Combustion

by Steve Worland

  *

  40

  It seemed like a good idea at the time.

  In reality it’s possibly the worst idea Judd’s ever had. Ever. He’s so desperate to prove he’s not a fraud that he’s going to dig himself an early grave. And by ‘early’ he means a little later today.

  At least it’s not as loud up here as he expected. From his position directly under the airframe and above the weapon he is protected from the worst of the wind and noise. The only real negatives are the vibrations that have made his hands numb from holding the weapon and the fact he’s about to die.

  What the hell was he thinking?

  He watches the ground sweep past for a moment, then turns and looks into the rear cabin. He can see only the legs and torsos of Handsome Guy and Ponytail in the Air-Crane’s rear cabin. The old man seems to be injured in some way. Handsome is holding what appears to be a missile launcher across his knees. Judd’s certain he’s surveying the horizon to make sure they’re not being followed, which, Judd is also sure, is exactly what Corey and Lola are doing right now.

  Judd turns and studies the weapon he’s lying on. The sides are cloaked in camouflage netting but from the top he can see the whole thing clearly. The three weapons inside the football-shaped lattice are surely US Army bunker busters from their length, width and markings.

  Somehow he has to disarm them. That’s the reason he climbed up here after all. Being so close to the weapon he can see it is completely handmade, which gives him hope, for an exposed wire or a loose detonator or some other manufacturing defect that will present him with a way to disable it.

  He goes in search of it.

  *

  Corey drops the Loach low, maybe fifty metres off the ground, skims the smoke haze. Beside him Lola studies her phone. The call to Judd still isn’t going through. She hits redial, then peers through the brass telescope and focuses on the Air-Crane as it cuts across the darkening horizon above them. ‘It’s closer, but we’re still two clicks away.’

  ‘Okey-doke.’

  She looks at the Australian. He got a little annoyed with her before, but she takes it as a good sign. If he didn’t care he wouldn’t get upset, would he? She’s always thought the opposite of love isn’t hate so much as indifference. Then she realises she really shouldn’t read too much into anything he said. She blew him off and embarrassed him last night so he was probably just venting frustration.

  The call fails again. She hits redial.

  *

  Judd shakes his head. Amazing. He’s searched this thing and found no manufacturing flaws at all. The weapon may be handmade but the craftsmanship is first rate. He can tell by the quality of the welding used on the metal tubes that connect and surround the three central bombs and make up the latticework. He can’t even find any exposed wires for the electronics systems. And that means just one thing: catching a ride on the back of this thing has been a monumental waste of time -

  He hears sloshing. Liquid sloshing. Is it coming from the av-gas in the Air-Crane’s fuel tanks directly above him? No. It’s definitely coming from the weapon, specifically those metal tubes. He sees what looks like a welded radiator cap at the centre of the weapon. He feels around the base and touches liquid. It’s clear, but has an almost grainy texture when he rubs it between his fingers. He smells it. Sweet, but with a synthetic edge. Definitely not oil or gasoline or any kind of accelerant he’s aware of.

  It’s the Swarm. He’s sure of it.

  This bomb is full of the Swarm.

  That cannot, under any circumstances, be a good thing.

  There’s a buzz in his pocket. Judd pulls out his phone and answers it with a shout, the microphone’s noise-cancelling feature working overtime. ‘Hello?’

  *

  Judd’s voice is distant and muffled, but Corey can hear him well enough. ‘What the hell are you doing, mate?’

  ‘Trying to disarm this friggin’ thing.’

  ‘Did you?’

  ‘No - but I’m pretty sure it’s full of the Swarm. There’d have to be four or five hundred litres inside it at a guess. Enough to infect something really big.’

  Corey listens. ‘Like what?’

  ‘Somewhere with a lot of oil. A reservoir maybe? A refinery?’

  Lola hears this as she scans the horizon with the telescope, focuses on the Air-Crane, then something beyond it. She studies it for a long moment then yanks the telescope from her eye. ‘I think I know where they’re taking it.’

  Judd’s voice echoes down the line. ‘Where?’

  ‘La Brea. You’re flying straight towards it.’

  ‘Christ, that makes sense.’

  Corey has no idea what they’re talking about. ‘What’s a La Brea?’

