Counterpoint

by John Day

  Max leapt around the truck to the fallen man. In spite of the two large saucer sized black patches of shredded jacket near his shoulders, he was still conscious. The man discarded the machine gun, the magazine now empty and reached for his pistol. Max leapt on the body smacking the flat face of the spanner down hard on the man’s forehead. The skin split open, bleeding profusely.

  The blow was intended to render the mercenary unconscious, not brain-damaged.

  The man was seriously pissed off now, and threw a badly coordinated punch that glanced off the rear part of Max’s head. Nevertheless, Max’s world spun like a top and blackness filled with red and white stars closed in on him.

  The sound of someone running towards him, and knowing the man under him was reaching for his handgun to kill him, brought Max’s senses back under control. As Max’s vision cleared, he realised he had grabbed the man’s gun hand, and was forcing it away and to the ground with all his strength. Seconds later someone, standing on the gun hand brought a heavy blunt object down hard against the man’s temple. The man went limp.

  “Get up” shrieked Carla. “His men are running this way now. Max got up, lifting the big man bodily like a large doll, and dumped him in the back of the truck.

  “We need him to tell us who is behind all this,” shouted Max, unnecessarily. In an instant, he was behind the steering wheel. Carla jumped into the passenger seat and the truck spun round in the dirt, heading back towards the mountains.

  “Thanks love,” Said Max to the astonished Carla.

  She could not believe what she had seen. First Max goes mad and attacks a pro, messes up, she has to sort it out with well-aimed shots to the pro’s shoulders to spoil his aim and a finally, good pistol whipping to close him down. Then Max tosses a 16 stone he-man into the truck like a straw bale.

  “Well, we got him didn’t we?” Said Max.

  “Yes, we did,” she retorted whilst hanging on to the bucking and lurching truck.

  “We also have all his mates up our ass and no plan yet, how to get away with it.”

  “Trust me!” Max shouted back over the racing engine.

  Chapter - Escape to the waterfall.

  Carla re-holstered her popgun and then climbed into the bed of the truck. She groped for, and pulled free the machine gun from the mercenary’s body, pulled out the magazine and threw it away. By feel, she found a new one on his webbing and fitted it. Cocking the gun she braced herself, sat upright on the bed with legs apart, her feet each side of the tailgate.

  Distant lights of pursuing vehicles were shining through the trees; the chase was on.

  “I’m going to head for the waterfall,” shouted Max.

  “Well I’m in no mood for a fuck,” she said laughing. Max grinned; he knew she was enjoying herself. She lived for the buzz of adrenalin; she had missed it over the last couple of months.

  “At least we know the territory,” he continued. “Perhaps we can get across the river at the shallow part and increase the potential places to hide. They can’t search them all at once.”

  “Don’t forget we have action-man to lug around,” she shouted back. “We are not going to get far with him; we are bound to get caught.”

  “Trust me,” murmured Max to himself, “I’m an amateur.”

  He knew she was right though; it was only a matter of time before the rest of the mercenaries caught up with them. Sure, they have a good start, but they were on the only road going nowhere. Soon the road would peter out at the old survey site. Ahead, was a small clearing and a stiff climb up the slope to the waterfall. With luck, the truck might make it up the slope, if they have enough speed, and did not hit any outcrops of rock. After that, they would have to travel 100 metres upstream along the bank to the shallow part of the river.

  There were large rocks in the river that might provide some cover, but they had to get to the jungle on the other side to stand any real chance of escape.

  The good news was there was no moon, and without headlights, they might maintain a lead by not giving their position away. The bad news was, the smooth incline had many rocky outcrops, and they had to miss them all.

  Max turned out the lights as he entered the last straight stretch of track before the survey site and the clearing beyond. He had to get his approach right, to reach the familiar slope up to the waterfall.

  Carla abandoned her rear guard position and decided to get up front again to help Max navigate. They could not afford to make a mistake.

  Skilfully, Max drove the truck through the clearing and up the slope. As his road speed dropped due to the climb, he doubled de-clutched into lower gears like an expert, to maintain revs and maximum torque, without losing forward momentum during the change. As the truck climbed, their groundspeed got lower and lower, swerving to miss the rocks slowed them down even more.

  Carla looked behind. “They are through the clearing now and gaining fast. Bad luck, their headlights picked out the torn up ground made by our truck tyres.” The mercenaries only had to follow them to catch up.

  Within a few metres of the grassy knoll at the top of the slope, the truck came to a halt, tyres scrabbling on the spot.

  “I’ll carry the guy in the back,” commanded Max, “Turn the truck around and let it roll down the slope into them.”

  Carla had already figured that out and leapt into the driver’s seat.

  The 30-degree incline seemed precarious enough when pointing up it; she now had to do a two-point turn in the dark. Would the truck rollover on its side as she turned?

  Carla leaned out of the driver’s door like a counterweight or outrigger whilst manipulating the steering wheel. As the vehicle coasted back and arced around, she felt her side lift. She hung on, ready to jump clear. As the front swung round, the truck slammed down again on all four wheels. Next she lined up the truck with the pursuers, let it roll forward and leapt out.

