Combustion

by Steve Worland

  Wait.

  Saving Atlantis.

  Where was he when he realised he needed to save that shuttle? He was sitting in a Loach exactly like this, with the same Australian beside him. That’s all he had then and that’s all he has now - so he can do it again. He just needs to use what he’s got and remember what he knows.

  Use what you’ve got and remember what you know.

  Ding!

  It’s like a light bulb going off. He turns to Corey. ‘I have a plan I think might work.’

  ‘Might?’

  ‘It could also end badly, but let’s stay positive.’ Judd forces a grin.

  Corey looks at him like he doesn’t want to ask. ‘What is it?’

  ‘We let them know we’re here.’

  Corey takes a second, then understands what he means them to do. ‘Jesus wept. Really?’

  Judd nods. ‘Fair dinkum.’ Then he thinks about it. ‘Did I use it right?’

  Corey nods, and they share a smile, then: ‘Righto, let’s do this.’

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘Not at all. But we should give it a go anyway.’

  The Australian grins his crooked grin then sends the Loach straight up. Fast. It punches through the blanket of smoke and bursts into clear air above. Corey slows the descent then pulls the little chopper into a hover. ‘That should do it.’

  *

  From the Tyrannosaur’s rear cabin Bunsen sees the Loach. Stunned, he barks into his headset’s microphone: ‘The yellow chopper is right behind us! Turn left. Now!’

  ‘Will do.’ Enrico pulls on the controls and the Tyrannosaur swings around.

  ‘That’s it!’ The Tyrannosaur stops turning as Bunsen pushes the rear cabin door open, aims the SAM out at the Loach and pulls the trigger. ‘This ends now.’

  *

  The missile blasts away from the rear of the Air-Crane and hisses directly towards the Loach.

  Judd picks it up first. ‘Missile!’

  Then Corey sees it too. ‘Got it!’

  It’s upon them very quickly.

  ‘Hold on!’ Corey guns the turbine and yanks the Loach into a steep right turn, ploughs into the smoke.

  ‘Yahh!’ Judd is flung to the side, grabs his seat and the doorframe with a tortured grimace.

  Corey glances in his side-view mirror but can’t see the rocket. He shouts into his headset: ‘Tell me where it is!’

  Judd cranes his neck to look back through the open doorway. He can’t get into the right position so he unbuckles his seatbelt and tries again, sees the missile hissing behind them. ‘It’s - oh Christ, it’s right behind us. And I mean right behind.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘This’d be fun if I didn’t think we were about to die.’

  ‘Hold on!’ Turbine screaming, rotors throbbing, Corey tightens the Loach’s turn.

  ‘Oh - man.’ The g-forces go to work on Judd, squeeze him back into his seat. The last time he felt anything this severe was during a shuttle launch. It’s difficult to breathe, even harder to talk.

  Corey caresses the controls and tightens the turn again. ‘Where is it?’

  Judd cranes his neck against the g-force, again sees the missile hissing behind them. ‘Same as usual - except closer.’

  Rotors thumping, Corey tightens the Loach’s turn a little more.

  The chopper’s tilted at such a steep angle that Judd can see nothing but the black oil lake rush past the pilot’s open door. ‘How – much – longer?’

  ‘Almost - there.’ Corey yanks the Loach out of the turn.

  Hovering within the fog directly in front of them is the Air-Crane.

  Corey smiles. ‘And there it is.’ The little chopper has pulled a giant arc. He eases the Loach up and over the giant black chopper with a foot to spare.

  Ka-boom! The missile slams into the Air-Crane’s tail rotor and vaporises the rear section of the chopper.

  *

  45

  ‘We’re going down!’

  Enrico fights the Tyrannosaur’s controls but there’s nothing he can do to stop it. Without a tail rotor the giant helicopter twists into a wild spiral.

  Whump, whump, whump. Bunsen holds on for dear life as the burning chopper whips around and around, faster and faster. He leans back into the cockpit, reaches across to the central panel and flicks a switch -

  Clank. The Item is released from the Tyrannosaur’s cradle and flies free, cartwheels across the sky -

  Slam. It lands at the very edge of the tar pit, bounces high then smashes through the safety railing and lands on the grass by the side of the walkway.

