The man began to move out of the line of fire and Doug pulled back the hammer on his pistol, saying, “Now just stay where you are. This could get messy fast, so let’s just take it easy.”
The man held up his hands, “Okay, I can do that. All we want is some fuel and then we’ll be on our way. You can probably still deliver the rest of what we don’t take.”
“We can’t deliver a drop with the highway blown apart,” Doug said. “What do you figure gives you Yanks the right to come down here and start blowing holes in the Outback? And what makes you think we’d just roll over and give up our fuel like a cup a’ sugar?”
With her eyes wide and her body rigid, Doug knew the woman wouldn’t give him trouble.
The poor girl’s probably just got dragged along for the ride. Probably never even seen a gun before, let alone had one pointed at her.
“I think we’ll start with you, darlin’,” Doug said, motioning with his free hand for her to come over to him. Her eyes went even wider, and she didn’t move.
“Now, dearie, this is what happens when you spend time with the wrong blokes. Now come over here nice, or I’ll put a bullet in you and your friend. Then we’ll deal with the old man.”
She didn’t move.
“I’m going to count ta three and you’re gonna be standing in front of me or laying dead on the road, yes?”
She made no response.
“One!”
She stepped back a bit.
“Two!”
He leveled the pistol at her face. A tremor ran through her and she shouted out, “Okay, okay,” and then walked forward. She stopped a pace away from him and he saw she was not just pretty. With her light-hazel eyes flecked with gold and brunette hair cut in a frisky way, she was stunning.
“Come right up here now, darlin’. I won’t hurt you if you do what I say.”
She took another step. He lowered the pistol, tracing the tip of it around her breast. She looked like she was about to cry. That made Doug smile.
“You’re a real pretty one to be out here with these–” and just then the fear in her pretty eyes shifted to a predatorial glare. She shifted sideways, and her hands blurred to the inside of his arm. Her right fist struck him in the soft inside of his bicep. Her open, left hand gripped the top of the gun and levered down on it. As the gun popped out of his grip, he pulled the trigger. The gun clicked, but did not fire. Pain overtook the inside of Doug’s arm and burned down to his fingertips. His arm dropped to his side, nothing more than weight hanging off his shoulder. The woman stepped a few feet away, and pulled the pistol’s hammer back, drawing the web of her hand out. A bit of blood bloomed there. She pulled the trigger, set the hammer down, and pointed the gun at Doug.
“Not that I want to insult you,” she said to him, “but that was stupid.”
Doug’s entire arm burned with pins and needles. No matter what his brain commanded it to do, it hung limp at his side.
The man walked up to Alex and pulled some large cable ties out of his back pocket.
“Put your hands up on your head like this,” he said. Alex did just as he was told. Then the man walked around behind Alex, pulled each arm off of his head, and zip-tied them behind him. Then the man pulled Doug’s arm behind his back and a flash of pain burned down to his fingers. As the man let go of Doug’s wrists, he tried to straighten his arms and realized the man had zip-tied his belt in along with his wrists.
“Why don’t you gentlemen come have a seat in the back of the gunship,” the man said. “It’s air-conditioned.”
“I don’t mind if I do,” Alex said as he glared at Doug and then walked out ahead of them.
Doug watched Alex go.
He’s stupid to just go along with them. We’ll both probably be dead in an hour.
The man looked at Doug and motioned for him to follow Alex.
“What reason do I have to trust that you won’t just kill us?” Doug asked.
“None,” the man said, and he pulled a tazer out of his pocket and pressed it against Doug’s chest. “You can either walk to the ship, or be dragged.”
Doug waited, feeling the pressure of the tazer on his chest. He wondered what it felt like to be shot with it. Looking back at the woman, he said, “I’ll walk,” and followed Alex.
In the cockpit, the man told them to sit back to back and used more zip-ties to bind their arms together. The man and woman sat down, the engines screamed, and the ship lifted off with the ramp wide open. They flew over the craters and landed behind the tanker. The man got out, walked along the tanks to the cab, and returned with the shipping manifest.
