by Fiona Quinn
The girls and their chaperones sat politely in the metal folding chairs.
Ty and Rory were climbing on the plane to give it a search before boarding. Havoc wasn’t back yet. T-Rex glanced at his watch.
The photographer, Jules, was posted just to the side of the chairs. He stood above their heads on a set of stairs that could be rolled up to a commercial jet for passengers to load.
Diamond had angled the steps so that one of the two sides with safety bars faced the lectern.
Jules was adjusting his video camera on its tripod. With its huge lens, his still camera dangled from a blue strap Jules had looped around his neck.
T-Rex turned to the lectern and saw that two professional mics were angled there to capture the senator’s voice. Remi made her way over to the mics and tested the system, using hand signals to confer with Jules.
The heat of the day hadn’t quite risen to the point of discomfort.
The light was still the milky yellow of an August morning.
No unusual movement in the area.
No extra eyes.
Diamond nodded at Remi, and Remi moved off to the side. Her micro-recorder lay on her open palm.
T-Rex guessed that was back up, or maybe she just liked to have her own copy for quick reference when she was writing a story. The SEAL mantra “one is none, and two is one” flashed through his mind. A reminder that even the best-laid plans often went awry, so you’d better back up your systems.
Tugging at the bottom of her suit jacket, wiggling her shoulders, then squaring off in front of the mic, Diamond spread a professional smile across her face and stilled, waiting for the audience to clue in and quiet themselves.
“Good morning, ladies. Welcome. It’s an honor to be here with the brilliant minds that will lead the world into the future. So many of you will make a real difference. Now, more than ever, science will lead the way as humanity deals with our various crises. Keep powering forward.” She paused, her smile frozen on her face. With a nod, she began again. “My name is Diamond Johnson. I’m assistant to your host, Senator Barbara Blankenship, whom I will present momentarily. First, let me introduce you to our flight crew, then I will be going over some housekeeping topics.”
She held her hand out, indicating the pilot, co-pilot, and flight attendant who stood to Diamond’s right.
T-Rex noted their names.
The crew nodded graciously, raised their hands in a wave, then pivoted and headed back to the plane, passing by Ty and Rory, who re-emerged in the doorway.
Ty gave T-Rex a thumbs up and stood to the side of the stairs.
The pilot boarded; the flight attendant stood at the bottom of the stairs at attention.
Neat and orderly. T-Rex just needed Havoc back on site, and they’d be off to a good start. T-Rex pulled his cell phone from his pocket and sent a quick text: ETA? We’re getting ready to board.
“One last check before Senator Blankenship welcomes you,” Diamond said.
Senator Blankenship stood to Diamond’s left. She adjusted her cowboy hat as Diamond ran through her list.
“In the information packet, we let you all know that we have drinks on board, but we won’t have food service since there are a number of you with allergies and special meal preparation requirements. I need to make sure, though, that no one is going to go hungry. Do you have your lunches and snacks? Hold them up so I can make sure each girl is prepared.”
The girls all leaned over their backpacks, unzipping them and rustling around.
T-Rex was keeping an eye on the adults’ hands as they dug in their packs to ensure that only food items emerged.
The Echo team hadn’t been warned about the no-meals situation, but he and his team always had a couple of MREs thrown in their packs, and they kept their camel water bladders full. They were good to go.
As the girls lifted their bags, T-Rex’s gaze landed on Remi. Her hand was raised, shielding her eyes as she gazed into the morning sun. Something about her posture tightened T-Rex’s muscles. He scanned to see what she was looking at, but from his vantage point, all he had was a strip of mown grass that dipped into a runoff pond.
T-Rex turned to Ty. They’d been Unit members together for long enough that when T-Rex bored his gaze into the back of Ty’s head, he turned.
As T-Rex lifted a hand to signal, Rory gave a low growl from the back of his throat. Hackles up, he gave an aggressive bark, pulling to the end of his lead.
T-Rex strode toward his principal, so he could cover her no matter the disturbance. If his face was caught on camera, he’d just have the photographer delete those frames.
