A Covenant of Thieves

by Christian Velguth

  Turning back to face the arena, Booker watched as the three soldiers surrounded her. His fists tightened until his fingers hurt. He had to do something. Anything. He couldn’t just stand here. For once in his God forsaken life, why couldn’t he just do something useful?

  Twenty-Three

  North of Axum

  Tigray, Ethiopia

  “Uh oh.”

  Rick had just enough time to take in the barricade of trucks and pissed-off soldiers blocking the road ahead, and then he dove beneath the dashboard, cranking the wheel to the right at the same time. The windshield exploded in a barrage of gunfire, chips of shattered glass raining down on him. He could feel the bullets impacting into the body of the Humvee like a rain of golf ball-sized hail. While the body of the vehicle was bulletproof, the same couldn’t be said for all of it. One of the tires exploded with a sound like a shotgun, and the Humvee lurched.

  He kept his foot on the accelerator. He had no idea where he was headed, couldn’t worry about maintaining a heading towards K’ebero’s camp; only knew that he had to get off the highway, out of the line of fire.

  The Humvee bounced, seemed to hover for a second, then slammed back down, knocking his already-pounding skull against the wheel. It bottomed out – metal squealed against rock – he was sliding, fishtailing, probably about to flip it into a ditch –

  But then he leveled out. Though the ride was a hell of a lot bumpier with one tire gone and no pavement, he was still moving. The torrent of bullets seemed to have died down. Every now and then Rick heard one plunk against the frame somewhere, but it was no longer a constant assault.

  He risked a glance above the dashboard, then yanked the wheel into a hard left before he could collide with a shed. He missed it by inches, shearing off the right-hand mirror and sending bits of plastic through the vacant windshield and into his own face. After a few seconds of white-knuckle maneuvering, he regained control of the Humvee and managed to drive in a mostly-straight line.

  Ok. You’re alive. Now what?

  Easy. Now he had to get to Kai.

  He was careening across flat farmland, moving away from the same highway that they had taken to Dungur at a broad angle. Small shacks and homes formed a perimeter to his right. He could see the hill that blocked K’ebero’s camp from view, slightly to his left. It was maybe two miles away. Further to his left Rick could still make out the strip of pavement, the cluster of gleaming metal and dark figures that was the soldiers and their blockade. They’d been waiting in ambush, counting on him to come back to the camp. The soldiers at Dungur must have radioed ahead, warned their comrades.

  Wind roared through the cab, making his eyes sting and water. It complicated his efforts to both watch where he was driving and keep an eye on the distant contingent of rebels. Still, he was able to catch movement from the corner of his vision. Two trucks peeled away from the barricade, jouncing as they left the highway and made a beeline for him. A third looked to be returning to Dungur, maybe to aid in the search for K’ebero. The fourth whipped around and took off for the camp, a rooster-tail of dust rising behind it.

  “Shit,” Rick muttered again. Once those soldiers made it back and the alarm was raised, the camp would become a fortress. He wouldn’t stand a chance of getting close, let alone reaching Kai.

  The two trucks were closing like gleaming, silver sharks. With one hand he snatched up the pistol from the center console, aimed through the open driver-side window, and squeezed off three shots. It bucked, the shots going wild, but it was enough to make the pursuers swerve and reconsider a head-on approach. They split, one moving in to flank around him from behind, the other roaring ahead on the left to cut off his path. That one was the closest, so Rick aimed through the shattered windshield and fired off a couple more rounds, keeping track of how many he’d spent. Five down, ten left.

  He could see the soldier riding shotgun drawing a bead on him with his rifle. Rick hunched as low as he could while still being able to see and floored it. His Humvee snarled, fairly leaping forward in eagerness. The staccato of gunfire sliced through the howling wind. The truck loomed in his path, nearly perpendicular to his own and quickly growing larger. Rick braced himself –

  It was a bone-shaking impact, but it came from the wrong direction. The second truck that had moved to flank him from behind appeared out of nowhere, its grill striking his right side a glancing blow. Not much physical damage was done to the Humvee, but the force of the hit was enough. His vehicle didn’t so much swerve as it did blink from straight to angled, nose suddenly pointing away from the truck in his path. It whipped past in a blur to his right, the two vehicles just narrowly missing, and then he was up on two wheels, tilting madly to the left. He spun the wheel and threw all his weight in the opposite direction, knowing it was completely useless, that in another second he’d be upside-down and probably dead.

