Survivalist - 13 - Pursuit

by Ahern, Jerry

  John Rourke, surrounded on all sides by a growing ring of men —in their hands, yes, swords, she realized. The knot around John was closing in.

  She had the machine guns armed.

  She hit the switch for public address, speaking into her headset microphone, realizing they wouldn’t understand her, but John would. “John —this is Natalia — I’m coming in for you!”

  She fired the machine guns into the ground near the ring of men — if John wasn’t cutting them down, but for some reason was holding back, she would too —unless she had no choice.

  The crowd started to disperse, Natalia speaking into the microphone on PA again. “Be ready, John—Akiro should be here in three minutes or less.” She fired another burst from port and starboard guns, hovering, then turning the machine a full 180 degrees on its axis, starting to descend. She could see Rourke for only another moment through the German helicopter’s chin bubble, lost him, and then saw him again, to her left, firing another burst from his assault rifle into the ground as some of the more daring ones with swords began again to advance. She was too close to use her machine guns without risking cutting into the crowd. She flipped the cover back, punched the automatic door-opening button, the fuselage doors opening, Natalia hearing the alarm still, the voice—Icelandic?

  She was nearly down, glancing back and left — through the open port-side fuselage door she could see him, running toward the machine, slinging his M-16 — he jumped. She heard him shout. “Take her up!”

  She hit off PA, onto radio. “This is Natalia —come in Akiro — over.”

  “Akiro here, Natalia —over!”

  “Stand by —out!” And she pushed the radio headset away, shouting back, “John!”

  “Paul and Annie — they’re here somewhere — keep her low —over toward those buildings on your left,” he shouted back. “There’s a crowd on the steps there — and I heard gunfire from there before you showed up. Get Akiro down in here — have him position himself over that parkway.”

  “Right —hang on,” and she glanced back once — Rourke held to one of the seat straps with his right fist, his body below the doorframe —he would be standing balanced on the runner, she knew. She banked left, but an easy bank, starting away, the voice beneath them over the loudspeaker still blaring, the alarm still sounding. She shifted her headset into position, speaking into it. “Akiro —into the volcano — stick to the middle—take it slowly — there’s a large grassy strip …”

  There was static. Then Akiro’s voice. “Grassy strip in a volcano — please repeat, over.”

  “I say again —grass strip — affirmative on that — hover over it —keep things confused with the people below. They don’t appear to have firearms —but be careful anyway. Natalia out.”

  She could see the crowd packing the steps of the building far to her left now, the building gray with a darker gray peaked roof, ground-level entrances along the side visible to her, what appeared to be a main entrance at the height of some two dozen steps — a man and woman at the head of the steps. “That’s Paul, John —Annie’s with him.”

  “No strafing fire — might ricochet off the concrete of the steps —get in as close as you can and low —I’ll jump for it —we’ll fight our way out to you.”

  “Be careful!”

  She angled the machine downward, edging laterally now to starboard, no power lines visible, but the tree cover a potential hazard —the altimeter reading was dropping now, dropping—almost to ground level. “I’m

  jumping clear —now!”

  She looked back quickly once—John Rourke was jumping clear.

  She could see him in an instant through the chin bubble —he was running toward the steps, his rifle butt impacting a man’s face, John jumping to the massive stone-block bannisters flanking the steps, jumping to the next higher level, running, then onto the steps, his assault rifle firing into the air.

  Behind her, she could hear Akiro’s German helicopter coming into the volcano, and as she looked back, funnel clouds of steam were billowing downward in his wake.

  The crowd was edging back, John and Paul and Annie starting to descend the steps, John’s assault rifle in his left fist, his Python in his right, Annie with a pistol — perhaps Paul’s. But she was pulling back at him, Paul shaking her off.

  A voice —the mechanical-sounding voice was gone, some taped warning, she imagined. A new voice. A woman’s voice — gentle-sounding. The voice was in English. “Please do not fire. We are peaceful people and mean you no harm. Please do not fire!”