  The fact no one was steering was academic, after the first few seconds of freedom, the truck shot over an outcrop of rock, and became airborne. Front heavy, it eventually nosedived into the ground just in front of the leading pursuer. The impact flipped Carla’s truck over on top of them, raining doors, shards of glass and tools on the two following trucks. Eight mercenaries still survived but had to continue the pursuit, on foot, up a long hill.

  Carla did not wait to see the results of her handiwork, but ran to join Max, glancing down the slope as she went. She had hoped the fuel tank would explode, but it didn’t.

  Carla could see Max in the distance or at least a large dark blob staggering along, contrasted with the lighter grey of the river. Lithe as a gazelle she soon caught him up. It was no surprise Max was panting like an asthmatic 90-year-old marathon winner, having run 100 metres with a 16 stone man over his shoulder.

  “I have got to stop,” gasped Max as he fell in a heap on the bank at the shallows. Carla pulled the still unconscious man off Max and checked the man’s pulse again. He was alive in the truck, but was he still alive? Yes, there it was, good and strong. She opened an eye and touched the eyeball. He twitched.

  “Seems like he is worth taking with us,” she said.

  “Great,” wheezed Max, sarcastically.

  “We must go now,” urged Carla “Before the mercenaries reach the top.”

  “OK!” Was all Max could manage to utter.

  Carla lead and Max carried the man and they quickly entered the fast-moving, icy water.

  “Stop!” Gasped Max. “See if there is any rope in his pack.”

  They dumped the man on the bank again.

  “There is some thin stuff, a sizable length, probably to tie up his victims.”

  “Enough to link us together?”

  “Yes, easily.”

  Quickly they tied themselves together, with the man in the middle, and waded in again. The water was waist deep and the current extremely strong, threatening to sweep them away.

  The river bed was an even sheet of rock, providing a sure footing, apart from large rocks or boulde
rs strewn randomly over the whole area.

  They were halfway across when the mercenaries reached the bank of the shallows. The mercenaries had gone towards the waterfall first, then backtracked, soon spotting shadowy figures moving through the rocks.

  Suddenly Carla let out a brief gurgling scream and disappeared under the water. She had been in the lead and had rounded a large rock. The rope went tight, pulling Max off his feet and under the water, in the swirling torrent. From the tension on the rope, Carla and the man were being swept along. Unless he could get a grip on a rock or the rope became snagged, there was no way Max could hold both of them; he had to go with the flow.

  Carla had been caught in the grip of a whirlpool and it pulled her off her feet, as she rounded the rock. The current pulled her along the rocky riverbed, too smooth to hang onto. Suddenly she was dropping like a stone; only the thin rope biting into her waist offered any support in the icy blackness.

  The rope slackened for an instant, as the man was pulled down into the vortex of the whirlpool, then tight, then slack again.

  As Max was pulled into the vortex all three of them fell through a hole in the riverbed, like spiders down a plughole.

  The mercenary started to regain consciousness as he went under the icy water. He struggled and clawed to escape the choking water, roaring in his ears and terrifying blackness. Nothing made sense, intense cold, spinning wildly in a deafening black suffocating space, for what appeared to be, eternity.

  Carla was breathing in when she lost her footing and expelled most of the air in her lungs when she screamed. Her body needed oxygen. Now!

  There was no way of knowing what she could do to breathe again, no chance of planning an escape from the lonely, chaotic, suffocating death just seconds away. Her ears hurt from the roaring torrent of water and pressure. Swirling round so fast, she couldn’t find her nose to pinch it and adjust the air pressure to her eardrums. The pain would end soon, she thought, when death took hold.

  Max felt the swirling, falling sensation ease up. Something touched his hand, a rock, and he instinctively held on only to be ripped away by the other two tied to him. He felt the pain like the others from the noise and pressure, and the terror of drowning in this awful blackness.

  Again, he caught hold of a rock, this time with both hands. It dragged a short distance, stopping as the pull from his tethered colleagues eased off. Planting his feet on the rocky bottom Max thrust upwards, hopefully to the surface. He closed his eyes and concentrated every effort on clawing and kicking his legs as he swam upwards. The current was much less strong now, even buoying him upwards. As he swam, he felt the smooth, rippled surface of a rock face. From it, he could tell he was being swept sideways and rapidly upwards.

  Suddenly his head broke the surface in a boiling foam of tortured water. Clinging on to a rock ledge he hauled himself up onto it. The drag from the other two, threaten to pull him back in.

  With the last dregs of energy, he lay with his chest and belly on the flat ledge. Swinging his legs clear of the water, he rolled over and pulled in on the rope. By touch alone in the total darkness, he dragged the man onto the ledge, face down. Fumbling frantically for the rope attached to Carla he pulled it in for all he was worth.

  How he longed to see her cheeky grin again, to hear her voice, to run his fingers through her silky blond hair.

  “Carla!” He shouted as his efforts on the rope increased.

  At last, he felt her body. Unceremoniously he lifted her out of the water by the rope around her slim waist, straightened her out, and applied C.P.R.

