Alex stopped at the door.
“And since I know how much of a coward, piece of shit you are, who would ditch me the first chance he got, remember I saved your life. I'm most definitely infected, but I haven't changed yet. So before you go on thinking about bailing on me, just know that if you do, I don't care how brain dead I might become, how rotting I might look, but I will stay on this earth long enough to track you down, change into one of those undead things, and chomp your fucking face off.”
Jones's eyes were wide open. The threat, as unrealistic as it might have been, was terrifying. Part of him owed his life to Alex, but the other, more dominant side did plan to abandon Alex at the first available opportunity. But Alex's threat choked him up so much that all he could do was nod his head.
“Good. See ya soon.”
***
“Travis! I need another mag!” Clint shouted, reeling back inside the car.
For the last two minutes, West and company had been involved in a moving shootout with Daytona and his Guardsmen. After departing the bridge, West had utilized his evasive and emergency vehicle training to take the lead. But despite his position, dozens of bullets tore up the Ford Escape’s glass windows and metal exterior, while the lucky majority whizzed past.
“Here!” Travis yelled back, slamming a .45 caliber handgun magazine against Clint’s shoulder.
Blood from a grazed bullet wound dripped down Clint’s forearm to his fingers. He didn't bother saying thanks as he injected the magazine and stuck half his torso out the left side window for another round of return fire.
Travis was forced to recoil and duck behind the trunk door as a spray of bullets entered through the now completely shatter back window. Shards of glass scratched his cheek before he was able to fully cover up.
Hang on!” West shouted as he banked right in the middle of an intersection. The wheels spun on the snow, unable to grip the street.
Clint was unable to fight the G-force, so he grabbed onto the interior top handle and held on, but his eyes widened with fear as he saw what was rapidly approaching.
The Ford Escape on a direct path to a 76 gas station.
“Come on!” West grunted, willing the all-terrain tires to do their job. “COME ON!”
Then, a foot before the curb, the front tires regained traction and propelled the car forward. The back tires popped up and over the curb, but not a second later, the compact SUV was off, tearing down the snowy road with purpose.
“What’s happening? I can’t see,” yelled Travis.
West looked into rearview mirror, into the remaining third that had not been blown off by bullets.
Behind them, the F-350 had followed the exact slide path but was unable to recover; the greater weight limit undoubtedly keeping them in the slide until, ultimately, the tires struck the high curb. The two Guards in the back were crushed to death as the truck flipped and rolled until striking the nearest fuel pump.
One down, West thought, and despite his hopes, the Expedition took the turn at a slower rate and successfully navigated through the intersection.
Pulling himself inside, Clint asked, “What's our ETA?”
Travis began loading a thirty round magazine into his rifle. “I'm out after this mag!”
“Make your shots count. We need that truck immobilized,” West answered before going through the mental map in his head.
Three blocks, left, two blocks, right, then we make one more left on Airport Drive.
“ETA three minutes,” he finally replied, though flinched to the left as a bullet whizzed inches from his head.
Once again, Clint pulled himself out the window and returned fire. Travis spun around, and using the trunk to steady his aim, he unloaded calculated fire on Daytona and the Expedition.
After firing two, three round bursts Travis shouted, “Let's pray we make it!”
Travis fired another three round burst. Two of the bullets pierced the enemy’s windshield but hit no one, while the other struck the engine compartment causing the Expedition to release steam.
West made the first turn, losing Daytona for the moment. He kept his head forward but mumbled, “I’m not praying for us. I know we’ll make it. I’m praying that Jones is ready.”
***
From the bottom of the stairs leading into the Gulfstream, Travis shouted, “Jones! Jones! West and Clint are covering us. Is the plane ready for takeoff?”
Headphones around his neck, Jones flipped switches and yelled back, “Yes, it is, and I'd prefer not to get shot!”
“Wait, where's Alex?”
“Not sure! Said he was going to stop them from following us,” Jones said while moving a knob that caused the engines to hiss louder. “Didn't say what he was doing or when he'd be back!”