  Lola turns to him. ‘The La Brea Tar Pits. There’s like a - cluster of oil lakes around the Miracle Mile on Wilshire Boulevard. One of the lakes is huge - like, millions-of-gallons huge. The Air-Crane’s heading straight for it.’

  ‘You’re telling me there’s a giant lake of oil in the middle of LA?’

  She nods. ‘The oil seeps up through the 6th Street Fault from the Salt Lake Oil Field. It’s a major tourist attraction. There’s a museum with all the fossils they’ve found over the years, schoolkids go there on excursions, it’s a whole thing.’

  Corey thinks about this. ‘So, they detonate the bomb there and ignite and infect the oil. What for?’

  Judd’s voice is distant but certain: ‘To pump all that infected smoke into the atmosphere and send the virus global.’

  They all process this for a moment, then Lola breaks the silence: ‘That’s just evil.’

  Corey’s eyes move to the Air-Crane. It’s a long way above them, but they’re almost parallel with it now. ‘So, Mandy, what’s the plan for getting off that thing?’

  ‘I was hoping they’d land and I’d just sneak away. Or maybe they’d fly over open water and I could jump.’

  ‘You just didn’t think this through at all, did you?’

  ‘Yeah, definitely turned into a bit of a chook-with-its-head-cut-off situation, if I’m honest.’

  ‘They don’t know you’re there, do they?’

  ‘No, but when they release the bomb and I plummet to my death I’m pretty sure they will.’

  ‘There’s nothing to hold on to when they drop it?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘Okay. I’ve got an idea.’

  ‘Before you say anything you gotta know they have a loaded missile launcher in the rear cabin.’

  ‘I’m sure they do.’

  ‘Good old Mister Handsome has it lying across his knees, just waiting for you to drop by.’

  ‘Okay, good to know. Now, tell me, are you still wearing your jacket?’

  *

  The Tyrannosaur churns across the burning skyline.

  In the rear cabin the rocket launcher lies across Bunsen’s knees, but he’s not spending a lot of time searching for airborne threats. His primary concern is Kilroy as he wraps a fresh bandage around the old guy’s now fingerless hand.

  The rudimentary medi-kit in the Tyrannosaur isn’t sophisticated enough to treat this wound. Normally Bunsen would take him straight to the private hospital in Santa Monica he’d used previously, but that will have to wait until they have completed Phase Three. Bunsen gives the old man three tabs of codeine so at least he’ll feel okay until then.

  ‘Have you released the video yet?’ Kilroy’s voice is low and thin.

  ‘Soon. Don’t worry about it. Just rest.’

  Kilroy takes a deep breath, leans back and closes his eyes.

  Bunsen remembers when Kilroy was the one tending his wounds, inevitably from a schoolyard scuffle brought about by Bunsen espousing some left-of-centre ideal, unpopular and unappreciated by the greater student body at the conservative prep school he attended in Brentwood. With his mother long gone and his father focused on his career, this old man was there for Bunsen when the pressure of that school became too much. Sometimes they’d play hooky to
gether, go explore the city in Kilroy’s black Lincoln, or eat chilli fries on Venice Beach, or watch one of his collection of action movies on VHS. Whatever they did, this man was always there for him. So Bunsen would be here for him now.

  *

  Judd looks out at the smoke cloud below, searches for the little yellow Loach.

  ‘Where is it?’

  Thump, thump, thump. It stabs out of the layer of smoke, low and to the left, almost directly behind the Air-Crane, the better to stay out of sight, and thunders towards the giant chopper.

  *

  Lola ties the severed end of the rope onto the largest hook in the bucket, drops it through the hole in the chopper’s floor for the winch, then turns to the Australian: ‘How long do you want it?’

  Corey’s eyes are glued to the giant chopper as he adjusts the controls. ‘Twenty metres, please.’

  Lola fires up the winch and watches the hook drop away. She estimates twenty metres as best she can, then kills the winch, the rope and hook now trailing behind the Loach.

  *

  In the Air-Crane’s rear cabin Kilroy’s eyes are half open as he stares out the window. ‘You really need to release the video ASAP.’

