Summer kneeled in the tight aisle space of the airstream jet in front of Joanna. She had been roughly thrown into one of the seats, and now she slumped low. After digging through the first aid box in the storage compartment by the cockpit, Summer found what she needed to at least help stop the bleeding and keep Joanna alive. For how long, she did not know.
She bit the corner of a bandage wrapper and ripped it open. She’d already torn a wider hole in Joanna’s dress, shoved the wound full of gauze, and now slapped the bandage over it. Joanna groaned, and Summer said, “Oh come on! You’ve had worse! Sit forward so I can wrap you up.”
She unfurled a huge wad of bandage wrap she planned on using to wrap around Joanna’s midriff to prevent the bandages from coming loose.
The small JANET plane they boarded was bouncing along a rough airstrip. The PC standing over her couldn’t stop his rifle barrel from jumping all over the place as he tried to keep the gun on her.
The other PC was piloting the plane. Donald was throwing supplies all over the place, digging through all the gear at the front of the plane. When Summer glanced over in his direction, she saw him brandishing a large orange flair gun. In his other hand was a box of flair cartridges.
The plane’s exit door and stairs were still deployed, letting dusty desert air billow inside the cockpit. “Are you going to close that?” shouted Summer, spitting as small bits of dust and sand flew into her face from outside.
Loading a large cartridge into the flare gun, Donald howled to the sky and said, “No can do! You better buckle up back there! We’re in for quite a ride out of here!”
“Are you crazy!” she yelled back.
“Hell yeah! I was born that way!” he yelled, pulling the hammer back on his flare gun. “Don’t worry so much, Agent Summer!”
Summer felt Joanna squeeze her hand. Looking around again, she saw Joanna blinking slowly and looking around as if confused as to where she was. “Try to stay awake!” said Summer. “Can you hear me?”
Joanna looked at her with unfocused eyes and said, “What are you doing here?”
“Donald said I have to keep you alive.”
“The Colonel will shoot us down,” said Joanna.
Summer looked back at Donald, now barking orders at the pilot, the flare gun shoved into his belt. She said, “I know! But Donald think’s he has a way to avoid that!”
Joanna began to laugh. She grimaced in pain but couldn’t stop chuckling. “This should be a fun flight,” she said.
Summer couldn’t help laughing too, watching as Joanna continued chuckling through the pain as she slipped down on her side onto the second seat. “Let’s get you buckled up,” said Summer. “At least we’ll have a front row seat to see Donald blow himself up.”
Joanna laughed even harder, and Summer helped her sit up straight so she could put a buckle around her waist. Then Joanna said, “You just had to follow me here, didn’t you?”
“I was right, wasn’t I?” she said.
Joanna grinned. “Gold star, Summer. Gold star. I have to hand it to you.”
“You didn’t think I had it in me to stop you?”
“I always knew you had it in you,” she said. “But if we get out of this, promise to leave me alone?”
“If we get out of this, I promise I’ll help on your next job.”
They both laughed and Joanna said, “I’ll hold you to that.”
The wind was roaring through the cabin now. It was so powerful, Summer could barely stop herself from being thrown backward down the aisle to the back of the plane. Her hair was whipping all around her face as the plane gained speed, and then she felt the nose rise and the shudder of the wheels below disappeared. They were in the air.
✦✦✦
Booker stamped on the accelerator and the jeep’s engine roared as he turned down the main airstrip. The plane had not yet started to gain serious speed, but he only had moments. The jeep’s engine was weak, but he watched the accelerator climb.
50 mph. 70 mph. 75 mph.
The whining noise of the turbine engines grew louder now as the plane increased its speed, preparing for takeoff. But Booker was still gaining. His momentum wouldn’t last though.
He was level with the tail.
90 mph. 95 mph. 98 mph.
He was level with the stairs still unfolded from the passenger door.
100 mph.
The jeep’s engine screamed almost as loud as the plane’s turbines. If he got in front of the plane, the pilot would be forced to stop. He was level with the front landing gear. Just a little bit farther.
But the plane was pulling away now. It was pulling away fast! He had seconds to make a decision. He could ram the plane. But he would surely be killed. Would that save Joanna and Summer? Would that stop the plane?
