by Matt Rogers
As the Taurus’ magazine clicked dry King knew he had to flee. There were no other options. He’d had ample chances to finish off the last remaining Phantoms, and he’d blown it. With regret and fear coursing through his body he spun on one heel, frantic, and ran off in the direction he’d seen the Super Stallion head.
With cries of bloodlust, the two non-injured Phantoms gave pursuit.
CHAPTER 31
For as long as he lived, King would never grow used to the feeling of running for his life.
It was unbearable. He had no time to throw a glance behind him, so he could do nothing but presume that he was being followed. Every step he took he expected to feel a bullet hit him in the back. Or the head. If it hit him there, would he even feel it? Or would there just be sudden darkness? The unknown of the situation terrified him. When he could face his enemies, he was able to remain calm. Whatever happened, he would see it coming.
But this was hell.
A shot whisked past his ear, so close he could feel it. It thwacked into a nearby tree, puncturing the wood to splinters. He zigzagged, taking wild lateral movements in an attempt to throw off the aim of his pursuers. It worked well enough. Another few rounds passed him by, but these were much further from their mark. The disadvantage of chasing someone with an assault rifle was that if you wanted any hope of hitting them, you had to stop and take aim. Handguns could be fired on the move. AK-74s couldn’t, unless they were spray-and-praying, which would do nothing. Every time they paused to fire off a volley of shots, King increased the distance between them.
By the time he made it back to Norton, he’d carved out a sizeable lead.
‘King!’ Norton cried. ‘I thought—’
‘Ben, let’s fucking move!’ King roared as he closed in on the small inlet, legs still pumping. ‘Right now! Did you hear the chopper?’
‘Yeah, it went that way but I wanted to wait for y—’
‘Here I am. Let’s go!’
‘What’s going on?’
‘Now!’
To demonstrate his urgency, another cluster of AK-47 rounds burst through the trees to their left.
‘Oh, fuck!’ Norton cried.
The pair bolted in the opposite direction to the compound, away from the last Phantoms giving chase. Now there was no time to worry about turning ankles. They couldn’t slow down. If they did, King knew they would get hit. He only had to give the Phantoms one decent chance to aim and they would capitalise on it.
The further they ran, the thicker the jungle seemed to grow. King didn’t often get claustrophobic, but the jungle seemed to draw it from his bones. As he squeezed through narrow gaps between tree trunks and powered through low-hanging branches and knocked aside overgrown ferns he found his chest constricting. Fear reared its ugly head, sending a shiver down his spine. If they got stuck…
He couldn’t imagine how Norton was feeling. The kid ran behind him, waiting as King muscled a path through the jungle, his breath heavy and thick with fear. King thought he heard a sob at one point, but he ignored it. There was all the time in the world to worry about Norton’s state of mind later. First he had to get the kid out of these parts alive.
The noise of the Super Stallion grew louder. The incessant thwack-thwack-thwack of the rotors was now coming from somewhere directly ahead. Not from the sky.
‘They’ve landed somewhere,’ King told Norton. ‘Hurry.’
The pair burst out into a large clearing, almost the same size as the Phantoms’ compound. The Super Stallion sat in the centre of the flat area, rotors still spinning full-blast, wheels perched on the clearing floor. Its tail faced toward them, the rear rotor pulsating, sending waves of wind rippling their clothes.
King grabbed Norton’s shirt to make sure he stayed behind him and didn’t venture too close to the chopper’s blades. He set off across the clearing…
… and the Super Stallion took off.
King watched in disbelief as it rose off the clearing floor and began to hover above the treetops, sending a mighty downdraft billowing into the clearing. The wind almost knocked King off his feet. It battered him like an invisible fist. In the confusion he let go of Norton’s shirt and the slight boy clattered to the dirt, unable to withstand the power of the downdraft. The chopper dipped its nose and headed further south of the Phantoms’ compound, passing over the trees and disappearing from sight. The din faded once more.
Once voices were audible, Norton swore in disgust.
‘What the fuck was that?’ he said. ‘Where are they going?’