“We’re in luck,” he said, looking the manifest over. “Jet A-1 bio in all four tanks.” He tossed the clipboard out onto the road and stepped off the ramp, opened a panel, and pulled a thick, rubberized hose out, dragging it over to the truck. He climbed up the side ladder, pulled open the top access port, and worked the hose down into the tank. He held his thumb up, and the woman flipped a switch. A pump spun up.
“What are you doing in the Outback stealing fuel?” Alex asked the woman as she made her way past him. Doug swiveled his head around to see the woman shrug her shoulders and keep walking. Doug tried to listen for a hint as to what they were doing or where they might be going, but they only spoke about taking the fuel.
The pump shut off and the pilot shouted, “That’s it. Mains and secondaries are full. We’re ready to roll.”
The man pulled the hose from the tank. With the hose in one hand, he came down the semi-tank’s ladder, and hopped down to the asphalt. The woman pressed another button on the rear control panel and the hose retracted. The man walked back carrying the end of the hose. As it came up into the gunship’s body, he stepped aside and let the hose fall. A final splatter of jet fuel poured from it. The spilled fuel filled Doug’s nose and lungs with a chemical heat.
The man walked up the ramp, and he and the woman sat in the seats. The gunship lifted off, the ramp still open. Doug looked out at the empty square of blue sky. As the wind from the open ramp rushed around him, he understood their plan.
“You’re gonna drop us out the back aren’t you?” he shouted at the man, but the man just pointed to his ear and then shook his head. The ship accelerated and Doug had to brace his feet to keep from tipping over toward the open ramp.
“Why not just get it over with then?” Doug tried to shout over the jet blast. The man looked away from him toward the open ramp. Alex shouted something to Doug, but the jet blast and wind overrode it. The ship slowed, and Doug and Alex tilted and fell onto their sides on the decking. Doug shoved himself back to sitting, pulling Alex with him. He felt sure that now they would throw them out the back. But the man and woman remained seated, and the desert floor came up under the ramp and the ship thumped on the ground. Doug stared at the dirt touching the end of the ramp. The engines spooled down to an idle.
“Get up,” the man said. Doug and Alex pressed back-to-back, shoving their heels along the decking to stand. The man gestured toward the desert and said, “Walk.” They both tried to move at the same time. Then Doug yanked on Alex and walked down the ramp, Alex back-stepping behind him. After walking a distance from the ship, the man patted Doug’s pockets and pulled out his sat-phone, and then patted Alex’s pockets.
“No phone on you?” he said.
“I have one in the cab of the truck,” Alex said.
For the love of Christ you’re a damn fool. They mean to leave us out here and you just told ‘em…
“That’s fine,” the man said. “Your truck is six miles to the west. We just need a bit of a head start before you’re able to contact anyone.” The man took two bottles of water out of his cargo pocket and tossed them to the dirt. Then he took out a knife and cut the zip-ties holding Alex and Doug together. Their arms remained zip-tied behind their backs. The man walked around behind Alex and cut his hands free. Doug stared at Alex’s free hands.
Now here’s my chance. When the Yank cuts me loose, I’ll m
ake a run at him. If I can get the knife, they’ll be down a man. Then I’ll see about the bitch and the old man.
The man smiled at Doug and pitched the knife into the scrubs, beyond a shallow dirt berm.
“Aren’t ya gonna cut me loose?” Doug asked.
“I’m not as dumb as you think I am,” he said to Doug. “You should see the look on your face. You’d kill me if you had the chance.” The man looked at Alex. “Don’t move from that spot until we’re gone, or–” and the man took Doug’s Ruger out of his pocket and tapped the end of the barrel to Doug’s forehead. The man smiled, turned, and walked back to the gunship.
Doug looked to Alex, “Now’s your chance. Go find that knife and…”
“Shut it Doug, ya goddamn figjam,” Alex said. “He could have left us tied up on the tarmac burnin’ ta death, but instead he’s made it so we can call for help in the air-conditioned cab of our truck. As far as I’m concerned, he left us with three full tanks of fuel and our lives. He even gave us water. What the bloody hell else matters?”