He was level with the descended stairs again.
105 mph.
Without thinking, Booker grabbed the top of the windshield, pulled himself out of the driver’s seat and prepared to jump. The plane nosed up, taking to the sky. The bottom step was rushing up toward him. Booker jumped.
For a horrifying second, he thought he wouldn’t make it. But his arm was just able to loop around the bottom of the hand railing. He felt an almighty yank as the plane shot upward and the runway fell away below.
Booker saw the jeep veering underneath the path of the jet, flip onto its side and tumble over and over on the runway, bits and pieces of metal shooting off in every direction. But as the lights along the fuselage of the plane rose higher, the runway was cast into darker shadow, completely swallowing the runway and the jeep in darkness. Fingers closed around the hand railing, he felt another almighty yank as the plane shot upward and his feet dangled.
Booker’s arms burned with the effort to hold on. The wind roared in his ears and dried out his eyes. He had no strength to pull himself up and he could barely even breathe because of the incredible wind.
Looking down, he could see the lights of Laketown far below. How could it be so far already? Then he saw a flash of fire from the shadows on the outskirts of Laketown. The flash was followed by a snaking trail of smoke, heading right toward him.
It was a surface to air missile.
✦✦✦
Donald stood in the doorway of the cockpit, repeating the instructions to the pilot. “Veer left, understand? Hard left! Harder than you think the plane can handle! We’re going for a ride!”
“Yes, sir!” said the pilot, giving him the thumbs up.
Suddenly, an alarm went off in the cockpit, followed by blinking red lights. Donald slapped the pilot’s shoulder and shouted, “You ready, boy?”
Turning, he pulled the flare gun out of his belt and grabbed hold of a firm handle before stepping closer to the open passenger door and peering out into the darkness. It only took him a moment to locate the trail of smoke and the incoming missile. Leaning out the door, wind blasting the back of his head, he took aim.
“Hold!” he shouted. His eyes were locked on the missile coming around on their tail. “Hold!” His finger itched at the trigger. “Now!”
He fired, and the brilliant red flare shot straight up into the sky right as the plane veered hard down and left. Donald pulled himself back inside, pressed flat against the side of the fuselage. It was as if gravity disappeared - the plane was heaving down fast, and Donald’s feet lifted off the ground.
Somewhere high above them, an explosion flashed. The entire plane shuddered, and white and orange lights flashed through every window as fire erupted above them.
✦✦✦
When Booker saw Donald leaning out of the passenger door, gun in hand, his first thought was that this was really the end. He could let go and fall to the Earth, or he could let Donald kill him. But Donald aimed high and fired a blinding red flair over the top of the airplane.
Then the world seemed to flip upside down. A moment before, all Booker could do was hold on. Now, his feet flew high over his head, he felt weightless. The plane seemed to drift away from him. He was so surprised, he almost lost his grip on the railing. He grabbed hold of the arm rail with his fingertips just as the plane seemed to straighten out. But he was still falling. The side of the plane was rushing up to meet him.
Somewhere in the sky above, an explosion ripped through the air. Heat and light emanated in every direction as Booker’s shoulder slammed into the middle of the descended stairs. He didn’t have the strength to hold on any longer. His momentum caused him to tumbler over the steps. Head over heels, he fell through the open passenger door and into the airplane.
✦✦✦
Summer’s fingers had a vice grip on the seat in front of her. She sat in the seat across the aisle from Joanna. She saw a streak of red light shoot past her window when Donald fired the flare and then they all went weightless as the plane veered left and down. Across the aisle, Joanna looked like a rag doll in her seat. Her head lolled to one side and her arms and legs drifted upward aimlessly.
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Then something incredible happened. As the plane righted itself, something tumbled through the open door beside Donald. It was a person. And not just any person! It was Booker Dunn. He slammed into the opposite wall of the fuselage and sat up in front of the first row of seats.
Booker and Donald locked eyes, Donald’s eyes wide and jaw open. Then the alarms started blaring again and the plane nosed up sharply. Booker tumbled backward and was now sliding down the center aisle and Donald frantically loaded the flare gun again.
