Fast

by Shane M Brown

  Off the top of his head, Coleman saw two problems. The tray-back was squarely in the wrecking ball’s path, and Vanessa couldn’t brake to avoid the oncoming wrecking ball with Coleman perched on the hood. If she hit the brakes, Coleman would go flying off the hood. Coleman’s precarious position was about to doom them both.

  Coleman read her lips through the windshield.

  Jump.

  Coleman jumped – dove – over the cab. Vanessa hit the brakes. They couldn’t have stalled the maneuver a second longer.

  The tray-back’s brakes squealed. The wrecking ball was right on top of them. It was a solid grey storm cloud sweeping into Coleman’s peripheral vision. It even sounded like thunder. Careening towards the braking tray-back, it seemed to blot out half the level.

  As Coleman flew through the air, the moment seemed charged with deadly energy.

  The wrecking ball bounced up, clipped the front of the tray-back, and then sheared through Bora’s cab.

  At the same moment, Coleman landed on the terrorist just finding his feet on the webbing. Crashing into the man mid-flight, Coleman’s shoulder drove into the man’s kidneys. The impact completely threw off his trajectory.

  Instead of landing in the tray, Coleman just caught himself on the edge. His body thumped down. His legs and hips slipped over the side. His boots touched the floor and instantly tore out from under him. The tray-back was still moving too fast to find his footing.

  Only the pinch bar had saved him. The hooked end had snagged in the webbing. Coleman snatched another handful of webbing. Now he had one hand on the pinch bar and the other holding the webbing.

  The terrorist hadn’t fared much better. Vanessa’s sudden braking had violently shifted the river stones. The man’s left leg had slipped through the webbing. He had been pinned up to the knee when the stones slid up the tray. The man grasped the pick handle. He grunted as he yanked the pick head free from the cab.

  Coleman’s eyes widened as the man pivoted.

  Oh, shit!

  He had nowhere to move. If he climbed up the tray, he would be climbing straight into an attack. When he looked up, the pick was already racing towards his head.

  Stone shards spattered over his face as the pinned terrorist’s attack fell just short. Blinking away the stone fragments, Coleman tried to get a better grip on the webbing and keep his legs from dragging under the tray-back’s rear wheels.

  The terrorist repositioned his hands on the pick handle, gaining more range, and swung again. This time the attack was right on target.

  Clinging desperately to the side of the tray-back, Coleman watched the pick race through the air towards his head.

  #

  Bora sat up in the wreckage of the A-frame’s cab.

  Filthy bastards!

  He groped at the steering wheel. The wheel felt stiff. The steering was misaligned. Bracing himself, he managed to steer the giant A-frame away from the wall. The scientist had lured him straight into the path of the wrecking ball.

  The cement ball had sheered away three-quarters of his cab. The passenger side door, the roof, the windshield - everything was ripped away in a second of screaming metal. Bora had been so focused on cutting off the tray-back that he noticed the wrecking ball too late. The ball came literally within an arm’s length of pasting him against the wall.

  Everything had been torn from the cab. Everything except his seat and the steering wheel. Only the driver’s actions from the rear cab had prevented Bora’s forward cab from being completely wiped out. The man must have slammed on the brakes at the last moment.

  Bora saw the cab-to-cab intercom was intact. He thumbed the button.

  ‘Good work,’ he said the rear cab operator. ‘They almost had me.’

  ‘I thought you were dead!’ came the startled reply from the rear cab.

  Bora didn’t answer. He searched over his shoulder, looking for his target. The scorpion truck pulled away, keeping its dangerous payload in motion. The tray-back passed up the inside length between the A-frame and the solid habitation level wall. The Marine riding the hood had fallen and was hanging over the side of the tray.

  He wouldn’t last long. A gunman stood in the tray. He had a pick. The pick already raced towards the Marine’s head.

  Just in case, thought Bora, swinging his wheel hard to the left. The A-frame swerved into the tray-back. The gap between the vehicles disappeared with a bone-crushing sideswipe. More debris shook away from Bora’s damaged cab. As the trucks came apart, Bora saw the tray-back veer away without the Marine.

