Green Lama-Mystic Warrior

by Kevin Olson

  The Green Lama nodded. “We rescued a woman and her child from Nazis. They sought the Jade Tablet, yet I suspect it has become more of a vendetta situation.” He looked at Twin Eagles. “Mike accidentally shot their accompanying mystic, a madman named Kellen. The rescued boy and mother disappeared while all slept.”

  Rick Masters nodded and looked at Mike. “You shot him by accident, Twin Eagles? You must be slipping.” Mike grinned slightly. Rick breathed in and stood. “Well, let’s start attempting to find them. What clues do you have?”

  The Green Lama smiled. “If you would be so kind as to follow me, I will show you.”

  The three walked to the entrance of the temple and outside. The fresh snow covered the ground, interrupted by occasional jagged rocks thrusting through. The light of the azure blue sky reached them without interrup-tion. The thick air and other obstructions known at lower elevations did not exist here. Each step they trod followed the Lama along the path of the Nazi invaders’ footprints. The Lama halted in front of a large impression in the snow. “Here,” he said, “is our clue.”

  Mike furrowed his brow. “Is this some type of joke, Lama? I know what these are from the Great War. These are tank tracks, but there’s no trail coming or going! It’s impossible!”

  Rick Masters shook his head. “No it’s not, Twin Eagle. I worked with the Brits on a top-secret project like this. They wanted to create a gyrotank based on Cierva’s gyroplane designs.”

  “Did it work?” Mike asked.

  Rick shrugged. “Not when I was on the project. Who knows that the Germans didn’t hear about the idea and make it happen?”

  The Green Lama scratched his head. “The Nazis had something on a flatbed truck in the village. This must have been under the tarp.”

  Mike nodded. “Doesn’t seem like helpful information, Lama. How are we going to find a flying tank?”

  Rick cleared his throat. “In the air, I expect.”

  Chapter Six

  Predatory Avalanche

  Rick Masters slipped into the pilot’s seat of the British-built Armstrong Whitworth Whitley bomber. On the outside, the plane resembled an elongated, military-green brick with wings. The inside seemed only slightly less utilitarian.

  The Green Lama stood regally yet humbly behind the pilot’s chair. “I have been meaning to ask how you came to own this plane.”

  Rick shrugged. “I didn’t get it in pristine condition. I swapped a B-17 I used for transport with the Brits when I was working for them. These Whitleys,” he tapped the instrument panel as one would pat a beloved dog on its head, “aren’t as fast as some bombers their size, yet they are reliable and perfect for transports. The Mercedes engines practically fix themselves. It’s not so pretty as a gal you’d like to marry, yet a man couldn’t be happier if he married a wife that took care of him as well as she does.”

  Mike walked past the Lama and slipped into the co-pilot’s chair. “The anchor is released,” the Seminole co-pilot informed, holding up a small, three-pronged anchor on the end of a rope rolled into loops.

  Rick drew a deep breath and released. His lip curled slightly. “Time for another harrowing and original aviation miracle, Twin Eagles.”

  Mike nodded. “Yes, Rick. Landing on the side of a mountain was pretty tricky, but taking off again might be tougher.” He turned to look at the Green Lama. “You should sit down, Lama. This will be a death-defying attempt.”

  The Lama shrugged. “Then I defy death with you. If you have need, it is better that I remain free to assist.”

  “Twin Eagles is right, Lama,” Rick said. “If nothing else, it is most dis-concerting to have a holy man standing behind us. We need one-hundred-percent of our attention on this take-off.”

  With a smile and nod, the Green Lama sat on the floor in a lotus position. “I can be ready from here if needed.”

  Mike huffed slightly before turning his eyes toward the downward slope in front of them. Rick flipped a toggle-switch and the engines rumbled to life. The propellers spun in rhythm, agitating the fresh snow into a mini-storm. The plane moved slowly forward. It began sliding down the slope on its skis.

  A rumbling sound joined the sound of the engines. Rick looked into an ice-encrusted mirror outside the plane to see a building avalanche of boulders, ice, and snow pursue them in a furious pace. “It’s an avalanche!”