Ty reeled Rory back, but Rory was lunging aggressively.
Eyes scanning the horizon, T-Rex still couldn’t find anything amiss.
And that’s when all hell broke loose.
A wake of turkey vultures with their broad, powerful wings and ugly, featherless, wrinkled red heads swooped. They were enormous and determined as their talons spread, reaching for the girls’ lunch bags.
The girls were screaming. Their chairs tipped and banged to the ground as they leaped and ran for the bay, covering their heads with their arms.
Senator Blankenship clutched at her hat as a vulture winged its way in her direction.
T-Rex was at her side, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, leaning his body over the top of her to protect her from the sharp talons, semi-lifting and dragging her toward the building.
Diamond was racing as fast as her pencil skirt and heels would allow toward the hangar, forcing T-Rex to swerve around her.
As he made his way past the door, T-Rex spotted Ty working to control Rory, who was in protective mode, snarling and chomping at the birds.
The girls already inside, T-Rex hit the button to lower the bay’s automatic door, sealing out the birds. As the door crunched and ground on the pully system, he asked, “Senator, were you injured?”
A man hollered, then was shrieking.
Senator Blankenship pressed on T-Rex’s back. “Go. Go. I’m fine.”
T-Rex didn’t bother taking the time to raise the door. He simply dove under its descent, rolling as its heavy length slammed shut just behind him.
In his mind, he was weighing his duty to stay with the senator and his duty to follow her directive.
T-Rex couldn’t imagine that was Ty or Havoc screaming like that. It had to be Jules. Where was Remi?
Rolling to a stand, T-Rex arrived at what could easily be a horror film scene.
He’d never seen so many vultures at once. And having spent his share of time on the African planes, that was saying something. T-Rex’s gaze landed on Ty, who was hauling Rory up the steps to the plane.
Rory was excellent at following commands under even the most harrowing of circumstances. Something about this scene made him break his training.
Ty lifted a hand and pointed. T-Rex followed the direction but couldn’t see past the flapping wings.
It was like swimming through the sea in the black of night and accidentally swimming into a feeding shiver of sharks.
Bending his elbow and resting it on his brow to protect his eyes, T-Rex kicked his way through the heaving mass of gorging birds.
He aimed for the shrieks. Those were female and young.
T-Rex lifted a folding chair and used it like a riot shield as he slogged forward, looking under the birds’ wings, searching for any girls that might not have made it to safety.
There was Jules, dangling from the stairs. His elbow encircled the rail, and his hand clung to his shirt. He was a heavy-set man, and T-Rex couldn’t imagine that he’d hold there long.
The drop was enough for an untrained man to break his legs.
A vulture had his camera in its talons and was trying to fly away with it. The strap encircled Jules’ neck, dragging his head backward. With his free hand, Jules was trying to make space for air to pass down his throat. His mouth open and soundless. Blood dripped from gashes on his head.
T-Rex prioritized the g
irl over Jules. If Jules would just let go of the stairs, he’d fall, he’d be hurt, but he would be free.
T-Rex caught a flash of Remi through the black storm of wings.
Remi had wrapped her rose scarf around her head, so only a slit in the fabric allowed her to see, protecting her eyes and skin. In one hand, she had her high lumen flashlight that she was shining into the bird’s eyes, making them scatter. In the other, she had a folding chair just like T-Rex had.
Remi disappeared from T-Rex’s view behind a screen of feathers as several of the vultures rose into the air.
T-Rex beat his way through the wake, hoping that Ty was securing Rory and coming to assist.
Where was Havoc?
Having battled blindly through the riot of birds, ecstatically screeching over the bounty of food they’d discovered, T-Rex’s hand landed on Remi’s calf. He followed it up her bent thigh to her hips. She was on all fours with a folded metal chair across her back—a turtle’s shell of protection over her.
A vulture had ripped a bag open on the flat surface of the metal seat and was devouring the meal, pressing the chair down on Remi.