  Bunsen turns to him with a nod. ‘I don’t want you to worry about that now —’

  ‘What the hell?’ Kilroy’s eyes spring wide open and with his good hand he points out the rear window.

  Bunsen turns and looks - and gets the shock of his life. Five metres away, Judd Bell hangs off the side of the Tyrannosaur.

  *

  Judd has one foot on the bomb and one on the wheeled landing leg directly beside it. He holds on for dear life in the one-hundred-knot breeze as he studies Handsome and Ponytail frantically searching the cabin for something. He’s certain they’re looking for a weapon to blow him off the side of this aircraft.

  Judd turns and looks back at the Loach. ‘Come on, Aussie!’

  *

  Turbine screaming and rotors thundering, Corey corrects the Loach’s angle of attack. ‘Okay, you need to hold on because this might be a little …’ He doesn’t finish the sentence.

  Lola grips the side of her seat in preparation. ‘Be a little what?’

  Corey really concentrates as he finetunes the chopper’s controls again. ‘Tricky. I really need to be … quite accurate … to get this right.’

  ‘What can I do?’

  ‘Tell me if you see any missiles.’

  She swallows hard. ‘Okay.’

  Corey stares at the Air-Crane as he make one last adjustment to the controls. ‘Alrighty, here we go.’

  *

  Judd watches Handsome and Ponytail scour the Air-Crane’s rear cabin for - oh, yep, there it is - they’ve found what they’re looking for. A 9mm pistol. Handsome cocks the weapon, unbuckles his seatbelt and leans across to open the door.

  Judd’s eyes flick back to the little yellow chopper as it surges towards the giant chopper. Two hundred metres becomes one hundred becomes fifty becomes fifteen -

  The Loach is right there, fills the sky, then tips into an impossibly sharp turn. The trailing rope is yanked into the turn too, and like a cracked whip, flicks out towards the Air-Crane, the heavy hook leading the way. It swings straight towards Judd -

  Clang. It snags the Air-Crane’s landing gear upright, directly in front of the astronaut. The airframe shudders.

  Twang. The rope yanks tight between the two choppers. Judd is stunned. When the Australian told him the plan, he never expected it to work but here they are. Judd turns back to the rear cabin as Handsome, pistol in hand, pushes the door open, then stops.

  *

  Christ!

  What should he do?

  Bunsen is in two minds. Shoot Judd Bell with this gun or blow that chopper out of the sky with the SAM? By the time he has the missile aimed the chopper could be gone. But if he hits the chopper then all his problems are solved, including the Australian.

  What should he do?

  One thing he knows he shouldn’t do is waste any more time making a decision.

  *

  Judd can see Handsome can’t decide what to do next. He’s not sure if he should shoot the astronaut or blow up the chopper.

  Perfect.

  He who hesitates is lost.

  Time to go. Judd yanks his heavy-duty cotton Carhartt jacket from around his waist, flaps it over the rope, grabs the arms of the jacket in each hand, winds his fists tightly around them and pushes off -

  Ohmigod! It’s the Flying Fox From Hell - Part Deux. The Loach is a little below the Air-Crane so gravity is Judd’s ally and he slides towards it super fast. Halfway across he glances back at good ole’ Handsome and sees muzzle flash. So he went with the pistol instead of the missile in the end. The pistol is not directed at Judd, though; he shoots at the rope that’s attached to the hook that’s attached to the Air-Crane -

  Boom. The rope collapses behind him as a bullet hits the mark.

  ‘Damn—’ Judd falls, drops, plummets, still holds the jacket in his left hand -

  Clang. He hits the Loach’s skid and grabs at it with his right hand, catches hold, dangles over the abyss. His hand slips -

  Wham. Lola grabs the jacket in his left hand. She might be slight, but she’s strong as steel. She pulls on the jacket and yanks him up and into the Loach.

  ‘Hold on!’ Corey tips the Loach hard right.

  ‘Whoa, momma!’ Judd clambers into the back seat as the chopper drops into a horrendously steep spiral dive, down and down and down. It plunges into the smoke layer.

  And suddenly it’s upright again. Nobody says a word as they just catch their breath.

  A moment passes.

  Corey glances back at Judd, gestures for him to put on his headset, which the astronaut does. ‘Yep?’