  “Can we outrun it?” Mike asked.

  Rick gritted his teeth. “I certainly hope so! I’ll give the plane everything! If we clear the cliff in time, we’ll be okay.”

  Rick pushed the engines to the outer limits. The plane shook under the strain as it rushed over the uneven surface of snow and ice, shaped by jagged boulders beneath it. The rumbling sound increased as the avalanche neared. Sweat appeared on Rick’s brow as the plane approached the edge of the cliff. The avalanche increased its pace toward them.

  Spurting through the air, the first and fleetest pieces of ice and snow began battering the tail of the plane. The uneven, pelting rhythm indicated an urgency and hopelessness.

  “Lift off now, Rick!” Mike said.

  Rick Masters shook his head. “Not enough speed yet, Twin Eagles! We must outrun it, and the engines are pushed beyond capacity as it is!”

  With a sneer, Mike stole a glance at the calmly meditating Lama. “If you’ve got a trick, holy man, we need a miracle now!”

  The Lama continued meditating. Mike turned his attention back to the cliff’s edge rushing toward them. “Damn!”

  A cracking sound rocked the aircraft. Rick looked in the mirror. One of the plane’s skis tumbled behind and disappeared into the avalanche that relentlessly hunted after them. The plane seemed a great black swan; the avalanche a tiger preparing to sink frozen teeth into the flesh of its wings. The plane at least reached the speed that it did not need the skid. Rick skillfully kept the wing floating above the ground.

  Rick felt the tip of the rolling mass of snow, rock, and ice lift the tail of the plane as it continued down the slope. The avalanche had overtaken the plane, and so near the cliff’s edge!

  Chapter Seven

  The Shape of Air

  The plane disappeared into the avalanche’s drifting mass. The avalanche hurtled over the edge of the cliff, accepted into the yawning depths below. Bursting through the roiling snow, the airplane appeared, twin engines roaring, and took flight!

  Inside, Rick struggled to right the plane with a laugh of joy. “I won’t even say that was close, Twin Eagles!”

  The co-pilot gave Rick an angry expression before bursting into laughter. He turned and struck the Lama on the back. “Hey, Lama! We did it! It’s a miracle!”

  The Green Lama breathed in and opened his eyes. He nodded knowingly. “The miracle you requested and I meditated upon.”

  Still smiling, Mike nodded. “Yeah, sure, holy man. I won’t question it!”

  Rick looked back at the still tumultuous cliff face as the avalanche continued to create a waterfall of glacial rocks and snow. “We can use more miracles if you’ve got them, Lama. We have to find a flying tank, and land this plane again with a missing ski!”

  “We’re missing a ski?” Mike queried.

  “Yes,” Rick nodded. “It broke off just before the avalanche caught up to us. It will be tough to land without it.” He shrugged. “We can figure out how to cross that bridge when we come to the canyon.”

  “Maybe we oughta land a.s.a.p.,” Mike suggested. “We could get another plane.”

  Mike shook his head. “We’re losing time as it is. The tank tracks were fresh, but we don’t know where they were headed. Our only chance is to catch them in the air. Let’s hope they are still in it. If not, they’ll disappear on the ground.”

  Mike nodded. “I guess you’re right, Rick. Which way do you think they went?”

  Rick shrugged. �
�You can land a gyroplane anywhere. It’s a small tank, judging by the track print. Even a small tank means a heavy load. They wouldn’t have much range. They could land anywhere there was fuel available.”

  Mike rubbed his chin. “A hidden base?”

  Rick nodded. “Possible, yet a base would need a road or airstrip nearby to build, I suspect.”

  The Green Lama stepped forward. “I know these mountains, and I have an idea of a spot that fits all requirements to build a significant support base. Let us follow the mountains.” Rick turned the bomber to run parallel to the range.

  The Green Lama stood in the aisle, his eyes seeking the pointed mountain peaks and abrupt valleys describing the treacherously beautiful Himalayas. He breathed deeply, causing Rick to look over at the holy man. “You’re a cool character, Lama. I’m pretty good at seeing when a person’s not happy.”