  Whump, whump, whump. The Tyrannosaur spins violently. Metal bends and tears as the rotor blades shatter in a blizzard of fibre-plastic. Bunsen glances into the cockpit. Enrico is dead, a shard of a shattered rotor blade embedded in his throat.

  Whump, whump, whump. Bunsen turns to Kilroy, both terrified beyond measure. Their eyes meet.

  Time slows.

  A poignant moment passes between them, imbued with a bond of shared affection, for the years when they only had each other.

  Time speeds up.

  The left side of the cabin rips away and the old man is ejected from the spinning chopper. Bunsen screams after him, horrified: ‘No-!’

  Boom! The burning Tyrannosaur smashes into the tar pit, sends out a giant wave of oil.

  *

  Judd stares down at the flaming wreck of the Air-Crane as a wide patch of the oil ignites around it. He studies what remains of the chopper, can find no pity in his heart for the men aboard. The astronaut turns and takes in the bomb, which has come to rest on the grass by the side of the paved walkway. ‘We have to get it out of here now.’

  Corey turns to him. ‘But he had a detonator. If he’s dead or unconscious he can’t trigger it.’

  ‘It could be on a timer.’

  Corey takes this in with a nod. ‘Of course. You got a plan?’

  Judd’s eyes flick around the Loach’s cabin, sees the rope wound around the winch nestled between the two front seats.

  Use what you’ve got and remember what you know.

  ‘Get me to that bomb and I’ll tell you all about it.’

  *

  Handlebar ribbons fluttering, Lola rides the pink dragster like it’s Seabiscuit. She looks up, bleakly registers the plume of black smoke that arches into the sky above the tar pits. She ups her pace and turns to Spike, who runs beside her. ‘Come on, boy.’

  *

  Judd finishes tying the frayed end of the rope onto a hook as Corey stares at him, appalled. ‘It’s not a fantastic plan, mate.’

  ‘It’s the only one going. Now, as soon as I have the hook you release the rope then get this thing in the air as fast and as high as possible. Then, if it detonates, we both don’t bite the big one. Hopefully.’

  Corey nods unhappily, drops the chopper onto the walkway beside the weapon. And takes it in. It appears to be even bigger now that it’s not attached to the Air-Crane. And creepier, the black lattice metalwork gives it a particularly ominous aspect. The heavy impact has dug it into the grass beside the walkway, but it still appears to be in one piece. Corey turns to the astronaut. ‘I’ll wait for your signal.’

  Judd shoots him a sharp nod. ‘Okay, I’ll see you.’

  ‘Not if I see you first.’

  They share a grim smile then Judd slides out of the cockpit, scrambles under the chopper, grabs the hook at the end of the rope and thumps on the underside of the fuselage with his fist.

  The Aussie hears it and works the winch. It quickly unspools every inch of rope, almost forty metres. Hook in hand, Judd crawls from under the chopper and points skyward.

  Corey powers up and the Loach rises quickly. He looks down, makes sure he isn’t too high and there’s enough play in the rope for Judd to work with, then pulls the little chopper into a hover.

  As the astronaut approaches the weapon a cloud of black smoke drifts across the walkway from the burning Air-Crane and obscures Corey’s view. Th
e Loach is too high for its rotor wash to clear it. Corey holds position and waits for the signal, hopes to God that black lattice atrocity doesn’t explode.

  *

  Hook in hand, Judd surveys the weapon for a spot to latch on. The problem is the smoke from the crashed Air-Crane. It smells like death, stings his eyes, irritates his throat and cuts visibility to a few metres. He tries his best to ignore it as he searches for a place –

  Click.

  The fact he can hear the sound of a pistol being cocked above the throb of the Loach’s rotor blades means it must be very close. He turns.

  It’s Handsome Guy.

  Christ. He’s still alive? How did he survive that crash? He’s covered in black sludge but doesn’t seem to be injured. At all. He has a pistol in hand and aims it at Judd’s face.

  ‘Let go of the hook.’

  Judd does it. It swings away, disappears into the smoke.

  ‘Now give me the counteragent.’

