Part 11 (2/2)

'It never rains but it b.l.o.o.d.y pours,' I whispered.

No one laughed.

I grabbed Jason and threw him to the ground as the soldiers opened fire.

The battle took place in eerie half-silence.

Bullets chopped the air over our heads. Soldiers leapt from the rocks, ran through the fog. Metal clinked. Boots smacked against the rocks. Every so often a soldier would be hit and would fall. One, wounded but not killed outright, lay rolling on the ground about twenty feet away. The sound of his groans, m.u.f.fled by the fog, became a constant backdrop to the action.

There were no other voices. No shouts. No orders.

A puff of dirt hit me in the face as a bullet hit the ground about three feet in front of me.

The bullet was followed by a set of boots.

Why didn't anyone shoot us?

I knew the answer to that one. We had no guns. And we were needed alive by both sides.

Something exploded nearby. Beside. me Jason flinched.

I wriggled to him and pressed his face against the ground. 'Shut up and keep still!'

Another explosion. A whole series, getting louder. Closer.

No. Not explosions.

Backfires.

An image of Sven waving from the c.o.c.kpit of his chopper as he sprayed me with sheeps.h.i.+t swam before my eyes.

Backfires.

I was on my feet in an instant, grabbing Jason, dragging him up, kicking the others, screaming. 'Get up. Get up! It's him! He's come for us! He's in the chopper! Come on, move it!'

We ran through fog, drenched in ruddy morning sunlight, bullets tugging at our hair and clothes.

The fog tore apart in front of us.

The chopper hovered a hundred yards away. Bullets whined, cracked against the rocks.

I could hear voices now, shouting orders.

The chopper moved closer, hugging the ground, blasting dust and grit into the air.

We ran.

The soldiers ran too.

Something tugged at my sleeve. I spun round. Schofield was falling. I grabbed him, pulled him upright, staggered on. Then we were at the chopper. Jason and Tanner were already aboard. I saw Jason waving from the hatch. Sven was beside him. And a tall figure that must have been Chris Cwej. I grinned at the big lunk. Boy, was he going to get a hug and a half!

A figure waved impatiently from the c.o.c.kpit. There he was, one hand holding his d.a.m.n hat on, the other on the joystick, a cheerful grin splitting his ageless face.

The Doctor.

He yelled something, waved me on.

I shoved Schofield up towards the hatch. Chris grabbed him and straight-armed him off the ground. That boy could have been born a crane.

A bullet whined off the fuselage, scattering sparks into the wind. I had one hand on the undercarriage ready to haul myself aboard when I remembered Dilaver.

I let go.

Chris yelled something I couldn't hear.

I screamed, 'He came back for me! The kid came back for me and I'm not going to leave him behind now!'

Chris was still yelling but the wind and the thudding of bullets against the airframe made nonsense of his words. Then I was running back the way I had come.

Back across the battlefield to get Dilaver.

They caught me of course. I had one arm around the boy and was lifting him when I felt a gun press against the back of my neck.

The gun kept pus.h.i.+ng until I was forced to kneel.

I knelt, cradling Dilaver against me as the fog blew away. The firefight had stopped now. The ground was littered with soldiers.

Fifty feet away a soldier was groaning as he rolled on the ground. I heard a shot. The groans stopped.

I didn't turn.

I knew who had me at gunpoint. Dilaver's description was more than adequate.

Samran.

I wondered if the others had got away. That question was answered as the sound of a chopper engine shattered the morning air. I looked up, s.h.i.+elding my eyes as grit blasted around me. I saw him in the c.o.c.kpit. Hat still precisely placed, eyes narrowed. The chopper was almost close enough to touch.

I felt the gun press into my neck.

I saw his eyes widen as he saw me. Saw the man with the gun at my head.

The chopper banked left, began to circle. I felt myself pulled around to face it. The chopper stopped.

So did I.

As a standoff it was a cla.s.sic. Me on my knees with an injured boy in my arms and Samran's gun at my head, the Doctor in the chopper, weapons pods facing us at point-blank range. James Cameron eat your heart out.

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