  ‘Never do that again!’

  ‘Deal.’ Judd claps both of them on the shoulder. ‘Thanks, guys.’

  *

  In the Tyrannosaur high above, Bunsen scans the blanket of smoke below, SAM missile in hand as he attempts to locate the yellow Loach. He cannot. He went with the pistol instead of the missile and now believes it was an error.

  Enrico’s voice echoes in his ears. ‘Now what?’

  ‘We continue as planned.’

  ‘What about the Item? Should we check it?’

  ‘Unless he had an oxy-welder back there there’s nothing he could have done to it. What’s our ETA?’

  ‘Six minutes.’

  ‘Good. Let’s ice this cake and go home.’

  *

  41

  The Loach cuts through the haze as the setting sun turns the world an eerie orange-purple.

  Lola pats the dog beside her then turns to Judd. ‘So, it sounds like they did the same thing at the West Pico and Moreno High School. Injected something into the oil wells.’

  Judd nods. ‘But what? And why?’

  ‘Could they be explosives?’

  Judd’s unsure. ‘Maybe, but you’d think that bomb would be enough.’

  Corey has a thought. ‘Are those wells linked in some way? I mean, are they pumping oil from the same field or something?’

  Lola shakes her head. ‘Don’t think so. They’re too far apart.’ She thinks about it and talks to herself in a low voice, though Judd and Corey can still hear her through their headsets. ‘Moreno High and West Pico and La Brea. What do they have in common?’ She absently looks at Spike’s back and the splotches of blue that spot his white coat. She points at one. ‘Moreno High.’ Then another. ‘West Pico.’ Then a third. ‘La Brea.’ She draws a line to link the three then studies it - then stops dead. ‘Oh, fuck!’

  Judd leans forward. ‘That doesn’t sound good.’

  She pulls out her iPhone and works the screen, launches the web browser, taps letters into the search engine.

  Corey watches. ‘Everything okay -?’

  ‘Hold on! I gotta check something.’ She stares at the screen, waits for the browser page to refresh. It takes an age. ‘Come on!’

/>   It refreshes.

  She studies the screen - then pulls in a deep breath.

  Corey glances at her. ‘What?’

  She looks at him. ‘They’re on a fault line. Moreno High, West Pico and La Brea. They’re all on a fault line.’

  ‘Which one?’

  ‘Puente Hills. I think they did inject explosives and they’re going to detonate them - and rupture it.’

  The blood drains from Corey’s face. ‘So they can start an earthquake.’

  Lola nods as Judd leans forward again. ‘What?’

  Corey turns to him. ‘The Puente Hills fault runs right under downtown LA. When it goes it’ll be huge. Some people think it’ll be twice as big as the North Ridge quake.’

  Lola nods. ‘It’s true.’

  Judd looks at Corey, surprised. ‘How do you know this?’

  ‘I spent some time studying quakes and fault lines.’

  ‘Really? Why?’

  Corey hesitates - then forces himself to say it: ‘My - my mother died in a quake in ‘97.’

  The mood shifts in the cockpit. Lola turns to him. ‘I’m so sorry to hear that.’

  Judd puts a hand on his shoulder, concerned for his friend. ‘Why didn’t you say anything before?’

  ‘I just - it was a long time ago.’ Corey stares into the distance, lost in the pain of the memory. Jeez. Fifteen years later and it’s still terrible. ‘I wasn’t able to save her - so I…’ He breathes in, shakes it off, pushes it away. ‘Anyway, afterwards I was trying to understand what happened so I read. California is the earthquake capital of the world after all, so I read all about it. It was the only thing that made sense of it.’

  Lola places a hand on his and looks at him. Corey can’t meet her gaze, just wants the moment to pass. He changes the subject. ‘Anyway, why would they do something like this?’

  Judd thinks it through as he speaks: ‘They know the city will be so busy dealing with the aftermath of a big quake that no one’s going to worry about putting out a single oil fire in the middle of parkland that’s not a threat to anyone.’

  Lola takes this in. ‘But why does that matter?’

  Judd does his best to work it out. ‘They must need the fire at La Brea to burn for a certain amount of time, so enough infected smoke is pumped into the atmosphere to send the virus global.’