  The right side of his Humvee slammed back to the ground. Above the whining in his ears Rick heard a weird whooping sound and realized it was coming from himself as he half-hyperventilated and half-laughed. Adrenaline had set his nerves abuzz like a constant low-level current.

  He blinked, trying to shake off his shock and take stock. The hill had disappeared – Rick glanced around frantically and located it off to his right. He’d been spun around, was headed the wrong direction, back towards the highway. The two trucks were to his right now, too, back in formation and closing again. The shooting started up. His pistol had tumbled down into the passenger footwell during the impact, but he didn’t bother groping for it. Instead, he angled for the trucks.

  Bullets peppered his vehicle, bouncing harmlessly off the passenger door. The window cracked, then exploded, but none of the bullets found him. All three vehicles were now nearly side-by-side. Rick swerved towards the closest truck, closing the gap in seconds.

  This time he was ready for the impact. He braced himself with one arm against the passenger seat. They collided, his Humvee easily shoving the truck to the side and causing it to scrape against its fellow like a toppled domino. Rick could see the driver bellowing at him. He flipped him off; the soldier raised a pistol in his free hand. Rick ducked a second before he heard the report. He felt the bullet whiz overhead.

  A roar added its voice to the bellow of his Humvee, suddenly close. Rick glanced up – the second truck had fallen back and swung around, now on his left side. He was sandwiched between the two trucks and could see what was going to happen an instant before it did – both closed in, slamming him from either side. Suddenly Rick found himself practically cheek-to-cheek with the soldier riding shotgun in the truck on his left. The barrel of a pistol nosed through the open window – Rick flung an arm out, managing to deflect the pistol before its owner could aim at his skull. He got a grip around the man’s wrist and yanked, twisting. The soldier shouted in pain and anger.

  Suddenly the truck began to pull away, and the man’s shouts turned to ones of panic as he slid out through his window. The driver must have realized what was happening, because he stopped, swerving back towards Rick. Rick kept hold of the arm and swerved to the right, banging into the other truck, pulling the screaming soldier halfway out of his window. He released the man’s wrist immediately, dropping him into the gap between Humvee and truck; there was a brief scream, a bounce, and then it was lost to the wind.

  One down.

  A bang, and something hot bit into his right shoulder. Rick yelled wordlessly, in too much pain to bother finding an appropriate swear. The driver on his right was already lining up another shot with his pistol, no longer worried about hitting his comrades on the opposite side. Rick abandoned the wheel, flinging himself flat across the passenger seat. The impact made his shoulder flare with pain, white-hot fingers creeping up his neck and down his arm. Almost casually, he threw up into the footwell. Blood already seemed to coat everything.

  His Humvee lurched as the truck on the left slammed into it again, and this time it stayed there, engine purring as the driver pressed his own ve
hicle into Rick’s, wedging him against the truck on the right. Rick kicked at the wheel, one hand pressed over his shoulder to stem the flow, but it barely made a difference. Nor was he slowing – he was wedged too tight between the two trucks, now being dragged along for the ride. He caught a glimpse through the windshield and saw something immense lying dead ahead – a toppled wind turbine. One massive blade lay propped across the thick pillar that had once stood so tall, aimed directly at him like a lance. It was easily as wide as the Humvee.

  They were going to force him right into it.

  Rick kicked at the wheel again, harder. The two trucks kept him firmly in place. Panic swept away any pain in his shoulder.

  Something was rattling. Rick glanced down and saw the pistol lying half-beneath the passenger seat, covered in vomit. He rolled onto his stomach, reaching for it with his left hand. His fingers closed on nothing, nothing – and then he had it. He raised, fumbled as it nearly slipped from his grip, and fired blindly through the passenger window until an empty chamber clicked.