‘Maybe they thought we were Phantoms. I’m covered in mud. There’s nothing to clearly signify that I’m a friendly.’
‘They were right there…’ Norton’s voice quaked as he realised how close they had come to rescue.
‘Don’t worry,’ King said, even though worry had begun to creep into his own mind. Something wasn’t right, but appearances were everything. He had to calm Norton down. ‘We’ll meet them further along. Follow me.’
He took off running again. There was no time to waste. In seconds the men pursuing them would reach the clearing. Then there would be nothing but a wide open shot between their barrels and King’s head. He couldn’t let that happen.
They reached the far side of the clearing just as shouts rose from where they had come. King knew what was coming. He reached back, wrapped a hand around Norton’s shirt again and threw him violently into the undergrowth. Then he dived in himself.
Just in time.
More bullets. These ones unquestionably close. Above the racket of discharging rounds, Norton let out a yell of pain and fright. King looked up and saw one of the bullets had grazed his shoulder, tearing out a small chunk of skin. Blood flowed from the hole in his shirt. It would hurt like hell, most definitely. But it wasn’t the worst injury he could have sustained.
King waited for a lapse in the gunfire. When it came, he seized Norton and powered forward, putting distance between them and the clearing. He ignored Norton’s cries of protest.
‘This is for your own good,’ he muttered as he spurred the boy ahead.
Before too long there came the familiar noise of the Super Stallion from somewhere near the trees ahead. The deep thrumming that King could feel in his chest. Once again, he noted it came from the same level that they were on, meaning it had descended for the second time.
He hoped for Norton’s sanity that it stayed put.
As soon as the situation became apparent, King swore under his breath. He saw where the Super Stallion was, and realised he wasn’t sure if Norton could go through with what they would have to do next.
Up ahead, the rainforest floor abruptly ceased. King realised that the whole time they had been heading for the edge of an enormous, sloping valley. This particular section of the rim was nothing but jagged cliff-face. There was a drop — large enough to be fatal — to the valley floor far below. The Super Stallion hovered in thin air, only a few feet away from the cliff’s edge. There was no room to land on the cliff itself. The tree line ran right up to where the rock fell off into nothingness. The chopper’s fuselage door lay wide open. Welcoming them.
‘Oh, fuck,’ Norton said as the realisation dawned. ‘King, I can’t jump. I can’t fucking do that. I’d rather be shot again.’
‘Trust me … no you wouldn’t.’
‘I—’
‘Shut up, Ben. You’re jumping. It’s not even that far. Ready?’
‘No.’
‘Too bad.’
King made sure his grip was tight on Norton’s shirt. If he let go, the boy might not commit to the action. Then he would be shot by the pursuing Phantoms, or worse … taken alive.
He broke into a sprint for the edge of the cliff. Norton screamed as he was dragged along. King felt his knuckles go white. He embraced the stomach drop that came with such a brash decision. Fear of heights was a strange phenomenon. Getting shot at was a hundred times more dangerous than what he was about to do, yet this made him sweat. This made his skin crawl.
He reached the tipping point. Now there was no time to stop, even if he wanted to. If he slowed down he would skid off the edge of the cliff. He took another few steps, then thrust Norton out in front. The boy leapt with everything he had, clearing the distance between the cliff and the chopper easily. He crashed down on the floor of the fuselage.
King followed in his path, taking a deep breath and launching off the edge. A stray bullet from the trees behind made him flinch as he jumped. Instinctively, he looked down. His gut sank. The trees were nothing but dots far below. For a fleeting moment he arced through the air, the wind battering against him. Then he joined Norton inside the chopper, landing hard on his knees and skidding to a halt. Safe and sound.
It was only then that he realised the interior was empty. The four Delta Force soldiers were nowhere to be seen. He should have put two and two together earlier, but adrenalin had caused his attention to waiver. He hadn’t even taken a glance inside the Super Stallion before he jumped.
He rolled over. Perhaps the pilot could explain.
As the cockpit came into view, he knew the pilot never would.
The pilot was dead.