Beneath Remi, a student cowered.
“Remi,” T-Rex yelled, swatting at a bird that had caught Remi’s head scarf in its beak.
“Get her! Get her!” Remi screamed back.
T-Rex reached under Remi’s body and caught hold of a blood-covered sleeve. He dragged the girl out from under Remi. “Come on. Let’s go.”
He heaved the girl over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry so he could keep the chair-weapon flailing in front of him to clear a space. He saw that the girl was holding pieces of a ripped sandwich.
“Drop the food.” He ordered as he slogged toward the side door, hoping it was unlocked.
The girl didn’t comply. T-Rex didn’t know if it was because she was in shock or if she didn’t speak English.
He dropped the chair and reached for the doorknob. Locked. He lifted his foot and push kicked just below the knob. The door moaned. He kicked it again, splintering the wood. The door flew back and banged into the wall.
A woman screamed and ran forward, reaching for the girl draped over his back, the sandwich still in hand.
T-Rex handed the child over to the women’s care while he ran back out to see what could be done for Jules.
The vulture still clung to the camera strap and was still powering forward.
With each downstroke, Jules’s body shifted forward then fell back with each lift of the vulture’s wings.
Remi was lying on the top of the stairs, her feet dangling out the side. The folded chair covered her back once again. Her strobing flashlight lay at her side.
As he closed the distance, T-Rex recognized the multitool in her hand. She sawed at the strap, which confused T-Rex.
“Hold on, Jules! Hold on!” Remi hollered. “I’m almost through. I’ll get you free. Hang on!” She yelled the encouragement.
T-Rex wondered why she didn’t just drag the camera out of the bird’s talons, crash the vulture to the ground. Then one of the vultures with a plastic bag held tight in its talons flew by him, and T-Rex took a swipe from the wing. T-Rex hadn’t been prepared for the massive power that the bird delivered.
As the wake of vultures flew toward the steps to roost with their food, Remi seemed safe under her chair shelter.
T-Rex wondered under what circumstances Remi had learned to behave that way. She was making do with what was at hand. Maybe she’d picked up a thing or two as she covered the special forces community.
T-Rex rounded the steps to find Jules’s flailing legs. “Remi, pull your hands away,” he bellowed up at her.
“Away!” she yelled. Just enough information repeated back so T-Rex knew she’d understood and would comply. Not a word too many. Good.
“Jules, on the count of three, let go. Jules, do you hear me?” There was no way for the man to signal, no free hand, no breath for words. “On three, let go. One—” T-Rex squatted. “Two... Three!” T-Rex sprang up.
Stretching his arms, T-Rex caught hold of Jules’s ankles and tugged as T-Rex dropped back to the ground.
As Jules crashed down, T-Rex made a circle with his arms and turned his head to look over his shoulder to protect his nose from being broken. As Jules brushed through T-Rex’s arms, his descent slowed enough to reach the ground with no broken bones.
Now, T-Rex could understand the scene better.
Remi hadn’t frightened the bird away because the talons had pierced the canvas of the strap, becoming ensnared.
The bird had been dragged to the ground with Jules’s weight and was fighting for its life.
Protecting his eyes behind an elbow, T-Rex reached under the beating wings, grabbed the leg that had been caught. T-Rex dropped his elbow from his brow just long enough to grab the strap and jerk it free from the talons.
As soon as T-Rex released the raptor’s leg, it took off flying.
Jules was in bad shape. His neck was encircled with a rug burn. He was making strangled sounds as his chest heaved.
If Jules’s throat was swelling from the assault, Jules could still be strangled to death.
T-Rex pulled him over his shoulder and once again was racing through the wake of raptors toward the hangar.
A siren was close.
T-Rex hoped that 9-1-1 had dispatched the fire fighters to the scene. They’d have a paramedic and the equipment to handle this event.
T-Rex laid Jules on the cool cement floor as Blankenship and Diamond rushed forward to help.
T-Rex stood to go after Remi, but she walked in on her own steam.
