by S. T. Boston
Sam held his ground and got low in the long grass, watching Finch struggle to his feet and look hurriedly around. Seizing the right moment, Sam stood up and fired another singe shot, which missed and kicked up a bevy of dust about two feet from where Finch was standing. For a few seconds they stood weighing each other up, like gunmen in an old Wild West movie. The sound of skidding tyres on gravel broke the tension. Adam had reversed the VW up over the hill and drawn level with Sam. Leaning across the car he flung the passenger door open like a getaway driver, “Sam, go! Get in!” he cried. Sam watched Finch turn and sprint toward the Chevy on sight of the small VW; he had a good sixty yards to cover. Sam took two steps back, keeping a cautious eye on him before turning and making toward the passenger seat; he slammed the door as Adam hit the throttle and sent the car lunging forward in a hail of dust and gravel that sprayed up under the front wheel arches in an array of bangs and clatters.
* * *
Becker didn't have much chance of hitting him from that distance; the last two rounds had proven that. On the flipside, he was too far off to take down, unless he got very lucky. Finch picked himself up off the floor and readied his gun. Where the hell did he come from? Finch thought to himself. The whole journey back to the lodge he'd kept half an eye on the rearview mirror. Not a single car had followed him from the parking lot. En route back to the cabin he'd purposely driven a little faster than normal and overtaken a couple of cars, hoping to draw out any vehicle on his tail. Sam Becker had obviously been one step ahead of him, waiting somewhere away from the car park and able to pick him up on his route back. It was the second time he'd underestimated him; there wouldn't be a third. As he stood up, the sound of a shot echoed through the air, Finch jumped right in blind reaction, not knowing if he was avoiding the round or offering himself right into its path. Across the field, he and Becker seemed to lock eyes for a few seconds, neither of them sure quite how to play the next move. From the rise of the hill Finch heard an engine revving loudly, and watched a small grey hatchback rush down the rough, unmade road. He knew in an instant that Adam had reached whatever vehicle Sam had come in. Finch stepped back a few paces; he needed to reach the Chevy if he was going to have any chance of catching them. When Becker turned and ran toward the car, Finch sprinted back across the field, his eyes fixed on the red Impala which was still a good sixty yards away.
After Buer had shown Oriyanna the Key Tablet, he'd come back through to the living area of the cabin and handed it to him, with instructions to put it somewhere safe and out of the way. Taking possession of the Key Tablet, Finch had watched Buer take one of the brothers' guns off the small uneven coffee table where they were playing cards and stride back through to the dilapidated dining room. Finch knew in that instant he wasn't going to be given the honour of killing the girl. Following Buer's orders, he'd gone through to what had once been the sleeping quarters, and stowed the Key Tablet in Buer's briefcase. As he closed the latches, the gunfire had started. At first, he thought Buer had gone a little over the top and chosen to empty his gun into both of them as payback for the trouble they'd caused, but the sound of the Malone brothers rushing to Buer's aid warned him something was amiss. Thanks to Buer's order he was a good thirty seconds off the pace. Rushing back to the room he'd seen his boss in a crumpled mess on the floor, writhing and kicking about from more than one gunshot wound. The girl was leaning over him, obviously searching for the Key Tablet. Finch had gotten a few rounds off from down the hallway, one had even hit her, but only in the shoulder. By the time he'd made it through to the room, they'd already made good their escape.
Running flat out, he reached the Impala. He could still hear the VW's tyres screaming on the loose gravel, and it wouldn't take long for them to reach the road. Finch fired the engine and floored the accelerator, the Chevy hung in a wheel spin for a few seconds before it finally found enough purchase to move forward. The suspension screamed in protest when he slammed over the bumps and potholes in the unmaintained road, and driving as fast as he dared, he flew down the gravel track. Through the dust cloud he watched the VW make the state highway and turn right. Finch kept his foot to the floor, the back of the car snaking like crazy on the loose road. In a few seconds he'd descended the hill, getting a clear view of the highway that allowed him to pull straight out, only lifting his foot off the gas to prevent the car from spinning. When the tyres touched the tarmac, the whole car stabilized and picked up speed. Hitting the redline with every gear shift, he raced the Impala down the road as fast as he could. The VW looked old but it certainly wasn't slow, in fact, it almost seemed to be gaining ground on him. As Finch reached top gear he began closing the gap; slowly at first, then much faster. It almost seemed to Finch as if they were slowing down. Then, in silent horror, he watched transfixed as two long, black cylinders were thrown from the passenger window, hanging in the air for a second before hitting the tarmac and bouncing down the road toward him. It was too late and the road was too narrow to swerve. He closed his eyes, pinned the throttle to the floor and hoped for the best.
