Hit List

by Jack Heath

  She let go with one hand, reached higher, ignoring the burning of her triceps. Grabbed again, pulled again. You can do this, she told herself.

  She’d learned that she could do amazing things when her life depended on it. The fastest she’d ever run was when a sociopathic hit man, Michael Peachey, had been aiming a gun at her back. Maybe, she thought, athletes would break more world records at the Olympics if they were being chased by tigers, or something. Someone should suggest it to the committee.

  Grip, pull. Grip, pull. She was seven metres up now. Less than a third of the way.

  The trick, she knew, was not to think about the aching muscles. Pain was not the same as injury – injury was physical, pain was mental. It could be controlled by focusing on other things. Like the gunman below. Like being silent so he didn’t spot her.

  She could feel the blood draining into her feet, making them swollen and heavy. She gritted her teeth, willing her legs to be lighter.

  Ten metres up. Almost halfway. Five-elevenths, maybe. But it was only going to get harder from—

  Click. Ash knew that sound. A safety catch.

  She looked down.

  Harvey was staring up at her, HK raised. His expression revealed no surprise, as though it was completely normal to see a dirt-covered teenage girl in a camouflage suit climbing a rope with her bare hands in a mine that was supposed to be empty. Ash might have been offended if she weren’t so terrified.

  “Wait,” she said.

  Harvey’s finger tightened on the trigger.

  “You fire that, we both die,” Ash said.

  Harvey said nothing.

  “You want to know what that alarm was for?” Ash said. “It was gas. The miners hit a vein of methane. Colourless, odourless, explosive. That’s why they were evacuating.”

  Harvey said nothing.

  “It’s filled this whole cavern. The smallest spark could set it off. Why do you think they shut off the generator?”

  Harvey said nothing.

  “You pull that trigger, the propellant in the cartridge could ignite it. The explosion would vaporize us, and probably cause a cave-in.”

  Harvey said nothing.

  Is he buying this? Ash wondered. I’m sure I look frightened enough for it to be true.

  Harvey lowered the gun. Then he walked over to the mine cart, which was still filled with rocks. He picked one up. Hefted it.

  Oh no, Ash thought. Get climbing! Now!

  She started scrambling up the rope, faster than before, faster than she would have believed was possible. She heard Harvey grunt down below, and the rock whipped past her ear, so close she thought she felt the dust cascading off it. It sailed into the darkness and disappeared.

  He’d missed. But Ash knew he had plenty more ammo.

  She kept climbing. Fifteen metres up. Sixteen. Seventeen. Her arms felt like they were cooking from the inside out, like her bones were filled with molten lead.

  A rock clipped her foot, and she gasped, nearly losing her grip on the rope. But she didn’t. Nineteen metres – only three or four to go. She could see the sky through the hole above.

  Come on, she told herself. You can do it!

  Wham! A rock struck her square in the back, knocking the breath out of her lungs. Her fingers loosened, just a little, just an irresistible reflex, but it was enough. Before she knew it, she was falling, and when she tried to grab the rope again it whizzed through her palms so fast it burned her skin.

  The ground rocketed up towards her. She raised her arms to protect her face, and then—

  —with a snap, the rope tightened, digging her belt into her waist. The carabiner was attached to the front, so she was flipped over to face the ceiling so quickly it made her dizzy. Her head and feet jerked backwards, like someone was trying to tie her hair to her ankles.

  She grabbed the rope and tried to stand. As soon as her feet were on the ground she saw Harvey, standing by the mine cart. He grabbed two more rocks, and then kicked the cart away. It rattled down the tracks towards the south end of the cavern, so Ash couldn’t get to it without first getting past Harvey.

  Harvey held the rocks like he intended to clobber Ash with them rather than throw them. But he didn’t move. His posture said, Surrender, or I’ll hit you.

  She didn’t surrender. Wondering why he never talked, she bent and lifted the pickaxe she’d used to dig up the box.

  Pickaxe versus rocks. Almost a fair fight. Except that his colleagues would be back soon. And Ash didn’t know if her “Don’t shoot or you’ll explode” routine would work on them all.