His corpse lay beside King, a fresh bullet wound resting between his eyes. The small circular hole dripped a steady stream of blood, already pooling around his head. King looked past him, into the cockpit. He saw a man in the pilot’s seat, and instantly recognised him. There was no mistaking the chiseled brown arms, the dreadlocks, the permanent sneer.
Mabaya.
CHAPTER 32
King made to scramble to his feet, but Mabaya stopped him in his tracks with a single gesture. The man leant over and brought his left arm into view, previously hidden behind the cockpit wall. King saw a small round object clasped between his fingers.
‘Holy shit,’ he muttered.
Mabaya was holding a live grenade. He couldn’t make out the exact type, but there was no mistaking what it was. The safety pin had been withdrawn and Mabaya’s fingers were pressed hard against the lever. If he released them even slightly, the grenade would detonate. The Super Stallion would be nothing but a flaming wreckage within seconds.
Norton saw the grenade too. He visibly paled, but didn’t make a sound. Perhaps too shocked to speak.
‘Didn’t see that one coming, did you?’ Mabaya said, cackling. ‘Ah, you were so close, buddy. So close. You too, you little prick.’ He nodded at Norton.
‘You’d kill yourself just to stop us?’ King said. ‘We just wanted to leave.’
Mabaya turned to face him. There was pure, blind hatred in his eyes.
‘You just wanted to leave?’ he snarled. ‘If you just wanted to leave, you would have left already. But you didn’t. You had to come back and destroy fucking everything we’d been working for. So yes, I would kill myself right now to stop you. I’m gonna go land back at base and rip your fucking limbs off one at a time.’
‘Maybe I’ll just charge you now. Save the torture.’
‘But you won’t, American. I know you too well. You’re the hero type. You always think there’s a way out of everything. So you’ll do whatever the fuck I say as long as I’m holding this thing.’
King sank to the floor. ‘How did you even—’
‘Ah, you thought I was just some dumb druggie, huh? I’ve served my time, same as you. Even flew a few helis in the Peruvian military. You caught me by surprise in the holding cell, but that doesn’t make me a rookie. I lay in wait for the chopper, back in the clearing. I knew where they’d land. They opened the doors without a care in the world. I put a whole magazine into the four of them. The pilot wasn’t armed. Finished him off with my sidearm. None of them ever saw it coming.’
King pressed his fingers into his eyes. Maybe if he’d just left the compound alone, none of this would have happened…
‘What’s wrong?’ Mabaya said. ‘Thinking about your friends? I saw their badges, by the way. Delta Force. I thought those guys were all smart and shit. A drug dealer outsmarted all of you! You must feel pretty fucking stupid right about now.’
Mabaya worked the controls and the Super Stallion began to move. He flew it low over the treetops, heading for the compound.
‘Back to base,’ he muttered, barely audible. ‘Back to base we go. You two are so dead.’
‘Mabaya,’ King said, interrupting the man’s ramblings.
He looked back. ‘What, you pig?’
‘You said you used to be a soldier. I’m a soldier. Man to man, we can work this out. Leave the kid out of it.’
Mabaya wagged a finger on his free hand. ‘I left the army to get away from men like you, chicken shit. Men who think they’re so fucking superior. So noble. Leave the boy out of it. Waagh!’ He mocked King in a high-pitched tone, feinting distress. ‘You will both die. Slowly. Nothing’s fair out here. We’re in the jungle, baby. Money’s all that matters, and you fucked up what we were rolling in. Now you’ll pay.’
King looked out the open fuselage door. In the distance, a plume of black smoke spiralled into the clouds. The warehouse, still ablaze. Quickly, he calculated their position based on the compound’s location. If he was right, they should be over the…
He got to his feet.
Instantly Mabaya spun in his seat. ‘Get the fuck back on the floor or I’ll let go.’ He waved the grenade for added effect.
‘But you won’t,’ King said.
‘Huh?’
‘King, please get down,’ Norton said from the back of the fuselage.
‘No, Norton,’ he said. ‘Get up instead.’
‘I’m not kidding!’ Mabaya screamed. ‘I’ll let go!’
