by Richard Bard
“We made it,” Alex said. Jake shared a relieved smile with his son.
He glanced over his shoulder to see Lucy’s face had gone white. She was breathing hard. When he winked, she managed a half grin. Leveling the wings, he steered a course back toward the crater where the mountain had been.
Alex nodded. “You remembered.” He was referring to the massive download of information they’d received during their mental connection with Gualu.
“Yeah, I guess local map data wasn’t on the not-permitted list. The nearest stretch of river suitable to land on is only five miles from here, and with the mountain gone, it’ll be a straight shot.” He glanced at the fuel gauges. Both the main and reserve tanks were at zero. He eased the throttle to reduce rpms and improve fuel efficiency. Maintaining a calm façade, he added, “We should be there in a couple minutes.”
The impression in the earth where the mountain had rested was at least half a mile across, and only from their overhead view was its distinctive square shape apparent. “Not your run-of-the-mill crater,” Alex said.
They flew past the perimeter dust cloud and into the airspace that had previously been occupied by Gualu’s mountain. The vast area within the debris berm was perfectly flat, as if earth movers had been brought in to plane the field for a massive construction project. Its ninety-degree corners and straight lines were so incongruous with the lush forest surrounding it that it made the sight unsettling. Jake looked beyond it, searching for signs of the river, but they were still too far away.
Lucy pointed. “Look!”
Another group of mercs was below the right wing. They’d traversed the debris berm and were moving across the flattened area. The group stopped at the sight of the aircraft.
“Frank said there were six teams,” Alex said.
Jake recalled the glowing six icons they’d seen on Frank’s computer screen, all converging on Frank’s location. “Two of the six were with Frank in the cavern.”
“And we avoided two more at the lake.”
The mercs milled about as if agitated. “And they make number five.” Jake and Alex exchanged a worried look.
“Up ahead,” Lucy said. The sixth group was feeding into the other end of the flats.
The engine coughed.
Chapter 16
THE SEAPLANE’S ENGINE COUGHED AGAIN, and then died. The propeller froze. Jake went into emergency mode—all extraneous thought pushed aside while he worked to solve the problem. He switched off the master switch and lowered the flaps while looking for landing options. They were only a thousand feet above the ground. With a 9:1 glide ratio, that meant they could travel nearly two miles before touching down. If they maintained their current course, that would put them well past the flats below. However, they’d never reach the river beyond. They’d crash in the forest and wouldn’t live to talk about it. Plus, they were too far from the lake to turn back.
There was only one choice, and his gut churned. He gauged the distance between the two groups of mercs—one to their right, the other dead ahead—and chose a point at the edge of the flats to his left that was equidistant from both. He banked the plane and increased the angle of descent.
“Fasten your seat belts as tight as possible. We’re going to come down hard and fast. And as soon as we land, we’re piling out of here and running for the tree line. Understood?”
Alex gritted his teeth as he tugged on his seat belt to tighten it. “I’m ready!”
“Me, too,” Lucy said.
“Just before we touch down, I want you both to unlatch your doors. That’ll keep them from jamming if we hit too hard. We need to get down, get out, and climb over the debris berm like our lives depended on it. I’m going to roll the plane right up next to it. Understood?”
“I got it, Dad.” Alex’s voice was shaky, and Jake patted his knee. When he glanced back at Lucy, she gave him three rapid nods.
Jake aimed the plane’s nose at the tree line. As they got closer to the berm, he realized the mercs would probably catch up to them before they could disappear over the top.
“Now listen up. I’m going to slow the mercs down with the shotgun before following you.” Alex opened his mouth to object, but decided against it when Jake shook his head. “And here’s the most important thing to remember. Both of you. If I get hung up for any reason, don’t wait for me!”
“But—”
“I mean it, Alex. You and Lucy have to get to the forest. After that, Lucy’s skills will keep you hidden. You can head back to the village, and one way or another I’ll find you.” He prayed this was true.
