, you haven’t heard the rest of the plan. After blasting up the bunker we drop Jeffrey for a confidential visit to a well-compensated hospital. Then, the fun starts. We fly back to Lagos, but before we land, we take a joy ride over the ocean. It will be much more enjoyable for me than the two of you. We’re going to toss your asses out that door at five thousand feet.”
“How do you know where the girls are?”
“Mahmood and his twin brother hid up on the hill and watched them troop into the bunker. Got word back to us through my army contacts. I paid them extra to find you and bring you here.”
My strength is coming back. My head aches but my thinking’s clear. I tense then relax my muscles, getting ready to spring at him over the seat. I concentrate so hard on making my move that I miss Olson’s signal. Ahmed stands and kicks me in the throat. I fall back and he does it again. This time I see it coming—a well shined, pointy toed wing tip moving toward my chin.
* * *
We’re in the air. The copter banks and I slide into Mia. I don’t think Ahmed’s kick put me out for long. I’m a little dizzy but not out of commission. I put my hand on Mia’s chest until I feel her breathe.
Ahmed’s moved. He’s in the front seat talking to Olson. Past them, I can make out the back of the pilot’s head. Directly in front of me, Jeffrey is still slumped in the seat and I can see the Nigerian soldier facing the open door with the rocket launcher on his shoulder.
We make a sharp bank to the left and I slide to the other wall. Mia’s prone body follows me but stops half way. The chopper stays at a tilted angle and I have a clear view through the doo
r. I see the steep hillside slide by. We bank more and I see Jeffrey’s platform and the killing cage below us. We make a U-turn and hover over the platform. The thudding of automatic of AK-47 fire fills the cabin—target practice before we get to the cave. Ahmed empties a clip on the platform. I can’t see if Levi’s body is still there but, either way, I want to throw him out and see that crisp shirt and well-pressed suit squashed on the platform, stained and spattered with blood.
I get on my feet but am thrown backward and bounce against the wall as the chopper pulls sharply up and swings to the right. I move back forward, stumble over Mia, catch a grip on the seat back, and see the soldier with the rocket launcher fight to keep his balance.
“Keep it steady or I won’t be able to hit anything,” he shouts to the pilot.
“Strong gusts off the cliff,” comes the reply.
I look forward and notice that Ahmed’s still pointing his rifle out a window and Olson’s looking down. The pilot’s busy with the controls and the rocket gunner is facing the opening. I’m gripping the seat, trying to decide what to do next when the helicopter turns again, tilts downward and hovers. I look out the opening and see we’re opposite the entrance to Jeffrey’s bunker.
I watch the gunner launch a rocket. It hits five feet high and the grenade explodes over the opening. I hear a burst from the AK-47 and see Ahmed spray the cave entrance. The rounds bounce off the rocks to the right. “Lots of wind,” shouts the pilot.
“Get closer then,” orders Olson.
I feel the floor slant forward and tilt to the left and almost lose my balance as the chopper swings around for another pass. The odds of either the rocket gunner or Ahmed missing at a closer range are slim. I have a horrible picture in my mind of what a rocket propelled grenade or clip of 7.62 millimeter shells will do to anyone inside the bunker. Olson could dump Mia and me in the ocean and be free of any witnesses to his evil. I can’t let that happen. Better to die here and stop him.
* * *
Hurdling the seat, I come up behind the gunner and knock him down. He hits the floor and tries to get up but I bang his head against the barrel of the rocket launcher and he staggers closer to the door.
I look through the opening. I can make out the details of the trees and rocks and feel the hot wind. We’re much closer to the cliff face than the first pass. The gunner recovers his balance and moves toward me with his back to the opening. He’s a big guy with a long beard and he’s crouching in a wrestling stance. The chopper bounces and we both lurch forward and bounce into each other. He grabs my arm and tries to swing me around and out the door. He’s got momentum and I teeter toward the opening.
I’m half-way out. One foot is outside the door but, I’m able to hook the other on the seat brace, throw myself to the floor, and roll away from the door. The motion jerks my arm out of his grip and he staggers backward toward the opening. He’s bigger and stronger but I’ve got leverage and momentum working for me. Springing to my feet and using the seat back as a hand hold, I help him along. If he screams, I don’t hear it. The last I see of him is a guy with a black beard dropping out of sight behind the helicopter.
They’re waiting for me in the front seat. Ahmed can’t move the AK-47 fast enough in close quarters and I pull it away and hurl it to the back. Olson has his .45 but, before he can aim it I tackle him. He’s on his back and I’m trying to twist the .45 out of his grip when Ahmed joins the fray.
The .45 goes off. The noise makes my ears ring and the round goes through the front window six inches over the pilot’s head. Somehow Olson manages to keep the gun and Ahmed uses the distraction to pin me down by pressing one of those pointy wing tips on the back of my neck.
Olson takes charge. “Ahmed, get her up then go to back, get your rifle, and get ready to rake the inside of the bunker.”
Ahmed’s strong for such a scrawny guy and he pulls me up beside Olson who greets me by ramming the business end of the .45 against the side of my head. I look out the front window and see that the pilot has reacted to the gunshot by gaining altitude and flying away from the cliff. “I don’t need you. I know how to fly this chopper. Turn around or the next one won’t miss,” shouts Olson.