  Natalia on impulse hit the PA switch —if she could hear the voice of the woman over the loudspeaker, perhaps the woman could hear her. “Who are you? Why do you hold Annie Rourke prisoner?”

  After a moment the loudspeaker voice returned. “She was saved by one of our law enforcement officers when one of the helicopter machines was observed landing. Would you land?”

  Natalia looked at John beneath her, still descending the steps. She spoke into her microphone. “Who are you?

  “I am Sigrid Jokli, President of Lydveldid Island — the Republic of Iceland.”

  Natalia closed her eyes for an instant. Then into the microphone over the PA system, “Tell your people to back away, to return to their homes or wherever—then my leader can speak with you as we speak now.”

  There was a pause, then the woman’s voice again. “Very well” and the woman paused again, then spoke again, but in Icelandic. The crowds on the steps —they began edging right, those nearest the height of the steps with noticeable trepidation passing John and Paul and Annie, starting into the structure.

  Natalia switched back to radio. “Akiro —did you hear that? Natalia over.”

  “This is crazy, Natalia —what do I do? Over.”

  “If the crowd backs away, land, but keep your engines running, be ready for takeoff—you and Sarah and Michael and Madison, stay inside. I’m landing too. Keep your radio open —out.” She swung the helicopter a full 360 degrees —everywhere, the men and women were moving indoors, John and Paul and Annie alone now on the steps of the four-storied structure. John was waving her down —Natalia started to descend.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sarah had cut in on the radio —how was Annie? Natalia had confirmed Annie seemed well, then signed off and brought the machine fully down, taking her own advice, leaving the rotors turning as John, Paul, and Annie backed toward the helicopter, John and Paul still covering the building steps.

  The woman’s voice still echoed in Icelandic over the loudspeaker system, John approaching the machine now. Natalia moved to the open fuselage door, one of her revolvers in her right fist. She jumped down, ducking her head, her hair caught up in the draft from the rotors, her left hand pushing it back from her face.

  Annie — Natalia went to her, hugging the girl, Annie hugging her. “Are you all right?” Natalia asked loudly over the hum of the rotors.

  “Yes, I’m fine —these people — they’re good people, Natalia.”

  “Did you —when you stabbed Blackburn—?” “He didn’t-“

  “I know that—but the way you did it —I found myself thinking about what I did years ago once, when we were down in Argentina —we were taking this woman and her babies to safety and I started thinking about once when I was very young—”

  “You were with Vladmir, your husband, but he had

  you do something and you were captured —you let the man —well—let him think — “

  “Shh, child,” and Natalia embraced Annie close against her, Natalia’s body shivering: the girl’s mind — it frightened her.

  John Rourke’s voice on the PA system. “My name is John Rourke. The girl you had here is my daughter.”

  “You are welcome here in friendship,” the woman’s voice returned.

  “Madame President,” Rourke began again. “What the hell is going on here?”

  “Please keep your weapons if you feel more secure with them. I will dispatch three of our law enforcem
ent personnel to accompany you to my residence where all of your questions can be answered. None of you will come to harm.”

  Natalia felt John’s voice hesitate, then, “I’ll come alone. The rest of the people with me will remain with our helicopters.”

  “Please — bring your daughter.”

  Before Rourke could answer, Annie, Natalia still embracing her called, “Daddy—please?”

  John Rourke didn’t speak, Annie saying, “Please, Daddy-it’ll be all right.”

  John Rourke’s voice. “All right —but well both be armed. At the first sign of treachery, this time we will take lives.”

  Annie, Natalia releasing her, went to the fuselage, calling up to her father, “Tell them I want to go inside and change-please.”

  Natalia smiled, John Rourke’s eyes flashing through bewilderment into anger and then to amusement. “My daughter has asked to be allowed to change from her nightgown.”

  “The guards will make certain none of you come to harm. Yes —and then come to my residence.”