‘No. You won’t.’
Silence. King let a wry smile creep across his face. He’d successfully called the bluff.
‘Like you said, this is all about money. You’re not willing to kill yourself over it. I know that. You know that.’
Mabaya still said nothing.
‘We’re going to jump out now,’ King said. ‘And there’s really nothing you can do to stop us.’
‘We’re doing what?’ Norton said, flabbergasted.
‘If you move a muscle, I let go,’ Mabaya said in a desperate attempt to remain in control of the situation.
‘I don’t think you will. Ben, jump.’
‘Wha—?’
‘We’re above the river. Jump now.’
Norton realised the urgency of what King had said. They wouldn’t be in this position for long. They had a narrow window of opportunity. He had to take it.
King watched him suck in air, working up the nerve to act. Then he leapt out the open door and disappeared from sight.
Mabaya kept his hand wrapped firmly around the grenade. Now, King knew for sure he would not let go. Hesitation had backed him into a corner. He’d psyched himself out. He wouldn’t be releasing that lever anytime soon. He let go of the controls and the Super Stallion drifted to a standstill in the air.
‘This has backfired on you, hasn’t it?’ King said, still smiling.
‘You jump into that river…’ Mabaya said, his hand shaking. ‘And I’ll just land this thing and hunt you down and beat you to death.’
‘I don’t think you’ll get the chance.’
King crossed to the open door, feeling the wind against his face. He glanced down at the flowing river beneath. There was Ben, bobbing on the surface. Alive. He stepped back inside the fuselage and wrenched something off the wall.
‘You’ll regret it if you jump,’ Mabaya snarled.
‘Doubt it.’
King unscrewed the plastic cap on the emergency flare he’d removed from the wall. He spun the cap between his fingers and struck the tip with the other end. Red sparks showered the fuselage and the flare hissed loudly, audible even over the din of the rotors. He stepped out into the open air, at the same time tossing the flare underhand into the cockpit.
CHAPTER 33
His stomach dropped as he fell. The Super Stallion shrank from sight until it was far overhead. King turned in th
e air and just had time to enter a pin drop position before he sliced into the murky water. The cold hit him hard. For a moment, he saw nothing but black. Then he kicked twice and surfaced.
Norton was treading water a few dozen feet away. King made eye contact with him, then looked up at the gargantuan vehicle hovering above their heads. It rested in place, not moving. A cloud of bright red smoke seeped from the open fuselage.
The whole world stood still.
‘What did you do?’ Norton said.
‘Swim,’ King said. ‘Swim right now.’
Too late.
There came a deafening bang from overhead as all the windows of the cockpit were blown out. Grenades didn’t create a fireball, contrary to popular belief. They simply caused massive instantaneous damage to anything in the general vicinity. King saw the Super Stallion quiver under the force of the detonation. Mabaya had done what King thought he would. He’d panicked, choking on flare fumes. And in the confusion he’d let go of the one thing keeping him alive.
The internal systems would be fried, demolished beyond repair. King stayed deathly still in the water. He hadn’t anticipated what would probably come next. If he was lucky, everything would be okay.
He wasn’t lucky.
The rotors slowed down, killed by the destruction of the onboard electronics.
With a groan, the Super Stallion tilted forward and fell like a boulder.
‘Down!’ King roared, his brain flooding with terror. Nothing sparked the nerves quite like an out of control fifteen-tonne steel wrecking ball.
There wasn’t enough time to clear the impact zone by moving laterally. The Super Stallion was too large, too wide. King knew their only hope of survival was putting enough water above them to slow the destroyed chopper.
Norton had reacted faster than he thought he would. The boy was already underwater. King took one last look at the Super Stallion’s nose, growing closer fast, and dove under the surface.
After the thunderous noise of the grenade blast, the silence under the river felt eerie. King twisted his body so that his head faced the river floor and kicked hard. Powerful, desperate strokes. Aiming straight down. He had roughly two or three seconds before the Super Stallion hit the water. In the muffled quiet, he heard his heart pounding in his chest, throbbing in his ears.