Alex’s lips tightened, and his eyes teared up.
Jake softened his voice. “No matter what, you keep running. Okay?”
Alex nodded.
“We can do it,” Lucy said.
Jake refocused on the ground ahead, grateful the surface was relatively flat. “Thirty seconds,” he said, pulling his door handle. “Unlatch your doors and hang on.” They complied. Though the rushing wind kept the doors closed, they rattled against their frames. He was coming in hot, forty knots above the airplane’s normal landing speed. After they touched down, he’d have to stand on the brakes to keep from crashing into the berm. Even though the aircraft was amphibious, the wheels only projected partway from the pontoons, and he worried whether the impact would be too much for the undercarriage to handle.
“Fifteen seconds.” He noticed movement on top of the berm ahead. It was one of the merc groups from the lake, and the first two men over the ridge raised their rifles.
“Hang on!” Like a crop duster at the end of a run, the Cessna climbed out of the dive, with Jake yanking the stick back and over to exchange airspeed for altitude as they turned back toward the flats. But without power, he had to dump the stick forward at the apex of the climbing turn. The Cessna went weightless and the unlatched doors flew open. Alex and Lucy screamed. When Jake leveled the plane, he heard a loud clunk in the backseat.
“I’m okay,” Lucy shouted. “The shotgun floated for a second and crashed to the floor.”
Jake steered toward the only remaining side of the flats that didn’t have mercs streaming onto it. They’d never make it close enough to that berm to get away, but he was out of options. He’d bled off his excess airspeed and lost most of his altitude, and now the laws of nature took over. He lowered the nose and glided toward the ground, knowing full well their pursuers would be on them within minutes. They touched down, braked to a stop, and spilled out.
Jake checked the shotgun. It still had several explosive rounds left in the drum. They wouldn’t be enough to stop all the mercs, but he might be able use them to negotiate freedom for Alex and Lucy. Barring that, he sure as hell wouldn’t go down without a fight. He flipped off the safety.
“Get behind the pontoons and keep your heads down.”
“Can’t we run?” Lucy asked. The empty berm was only two hundred yards away. “We could beat them there. Once we’re over the top and into the forest, they’ll never catch us.”
“You can’t outrun a bullet from an assault rifle, Lucy. And we’re already within range. Please, hunker down behind the pontoon. I’ll handle this.”
“Dad’s right,” Alex said, taking her hand. “Come on.”
They moved behind the plane, and Jake took several steps to one side to make sure they weren’t in the line of fire of any of the mercs.
The groups trotted toward him from three different directions. As they got closer, he noticed the troops were dressed differently. One group appeared to be uniformed soldiers, and Jake was reminded of the stories he’d read about nearby Peruvian army factions who secretly worked for the drug cartels. Like the other mercs, they sold their talents to the highest bidders. The other two groups were dressed in a hodge-podge of clothing and equipment, but they appeared every bit as hardened as the soldiers. He had little doubt they all shared dark histories and a healthy appetite for the almighty dollar, or Brazilian real, or whatever. Despite their differences, the mer
cs all had two things in common: they bristled with weapons, and they wanted Jake’s head.
And that makes every damn one of you expendable.
The uniformed group increased its pace, and the other two were quick to match it, each one striving to be the first to claim the prize.
He counted twenty-three men in all. Any one of them would likely kill another if it meant gaining the reward. He wondered if there was a way he could turn them against one another. He got his hopes up when a sprinter broke from the rightmost group, and several men from each of the other groups hauled ass to catch up to him. One of the runners shoved a competitor, who tripped and fell. The third man, one of the uniformed soldiers, raised his weapon at the two of them.
“That’s right, suckers,” Jake said. “Turn on one another like the filthy, backstabbing scum you are.”
The apparent leader of the soldiers fired two shots into the air. All three of the runners stopped and looked back at him. The man barked an order, and the subordinate pointing his rifle lowered the weapon.
Damn it.