  Rourke spoke once more. “Agreed — we’ll wait here.” He threw down the microphone, jumping down from the fuselage and hugging his daughter to him, Annie’s arms circling tight around his neck.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Annie Rourke pulled the nightgown over her head and called from the bathroom to Natalia. “It’s beautiful here, isn’t it?”

  “Yes — like some Judeo-Christian Garden of Eden — it’s amazing.”

  When the guards had arrived, her father had sent Natalia in with her to guard the door while she changed. She hadn’t told him it was unnecessary — besides the fact that she thought he was sweet to be so protective, she welcomed the chance to talk with Natalia, as she always had. “We don’t have anything to be afraid of here.”

  She heard Natalia laugh. “Maybe that’s why your father is so skeptical …” and Natalia laughed again.

  Annie stepped into the panties —lace-trimmed, very delicate looking, loaned to her along with the rest of the clothing, her own clothes having been taken off by some of the women who had brought her these things, to be cleaned, she presumed. There was no bra —none of the women here wore them, having instead high, wide, waist-cinching belts over their dresses or skirts and blouses. She stepped into the ankle-length petticoat, tying it at her waist. She had found the small apartment she had been given to use quite modern — running water, electricity, shower, a comfortable bed,

  comfortable chairs, books —all in Icelandic. But the people themselves seemed to resist the modern in their personal habits from what little she had seen of them, from watching their style of dress, the simplicity of their smiles, their manner.

  The guard or policeman or whatever he was that Paul had hit on the side of the head had been stret-chered away by four men, the man still conscious, her father aiding one of the medics with a pressure bandage.

  She pulled the blouse over her head, adjusting the balloon sleeves, closing the tiny buttons at the cuffs. She settled the neckline, tying the low-cut neckline’s small blue ribbon bow. It was as if they had never heard of elastic. The fabrics — cotton and wool only. The blouse was cotton, the ankle-length full skirt into which she stepped wool, a bright blue, brighter seeming against the white of the blouse. It buttoned at the side, and as she worked the buttons she heard Natalia call to her from the bedroom, “How do you think these people survived here, Annie?”

  “Maybe they had the dome sealed — the dome of the volcano?” She finished buttoning the skirt, picked up the wide leather belt. It was real leather.

  “That’s possible, I suppose —but then why remove the dome?”

  “When the atmosphere got thicker …”

  “I don’t know.”

  Annie settled the belt, then laced it at the front across her abdomen, tying the lacings into a bow. Her hair —she liked the way the girls here braided theirs, then put it up, but there was no time to experiment. She used the brush —one of her own things from her coat pocket —and started to work her hair. “Why do you think it is that they carry swords instead of guns?” She continued brushing her hair, walking from the

  bathroom into the bedroom, Natalia perched on the edge of the bed.

  “You look pretty —Paul will go crazy over you,” Natalia laughed.

  Annie twirled once around, the skirt ballooning around her legs, laughed. “Yeah —he will, won’t he?”

  “I don’t know —guns seem alien to them —but they seem familiar with what guns are. Very strange!”

  “Hmm —Michael and Madison —are they all right?”

  Natalia nodded. “I wish I still smoked. No —when I signaled Akiro, I told Sarah to have Michael and Madison come with her. There’s nothing at the little base camp we established except the Russian helicopter Blackburn used. Sarah told me they emptied it of fuel once Akiro arrived, and the weapons systems equipment isn’t interchangeable. We can fire a missile into it as we leave. But Michael and Madison are fine. Your mother’s pregnant —at least she thinks she is. Women are supposed to be able to tell by something in the eyes, I always heard. Well, if it’s true, I see it in your mother’s eyes.”

  “Momma —a baby?”

  “I think, anyway. That’s hone of my business.” “I wish …”

  Natalia stood up, Annie pulling her own shawl across her shoulders, the one item of her clothing that hadn’t been taken off for cleaning or whatever. Natalia smiled. “I read some rhyme once —about if wishes were fishes. Well —I can’t remember the rest. Come on — you and your father have to meet Madame President.” Natalia started for the door.