  About time, thought Bora, checking his mirror for the body. The mangled pile of flesh should be rolling behind the truck any time now.

  There was no body rolling behind the truck.

  Where is he?

  He hit the ‘talk’ button on the intercom. ‘Did you see that Marine’s body fall away?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  Bora felt his top lip twitch in irritation. ‘Go out and check that he’s dead. He must be crushed back there somewhere.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Bora felt the steering change as the rear operator shifted full control to the front cab.

  Just in case, thought Bora, scanning the A-frame’s platform in the mirror. No more assumptions until these Marines are all dead at my feet.

  Suddenly the rear cab operator blurted over the intercom, ‘Look out ahead!’

  Bora snapped his attention forwards again.

  A maelstrom of creatures came swarming out of the administration hub.

  They scrambled straight into the A-frame’s path and lunged towards the tray-back. The lighter tray-back swerved through the pack of creatures. It barely avoided a dozen grasping tentacles.

  Bora was driving too fast to maneuver like the tray-back. The A-frame was too heavy. The pack of creatures formed into a solid mass of grasping tentacles directly in the A-frame’s driving line.

  He only had one choice.

  Bora grabbed the steering wheel with both hands, braced his legs in the wrecked cab, and then held on tight as he ploughed the A-frame truck straight into the writhing pack of creatures.

  #

  Cairns leapt agilely onto the fountain.

  He surveyed his makeshift roadblock.

  Unhitched from the electric cart, the heavy pallets had been lined up either side of the fountain. In the gaps between the pallets idled six quad bikes.

  As the last pallet rolled into place, Cairns critically surveyed their arrangement.

  It should be enough.

  He had a simple plan. Stop the tray-back at any cost.

  About to bark out more orders, he noticed the water in the fountain near his boots. It was moving. Shuddering. The surface of the water was turbulent and uneven. As he watched, the water started rapidly shaking.

  Something is wrong here.

  In full view of the quad bike riders, he slowly knelt on the fountain and placed his palm flat against the marble.

  The entire habitation level shook. The vibrations travelled up through the fountain.

  What the hell are they doing? What could be causing these tremors?

  He groaned as the answer fish-tailed around the corner and came into view. It wasn’t the tray-back. It was the scorpion truck.

  And it dragged a huge ball of solid cement behind about thirty meters of steel cable.

  The driver spotted the makeshift roadblock and the line of terrorists. The cement sphere began sliding and rolling in a great big arc behind the scorpion truck. With no sign of slowing down, the scorpion truck driver veered the truck steadily towards the outside wall.

  In an instant, Cairns saw the driver’s intention, and in that same moment, every other plan went out the window.

  It was every man for himself.

  All heads turned to Cairns, looking for instructions.

  ‘Scatter!’ he yelled. ‘Come at it from the sides.’

  The driver turned the wheel, and like a colossal whip crack, the cement sphere sliced across the
floor towards the roadblock.

  They’d never all move in time.

  ‘Everyone down!’ Cairns yelled, diving behind the fountain.

  As he hit the floor, the wrecking ball smashed full-tilt into the roadblock. The first pallet disintegrated under the brutal force, but didn’t slow the flying chunk of reinforced cement. The impact just sent the wrecking ball spinning up through the air. It passed over the heads of three gunmen and came down straight onto the fountain.

  The fountain exploded in a haze of white water and marble shards. The ball kept going.

  One quad bike rider caught the swinging steel cable right in the chest. Instantly sheared in half, both pieces of the man flew through the air with the wrecking ball, paralleling its path until the wet mess thumped down thirty meters away.

  Water and marble shards rained down everywhere. The top tier of the fountain crashed down fifty meters away.

  Drenched from the demolished fountain, Cairns raised his head and saw four quad bike riders had outmaneuvered the attack. The fifth rider was caught between two colliding pallets. Both his legs were broken. The wounds appeared so fresh there was more bone then blood.