  Lama shook his head. “I am not unhappy, yet I am concerned for the young boy and his mother.”

  “Seems to me,” the pilot returned, “there’s something else in your eye. Are you in love, Lama?”

  Mike looked at the Lama’s face and chuckled. “He is, Rick! I’m green with envy!”

  The Green Lama smiled. “I will admit an infatuation with the woman. A Lama is sworn to not allow his passions to rule. The pair remains under my protection, whatever my sentiments. It is my duty to ensure their safety.”

  All the while he spoke his eyes scanned the area. “Over there.” He pointed his finger toward a dark spot staining a snow-white peak. “It is in the air yet.”

  Rick pointed the Whitley’s nose to chase after the moving dot in the distance. “I’m not sure what to do if we catch it,” he said. “Do you have any ideas, Twin Eagles?”

  The co-pilot shrugged. “We still have the machine gun hooked up, don’t we? The Brits said we could keep it to protect us on midnight runs through Naziland.”

  Rick nodded. “We do have it. For all the good it will do against a flying tank’s armor.”

  “Please,” Green Lama interjected, “use no violence.”

  “What!?” Mike exclaimed. “They’re gonna use violence on us! You expect us to take it!?”

  “No,” the Lama said. “You forget that there is a child and a woman on board. If you manage to destroy the craft, you will destroy our purpose here.”

  “He’s right,” Rick interjected. “We can’t bring them down without injuring their prisoners. Perhaps we can land and perform a clandestine rescue operation.”

  Mike shook his head and pointed. “I think if we wanted to keep it a secret, we should have shut up some time ago. I think they heard us.”

  They watched the spot turn and head directly toward them. As the two craft drew closer together, the Nazi vessel came into clearer view. The props battered the air over the black Nazi tank. Decorated with German crosses, the tank was not large, and its profile deceivingly low. A cannon turret rested a few feet below the propeller, apparently swiveling on the same axle. The tracks jutted out freely from the tank’s armored body. A rear fin and tail steadied the craft as it flew along.

  “What kind of tank is that?” Mike asked. “The Nazis like to make ’em big, but this one’s not bigger than a lorry!”

  Rick shrugged. “To carry worthwhile armor and weaponry through the air, they couldn’t make it too large. Looks like a stripped and modified Panzer One. It’s got enough bulk to hurt and run. That little cub could be a tiger.”

  Mike nodded. “Probably can’t fire its cannon from the air. The recoil would rip it apart.”

  The barrel of the tank’s gun swung quickly to find its target and fired. A large blast rocked the Whitley, proving Mike’s words wrong as a shell exploded outside.

  “Whoa!” Mike said. “That’s close enough for a Burma Shave! Guess I was wrong about them not being able to use their gun, but how?”

  Rick shrugged. “Looks like the Nazis have developed a cannon with diminished recoil.” Mike looked at Rick. “We’ve gotta fire up the machine gun! The next blast could be our last!”

  “We’re not out of tricks yet, Twin Eagles,” Rick replied. He pulled the Whitley into an extreme climb as another blast rocked the erstwhile night bomber. The tank followed, gaining altitude by moving in a vertical fashion and keeping its nose level.

  “They can’t aim at us through their props,” Rick explained. “I figured that would be too risky a design.”

  Mike nodded. “Now, we know they can’t point the gun up or down except in a limited range. The tank needs to be on the level with its target. I hope so anyway.”

  “A large blast rocked the Whitley.”

  “That’s right, Twin Eagles,” Rick replied. “I don’t know all their capabilities yet. I can guarantee they’ll run out of gas before we do. Unless they’ve landed somewhere and refueled, they’ve got to do it soon.”

  Green Lama nodded. “It is true. Of course, it will be worse if they land. We will face them on the ground, where the tank will perform on more familiar turf.”

  Mike’s face turned grim. “That’s if we can land this thing in the middle of nowhere with a missing skid.”

  Rick nodded confidently. “After that avalanche debacle, I can land it on top of a wedding cake between the bride and groom. It’s a cinch!”