* * *
The Golf appeared to take off as Adam launched it over the brow of the hill. For a split second, the suspension was at full stretch before gravity took over and slammed the car back down with a thump. Wrestling with the steering wheel, he managed to hold the car straight. The state highway ahead was clear, and in one slightly out of control slide, he hit the tarmac. As soon as the tyres found solid ground the Golf snapped violently into shape. Kneeling on the passenger seat, Sam watched the Impala careering dangerously down the gravel track, almost lost in their dust cloud. Finch was coming, and he was coming fast. Unzipping the side pocket of the tack bag Sam selected two more of the flash bangs. Oriyanna watched him with testing eyes, a smile forming on her lips when she realized what he was going to do. Fresh, wet blood still matted the fleece to her arm; it ran down the inside of her sleeve and covered her right hand. He was sure that given a few minutes, she would be just fine. If anyone had to get shot, she was probably the best one to take a bullet.
“Are you hurt at all?” Sam shouted to Adam over the screaming engine.
“Not badly, a bullet grazed by my arm but is isn't serious.” Sam nodded and returned his attention to Finch, who had reached the road. He watched Adam glance in the rear view mirror, his eyes wide with fright when he saw the Chevy coming after them.
“When I say so, you need to back off the throttle a little. I need him to make some ground on us,” Sam instructed. “These should slow him down a little.” He waved the two small explosive devices in the air.
“Just tell me when,” replied Adam, nodding his understanding.
Sam glanced at the speedo. They were up over a hundred miles an hour and the Impala seemed to be keeping pace with them. At that speed, Finch would be covering too much ground to take evasive action. “Okay, now bring us down to about eighty!” Adam eased off the throttle. Through the dusty rear windscreen, he watched Finch gaining ground. Without looking, Sam reached to his side and wound down the window. Using signs and trees as markers he counted out the distance between the two cars. He needed to be spot on. Sam pulled the safety pins on both devices, counting out the gap once again in his head; the Impala was just three seconds behind them now. He released the spoon-like safety handles on both flash bangs and immediately dumped them out of the window. Sam watched as the cylinders skidded down the road. Finch had no chance to avoid them, and as the two black tubes bounced up under the front of the Chevy, they detonated in unison.
* * *
The joint explosions roared through the Impala like a clap of thunder. Confined to the space under the car, they had a similar effect to a firecracker going off in someone's hand. Thousands of tiny, razor sharp shards of metal from the pair of one pound devices slammed up into the engine compartment, severing coolant hoses and fuel lines as they went. Their siblings, who were eager to cause just as much damage, instantly shredded both front tyres with a loud pop which seemed feeble in comparison to th
e larger explosion.
The car lifted slightly as the sound of the detonation forced Finch to open his eyes; it slammed up under the foot well like a rabid jack hammer. The bonnet instantly dipped when both tyres blew, causing the alloy rims to smash down onto the tarmac; bright white sparks kicked up from the wounded wheels, showering both sides of the car. Finch lost the ability to steer as the crippled Chevy slewed down the road, and in a futile attempt to regain control, he wrestled with the steering wheel, simultaneously jamming his foot hard on the brake. Unseen to Finch, fluid gushed out of both front brake lines while he mashed the pedal into the floor. As the front of the car began to pitch left, the bare wheel rim dug hard into the tarmac, pivoting the Impala like an Olympic pole-vaulter. Finch could do nothing but sit back and endure the ride as the back of the car lifted clear of the road, turning his whole world upside down. As the world began to right itself, the road was gone. Finch's face smacked into the steering wheel as the front bumper slammed down hard into the soft verge, bringing the beaten car to an immediate stop. For a few seconds it seemed to hang there, like a playing card impossibly balanced on a table, while gravity decided which way it wanted to send him. The world went the wrong way again, and the Impala pitched over onto its roof, destroying a small crop of young trees with a series of cracks and scrapes.
* * *
“Fuck me!” shrieked Sam in delight as he watched the Chevy cartwheel off the road and shrink into the distance. “Now that's what I call taking care of business.” He spun around and plopped back into the passenger seat, smacking his fist triumphantly onto the grubby dashboard. “Did you see that?” Sam cracked open the glove box and took out their phones. “Time to get rid of these as well,” he continued. “We don't want them tracking us any longer.” In one swift movement he tossed away both handsets, craning his neck out of the open window as he watched them hit the tarmac and smash into pieces.
Adam nodded silently and allowed himself a sigh of relief. Even though the Impala was nothing more than a smoky speck in his rearview mirror, he didn't let off the accelerator for a second. The events of the last few minutes were rushing through his head like a steam train. Reaching up, he adjusted the mirror to get a better look at Oriyanna, saw she was still sitting silently on the back seat. She'd turned almost comatose and he wondered if the blood loss was getting to her this time. Her legs were drawn up to her chest and her arms were wrapped around them. “How's your shoulder?” he asked, not knowing if he should expect a response.
“The Key Tablet,” she said distantly, “you gave them the Key Tablet.” She turned her attention to Sam, who was still beaming from ear-to-ear. “You gave it to them!” she shrieked, dropping her legs and launching herself forward. Sam instinctively backed off as much as he could in the small car as she rained a torrent of punches down on him from the back seat; some finding the back of his head and shoulders. “Why did you do that?” Her voice sounded manic, nothing like her usual soft gentle tone.
“Whoa, hold on a second,” cried Sam, lifting his arms up to defend the blows. He managed to spin around on his seat and push Oriyanna back with a forceful hand. “I just saved your fucking life, again! By my count that's twice now in twenty-four hours!” His shove sent her reeling back into the rear seat. “It wasn't part of my plan to leave there without it, we were lucky to just get away with our lives!”