We swing back, drop down, and line up for another run. Behind me, I hear a short burst from the AK-47 as Ahmed does more target practice. I see the bunker nearly lined up with the open door. We slowly creep forward until it’s dead center.
“Closer, get closer. We don’t want to miss again,” Olson says to the pilot. “Don’t shoot until I give the word,” he yells back at Ahmed.
I don’t want to miss again either. Unless I do something fast, the Nigerian girls and my North Star classmates will be history. Time to make my move. Everyone on this helicopter will probably end up dead but they’ll survive.
Olson is watching the gap slowly close between the opening and the bunker and loses focus on me. I snap my neck backward and the gun barrel moves away from my temple. Grabbing his wrist with my left hand, I pull it away and down while ramming my right elbow into his nose. I hear the gun bounce against the floor and feel the squish of his nose breaking. I can’t stop to survey the damage or retrieve the .45. I’ve got to get to the pilot before Ahmed opens up.
Shoving Olson away, I lock my left forearm around the pilot’s neck, squeeze hard, and wrench him up and out of his seat. He twists sideways and I land on top of him. We’re wrestling on the cockpit floor when I feel a stomach turning lurch and hear a screeching grinding sound. The bottom drops out. The back points down, and I’m looking up at the sky through the front window. I feel a jarring bounce, another smaller one, then I don’t feel anything.
Chapter 44
I wake up to the smell of burning wires. I wasn’t out long because the helicopter hasn’t yet exploded. I feel something wet on my face and my vision is blocked by something heavy and brown pressing against my eyes. I push it away and see that it’s the pilot’s shirt. The wetness comes from the blood on his forehead and, as I look closer, I see that his head doesn’t match his body. His neck is twisted nearly backward.
I have to get him off me with my right arm because my left won’t move. When I stand, it hangs useless and my shoulder is numb. The chopper is upside down and I see Olson lying on the ceiling, pinned down by the twisted seat. The .45 is behind him and I pick it up on the way to the back of the cabin to check on Mia.
The burning electrical smell gets stronger as I dig my way through to the rear. I move a bent piece of the rocket launcher and find the bottom half of Ahmed. Part of a blade flew through the opening and split him in two. Climbing over back seat I find Mia peacefully stretched out on the roof behind it. She’s still breathing and I can’t see any more blood coming from her side. I put her under my good arm and carry her toward the door. On the way out, I notice that Jeffrey is gone.
I can’t balance Mia with one arm so I keep her head up and let her feet drag while climbing to put distance between us and the chopper. When we’re far enough away. I put her down, look back, and see a trail of thick black smoke snaking out the opening. It won’t be long now. I hope Olson’s awake so he feels the pain when he burns up.
I look back down the hill and see a familiar sight. The helicopter went down about one hundred yards east of Jeffrey’s killing cage. I scan the hill and discover that we’re standing almost in front of the platform. I see something move. It crawls toward us with a familiar, crab-like motion. “How nice, Jeffrey’s come to visit us,” I say to the unconscious Mia.
* * *
I want to stay away from the forthcoming explosion but I want to get Jeffrey more. It’s risky, but I chance it and run down the hill, grab his good arm with my own good arm, and drag. We’re nearly back to Mia when I stop and rest. Looking back at the helicopter I think I see a light spot, a contrasting smudge, coming out of the opening. I close my eyes for a second, open them, and look again. There’s nothing there, only smoke.
When I get Jeffrey back to where I left Mia, we don’t have to wait long. I
hear a thunderous whooshing sound, feel a surge of heat, and see flames climbing to the sky. The chopper is gone. All that’s left now is Jeffrey.
I have to make two trips. First I half carry, half drag, Mia to the platform. Before I go back for Jeffrey, I hear her try to talk. “. . . Head hurts . . . side . . . hurts too. What . . . happened?”
“Long story, you got shot and they gave you another kind of shot to keep you quiet. Right now, there’s something you have to see.”
I go back, drag Jeffrey up the hill and put him on the platform exactly where he shot Levi. He’s gone—Joe did his job—so did Ahmed —the wood is splintered with holes from the 7.62 millimeter rounds.
“Can you hear me Jeffrey? You must be awake to have crabbed your way out of that helicopter.”
“I hear.” His voice is soft.
“That’s good because I want you to be alert for what comes next.”
“Get me a doctor . . . I’ll pay . . . Anything you ask.”
“What I ask is that you burn in hell along with your evil friend back there.”
I take out Olson’s .45, aim it at his forehead, and look him in the eyes. When I see fear, I pull the trigger. “That’s for Levi,” I say.
I throw the .45 in the brush, pick up Mia, and stagger up the trail toward the bunker. Toward, friends, love, and sanity.
EPILOGUE: BUCK BRUSH FALLS SIX MONTHS LATER
Chapter 45
The late October weather’s unusually warm for northern Minnesota so they don’t have to move the ceremony inside. My new half-sister sits next to me on the stage. Out of the corner of my eye, I see her rubbing the new tattoo under her sleeve.
The small stage is crowded. Mia and I sit on one side of the podium, Mrs. Selby and Rita on the other. Dr. Mason is almost finished with his speech. I smile and make eye contact with Rita. She just arrived this morning but doesn’t look jet-lagged. It was expensive to fly her first class, but it she’s worth it.
Squaw Girl: A Boxer's Battle for Love Page 25