Pressing her back against the wall, fist clutching the fabric over her heart. She looked at the floor, panting from exertion.
T-Rex scanned down her body. No visible blood or wounds as she unwrapped the scarf from around her head. He noticed that she’d put on a pair of ballistic glasses, the same kind his team used. Made of polycarbonate plastic, the lenses were thick enough to protect her eyes from most projectiles, even bullets. A clever use of what tools were at hand.
The first responders burst through the door, observed, then split into two teams, one headed to the bloodied student, the other toward Jules.
The senator and Diamond had crouched to help with Jules. T-Rex extended his hand to help the senator and her aid to their feet then guided them out of the responder’s way.
“Well done, T-Rex.” The senator’s hair was a wild tangle of curls. “You know,” she said as she bent to swipe up her cowboy hat and set it back on her head. “Maybe I jinxed us when I brought up Steven King.” She adjusted her suit jacket. “Looks like I conjured our very own scene from The Dark Half. I won’t be doin’ nothin’ like that again.”
Chapter Ten
Remi
Wednesday, Washington D.C.
“Hey,” Remi said when Liu answered his phone.
“How is it that you’re calling me right now? Aren’t you supposed to be winging it over the Atlantic?”
“Things didn’t get off to a very good start.”
“With the senator? I talked to their office. It was all arranged. We agreed on the cost of your seat, the money was forwarded to them. What’s the issue? Did she leave you behind?”
“We’re still at the airport. There was a buzzard incident. Jules is in an ambulance heading for the hospital.” Remi watched the first responders wheeling Jules from the hangar to the ambulance. The white bandaging that covered his scalp was slowly turning red as it absorbed his blood.
Head wounds, even when they were superficial, tended to bleed profusely.
She felt her stomach wobble.
“Is this a joke? The hospital? Did you say buzzard incident?”
“Yeah.” Remi pulled the rose scarf from around her neck, trying to relieve the sense of claustrophobia that lingered from being under the beating wings of the birds. “Turkey vultures. It was like something out of a sci-fi show. I’ve never seen anything like it. One of the birds tried to
drag Jules off the stairs. Jules was beaten to hell and back.”
“By the buzzards.”
“Yep. Let’s see—head lacerations, a nasty cut by his eye. He was squeezing his lids shut. I hope they didn’t get his eyeball.”
“Remi, this isn’t funny.”
“I’m not kidding. I’d send you the video, but Jules’s video camera is in a million pieces. So head, eyes, he pulled his shoulder out of the socket when he was dangling from his elbow.”
“His elbow…?”
“He’s not a light guy. That was a lot of weight to hold. And the paramedic put an intubation tube down his throat. The responder was worried that Jules’s airway would swell shut.”
“Because?”
“The buzzard got its talons caught in the camera strap and freaked out, trying to fly away. But the strap was around Jules’s neck. So basically, the buzzard was strangling Jules.”
“Strangling… Remi—”
“I swear on my mother’s grave, Liu. Why would I make something like that up?”
“What hospital are they heading to?”
She put her hand over the phone. “Hey!” she called out. “What hospital?”
“Suburban. They have an ocular trauma doctor on call today.”
“Thank you!” She raised a hand. “Suburban,” Remi repeated into her phone.
“Yeah, I heard.”
“I don’t have a photographer. Can you arrange for a photojournalist to add on when we arrive in London?”
“Do you have your camera?”
“I do, but it’s not the same quality.” Remi noticed that the student she’d shielded until T-Rex could scoop her up and run her to safety was now bandaged. She sat with her head on a chaperone's shoulder, gripping the woman’s hands. She wasn’t heading toward the ambulance for a checkup at the hospital. Remi imagined that the chaperone just wanted to get her home where the girl could see her regular doctor.
Remi glanced around the hangar and decided that folks weren’t gathering their things up to get on the plane yet. Remi thought she had time to slip into the ladies’ room and splash some water on her face…try to regain her professional demeanor.