  There was a shout, and suddenly his Humvee no longer felt quite so immobile.

  Desperately he kicked the wheel a third time, and this time it spun. His Humvee swerved to the right, pushing into the truck, which gave no resistance. The driver on his left was overcompensating now – his truck lurched into the space where the Humvee had been. An instant later it slammed head-on into the horizontal blade. Everything from the hood-up was sheared away like tissue paper. The bottom-half of the truck kept going for a few meters until it crunched against the body of the turbine.

  His own vehicle was slowing. Rick dropped the pistol and used his left hand to pull himself upright. Glancing through the passenger window, he saw that the remaining vehicle had fallen away. Either his wild shot had killed both driver and passenger, or the survivors were rethinking their tactics. He didn’t care enough to find out. Gripping the wheel with one hand, he corrected his course and stomped on the accelerator.

  The hill loomed dead ahead, and he knew K’ebero’s camp was just behind it. Rick navigated back onto the highway, Humvee bouncing as he crossed to the other side. He crossed the rough terrain and navigated between trees, following the same route that the caravan had taken earlier. With one tire dead his Humvee had a harder time of it, but Rick didn’t dare slow down. Soon the camp came into view, a collection of shipping containers that, from the outside, looked like little more than an abandoned junkyard. He glimpsed the fourth vehicle that had rushed ahead to raise the alarm, passing through a gap between stacked containers and pulling into the camp.

  So there went the element of surprise.

  Rather than following, Rick raced around the perimeter of the camp. The arena was on the far side. That was where Kai was. That was where he needed to be.

  He was bleeding, a cold numbness already replacing the hot pain in his shoulder. He had zero plan for what he would do once he reached the arena, but as it came into view his stomach sank. Half the Free Army seemed to be gathered there, which could only mean that show had already begun.

  “Come on, Kai,” Rick muttered. “Don’t be dead yet.”

  The arena gate looked open. He gunned it.

  That was when the world decided to explode.

  * * *

  “Drop it!”

  It was the last thing Estelle heard for a while. As the three soldiers began to form a tight circle around her, the southern sky filled with a wall of flame. An instant later there came a roar that seemed to transcend sound, and an invisible force thudded deep within her breast.

  She landed on her back without memory of having fallen. Blinking up at a blue sky now streaked with smoke, the sun glaring down at her like a blind, rheumy eye, Estelle glimpsed something angular streak overhead, and then there was another explosion, this one much closer. She felt another deep, painful thud, and heat washed over her as if a blast furnace had opened up right beside her. The sun vanished behind a thick veil of smoke.

  Rolling onto her side, she blinked away tears. A haze was filling the air, burning her eyes and half-obscuring the world. Her left sleeve was on fire. She patted at it feebly, not feeling the heat, and looked around. Through smoke she could see plainly that the southern wall of the arena was now gone, a massive burning hole blown through it. Beyond she glimpsed the rest of the camp, or what remained of it, now engulfed in flames. There were people running, many of them on fire, running with no apparent destination in mind, running only to stay alive.

  What.

  Her brain was having trouble catching up. Lying beside Kai’s motionless body seemed like the best option right now, even as the three soldiers got shakily to their feet and looked around with dazed expressions. Smoke and ash filled the air like snow, along with flakes of stuff that was still burning. The heat was constant now, as if the atmosphere had been ignited. One of the soldiers glanced down at her with a blank expression and, almost casually, raised a pistol towards her.

  * * *

  Booker heard the roar of the jet an instant before the bombs were dropped.

  Acting on instinct, he went to his knees and covered his head with his arms. He heard the roar of the explosion and felt the shockwave buffet him like the backhand of a giant.

  Raising his head, he opened his eyes to a scene of destruction. He could see beyond the arena, to the rest of the camp, now in ruins. Around him, those that had gathered to watch the captives be fed to the aviraptor were scattering, some rushing towards the burning camp, others away from it.

