Rise of the Huskers (The Raven Falconer Chronicles)

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Rise of the Huskers (The Raven Falconer Chronicles) Page 16

by Larsen, Dennis


  Somewhere in the distant recesses of his mind, an action played out. He lifted the rifle and felt the smooth stock, rubbing it from trigger to butt, relishing the texture and the ‘memories’ it stirred. He knew this . . . he’d hefted it a thousand times. It was part of him and part of who he was. Glints of remote, forgotten images bounced in and out of his mind; they were never fully visible but spawned muscle memory, which pushed the stock into the hollow of his shoulder and leveled the sights with his eyes.

  “Now what?” Hannah asked, doing her best to support Bobi and carry the assault rifles.

  “Only thing around is the airport. If we can make it we might be able to hide out or prepare some sort of defense. I’d say Darwin’s plans have been set back and maybe he’ll leave us alone.”

  Raven and Eli talked quietly as they trudged along, the two sharing events of the past week and Eli trying to explain the theory of his survival. “What do you think?” he asked, knowing that Bobi had been able to overhear his explanation.

  “I guess it’s possible. I don’t know how probable, but you’re walking and talking, so who knows?” Bobi winced in pain, her mind doing flip-flops, thinking of ways to utilize the knowledge of Eli’s survival.

  “Do you think they made it . . . Mick and the kids?” Raven asked. An uneasy quiet hung in the air, while they each contemplated the answer to that troubling question.

  “I’m sure of it. What could have stopped them?” Hannah asked.

  * * *

  Several kilometers down the freeway, a posse, including Darwin, Lou and a dozen other heavily armed and unhappy people, stood behind the vehicles, which blocked the highway. The roadblock was perfectly positioned around a sharp curve, not allowing the oncoming convoy to turn around and make an attempt at escape. The headlights of Willie’s truck slowly turned until they fell on the SUV’s and pickups blunting their progress. A hail of gunfire blew out the engine of the lead truck, killing the Daniel’s couple, and pitching it quickly into the ditch. The remaining vehicles skidded to a stop and waited. Another pair of Darwin’s group appeared from behind, penning in and capturing the fleeing survivors of Banff, Alberta, including Mick and the children she’d tried so hard to protect.

  * * *

  “Too bad there aren’t any planes,” Hannah said, more to herself than the others, as a view of the airport came within sight.

  Ziggy overheard the young woman and questioned her further, “What was that, Hannah?”

  “I said, too bad there aren’t any planes.”

  “That’s what I thought. Why would you say that?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? So we could fly our way out of here.” She looked at the others, as though it was self-evident.

  “Yeah, but we’d have to find a pilot,” the officer suggested, thinking it would bring an end to the conversation.

  “No we wouldn’t,” Raven confirmed. “Hannah can fly. Her dad taught her while they were living on a base back east. Right Hannah?”

  “Well yeah, at least some types but I know my way around most light aircraft.”

  “Okay, why haven’t I heard this before?” Ziggy asked, sounding more upset than the others would have expected from such a casual conversation. “We have a plane. It’s been in that hangar over there for weeks. RCMP uses it for speed control on the rural highways. It’s a four-seater but should be able to carry us.”

  Shouts of excitement and joy filled the air as the little troop of family and friends picked up their pace, eventually arriving at the hangar. It took some time to prep the plane and make it ready for flight but within thirty minutes they had pushed the aircraft from the storage facility and were aboard, ready for flight. The engine hummed, vibrating the entire frame as it slowly rolled from the corrugated tin shed and started down the runway.

  Lying on his belly a hundred yards away, Nathan pressed the rifle firmly to his cheek and lined up the taxiing plane with the rifle’s sights. He slowly took the slack from the trigger and squeezed off a handful of rounds as the plane lifted into the air.

  To be continued . . .

 

 

 


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