  ‘Up!’ yelled Cairns as the wrecking ball bounced away across the other side of the pedestrian loop.

  At that second, the tray-back came fishtailing around the corner.

  Tray-back or the scorpion truck? Which is my target?

  Cairns stood within the living demonstration of how devastating a weapon the scorpion truck had become. He needed to neutralize the greatest threat before he could take the prize.

  His eyes fixed resolutely on the scorpion truck.

  #

  Forest watched the wrecking ball send the terrorists diving for cover.

  After demolishing the roadblock, King’s full attention was focused on keeping the wrecking ball under control. He was struggling. His powerful arms were braced rigidly against the steering wheel. The dragging weight felt like it could rip the scorpion truck in half any second. The truck wasn’t taking the punishment quietly. Forest heard the metallic screech and twang of metal warping and bolts popping.

  It was the crane. Eight heavy-duty bolts secured the crane onto the truck. Two bolts had already torn loose. The next two bolts started to lift under the tremendous pressure of King’s driving.

  Forest willed the bolts to hold in place.

  Grunting, King countered with the steering again. The truck demanded every ounce of his strength. King just managed to keep the truck on four wheels. At any given time, two of the truck’s wheels were slipping, grabbing, slipping, grabbing, jerking the truck in erratic spurts. King’s deft handling transformed the erratic spurts into a large circle. The motion kept the wrecking ball swinging outwards in a large defensive zone.

  It’s getting faster, thought Forest. It’s moving faster now.

  The ball seemed to be picking up speed.

  King struggled more and more to keep the wrecking ball from rolling the truck right over. The truck tilted dangerously towards the driver’s side. Forest checked the support struts again. The struts down that side sent up four sprays of sparks. The sparks were a good thing. It meant the struts still possessed enough structural integrity to prevent the truck rolling. Without those mechanical legs, Forest knew the truck would have rolled long before now. The struts were starting to buckle and warp under the constant pressure.

  Suddenly Forest spotted Vanessa racing around the corner in the tray-back. The smaller tray-back fishtailed wildly into view and then accelerated towards the demolished roadblock. Behind her came the giant A-frame. Between her and the roadblock, the wrecking ball was destroying everything. It was right in her driving line.

  Vanessa was literally between a rock and a hard place.

  ‘Lookout for Vanessa!’ warned Forest. ‘She needs to get through. Bora’s right on top of her!’

  ‘She’ll have to find her own way through,’ hissed King through gritted teeth, struggling with the wheel. ‘I can’t slow this thing down.’

  ‘There is no way through,’ barked Forest, realizing what was happening. The cable had been slipping out of the crane, making the pendulum swing longer and longer. The dragging force on the scorpion truck was growing exponentially by the second. No wonder King was struggling.

  ‘The cable’s slipping,’ warned Forest.

  As they kept turning, Vanessa’s truck disappeared from Forest’s field of vision.

  He craned his head out the window.

  Everything seemed to be coming at the scorpion truck. Vanessa, Bora, even the quad bikes were maneuvering into positions to rush the scorpion truck once the wrecking ball passed.

  At least the distraction’s working. Oh, no….

  Forest spotted the creatures. Four of them, cutting across the habitation level floor from the rear of the administration hub.

  ‘King - I’ve got four incoming hostiles.’

  The creatures ignored the quad bikes and charged straight for the scorpion truck. The wrecking ball kept the terrorist’s back, but it had the opposite affect on the creatures. Its vibrations attracted them.

  ‘It’s about time,’ hissed King.

  As threats converged on the scorpion truck from every direction, Forest wasn’t sure what worried him most: the creatures, the terrorists, or Sergeant William King’s comment.

  #

  Vanessa banked the tray-back around the corner just in time to witness King demolishing the terrorist roadblock.

  Holy crap.

  The scene ahead was pure bedlam.

  She hardly recognized the area where researchers and their families idled away their downtime.