  “Get out of my way,” she said, trying to sound as tough as possible.

  Harvey looked at the pickaxe. Then he put down the rocks.

  Ash expelled the breath she’d been holding.

  Harvey picked up the jackhammer.

  “The generator’s off,” Ash said. She heard her voice waver a little. “So that’s pretty much just a really heavy knife.”

  Harvey pulled the trigger. The steel spike shuddered back and forth, ringing against both ends of its rail, the noise deafening. He smiled and tapped the side where it said Hitachi Battery-Powered Breaker 33KG.

  Damn it, Ash thought.

  She dived aside as Harvey lunged forward, the spike pointed at her heart. She swung the pickaxe at his head as he charged past, but he ducked under it, and a moment later they’d switched places and were facing each other again, circling like duelling swordsmen.

  Jackhammers were designed to destroy things which had been made to be indestructible. Bricks, concrete, bitumen. Most of a jackhammer’s strength came from its massive weight, so it worked best when pointed straight down. But even horizontally, Ash knew her muscles would be pulped and her bones would splinter if the spike touched her.

  Harvey lifted the Hitachi and whirled around like a hammer-throw champion. Ash stumbled backwards as the spike swooped past, centimetres from her flesh, once, twice, before he stopped spinning.

  How much juice has the battery got? Ash wondered. Without the generator recharging it, can I hold him off until it goes dry? But surely the snipers would be back by then – they must be able to hear the hammer.

  She was outmatched in strength and firepower, but she had advantages. She was maybe twenty kilograms lighter than Harvey, and the pickaxe was at least twenty-five kilos lighter than the jackhammer. That gave her forty-five kilos more speed and mobility than him.

  So this time, she charged.

  Harvey couldn’t get the jackhammer’s point up in time. When Ash drove the pickaxe towards his chest, he had to lift the Hitachi’s handle to block it, leaving the spike pointed safely downwards. Ash’s blade clanged against the steel so hard she felt the shock all the way up to her shoulder.

  She didn’t turn to face Harvey again – she couldn’t win this battle. She kept running, headed for the stairs leading to the north tunnel.

  She heard the jackhammer thunk to the ground as Harvey dropped it to give chase. He might be faster than her – if he was, the pickaxe wouldn’t do much good. Not if he tackled her from behind. And even if he was slower, he could still trap her between him and the snipers. She had nowhere to go.

  Or so Harvey would be thinking. Hopefully. But, Ash thought as her feet pounded the dirt, I’ve got something he doesn’t.

  She could sense him getting closer – she could hear his breaths, feel his thumping footsteps. By the time she’d reached the stairs, she figured he was four metres behind her at most.

  She dashed up the steps three at a time. A second later she was at the mouth of the tunnel, with Harvey only halfway up the stairs. But she didn’t go in. She could hear the snipers coming back down. Their shadows bounced against the tunnel wall.

  Ash wrapped both hands around the rope attached to her belt, pulling it tight. She saw the dismay on Harvey’s face as he realized he’d been tricked.

  Because she couldn’t resist, she shouted “Geronimo!” And then she jumped off the walkway and swung out to the centre of th
e cavern like Tarzan on a vine.

  A cold wind blustered against her face as she pendulumed forwards. Her arms ached from the strain of lifting herself yet again, but she couldn’t let the carabiner take her weight. That would leave her swinging too low – she’d slam straight into the stone block in the middle of the cavern.

  Even now, as the block rushed up to meet her, she thought she might not be high enough. She pulled herself up the rope as she swooped towards the giant lump of rock, lifting her knees up to her chest. Come on, she thought. Come on, I’m so close!

  Her butt actually grazed the stone as she flew over it. There was no time to feel relief. She hefted the pickaxe one-handed and started sawing through the rope with the underside of the blade. One slash, two, three—

  Snap! She was free, and falling. She aimed her feet and, with a crash, landed squarely in the middle of the mine cart. Her momentum started it rattling down the tracks towards the south tunnel.