The groups caught up to the runners, each squad moving warily, keeping their distance from one another. The uniformed officer who’d fired his weapon holstered his pistol and approached the other groups. The two other leaders joined him, the three had a powwow, and then shook hands.
A score of men armed with assault rifles against one with a shotgun, a pistol, and a Bowie knife—on an open field. Jake didn’t have a chance. But the mercs seemed to take comfort in their new alliance, and as they walked en masse, they relaxed their weapons. Their prey was trapped. All that was left to do was chop up the remains and split the reward.
But Jake had an ace up his sleeve. The men probably weren’t aware he had high-explosive rounds in the AA-12. Sure, he’d still be cut down in the end, but so what?
You can’t hurt me. I’m already a dead man.
He longed more than ever for a surge from the mini to blast the lot of them to kingdom come. But the artifact was gone forever. He still had his brain, which was already calculating angles and vectors. He adjusted the muzzle of the shotgun, maintaining a less threatening hip-fire grip in the hopes of keeping them off guard. The men were less than two hundred yards away, well within the kill zone.
He took comfort in the knowledge that even though his life was forfeit, the men would go to great lengths to keep Alex alive. That made him rethink his strategy about the kids staying put. Casting his voice over his shoulder, he said, “As soon I start shooting, run as fast as you can. And don’t look back!”
He didn’t wait for an answer. He opened fire.
The burst tore through the center of the pack of mercenaries, toppling a handful like pins at a bowling alley. The others scattered and started shooting. Jake cut to the right, slid to one knee, and fired again, grateful to discover his fast reflexes were intact. Two more men went down. Bullets pierced the air around him. He tucked, rolled, and squeezed the trigger again.
The shotgun jammed after the second round.
He dropped the weapon, rolled again, pulled his pistol, and put lead down range. Another man dropped. Rounds dug into the ground around him, and a sudden pain along his scalp made his vision go white. He pushed to his feet and fired blindly until his magazine went dry. Then he holstered the SIG, pulled out the Bowie knife, and swept it back and forth in front of him, realizing only then that his berserk cry was the only sound he heard. The return gunfire had ceased, replaced by angry shouts. Blood dripped down his forehead.
“Grab them!” someone shouted.
Jake wiped his eyes with his sleeve. Alex and Lucy stood five feet in front of him. He blinked.
“I couldn’t let them kill you,” Alex said. The surviving mercs weren’t shooting, but they were coming fast. His son had moved in front of Jake to shield him, knowing they wouldn’t fire for risk of damaging their prize. In a sign of solidarity that would certainly result in her death, Lucy had joined him.
“Dear God, you two. Get behind me, quick!”
Neither of them budged. Jake slipped the knife into its sheath, edged between them, and held their hands. Both of them trembled. “You were supposed to run.”
“We did run,” Alex said. “As fast as we could. Any slower and you’d be dead.”
The quip did little to make Jake feel better. Even though Jake suspected he’d be dead in the next few minutes, a part of him believed his son would go on to lead the long life Gualu had granted by healing him. The mercs would sell Alex for millions of dollars to the highest bidder, but whoever got their hands on him had another thing coming if they figured Alex would be simple to control. He might go easy at first, but all the while his brain would be setting up the play that would take them down.
Like father, like son.
That day over eight years ago in the MRI, facing a terminal diagnosis, Jake had wished for only one thing—to live long enough to make a difference in this life. He looked down at his son and realized he’d done exactly that. He smiled.
The mercs were twenty paces away. They were mad as hell, thirsty for blood, and there was nothing Jake could do to stop them.
Chapter 17
A HIGH-PITCHED WHINE sounded to Jake’s right.
A black, swept-wing drone raced toward them with blinding speed. Smoke chattered from the drone’s undercarriage, and a line of tracer rounds stitched the earth in front of the mercs. The sound from the aircraft’s machine gun reached Jake’s ears a beat later.