Oriyanna stared back at him, and a little of the fire in her seemed to dissipate. She dropped her head. “I know. I'm sorry,” she said solemnly. “Things have changed.” She lifted her head to look at him; Sam could see fresh tears welling up in her wide eyes. “This is no longer just about saving you,” she said flatly. “Now that they have the Key Tablet, they can destroy my world. While they had us, they got into my mind. The one who did it, Buer – I saw what he's planned. I saw what they're doing here.”
“And?” asked Sam expectantly, his anger at her outburst immediately gone.
Oriyanna held his gaze, the way she had back in the RV when they'd first met. “Yesterday, they released a virus to your population. In about eighteen hours, it will start to appear all over the world, and if untreated, in a month almost every living person will be dead!”
Sam felt as if he'd been punched in the stomach, a cold chill ran through his whole body. Instantly, perspiration chilled on his back and under his arms. “Can it be stopped?” he finally managed to ask.
“If I had the Key Tablet and I could reach the Tabut, then maybe,” she replied, running the numbers in her head. “But I'd need to be there within the next few hours, which is impossible. I don't even have the Key Tablet now, so I can't see a way of preventing it altogether,” she continued helplessly. “This virus is going to hit and many people are going to die. I just hope it can be stopped before the number of dead runs into the billions.”
“What about your home, Arkkadia?” asked Adam, his voice shaky and a little broken. Not for the first time in the last few hours, he couldn't quite comprehend what she'd said.
They both listened in horror as Oriyanna explained Buer's plans and how he intended to use the Tabut against her home world, she went on to explain in greater detail what she'd learned about his plans for Earth and the virus. As she spoke, they entered an area where trees began to line the road, casting shadows in the morning sun which flickered through the dirty windows, it gave the effect of someone turning a light on and off, over and over again. After Oriyanna had told them all she knew, she sat back and gazed out at the trees as they sped by.
Sam sunk into his seat. “I'm sorry,” he said quietly. “I had no way of knowing, I just wanted to get you both out alive. I would never have handed it over if I'd known.”
Oriyanna leaned forward and rested her hand on his shoulder. “I know. I'm sorry for the way I acted. We may need to change our plans now, though. Firstly, I need to make contact with Xavier; the Watcher in Austin. There is no longer time to reach him, Buer has already sent a team to kill him.”
Sam stared blankly out of the window, also transfixed by the blur of passing trees. “Can you contact him in time?” he asked.
“Yes. I didn't want to risk it before, but now I don't have any choice. I can make contact by telephone.”
“We'll stop at the next town or service station, and you can make the call,” said Sam sympathetically.
“And then what?” asked Adam. He wasn't sure just how much more his nerves could take; the euphoria at having escaped with his life had just been whipped away.
“Then I need to get the Key Tablet back,” she replied. “I don't know where they took it after I saw it back at the lodge. It wasn't on Buer after you shot him, and we can't risk going back now to try and recover it. We would be killed and everything would be lost.”
“I was worried for a second you were going to ask me to turn around,” said Adam.
“No, there's no need, I know exactly where they will be taking the Key Tablet. All we need to do is make sure we get there in time.”
Chapter 16
Xavier stood holding the phone to his ear for a good few seconds after Oriyanna had disconnected the call. Absently, he watched two squirrels squabbling over a nut in his yard, the small grey animals providing a tempting distraction as they jumped and pounced on each other, both eager to be the victor and claim the prized piece of food. Watching the mammals was far more appealing than processing what he'd just been told. He knew things were going bad the moment he'd gotten the panic alert from John Remy two weeks ago, and over the past twenty-four hours, 'bad' had turned into the proverbial 'worst'.
Thanks to the wonder of internet forums, he'd been able to keep a fairly close eye on developments in the Rockies; the news never reported what was really happening when it came to secretive events such as that. The thread relating to the downed craft had first appeared on a board he often looked at called 'Above Top Secret', one of the most popular online conspiracy forums. Although much of the information on there was no more than people's personal theories, occasionally a story
would break with some worth. The conspiracy nuts had been having a field day since the death of President Remy and the disappearance of the three delegates, as well as Robert Finch, who was still a wanted man. Xavier knew the moment he'd seen the story appear on the news that Finch was most definitely involved, he also knew that no matter how hard the authorities looked, they would never find him. If you knew all the facts, it didn't take a genius to piece the events of that unfortunate night together. Countless threads had sprung up on the forum since that day, and almost everyone had a different opinion to offer, and some even went so far as claiming the CIA had killed them all, including the President. From stories of a New World Order to secret cults and sects, almost every angle had been covered, apart from the actual truth. The funny thing was, the real truth behind what was happening was far more mind blowing than even the most imaginative of theories. The only continuity between the many posts was that somehow, all three of the missing delegates, as well as the dead President, must have been linked. Despite the unprecedented tragedy of the night, some of the crazy posts had been quite entertaining to read. Xavier had felt odd studying them and actually knowing the truth.