The armed PC sitting right behind Summer, unbuckled and pointed his rifle right at Booker. His barrel rested on the top of Summer’s chair. She grabbed the barrel and shoved it upward just in time. The bullet ripped through the ceiling, plastic shrapnel hitting them both in the face.
Another red flash of light as Donald fired a second flare, and then they were falling again. Both Booker and the PC behind Summer shot upward and slammed into the ceiling. The PC’s rifle went flying out of his hand and tumbled toward the front of the aircraft as the two fell back to the center aisle.
Donald was pulling his pistol out of his belt and aiming right at Booker. The PC was getting to his feet and rushing to get his rifle. Summer unbuckled and jumped to her feet as well, drawing back her fist. She punched the PC hard across the jaw just as he tried to rush by, and he fell back to the ground.
✦✦✦
After hitting his head on the ceiling of the airplane, Booker fell hard into the center aisle again. When he looked up, he saw Donald struggling to take his pistol out of his belt as the plane leveled off again. Booker had no choice. He rushed forward as Donald was finally able to rip the pistol out and take aim.
Booker tackled him and both fell hard onto the ground in front of the cockpit door. Booker got to his knees quickly and threw a punch down at Donald’s face, but Donald slipped out of the way. Donald’s legs and arms twisted and pulled around Booker, and before he knew it, Booker was slammed back on the ground. Donald was back on top. But Donald stood up shakingly, grabbing his pistol from the floor before towering over him.
Grinning, and wiping a small amount of blood from the corner of his mouth, Donald said, “Not bad, kid! But this is as far as you go!”
He fired, right as someone slammed into him from behind. It was Carol Summer. She had rushed him from the center aisle and tackled him to the floor. The alarms started blaring and red lights flashed once more.
Donald and Summer were both laying on top of Booker and all three looked up into the cockpit and the turbine engines whined and the plane seemed to be slowly going down. They all saw what had happened instantly.
Blood spattered the cockpit window, and the pilot slumped over the controls. Donald had shot the pilot as he fell. Warning lights indicating an incoming missile flashed repeatedly in time with the blaring alarm.
Booker scrambled to his feet and jumped into the cockpit. He grabbed handfuls of the pilot’s shirt and was able to pull him out of the seat and toss him aside. Plopping down into the chair and wrestling with the controls with both hands, pulling back. The plane nosed up quickly, alarms blaring! He pushed forward and to his amazement, the plane began to level off.
✦✦✦
When Summer tackled Donald to the ground, she saw the flare gun tumble out of his hand and backward down the center aisle. All three lying on the ground, a missile incoming, she knew they needed to act fast. She jumped to her feet, sprinting to retrieve the flare gun.
The plane was nosing down, so it quickly felt like she was somehow falling uphill. The flare gun was lodged under a seat just feet away from her. She lunged for it! But the plane was now nosing straight up! Someone must have reached the controls. Her fingers closed around the flare gun, just as she began sliding down the center aisle toward the back of the plane.
✦✦✦
Donald was the last to get to his feet. He pulled a flare cartridge out of his pocket, but he didn’t see the flare gun anywhere. But his pistol was beside him. He lunged for it as the plane nosed back upward. Grabbing hold of a handle on the wall, he was able to prevent himself from sliding down the center aisle, but without the flare gun, they were done for.
The plane leveled off. The kid must have figured that much out. Alarms blared. The pistol in one hand. The flare cartridge in the other. Agent Summer was halfway down the center aisle of the plane, wrestling with the second PC, the flare gun in her hand.
Without thinking, Donald took aim and fired. The bullet caught the PC square in the chest and he fell backward. Summer stumbled but was able to right herself. When she turned, he stuck out his hand. “The flare gun!”
She chucked it at him. It was spinning through the air, and he was forced to drop the pistol so he could catch it. He opened it with shaking fingers, pressed the cartridge into the barrel, slammed it closed, and took aim. The missile was right on them. There was no time! He fired and yelled, “Hard right!!”
✦✦✦
Booker heard Donald yell, “Hard right!”
Not sure what exactly would happen, Booker pressed down on the controls and to the right. The whole plane seemed to shudder. The walls creaked and groaned under the stress, and he felt himself floating up and out of the pilot’s seat. He leveled off again with difficulty, slamming back down into the chair as an explosion ripped through the air somewhere close, causing the plane to shake even more violently.