  The angular form of a jet or drone streaked through the sky, and this time he had no time to brace. The far end of the arena was engulfed in flames, a great oily gout of fire rising high into the air. His ears popped and his eyes stung, the heat so intense against his skin it was painful.

  Someone stumbled into him from behind -- one of the guards.

  There’ll be a moment.

  Booker didn’t think. He grabbed the barrel of the man’s rifle as it appeared over his right shoulder and rolled forward. The rifle was pulled from the soldier’s grip, but Booker was taken over the edge of the wall. He felt his clothes become ensnared by the razor wire, felt a dozen cuts open up in his skin, and then he was falling, his shirt tearing free, one pant leg ripping away beneath the thigh.

  He fell the twelve or so feet and landed hard on his back. For a moment the world blacked out as if someone had dimmed the lights. When he opened his eyes something warm was tickling his face. The aviraptor stood over him, licking his cheek, framed from behind by a burning sky.

  Booker yelled, scrambling for the rifle. He needn’t have bothered; the aviraptor reared back, startled, and took off in the opposite direction, vanishing into the smoke. Sitting up, a deep ache permeating his body, Booker squinted through the haze and saw the soldiers getting to their feet where Estelle lay on the ground.

  “No,” he croaked. He forced himself to stand, which brought a twinge of pain in his back that threatened to ground him again. Ignore it. He limped forward, raising the rifle as one of the soldiers took aim at Estelle. The action looked almost like an afterthought.

  Booker pulled the trigger. Nothing happened.

  “Safety,” he gasped, flicking the switch with his thumb and squeezing the trigger again.

  Something from the range at Quantico must have stuck after all these years, because the shot caught the soldier in the sternum. The man doubled over as if punched, stumbled to the side, and fell. The other two, who had been staring dazedly at the burning remnants of their camp, spun towards him.

  Booker fired again, still moving forward. These shots missed their targets, but it sent the two soldiers scurrying back, ducking as they retreated towards what remained of the arena gate.

  The smoke and flame that filled the entrance suddenly parted to reveal the bumper of a black Humvee. It bore down on the retreating soldiers. Both men dove in either direction, narrowly avoiding being run over. The Humvee continued to charge forward, straight towards Estelle and Villeneuve.

>   “Estelle!” Booker bellowed, trying to run. His back twinged in earnest this time, spasming, and he fell to one knee.

  The Humvee swung to the side, drifting nearly a hundred eighty degrees and coming to a halt feet from Estelle. The driver’s side door was flung open, and Álvarez leaned out, face covered in ash and blood.

  “Get in the fucking car!”

  * * *

  Rick leapt out as nimbly as his wounds would allow and hurried to where Kai lay. The sight of his motionless body made his brain want to clamp shut, but he pushed that urge aside, ignoring the blood that seemed to coat Kai’s entire body and the ash that was piling up on his face.

  “Help me,” he grunted to Estelle, who was lying nearby.

  She blinked at him. A capillary had burst in one of her eyes, turning it bright crimson. “What?”

  “Help -- oh, forget it!” Rick managed to get Kai’s arm -- the one that didn’t look like raw beef -- around his shoulder that hadn’t been shot and heaved the man up into a standing position. Faintly, beneath the roar of the flames and the ringing in ears, he heard Kai moan softly. “Great! Keep that up, buddy.”

  Kai didn’t respond, eyes closed. Rick began to drag him towards the Humvee.

  “Álvarez!” He glanced over his shoulder. Hopkins had helped Estelle to her feet and the two were following.

  Reaching the vehicle, Rick propped Kai up against it and pulled open the rear passenger door. “Ok,” he gasped, “inside.” He got under Kai’s arm again and shoved, bundling him into the Humvee. It wasn’t gentle, but he didn’t have the luxury right now. Christ, it was hot, with those flames consuming the camp. Sooty sweat kept running into his eyes, making them sting, and into his wounded shoulder, making it throb with pain.

  Finally, with Kai stretched out across the back seat, Rick shut the door. He turned to see Hopkins and Estelle catching up with him. “What the hell is going on?” the agent asked.