  Judd points at his jacket pocket. ‘It’s in here.’

  Handsome steps closer. ‘Slowly.’

  Judd reaches inside his jacket with his right hand and very deliberately draws out the metal cylinder - then flicks it hard.

  It extends. It’s not the canister, but the brass telescope from the Loach.

  Judd springs forward and clubs the pistol from Handsome’s hand. It skitters across the walkway and disappears into the smoke haze.

  Handsome charges the astronaut.

  Judd swings the telescope.

  And the battle is joined.

  Clang. The heavy telescope slams into Handsome’s torso. He staggers sideways, stunned. He recovers his balance but Judd steps forward and swings the instrument again.

  Clank. It clips Handsome across the jaw. He turns with the blow, then swings back with a right fist, cracks Judd in the mouth. The astronaut jolts back and he stumbles to the ground, rolls to his feet and swings the telescope once more.

  Clunk. Handsome throws out a forearm to block the stroke and the telescope snaps in two, never designed for hand-to-hand combat. Judd drops it, then nails him with an uppercut to the chin. Handsome rocks backwards, then pivots and swings into a roundhouse kick, slams Judd in the solar plexus, knocks him off his feet.

  Crunch. Handsome lands on top of the astronaut, jams a forearm across his throat. He might be shorter and lighter than Judd but he’s stronger than he appears. Judd whacks him in the cheek with a left jab but Handsome holds the forearm in place and searches his clothes -

  ‘Yes.’ He wrenches the canister from the astronaut’s jacket pocket, finds his feet, backs away, searches for the pistol within the smoke haze, scoops it up and aims it at Judd.

  The astronaut freezes. Handsome steps towards him, nods at the bomb. ‘Two good men gave their lives to make this a reality. And now you will too. Congratulations, Judd Bell, you’re the first visitor to the new Ground Zero.’

  He pulls the trigger.

  Bam. The gunshot rings out.

  Handsome staggers forward - then drops to his knees and slumps to the ground face first, a scarlet bullet wound in the middle of his back. The canister of counteragent falls from his hand, hits the ground with a clank and rolls to Judd’s feet.

  ‘What the hell?’ Judd is both shocked and relieved. He looks from Handsome to a figure that looms through the haze towards him.

  Ponytail.

  The old man limps, appears to be badly injured, his body streaked with a mix of blood and oil. He holds a raised pistol.

  ‘Oh, damn.’ Judd is still shocked but he’s no longer relieved. He pulls in a sharp breath and waits for the next gunshot. Ponytail limps towards him - then lowers the weapon, kneels beside Handsome and turns him over. Handsome weakly reaches for his jacket pocket but Ponytail gently pushes his hand away, reaches into the jacket pocket himself and pulls out a cigarette pack-sized black box that Judd thinks can only be the bomb’s detonator.

  Shit! He starts towards Ponytail - but the old guy turns and throws the box into the middle of the tar pit. It lands with a splash and disappears below the surface.

  Judd exhales, feels like his life just flashed before his eyes. ‘Thank you.’ He doesn’t know what else to say.

  Ponytail doesn’t look up at him. ‘I didn’t do it for you.’

  *

  Kilroy turns to Bunsen and cradles his head, overwhelmed with grief. ‘I’m sorry.’

  Bunsen stares up at him, confused. ‘Why?’ His eyes are glassy, his voice a low rasp.

  ‘I had to stop you. The city is on its knees.’

  ‘That was the point.’

  ‘I spent the best days of my life exploring this town with you.’

  Bunsen smiles at the memory. There’s blood in his mouth.

  ‘I just - I couldn’t let it be destroyed. No matter what.’

  The light fades from Bunsen’s eyes. ‘But it - will be —’

  Kilroy is confused. Bunsen coughs blood, his voice little more than a croak. ‘The bomb - it’s on a timer - you must leave - now.’

  *

  Judd steps towards them. ‘Did he say the bomb is on a timer?’

  Ponytail doesn’t answer, just stares down at Handsome.

  ‘How long? How long is the timer?’

  Neither of them responds.

  ‘Answer me!’ Judd crouches down - then realises they’re not ignoring him, they’re dead. Both of them. He sees a gaping wound under Ponytail’s arm, the ground beneath him slick with blood.