“Mierda...West won't like-”
“I won't like what?” West said pulling himself inside the jet. “Where’s Alex?”
“I just asked. Jones said he took off.”
“We can't wait. We have Daytona pinned in the alley. Clint will be pulling back in ten-seconds. After that, they'll be on us.”
“But Alex, he said he would-”
“No time, Jones! Get this plane in the air now! We’ll figure out a rendezvous later.”
Clint took the stairs two at a time. At the top, he pushed the button on the wall to automatically recall the stairs, folding them into the fuselage of the plane. “I’m in!”
“Fine! Hang on!” Jones bit his cheek and put the Gulfstream 550 in motion. In seconds, they rolled outside the hangar onto taxi lane Alpha.
Scattered bullets ricocheted off the sides of the plane.
West peered through a porthole and watched as Daytona and his three remaining Guardsmen hustled through the hangar on foot.
No way for them to catch up,West knew, but he opted not to jinx the future with words or a sigh of relief.They turned back, must be going for their car. We need to get on the runway!
Sitting in the copilot's chair, Travis pointed forward and said, “You guys see that? Ten o’clock. Is that guy naked?”
Sure enough, Daytona’s pilot was completely undressed and in full sprint down the runway. Fearful, the Guard looked back multiple times, nearly stumbling over his bare feet.
“There! It’s Alex!”
Exiting the LIFE jet, Alex caught sight of the departing Gulfstream and began running after them, waving and screaming, “Slow down! Wait for me!” Knowing he would not catch up on foot, he hopped into a luggage cart and began chasing the jet.
“Screw this,” Travis declared, shouldering past Clint and West. He pressed the button for the stairs to drop but nothing happened. “Jones, open this door!”
Jones’ hand moved to override the system, but Clint swiped it away. “Do not follow that order!”
“If we slow down, Alex could catch up-”
“If we slow down,” Clint interrupted, “the LIFE goons will catch up! When they do, they’ll kill us or worse! This is the second time Alex has disobeyed orders and I will not get myself killed for his recklessness!”
Travis banged a hard fist against the closed door, leaving behind two bloody prints. He shouted back one final time. “Listen up, you billionaire piece a shit, you open the door and slow down or I swear on the Holy Virgin Mother of God that I will put two bullets in your back!”
“And if you do slow down, I’ll shoot you!” promised Clint, hand on his sidearm.
“Jesus! It is lose-lose with you people! West, you care to lodge a threat?”
“Slow down, Jones. Clint, holster that gun before you get hurt,” West said, brushing past the Secret Service Agent.
Jones grunted, then diverted from the runway onto taxi lane Bravo. He throttled back, and on the touchscreen LCD display, he located the manual safety override and opened the side door.
Keeping the cart at its top speed, Alex dodged protruding lighting and various aviation signage in his race to catch up.
“Slow down more!” Travis yelled from halfway down the
stairs. At the bottom, he crouched low and reached out as far as he could. “Come on, hermano!”
Alex found himself halfway between the tail of the plane and where he needed to be. “Why are you bleeding?” he asked, randomly pointing out Travis' injury.
“Would you keep your dumb ass questions to yourself ‘til after you get on board?”
“Not sure I’ll get a chance! This thing is maxed out!”
“Brace the stock of your rifle against the accelerator, then jump from the front!”
“What? Seriously?”
“Yes! Now or never! Jump!”
In a surfer’s stance, Alex positioned himself unsteadily on the front of the cart. The quickly moving ground below caused his stomach to tighten. “Ah, man, this is gonna suck balls!”
“Shut up and jump, puto!”
“Fuuuuuck me, this is gonna suck...”
Rather than give his mind an opportunity to procrastinate, Alex released the steering wheel and leapt. His chest bounced off the bottom most stair, and his arms flailed to grab anything they could. Everything from his torso down, dangled freely. Worse, the rubber soles on his shoes skipped on the taxiway, each time, dragging his body further off.