Doug wasn’t sure of the answer to that, but in the weeks to come, each time he saw the heavy bruise in the inside of his right bicep, he would feel a bitter anger at the woman.
The man stepped up onto the gunship’s ramp. He turned and looked back at Doug and Alex. Waving, he gave them one last smile, and the ramp lifted and sealed. The turbines of the gunship spooled up to a roaring shriek. As the gunship lifted off, dust blew out in all directions. A bit of grit clipped into Doug’s eye. He tried to lift his still-tied arm to his face and shouted out from the pain in his bicep.
CHAPTER 13
Jeffrey flew the gunship north, beyond Alice Springs, to the King’s Canyon area. There he found an isolated canyon with a flat, sandy floor and landed the gunship. The three stepped out into the afternoon shadows. The canyon walls continued to reflect the heat of the day. Stacy turned around and looked back at the ship.
“Are you kidding me?” she said.
“What?” Jeffrey said, looking the ship over for some kind of problem.
Stacy pointed at each wingtip hanging out over the scrub brush. “There’s barely two feet of clearance from the canyon walls for either wingtip. Why would you land here?” She turned and pointed down the canyon, “The canyon’s twice as wide right over there.”
“I suppose I just knew I could, so I did.”
Stacy laughed with an undertone of derision, shook her head, and turned and walked away from them.
“Stacy–” Leif started, but Jeffrey held up his hand.
“It’s okay, Leif,” Jeffrey said, and called after Stacy, “I didn’t mean anything by it. It wasn’t a risk. We’re fine.”
“Look,” Stacy said, as she turned and walked up to Jeffrey. For a moment he thought she might hit him. “I, for one, don’t need you flying like a high schooler in his sports car when I have nearly died twice in as many days.”
“Stacy, we’ve made it through so far, and we’re safe now—”
“I don’t feel safe. You may have this whole insane, warrior’s attitude, but I’m scared. I just about got shot in the face back there, and it was my own stupid fault. I can’t believe I let a guy with a gun just walk up to me like that. We totally misread them.” She kicked a rock, which flipped away in the dust.
Leif started to speak, but Stacy pointed at him and yelled, “You keep your mouth shut. I’m sick of you too, you know.” She turned on Jeffrey. “You may be eight feet tall, and,” she turned back to Leif, “you may think hangin’ with dad is fun, but I don’t want to hear any warrior-poet bullshit from either of you.”
“Stacy,” Jeffrey said, and waited. Stacy turned and glared at him.
“What?” she spit the word through her teeth.
“I’m sorry.”
Stacy scowled at him, waiting for more, and–when no more came–her eyes went softer. She turned and looked down the canyon and ran a hand through her hair.
Jeffrey said, “I have to remember to step out of my own skin once in awhile. After years of stuff much worse than this, it’s very easy to just jump in and run with it.” He sat down on the side of the ramp and looked up at her. “I have to admit that, as an old man closer than I care to be to the end of my life, this has been–in a strange way–fun. I forgot what it felt like to be on the edge. How it shouldn’t be exhilarating, but damn if it isn’t. I’ve had death on my tail so many times in my past that I feel like I really know when it’s close. I honestly haven’t felt we’ve been in an end-of-the-line situation yet. So, here I am feeling we’re running fine, and I’ve forgotten that you and Leif will respond to the situation differently. I need to consider that more carefully.”
Stacy looked back at him and then to Leif.
“What about you?” she asked. “Isn’t this freaking you out at all?”
Leif gave a nervous laugh. “Yeah, I’m trying not to think about it, but I have to admit that you looking down the barrel of that gun scared the hell out of me. I had no idea what to do.”
“You did pretty well. I thought it didn’t even faze you.”
“Are you kidding me? I’m lost here. You both have a lot more experience with this sort of thing.”
“I don’t have any experience with this,” Stacy said.
“Well, I suppose we’re doing okay,” Leif said. “Sure, people are trying to kill us, but no one has a clue where we are, and now we have full fuel tanks. We’ve had a few close scrapes, but we’re averaging out on the positive side.”