  The Green Lama smiled. “Landing it safely will be enough, my friend. Your prowess as a pilot is not in question.”

  Rick brought the plane level and let out a sigh. “I’d wager you’re right. This is not going to be easy, no matter how you slice the cake.” He watched the rotatank level at the Whitley’s altitude to pursue the bomber. “We’re stuck playing cat and mouse, but we’re the cat and a bit unwieldy. That mouse carries quite a poison bite. Maybe we can use the cloud cover to buy some time.”

  Rick and the Lama looked out the side window. The rotatank’s gun spun in their direction. Rick pushed hard on the stick, sending the Whitley into a sharp dive. “I should have stayed in bed,” he grumbled.

  A tank shell exploded outside the plane. The windows and walls rattled at the vibration. The Lama gritted his teeth and stared out the window, leaning back to maintain balance. Though the angle seemed incongruous to standing, the Lama remained so. “I feel you, Kellen,” he said into the vast space separating the Whitley and the rotatank.

  Mike snorted. “If you can talk to him from here, tell him to knock it off! That, and tell him I’ll slug him in the nose first chance I get!”

  Standing in the rotatank, Kellen smiled as he looked out the small, forward window view. “They are diving,” he noted to the rotatank pilot, Captain Adelbrecht. “Follow them down.”

  He turned to the rear of the small compartment, staring at Ravi and Pari tied with rope into two separate bundles. “Let my mother go,” Ravi pleaded, tears in his eyes. “She will not harm you!”

  Pari stifled her tears. “Hush, child. He is without mercy. His heart knows only ambition.”

  “Ah!” Kellen held his chest to feign injury. “You cut me to the quick, woman! I am a very kind person.” He chuckled lowly. “Of what kind, it would take long to explain. I took you because the Green Lama seemed to have an attachment. I can use that to retrieve the Jade Tablet. While all slept in the Temple, I found the pathetic ruse they left to dissuade the imbeciles.” He shrugged. “I also found Masters’ pilot license, though he is well known as a transport flyer.”

  Kellen rubbed his chin. “I did not see the plane, but felt certain the Lama could follow. Knowing he could follow, I likewise knew he would. I could have kidnapped the Lama and tortured him, yet this is more poetic, do you not agree? To a man like the Lama, it is also exceedingly more torturous.”

  Pari moved closer to Ravi. “Just be still, my son,” she whispered. “All is as Brahma directs.”

  Captain Adelbrecht turned to Kellen. “They are leveling o
ut, sir.”

  The mystic nodded. “Good. They cannot continue to run. We must force them to land or crash. Try to strike a wing. It will give them time to bail out with parachutes and we will pick them up.”

  The pilot reached over and pushed a shell into the cannon, clicking the hatch shut. Using a periscope to aim, he turned the gun and pushed a red button next to the handle.

  The shell whistled through the air and exploded near the right wing of the Whitley. The aircraft rattled under the force. “That was close!” Mike announced.

  Rick shook his head as he struggled with the stick. “It was more than that, Twin Eagles. It was a hit somewhere!”

  Looking out his window, Mike nodded. “The wing’s on fire!”

  “It is possible we will crash,” the Lama said calmly.

  Rick nodded. “It’s possible. I can control it for now. Fire damage to the engine is the biggest concern. The plane will crash if that happens.” He shook his head. “If we could put out the fire, we’d have a fighting chance.”

  Turning to the back of the plane, the Lama nodded. “Leave it to me. Just keep it as steady as possible.”

  “Where are you going?” Mike shouted at him. No reply came. Wind reached the pilot’s compartment as a door clanged open in the cargo hold. Mike stared at the wing. “He’s on the wing!”

  Rick’s eyes opened wide. “What the heck!? Is he nuts!?”

  Mike shrugged, a slight smile on his face. “Maybe. He’s just walking toward the fire!”

  The wind tore at the green robe. The Lama seemed to not notice. Near the large Mercedes engine, the fire burned. The Lama held his arms above him, his sleeves threatening to tear under the violent wind. He stared upward and closed his eyes. The fire seemed to prefer the Green Lama, and it crawled toward him and away from the engine.