“Travis! Help! Pull me up! Pull me up!”
“Don’t worry, I got ya!” Despite the pain pulsing from his cuts and the slippery blood working against his tight grip, Travis managed to heave Alex up and onto the stairs.
Once both were safely inside, West shouted, “Close it!”
Jones pressed the manual override, then pushed the throttle full speed. “Hold on!”
The turbines screamed as the tires picked up speed.
"Uh, guys, we got a problem,” Clint shouted. “Eight o’clock and coming up fast!”
The Expedition burst through a security fence. It tore up the dead grass as it cut across the field on a direct course to intercept. Daytona and two of his Guard were halfway out of the car with guns ready, waiting to get within range.
“I don't know if we have enough road!” Jones yelled. He put a hand on the throttle to back it off. “We need to turn around and get back on the runway!”
“No!” West said, placing his hand on top of Jones’. “She's got it. Have faith.”
Jones wasn’t convinced but did not contest. As he slipped the switch to engage the flaps, he noted the windsock and the favorable headwind. “At least there’s some luck! Everyone strap in! We’re either taking off or crashing!”
Calmly, West stared forward. “Come on, come on, come on.”
A passing sign indicated the last two thousand feet for the runway. The taxiway was destined to end two hundred feet sooner, and unlike the runway, its end was not a section of open mercy but a fenced parking lot half full of maintenance vehicles.
West blinked.
The next sign read one thousand, then 800 feet, then 600, then 400.
“Jones,” West said in a tone that indicated questionable confidence.
“Here it goes!”
Mere seconds before collision, Jones pulled back on the wheel, and out of instinct, West pulled back on the copilot's too.
Everyone onboard felt the not-so-subtle jolt as the tires clipped the fence, but not long after, the Gulfstream was free and clear and soaring its way to the clouds.
Travis finally exhaled. “I think I shit myself.”
Lying on his back, Alex said with sincerity, “I know I did.”
Three thousand feet above ground level, West unstrapped himself. “Jones, level off here. I’ll be back in a moment.”
The Sergeant Major walked to the back of the jet, passing Clint who had yet to open his eyes or remove his white-knuckle grip from the armrests. West crouched next to Alex and grabbed him by the collar.
“Damnit, Alex, that’s the second time! We should have left you back there!”
“Whoa, cálmate,” Travis said, pulling back West. “Calm down.”
“No, Travis, that’s bullshit! West is right,” Clint said, joining the argument. “Mind telling us why you left, even though West told you specifically to stay put?”
“Ya, about that,” Alex replied, finally sitting upright by his own accord. He yelled to the front but his voice had grown hoarse and tired. “Jones! Remember what I said would happen if you left me!”
Alex was unable to see, but Jones’ head whipped around, face full of worry. “It wasn't my fault! They made me!”
“Hey!” West said, snapping his fingers to recapture Alex's attention. “He's telling the truth. We told him to go.”
Again, Alex yelled passed West. “Jones!”
“I wanted to stay! I swear they made me!”
“No, not that...I believe you,” Alex mumbled, out of breath. “Just, just make a pass over the airport if you'd be so kind.”
“Alex, I asked you a question.”
“And I’m about to answer it, West.” Alex switched his voice to sound like a flight attendant and continued, “Attention passengers. If you turn your attention to the right hand side of the plane. Daytona and his band of assholes won't be able to come after us, at least not right away.”
“Is that plane on fire?” Travis asked, noticing a rising smoke from the LIFE jet.
“It very much is,” Alex replied confidently as he stared down at the airport. “West, I heard every word you said. I got a pounding headache, but if I remember correctly, you also said you'd be coming in hot. I knew that even if we got airborne, they'd still chase us. Figured this would at least slow them down and give us a head start. After all, a plan is a good thing to have, but every now and then you need a little improv,” he finished, quoting Elias, West’s alter-persona, from back at the medical clinic in Willop.