“Hit the deck!” Jake said, dropping to his belly and pulling Alex and Lucy down with him. Another player had just hit the field, and whoever it was had state-of-the-art equipment. Jake recalled the mounting reward for his son’s capture. Apparently mercenary groups and soldiers from a Peruvian border outpost weren’t the only ones anxious to benefit from Alex’s brain.
The drone shot past so fast the mercs had no chance to react, and they should be thankful the attack was intended as a warning. But instead of backing off, the mercs aimed their rifles at the sky and opened fire.
That’s a mistake.
A second drone dropped from altitude and loosed two air-to-ground Hellfire missiles into their midst. The ground shook, fireballs erupted, and bodies went flying. The blasts made Jake’s ears ring, and a wave of heat washed over them. The mercs scattered, leaving half a dozen comrades on the field. But at least a dozen were still on their feet. The officer shouted orders into a radio, and then at the men remaining. A beat later the entire group charged full bore toward Jake and the kids, knowing that safety lay in using them as human shields.
“Move!” Jake said. The three of them jumped to their feet and fled toward the berm. The first drone circled around for another strafing run, flying lower this time. Jake risked a glance over his shoulder to see its guns shred earth and body parts alike. But only three men went down, and most of the others were pouring lead into the air. At least one round struck home. The drone shimmied, smoke streamed from its engine, and it corkscrewed into the ground in a blaze of fire. The mercs cheered.
A couple in their group hadn’t participated in the takedown. Instead, they’d dumped their packs and rifles and were running after Jake and the kids. And gaining on them. “Faster!” Jake shouted, once again mourning the loss of the mini’s energy. The surviving drone swept in from his right, on an attack run toward the two runners. They were less than thirty yards behind him, and this second drone only carried missiles on its undercarriage. The risk of collateral casualties was too great, and the bird was forced to jink right and release its remaining two Hellfires on the larger group, which was now well dispersed behind them. The blast from the explosion whipped across Jake’s back and shoved the air from his lungs. Lucy staggered but stayed on her feet. Alex went down. As Jake hauled him up, he saw that the sprinters would be on them in seconds.
“I-I’m okay,” Alex said.
“Then catch up to Lucy and keep running. And this time, do as I say!”
Alex took off as Jake turned to face the
threat. His only chance was to take the two men down hard and fast, and then run after the kids before the seven survivors in the secondary group caught up. He’d probably take a bullet to the back, but at the very least he’d buy a little time for Alex and Lucy.
He pulled his knife and charged.
The unexpected move startled the two men, and by the time they slowed and unholstered their pistols, Jake was on them. He dropped to his knees and slid between them, whipping the twelve-inch blade in an arc that sliced through the thigh of the man on his right. Jake felt the serrated edge scrape against bone. The man toppled, his pistol went flying, and blood squirted from his femoral artery. Jake sprang to his feet and cocked his wrist as the second man spun around with gun in hand, squeezing off rounds even before the muzzle came to bear on Jake.
The first bullet missed, the second zipped so close to Jake’s face he felt its heat, and the third went wild when Jake’s knife impaled itself in the man’s neck. The man gurgled as he went down. The first merc was bleeding out, but that didn’t prevent him from retrieving his pistol and twisting toward Jake. Jake’s nerves were on fire, but—mini or not—he’d anticipated the move and struck with a snap kick that sent the gun flying. Jake grabbed the pistol, retrieved his knife, then raced toward the kids.
After three paces, he stopped cold.
A Peruvian military helicopter hovered sideways over the berm, a machine gun protruding from its open door. The kids had stopped. There was nowhere to run. He glanced back at the larger group of mercenaries. They’d be on him in half a minute, and two had pulled out machetes. Jake considered running to comfort his son and Lucy, but decided against it. They had a better chance of surviving if they were nowhere near him. Besides, he didn’t want Alex to witness what was about to happen.
He turned back, and Alex and Lucy started toward him. “Stay there!” he shouted. They kept coming.