As the flashing lights reigned from every direction, he felt as if they dropped several hundred feet. Smoke began to fill the cockpit and the instruments in front of him began to light up with all kinds of warning lights and failure signs.
✦✦✦
This explosion was too close. The entire plane shook violently and seemed to drop. Summer fell to the floor and saw Donald’s gun just a few feet away. Glancing up, she saw that Donald had just caught sight of it as well. Summer sprung forward. So did Donald. They collided with the gun on the floor between them. Then the plane began to roll.
Still grappling with Donald, they were both tossed to one side of the plane. As they rolled upside down, she and Donald were now rolling over the ceiling then down the other side of the wall and finally broke apart when they crashed into the opposite row of seats. The plane had righted itself, but they were losing altitude fast.
Summer cast her eyes around for the gun, but before she could even find her footing, Donald grabbed her. She kicked and twisted, but he pulled a knife from his belt and pressed it against her neck.
Then Summer saw Joanna. She was standing in the aisle a few feet away. Pale. Tired. Shaking. But she held Donald’s gun in her hand. Donald was using Summer as a shield.
“You have got to be kidding me!” said Summer.
“Hand it over!” shouted Donald.
“Are you crazy? She’ll just shoot both of us!” said Summer, eyes locked with Joanna.
Joanna might look weak, but she still managed a slight smirk.
Donald said, “You wouldn’t do that, would you, Love? The two of you girls are friends, aren’t ya? Hand over the gun!”
The sound of whining engines roared, and another incoming missile alarm rang through the cabin.
“Are we just going to stand here?” yelled Summer.
“I’ve got one flare left!” shouted Donald. “Give me the gun, and I’ll make sure we last through one more missile strike at least! Hand it over!”
Summer looked to her right, out one of the porthole windows and could see the smoke trail of the missile coming toward them. Her heart pounded in her ears. Then her stomach seemed to drop as the plane dove straight down. She, Donald, and Joanna were all thrust upward into the air. Donald’s head cracked into the ceiling and Summer was able to break free. She pushed herself away from him and heard the pop of a gunshot.
They all crashed to the floor again. Donald, blood now soaking his chest, stared blankly at the ceiling and moved no more.
Boom!
Fire erupted behind them toward the tail end of the aircraft. They were hit!
But there was no hole in the side of the plane, and they seemed to be moving still. Summer jumped to her feet and looked out the porthole window to the back of the plane. One of their engines was on fire.
Summer glanced at Joanna on the floor and then ran for the cockpit. Wind whipping all around, smoke billowing, and alarms blaring, Summer jumped into the co-pilot seat and switched the controls over to herself.
“I’ve lost everything!” yelled Booker from beside her.
“Just hang on!” said Summer.
✦✦✦
Booker watched as Summer grabbed a pair of headphones from beside her seat and started yelling into the microphone for help. She seemed to know her way around the controls, and the plane veered right, turning hard in a huge circle. They were heading back to Groom Lake. Through the blood-spattered windshield, Booker could see the lights of Laketown and the Groom Lake airstrip coming into view.
When the plane leveled off again, Summer grabbed his arm and said, “Go make sure Joanna is buckled in! This is going to be a rough landing!” Booker jumped out of his seat and ran down the center aisle, hopping over the dead pilot in the cockpit doorway and then Donald, who lay beside the open passenger door.
Joanna was sitting on the floor, leaning against one of the seats. As Booker approached her, the plane lurched downward and he stumbled to his knees. He had to crawl down the aisle to reach her. Her eyes were half closed, and she looked sleepy and a bit loopy. She grinned when he reached her. “Can you stand?” he said.
She just chuckled and Booker grabbed her around the waist and hoisted her up into the seat. She yelled in pain as he moved her. It seemed to have woken her up a little, because she started doing up her seatbelt on her own when he let her go. As she pulled the seatbelt tight across her lap, she looked up and her eyes immediately went wide with surprise. “Booker, look out!” she yelled.
But before the words had even fully left her lips, someone grabbed him from behind, putting him into a headlock. Booker struggled, pulling and scratching at the arm locked around his throat. It was Donald! He was still alive!