  After just two compressions, she coughed and spluttered.

  “OK! OK! Enough! My tit’s on a rock, and it hurts.” Coughing again, she sat up. Max felt for the man. He had a feeble pulse so started to pump the water from his lungs.

  “Where do you think we are?” Came Carla’s shout over the roar of cascading water in the inky darkness. Max didn’t know or have the strength to shout a reply. Carla groped the darkness until she found Max. She knew he was trying to bring the man round and decided to search the body for a torch or cigarette lighter. She found a lighter in his pocket. It was the disposable type. Blowing hard in the mechanism to clear out any water, it ignited after a couple of strikes. From the light, they could see they were on a small ledge, at the rim of a vast pool. Water cascaded into the centre from a hole in the riverbed above. The meagre light hardly penetrated the dense mist of pulverised water, but it was enough to show they were far from getting out alive.

  Carla eased off the man’s backpack as Max continued to work on him. Then she searched it for useful items. There was a torch, and it still worked.

  Suddenly, the man coughed and came round. In the dim light and deafening roar, he could not comprehend his predicament; however, he was not under attack, so he remained passive to recover his strength and wits.

  Max rested for a while before he spoke. Pulling Carla close to him, he cuddled and kissed her.

  “Don’t get horny, ” she warned loudly in his ear, “I have had a bad day, a lousy evening, my hair is a mess, and I may have chipped a nail.”

  He could see she was grinning. He adored her feisty maid act when she ended with a cheeky grin.

  Max shouted in the man’s ear. “We are all in deep shit and need to work together if we are to stand any chance of getting out of here alive. So don’t do anything stupid.”

  The man said nothing, but checked for his weapons. “Don’t bother” shouted Carla “I’ve given you a full body search big boy.”

  “Who was this bitch, ” he thought, then remembered the dossier on the only female in the survey team. A girl of mystery, it appeared there was more known about the tooth fairy than her. The man looked at Max in the torchlight. Something did not add up with him either. He looked like the old man in the survey team, but was obviously fit, like a young man. It must have been a lousy photo, or the poor light in here, he thought.

  "We're going to explore," said Max to the man. “Stay here and we will come back for you.”

  “No, ” he replied firmly, “We will all go together.”

  “Just as long as you are up to it, ” replied Max.

  “If you can make it old-timer then, so can I” he replied.

  “We will stay roped together then,” said Carla.

  She adjusted the machine-gun strap and slung it over her shoulder, ejected the magazine from the pistol and cleared the breach for the round and pocketed it. She then handed the gun back to the man so he could carry it.

  Max kept the man’s knife and put the two grenades in the backpack with spare ammunition.

  “You can carry your pack” Max directed the man. With a grunt, the man picked up the pack, and they set off.

  Using the mercenaries torch, Max searched around the cavern.

  Max surmised that over time, rocks, swirling round and round in the whirlpool on the river bed had ground a hole, clear through it. Water had washed away, the soft strata below and progressively enlarged the chamber they were in.

  As much water entering must be escaping, he reasoned, because the chamber was not full, so that could be their way out. Max shouted in Carla’s ear and told her what he thought had happened, and she agreed it was a possibility. By watching the general flow of the water in the pool, it appeared to go over to the opposite side. The central column of falling water and dense mist prevented a view right across.

  The party set off in a clockwise direction where the ledge was wider. The ledge soon petered out, but they found they could climb higher, to a much wider area, just under the river floor. The upper part of the chamber was where the water must have originally entered. As the hole above got bigger, the falling water and rock must have bored into the softer underlying rock, to form the pool below.

  They soon discovered the narrow, but extremely deep channel through which the water was flowing out. Most likely, out of the cliff face at the waterfall.

  Chapter - Trapped in the cavern.

  The ch
annel was about three metres wide at the water’s surface, some six metres below. Judging by the cross section of the water column flowing in, the channel must be some 3 metres deep. The water was flowing about 30 kilometres per hour. There appeared to be no other way out.

  Max stood and thought what their options were. They could leap into the flow and within a short time be ejected out into the outside world. However, if they didn’t get smashed to pieces on the rough channel walls, they certainly would be, on the rocks at the base of the waterfall. Ideally, if they could block the channel, and stop the flow of water they could walk out.

  Max beckoned the other closer to him. “I have a cunning plan, but it requires some help from you,” he shouted to the mercenary. “If we can block the outlet channel we should be able to climb down and walk out.” Carla saw what Max was getting at, but the man didn’t. Max tried to explain it more simply. “The water coming in is equal to the water going out at the moment. If the outlet channel is blocked at the pool end, nothing will flow out again until the whole chamber fills up and flows over the blockage. This gives us about a minute or so to climb down into the water free channel and get out.”

  “You’re totally mad, you can’t block the channel, there are not enough loose rocks to do it and even if there were, the chamber would fill before you had finished!” Said the man.

  “This is where you come in. Can you use your grenades to cause a rock fall?”

  He looked incredulously for a moment, and then an idea dawned on him. “Let me have the torch, I need to look around.”