  Rocketing towards the mayhem in a front row seat, she could hardly take it all in. The scorpion truck had just made a huge U-turn, sending the wrecking ball bouncing straight through some kind of a terrorist roadblock. The ball demolished the fountain. Water from the fountain shot up and hit the ceiling. The top fountain tier flew through the air above the heads of the prone terrorists.

  Almost mesmerized by the spectacle of the fountain tier tumbling through the air, she nearly collided with a creature. She swerved the tray-back right, veering around the creatures that burst from the administration hub. A tentacle screeched down the side of the tray-back, but the lunging hostile couldn’t find purchase on the smooth side. Among the zooming quad bikes and rolling pallets, Vanessa spotted three other creatures already heading for the scorpion truck.

  At the heart of the chaos, King steered the scorpion truck through a tight circle, bringing the wrecking ball in for another swipe at the roadblock.

  That roadblock was meant to stop me.

  King’s chaotic rampage was becoming just as dangerous as the roadblock. The wrecking ball’s motion blocked the pedestrian loop before her. There was no way past. The swinging cable scattered furniture and pallets into a huge obstacle course of debris. Vanessa’s first impulse was to hit the brakes, but glancing in the mirror she knew she couldn’t stop. Bora’s A-frame came roaring around the corner in pursuit, filling her mirror.

  She had to run the gauntlet of obstacles and try to avoid the wrecking ball. This was the first time she’d been alone since meeting Alex in the research labs. Up until now, Alex made all the dangerous decisions.

  Run the roadblock or try something else?

  She needed to decide fast.

  What happened to Alex?

  She searched her mirror. No sign. He could be stunned in the back of the vehicle, or he could have fallen completely off the tray and be lying senseless on the floor somewhere further back.

  I can’t see a thing.

  Bora had hit the tray-back hard. Vanessa’s last glimpse of her ex-husband had him hanging over the side. If Alex was dead, it was hard to imagine them getting out of this situation alive. She had no misconception about his special talents proving the difference between life and death for Third Unit and herself a dozen times today.

  If anyone could survive that impact, it had to be him. He ha
s to be OK.

  She focused her attention on the immediate problem ahead.

  If she could somehow navigate the crazy obstacle course of furniture, quad bikes and creatures, there seemed little chance she could drive under the steel cable stretching from the scorpion truck to the cement ball. Driving under the cable would be a suicidal gamble.

  The ball’s path stretched the entire breadth of the area she needed to cross.

  Is this all worth it?

  She glanced at the templates on the passenger seat. Yes. Yes it is. These templates will change the world.

  Self-doubt wasn’t an option with such high stakes. She remembered something Alex used to say when they were still together. Head in the game, eye on the prize.

  Vanessa got her head back into the game and spotted a crazy opportunity.

  With everyone trying to avoid the wrecking ball, the safest route was right behind the wrecking ball’s path. If she could closely follow the trajectory of the wrecking ball, the massive weight would sweep her a clean path right through the mayhem. Like the quiet in the eye of storm, she would have a clear run through the quad bikes and creatures.

  In theory, anyway. She could already predict a few problems.

  She didn’t have long to think. The wrecking ball would pass her in the next five seconds.

  Can I do this? Only one way to find out.

  Vanessa ploughed into the furniture debris field. The lushly-furnished communal lounge was now a battlefield of gutted couches, decapitated planter pots, and piles of wooden furniture with a thousand compound fractures. She swerved around two couches blocking her path, but then a large overturned marble planter box loomed directly in front. She swerved right, hitting one couch and clipping the marble planter box. A soil plume erupted over the tray-back’s hood.

  Forest’s voice came over the CB radio. ‘Vanessa – lookout! You’re driving right into our path!’

  She didn’t dare move her hands from the steering wheel to answer. She veered left, then right, crunching twisted shrubbery, smashing broken chair legs, dodging chunks of fountain the size of shopping carts. She snaked through obstacles like a rally-car driver on the wildest racetrack on earth.