“All we have to do,” Stacy said, “is slip a little below average, and we’re dead.”
Jeffrey said, “I think we’ll make it through.”
“No you don’t,” Stacy said. “You have your doubts at least.”
Jeffrey nodded and then said, “I’ll do everything I can to get us there though. I’d rather die than let anything happen to you.”
“Yeah, right,” Stacy said.
“It’s true.”
“You just met me.” She crossed her arms. “I don’t see how you could feel that way about someone you just met. I can understand why you want revenge on the people who tried to kill you, but—”
“This isn’t about revenge, Stacy. It’s about avoiding grief. I’ve lost too many people in my life.” Jeffrey hesitated and then held up a finger. “I think I know how to get this across. You said you want to know about the Hammerheads, so I’ll tell you something about them, about one pilot I flew with.”
“What does that have to do with–”
“Trust me.”
Looking at Leif, he said, “I don’t think I’ve told you this one either.” He jammed his boot heel into the sand, trying to figure out where to begin. After a moment, he said, “While there are some other surviving members of the Hammerheads, I have the unpleasant distinction of being the only surviving member of the first group. From the start of the war we fought every day. As exhaustion set in, we made more and more mistakes, and more and more of us died. Within six months, over half were gone. The Marines had more men and women on their way to us, but it was a long process. The pilots had to be selected, modified, and trained.”
“When the second group of trainees arrived, we all thought they flew for crap. We felt doomed. These were the best pilots in the world and had been exposed to extensive gene therapy to improve hand-eye coordination, reaction time, and vascular stability for G-forces. They were physically ready for the challenge and had all the flight theory ever written jammed into their heads, but their instincts and attitude were terrible. On the first mission, two hot shots flew right into each other. The attack formation fell apart as debris scattered.”
“They were all arrogant, but it didn’t last. They walked onto the flight deck the first day like roosters, and came home with hollow eyes. I think we lost one in ten of the new pilots in the first week. I don’t remember if I was that arrogant when I started. Probably was. I definitely was bloodthirsty after what happened on Jupiter Station.”
“Well, after awhi
le, I started to realize they weren’t all crap; it was just the fools that stood out. The stupid and unlucky ones died off, and we were left with a hard-core group of amazing pilots. Evan Welch stood out in that group. He came from Canada somewhere: Moose Jaw, or Yellowknife, or some such place. You’d never have expected excellence from him. He was short, thin, and lanky. He had a big nose, and his eyes were always red, like he was sick. A lot of the pilots, including myself, thought he was slow in the head. Even the CO did. He set his call sign as Dopey. At first we couldn’t figure out how he got into the Hammerheads.”
“During flight briefings he would sit off to the side and look at the floor as if he wasn’t paying attention. If you made eye contact with him, he’d look away quick. He was so passive I personally expected him to die in the first dogfight.”
“But he didn’t die on the first day. On the second day he came home as well. During the briefing for the third day, the CO told us that Dopey had taken two enemy ships, one each on the first and second engagement. I didn’t believe it though. I thought maybe it was a mistake, or he had taken out a ship already damaged by another pilot.”
“That day the CO assigned him as my wingman. We were working the asteroid belt looking for enemy fighters. I was young, tired, and hot-headed. I told my CO that we should let the newbies kill each other, and that I didn’t want one covering me. I suppose it was pretty ugly of me to say right in front of Evan, but he didn’t react. He just walked past me to the hangar. My CO stared at me and pointed out to the hangar.”
“We left the carrier in a close, fingertip formation, and having him three feet off my wing made me nervous as hell. I felt as though, at any moment, he would run into me, shoot me, or something else just as stupid. As soon as I could, I ordered the group to slide out to route formation, and got my first hint that Evan was more than he let on. The other lead pilot gave me a verbal confirmation, and his rookie wingman had to say something cute. Typical idiot. From Evan all I got was two clicks on his radio. Nothing to say, just doing as he was told.”
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