  Annie whispered, “Wait. What will you do? I mean — if Momma is pregnant — then Daddy could — “

  “Could never —I know that. But I’ve known that all along. It was doomed from the start. When this is all over,” and Natalia smiled, but a sad smile, a lonely

  smile, “I mean, when we’ve finally defeated Vladmir’s forces —well. There should be plenty to do. I’m pretty good at electronics, with computers. I can find something useful to do …” “But I mean-“

  Natalia lowered her head, lowered her voice —Annie wanted to hold her, make Natalia’s hurt go away. Natalia said, “I was married once. I fell in love once. Not with the same man. When the man I married is finally dead, and the world and everyone in it is safe from his evil, then I’ll leave the man I fell in love with. That’s all,” and Natalia opened the door and passed through the doorway into the corridor. Annie Rourke shut off the bedroom light and followed her outside.

  Chapter Twenty

  John Rourke held his daughter’s right hand in his left. With the way she had been dressed when she reemerged from the building, to have given her a pistol belt would have been ludicrous, and for her to carry a gun in her hand would have been awkward. He had told her, “If there’s trouble, take my pistol belt and the Python and run for the nearest helicopter. Don’t worry about me because I’ll be right behind you.”

  “Okay,” she had smiled, and leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the lips lightly. He had watched her as she had kissed Paul —hard. John Rourke anticipated that once Annie and Paul got the opportunity, he would be well on his way toward potential grand-fatherhood for the second time.

  He was hardly in a position to insist on a church wedding —even if there had been a church. The concept of marriage being in the heart and mind rather than printed on a marriage certificate was something he had always believed in. In heart and mind, Paul and his daughter were already married, as were Michael and gentle little Madison.

  He had placed a hand on each of their shoulders — Paul’s and Annie’s — saying, “Hey guys—I love you both.”

  Paul had smiled, holding Annie tighter.

  Against Paul’s protests that she shouldn’t go, they

  had gone, Annie telling him not to worry and leaving it at that. As they walked now, the three green-clad, sword-carrying law enforcement officers ahead of them, Annie whispered, “You mean wha
t I think you meant?”

  “It depends on what you think I meant.”

  “I mean —the ‘hey guys’ part —you mean — “

  “I don’t know —you and Paul — “

  “Well—we want to —we were waiting for Commander Dodd to marry us.”

  “You’d be better off having nobody say words over you than having that asshole do it.”

  “All right. You know —I think Paul figures because I’m your daughter—”

  “I know that. Let him know he’ll still be my best friend even when he’s my son-in-law.”

  “This is crazy.”

  “What’s crazy? —I mean, in particular.” She laughed. “I mean —How old are you?” “Old enough,” he laughed.

  She let loose of his hand and hugged his left arm with both her arms, Rourke feeling himself smile. “Five hundred and—”

  “Ohh, shut up —but okay, you’re this side of forty. I’m gonna be twenty-eight in a couple of weeks.”

  “Try closer to a week and a half.”

  “And Momma?”

  “Closer to thirty than forty. Remember? I aged five years that she didn’t when I played games with the cryogenic chambers.”

  Annie cleared her throat, Rourke looking at her for an instant —she almost seemed to be blushing. They were walking along what literally was a garden path, behind the three guards. He hoped it wouldn’t prove the figurative garden path. “What do you want to ask me?”

  “Well —ahh —Natalia—she, ahh —she said she thought maybe Momma was — ” “Pregnant?” “Uh-huh.”

  “Too early to tell —as a physician. But as the man who did it, I’d say there’s a substantial possibility the assumption was correct.”

  “Ohh, wow.”

  “Hoping for a little baby brother or baby sister?”

  “Ohh, Daddy —I mean that’s great for you guys.”