  ‘Fuck!’ The astronaut stands, grabs the canister of counteragent, then searches the black smoke for the hook and rope which hang from the hovering Loach. He cannot see either, or the chopper. The haze is even thicker than before. ‘Where is it?’ he shouts into the fog, his frustration extreme.

  He takes a breath, tries not to inhale too much smoke, fails - and coughs hard. People the world over think he is a hero. Well, this is where he gets to prove it. This is where the rubber meets the road. He has to get this right, right now, even if every fibre of his being tells him to leave this place and get away from this bomb as fast as possible.

  He looks up, searches the sky, catches sight of the Loach’s rotors as they strobe through the haze. From its position he guesstimates where the rope might be and moves in that direction, fast -

  He glimpses the hook within the smoke, follows it, grabs at it - misses. It’s so close. It swings in front of him again. He reaches out - snags it. He turns to the bomb.

  Where the hell is it?

  It was just here, but he can’t see anything through this damn smoke -

  There it is. It looms through the fog like an iceberg on Titanic’s maiden voyage. It’s close, just two metres away. He tugs the rope towards it -

  Twang. It pulls tight, won’t reach.

  It’s ten centimetres short.

  Ten centimetres!

  Judd yanks on it again. ‘Come on!’

  Twang. It won’t reach. The Loach has drifted and it’s too far away. He pulls on it with all his might, leans into it, strains, uses every ounce of energy. ‘Come on, you mutha!’

  He drags the chopper across the sky -

  Clank. The hook attaches to the bomb’s latticework.

  ‘Yes!’ He pulls on the rope once, like he’s plucking a gigantic guitar string.

  *

  Corey feels the vibration shake the little chopper. Then a second. Then a third. That’s the signal. ‘Time to go.’

  He powers up.

  *

  Judd hears the chopper’s turbine spool, can feel the rope tighten in his hand. It’s actually happening. He’d smile if he didn’t think it would somehow tempt fate and jinx everything.

  Screw it.

  He smiles. For just a moment -

  A high-pitched whistling sound cuts the soundscape, instantly grows to an ear-splitting crescendo. It comes from his right. He turns to it.

  A Boeing 737 punches through the purple haze and drops towards the walkway - right where Judd stands and the Loach hover
s.

  ‘Oh, damn.’

  Rhonda.

  He completely forgot about Rhonda - and her jet.

  He guesses it’s a kilometre away but who can tell through all this damn smoke? However far away it is, it will land on him in a matter of seconds.

  He wishes he hadn’t smiled.

  *

  47

  Corey can’t hear anything over the throb of the Loach’s rotors, but he sees a flash of movement in the chopper’s side-view mirror. He looks closer. ‘What is that - oh, jeez!’

  A 737 drops out of the sky straight towards the Loach, its wake turbulence swatting the smoke haze into a series of gigantic swirling vortices. It appears to be missing an engine.

  This is not good. Descending will not work. The jet will just land on top of the Loach. He needs to go up. Fast. Corey gives the little yellow chopper full bananas. The turbine screams and the rotors throb - and the Loach does not rise an inch.

  *

  Judd watches the 737 approach. He knows it cannot change course or fly around because its engines aren’t operational and there’s nowhere else to land.

  Corey must know the jet is coming because the Loach’s turbine screams and its rotors roar - but nothing is happening. The bomb is so heavy and it’s jammed into the grass so deeply that it will not move. No wonder they used an Air-Crane to ferry the damn thing around.

  Judd wrenches the rope from side to side, lays a foot on the bomb and rocks it back and forth, tries to work it free.

  It does not move.

  *

  Corey eyes the approaching jet as it grows large in his side-view mirror. Jeez, it’s close. ‘You-can-do-it-baby!’ The bomb is either extremely heavy, or stuck, or both -

  He feels the rope sway the chopper from left to right. Judd must be trying to work it free. Corey joins in, sharply jolts the chopper from side to side, hopes it might help pull it free.

  *

  Yes! Good one, Corey! Judd frantically yanks the rope side to side in time with the Loach as he rocks the weapon back and forth with his right foot -