West snorted and cracked a faint smile. “You'd have made a helluva Delta. Nice work. It’s rare that I say it, but I’m sorry.”
“Don’t sweat it. But that’s twice now. Just try not to doubt me so quickly next time.” Despite his own anger and frustrations for being sidelined, Alex appreciated the recognition.
“How'd you do it?” asked Clint.
“To be honest, I was gonna shoot up the control panel but wasn’t sure if that’d work. I noticed the pilot parked next to a fuel truck and that got me thinking…thinking a bonfire would be much more badass. I mean who gets to say they lit a plane on fire? So I pulled the fuel line inside the jet and turned it on. I lit a pack of matches and left it on a stack of napkins off to the side.”
“Delayed ignition. Creative, I like it,” mumbled West.
“I have a question,” Clint interrupted. “Why was there a naked guy running down the runway?”
“Oh that,” Alex said, appearing amused. “That was the pilot. Surprised him with a gun to his head. I gave him two options: either strip down naked and run as fast as he could to the end of the runway or take a bullet.”
Despite his bruised ribs and cut up hands, Travis laughed. “Pinche guero...you’re crazy, hermano.”
“Delta in training,” West followed, chuckling. “Remind me to tell you about Venezuela sometime.”
“To be honest, I am a little bummed,” Alex admitted. “I thought the plane would explode. I was kinda looking forward to it actually.”
The word explosion visibly softened the group's morale.
Alex sensed the change and confirmed it as smiles went away. He grabbed at his hurt shoulder, and asked, “So how'd you guys do? Do I need to get a needle for the vaccine or does it come with one? Or is it a pill?”
Travis bit his lip. “Sorry, bro. I tried, but-”
Alex's heart dropped.
“He really did try. Almost got himself killed for it,” added Clint.
"It's okay," Alex started to say, but coughing took over, the worst it had ever been; so bad the convulsions dropped him to both knees. “Gah...it hurts!”
Travis stayed by Alex’s side until the spasms ended. “Drink some water, it’ll help.”
"Still think it's just the cold?" Clint asked covering his mouth and keeping hi
s distance. “Look at you, you’re changing, almost there already. Your eyes are bloodshot and getting more dilated. Your voice is starting to sound like one of them. Not to mention your skin’s as pale as a corpse-”
"Stow it," West said, glaring.
Standing with help from Travis, Alex wiped a trail of blood from his lips. “No, I meant it's okay, as in thanks for trying.”
He staggered over to the bar where sounds of cabinets banging open and closed and glassware clanking could be heard. Finally, Alex pulled up two items: a large glass and a bottle of thirty year old whiskey.
He filled the glass to the brim and said, “I guess it doesn't matter. It won't be long now. At least you guys were able to stop the truck. Silver lining, right?”
West leaned in and said, "Alex, we should make arrangements."
Alex swallowed the entire glass with scary ease. “I know.”
Chapter 7
“The Unexpected”
Headquarters of the LIFE Corporation- Location unknown
December 2, 2009
1102 hours
After a trip to the bathroom, Albert returned to the command center. Before descending the stairs, he made a brief stop at the wet bar.
"Why did you lie to me earlier, Mother?" he asked, while casually breaking up the ice with a thin steel pick.
Liz was too busy scribbling notes to look up. "What are you talking about?"
Albert filled a glass with precise portions of vodka, lemon, and mint leaf, and then licked the stirring spoon. "I saw Lizzy's ring on the screen when we spoke yesterday. I knew she was back, and you lied to me."
"I didn't lie, I just didn't tell you.”
"Semantics."
"Says the king of semantics."
“Rich, coming from the granddaughter of-”
“Say his name and see what happens to you,” Liz replied, eyes narrow and full of resolve.
“It has never been a secret that you hate your bloodline, and ironically have come to embrace it in your own way.”
“What are you getting at, son?”
The Longest Road (Book 3): The Other Side Page 37