  The limp rope swung back to the centre of the cavern, where Harvey was running desperately towards her. But Ash could tell he wasn’t going to reach her in time. The cart was gaining speed as the slope increased, and soon the darkness of the tunnel had swallowed her up.

  If Ash had remained in the cavern a few seconds longer, she would have seen the snipers arrive on the walkway, looking for the source of the commotion. She would have seen Harvey start to turn towards them – and then freeze, confusion in his eyes.

  She would have recoiled as a blinding flash erupted around him, and covered her ears, too late to protect them from the horrible crack. When she looked again, she would have seen that Harvey had vanished into thin air, leaving only whispers of smoke and a rumpled set of clothes where he had stood a second before.

  Ash would have heard one of the snipers scream, “The ghost! He’s here!” before dropping his rifle and sprinting back up the tunnel towards the surface. She would have seen the others follow, panicked and desperate, like they were being chased by a pack of vicious wolves.

  But Ash was already hundreds of metres away. She didn’t see a thing.

  Ash bounced painfully against the rocks in the bottom of the cart as it thundered through the blackness. The clattering of the wheels against the tracks rebounded against the walls until it sounded like she was surrounded by machine-gun fire.

  She kept her head low. She had expected to feel sniper rounds hitting the cart from behind, but there was nothing. No gunshots, no sounds of pursuit. Weird, she thought. They must know there’s no way out down here.

  Which reminds me. How am I going to get out?

  She could wait until they left, and think up something to tell her dad, and the school. Perhaps she could say she was spending the night at Benjamin’s place. But she had the feeling that the soldiers wouldn’t leave. Not until they found the box.

  The question was, if she left it out for them to find, would they go? Or would they keep searching for her, until they—

  Clang! Ash ducked down as sparks blossomed in the dark. She’d been wrong. The snipers were on her tail after all.

  Hang on – that shot had hit the front of the cart, not the back.

  Ash peeped over the rim just long enough to see the sergeant and the browless man in the tunnel up ahead, pistols levelled at the approaching cart. Another two bullets struck the front. Ash could see dents appearing in the metal on the inside.

  It’ll hold, she told herself. It’s designed to carry tonnes of stone. Bullets only weigh, what, a couple of grams?

  Then again, humans could carry many kilograms of stone, and bullets still hurt them.

  She could hear the browless man shouting something. She couldn’t tell what, but she could tell his voice was getting closer. The cart must be about to pass them.

  Ash screamed as an arm plunged into the cart from above, swiping from side to side, the hand groping the air, searching for her. It missed, but caught the back rim as the cart swept past, and suddenly Ash had a passenger clinging to the rear.

  The browless man’s head appeared. His eyes locked onto Ash’s as he gripped the rim with both hands and dragged himself halfway into the cart. He reached for Ash’s throat.

  She shrunk into the front of the cart, pressing her back against the wall. The man’s fingers clenched in front of her face. She scrabbled at the rocks under her legs, grabbed one, and slammed it into his ear.

  The man howled, and twisted sideways. Ash didn’t try for a second strike. She just pushed her foot under his shoulder and kicked, as hard as she could. The man was shoved backwards out of the speeding cart. Ash didn’t even hear him hit the ground.

  The immediate crisis was over, but she was still in real trouble. As Benjamin had reminded her before they were cut off, this tunnel didn’t go anywhere. So there was nothing stopping the soldiers from chasing the cart on foot, and catching up when the track ran out. As soon as the enemy knows where you are, be somewhere else.

  She scanned the walls as they whipped past. Maybe there was a cave or a nook she could hide in...

  Uh-oh. A barrier, up ahead. Clumsily scrawled spray-paint: END OF TRACK. Ash had thought she had more time. She reached for the brake – and then realized there wasn’t one.

  The cart was designed for rocks, not people. If there was a brake or a wheel lock, it would be on the outside where she couldn’t get to it.