Behind him, Donald said, “You think I’d go down that easy? You're dead now, boy!”
Booker couldn’t breathe. He felt like his eyes were popping out of his skull. Vision going dark, he looked outside one of the porthole windows and saw the runway rushing up to meet them at incredible speed. They were about to crash. He reached out and grabbed one of the oxygen masks dangling above the nearest row of seats. Letting go of Donald’s arm let him redouble his grip. Booker’s throat felt like it would snap any moment. Reaching back, the oxygen tube in hand, he wrapped the plastic cord once around Donald’s head.
The plane smashed into the runway and the floor seemed to get pulled out from under them. Both Booker and Donald were thrown head over heels down the aisle toward the front of the plane as it lost speed and grinded down the runway.
But Donald’s grip failed, and Booker tumbled away from him. He felt his shoulder smash into the back of a seat, then he banged against the floor and rolled all the way to the cockpit door. The plane was vibrating so hard, Booker felt as if his bones would shatter. Sparks and flames were shooting up in all directions outside the windows. The open passenger door let in blasts of heat and dust and sparks, forcing Booker to cover his face.
But everything was grinding to a halt. The sparks and the wind were getting weaker. The vibrating ceased. The plane had stopped moving.
Flames outside only grew stronger now. As Booker dusted soot and dirt from his face and arms, he heard the rushing roar of the fire sweeping over the body of the plane. Summer was clambering out of the cockpit behind him.
“We need to get out of here! Can you walk?” she yelled. She grabbed him by the jacket and hoisted him up. But when she pulled him to the door to exit, he resisted.
“Joanna is still back there!” he shouted.
The cabin was filling with gray and black smoke. They could barely see anything now. Summer said, “I swear to God, this woman better not be the death of me! Not after all this!”
Together they raced down the center aisle and found Donald, hanging limply from one of the oxygen masks tied around his throat. It looked like the force of the crash had snapped his neck. A few more seats down and they found Joanna coughing weakly in her seat, fumbling with the seat belt. Summer unclipped the belt and together they hoisted her out of the seat.
Joanna was completely deadweight between them as they struggled down the aisle for the door. Booker’s eyes watered and burned. Every lung full of hot, smokey air seared his throat and caused him to cough painfully. He couldn’t tell if his vision was darkening from the smoke or because he was suffocating. All he could focus on was the flickering firelight outside the open passenger door. Just a few more steps.
He tumbled six feet straight down to the tarmac below. The stairs must have fallen away in the crash. But the air was clearer now, and he took a huge breath as he pushed himself off the ground and looked up at the passenger door again. Summer was lowering Joanna down and Booker caught her and fell back to the ground under her weight again.
Then Summer jumped free. Of the three of them, Summer seemed to have the most senses, and was able to land on her feet. She helped Booker up once more and together they dragged Joanna free from the burning wreckage of the plane. Once they were a hundred feet away, they collapsed on the tarmac, coughing and wheezing, trying to catch their breath. The plane was completely engulfed in licking flames; a beacon of heat and light in the center of a completely flat, dried-up lakebed. Looking around the dark desert to get his bearings, Booker figured they must have ended up somewhere in the middle of the runway that cut through Groom Lake. The night sky dotted with stars, the empty salt flats all around, and the horizon on all sides had the faint outlines of the mountain peaks that surrounded them.
The flashing lights of vehicles were rushing toward them from the Laketown side of the runway. They had just a minute or two before the vehicles reached them. Booker lay on his back and looked up at the stars, breathing hard. He felt so incredibly tired all of a sudden. To his right, Summer was on her back, gazing upward as well, breathing hard.
“Nice landing,” he said, his voice hoarse after inhaling so much smoke.
“What happened to Donald?” she said, her voice even more cracked than his.
“You don’t want to know,” said Booker. Then he looked to his left. Joanna lay motionless, her eyes closed, skin pale. He sat up and shook her slightly. “Hey! Wake up! Can you hear me? Joanna?”
Her eyes fluttered and she slowly focused on him, and grinned.
“Help is coming!” said Booker. “You’re going to be okay! Just stay awake!”
Her lips moved weakly, and Booker had to lean close to hear her. “Thanks for saving me, Wonderboy.”