  The barrier snapped in half as the cart plunged through it. Bits of wood whipped past over Ash’s head. She searched for something she could use to stop the cart, but there was nothing in it except rocks. The walls of the tunnel were too far away to grab. She had a brief flashback to a science class – every action has an equal and opposite reaction – and considered throwing rocks forwards to decrease her momentum. But if one of them landed on the tracks, the cart could flip over, and she’d be crushed under the stones inside it.

  With a thud, the cart reached the end of the rails, and kept going. It was just rolling along the dirt, Ash realized. It might flip over no matter what she did. And even if it didn’t, the miners hadn’t excavated much further than the end of the tracks. A wall was rushing up to meet her.

  Ash didn’t stop to think. A crash-landing was better than a straight-out crash, so she threw herself sideways out of the cart.

  She heard it slam into the wall a split second before she hit the ground, shoulder first. She tried to roll with the impact, but it still felt like getting hit by a train. Pebbles and dust cascaded down the slope beside her, a slope she hadn’t realized was there, and—

  SPLASH! It was like being sprayed with liquid nitrogen. She screamed, her lips and nose stinging as the freezing bubbles squirmed out of them. She thrashed around until her head broke the surface.

  The underground river. Of course.

  The soldiers would never find her down here, as long as she stayed quiet. But a few minutes in the freezing black water would finish her off.

  Something latched onto her foot. She wasn’t alone.

  She screamed again as a head rose from the water, something with big eyes and a deformed mouth that hissed and growled.

  Ash swam for the riverbank, faster than she’d ever managed at the pool. But the thing was holding on to her too tightly. She kicked at it, trying to struggle free.

  “It’s me!” the thing whispered urgently. “Damn it, Ash, it’s me!”

  Ash looked back as the boy took off his scuba mask. “Benjamin?”

  Benjamin grinned, his teeth bright in the suffocating darkness. “The one and only,” he said.

  “What are you doing here?” Ash demanded, her pulse still racing.

  “When I couldn’t get through to you, I checked the satellite feed,” he said. “I saw some troops go in the front entrance, and some more break through the cavern roof, so I figured you’d take the south tunnel down to the river.” He gave a smug shrug. “I know how your mind works.”

  Ash didn’t tell him she’d forgotten about the river until she’d landed in it.

  “So I took some scuba gear fr
om the boat, swam along the cliff until I found the river outlet, then went upstream until I found you. You’re not the only one with swimming prowess. Or prow, in my case.” He frowned for a second. “It’s prow, right, not prowess? You know, because I’m male?”

  “And now that you’re here,” Ash said, teeth chattering, “what are we supposed to do?”

  Benjamin produced a second scuba mask. “Swim back out before we freeze to death. Hope you don’t mind sharing an oxygen tank.”

  Ash could feel her fear unravelling, loosening its grip on her heart. She wasn’t going to die – not today. “You’re incredible, Benjamin,” she said.

  She caught a split-second blush before Benjamin’s brazen charm returned. “Damn right I am,” he said. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Missing Persons

  The daylight blinded her after the silent blackness of the tunnel. Ash squeezed her eyes shut as soon as she surfaced. The roaring of the waves was too loud, too close as they battered the cliffs.

  “So who were those guys?” Benjamin asked.

  Ash’s teeth were chattering. Her fingers and toes were going numb. “There were nine of them,” she said. “At least two males, at least one female. One man was named Harvey – not sure if that’s his first name or last. They might have been ex-military, judging by their weapons and their skills, but not current, based on the way they talked.”

  “Not much to go on.” Benjamin took Ash’s glow stick and tucked it into the belt on his wetsuit. It looked like ordinary plastic in the sunshine.

  “Doesn’t matter,” Ash said. “What counts is, they know even less about us.”

  “Anyone see you?”

  “Harvey did,” Ash admitted. “Heard my voice, too. And one of the others – a guy with no eyebrows. But I was wearing face camo, and they don’t know my name. They don’t know you or Buckland exist, either. We’re in the clear, as long as we leave quickly.”

  Benjamin nodded. “The boat’s that way. What about the miners? Did any of them spot you?”