Part 40 (1/2)

It was an extreme long shot, with probably less than a one in a hundred chance of survival, but that was still better than their odds of staying where they were. Even if her arms managed to remain firmly in their sockets, something that was looking less and less likely by each pa.s.sing second, that helicopter would rip them apart the moment it started shooting again. She didn't know why it hadn't done so already.

There really was only one choice open to them.

Mind made up, Annja looked down at Davenport and found him looking up at her, the fear etched across his face.

”Brace yourself!” she cried.

Annja reached into the otherwhere with her free hand and drew her sword. Davenport's eyes widened at the sight of it, then they got even bigger as she swung the weapon toward the guide rope on her right.

The rope parted with an audible snap.

Davenport opened his mouth to say something, but whatever it was was lost in the roar of the oncoming chopper and the howl of the wind in her ears. Twisting the other way, Annja lashed out with the sword a second time.

The blade cut through the other guide rope, sending them and the short section of bridge they were attached to plunging toward the roaring river far below.

R ANSOM WATCHED IN ANSOM WATCHED IN satisfaction as Davenport and Creed dropped into the chasm, their forms quickly disappearing in from view in the mist and spray from the river far below. He would have preferred to blow them all to h.e.l.l himself, but he'd settle for this if he had to. Besides, the idea that they were likely conscious for the entire fall only added to his glee at their demise. satisfaction as Davenport and Creed dropped into the chasm, their forms quickly disappearing in from view in the mist and spray from the river far below. He would have preferred to blow them all to h.e.l.l himself, but he'd settle for this if he had to. Besides, the idea that they were likely conscious for the entire fall only added to his glee at their demise.

He looked up, intending to share his congratulations with Santiago, and froze.

Behind his second in command was a window, and through it he could see one of the Mongol warriors rus.h.i.+ng out of the woods with something long and slender in his hands. As Ransom watched, the warrior knelt and pointed the tube directly at the helicopter.

For just a moment their eyes locked.

Then the warrior pulled the trigger and the Soviet-produced rocket-propelled grenade, an RPG-7, sent a high-explosive ant.i.tank warhead, commonly known as a HEAT round, spiraling up toward them.

Ransom didn't even have time to shout a warning.

The warhead struck just as the c.o.c.kpit proximity alarms began blaring, tearing through the tail boom, severing the tail rotor and sending it spinning off into the chasm below.

Without the tail rotor to keep the aircraft flying straight, it began to rotate around itself, the main rotors spinning it about like a child's toy top gone suddenly, drastically, out of control.

Inside the chopper both Ransom and Santiago braced themselves with hands and feet against the nearest solid surfaces as the pilot sought frantically to get control of his aircraft, something that just wasn't going to happen with a gaping hole where the tail rotor used to be.

The sky whipped past once, twice, three times, and then Ransom had an excellent view of the forest coming up quickly outside the same window he'd looked through before.

With a thunderous crash, the helicopter slammed into the treetops, skittered along for several hundred yards as its main rotor slashed everything before it and then plowed into the ground with all the force of a missile.

R ANSOM REGAINED ANSOM REGAINED consciousness slowly. One eye was crusted shut with what he thought might be dried blood, but the other one worked just fine, and in the dim light he could see that he was hanging upside down from his harness in what was left of the helicopter. His chest hurt where the straps had yanked themselves tight on impact, and his left arm felt like the Jolly Green Giant had been playing tug-of-war with it, but other than some minor cuts and bruises, he was intact, as near as he could tell. He had blood in his hair and on his s.h.i.+rt, but he didn't know if it was his own or someone else's. consciousness slowly. One eye was crusted shut with what he thought might be dried blood, but the other one worked just fine, and in the dim light he could see that he was hanging upside down from his harness in what was left of the helicopter. His chest hurt where the straps had yanked themselves tight on impact, and his left arm felt like the Jolly Green Giant had been playing tug-of-war with it, but other than some minor cuts and bruises, he was intact, as near as he could tell. He had blood in his hair and on his s.h.i.+rt, but he didn't know if it was his own or someone else's.

There seemed to be only one way to find out.

With a shaking hand, he reached across his chest and tripped the harness release mechanism.

Ransom fell onto what had once been the interior ceiling of the aircraft with a thud and a flash of pain. He lay still for a moment, catching his breath, but then pulled himself to his knees. From that position he was able to look around the c.o.c.kpit.

The windscreen was gone, torn away by the shards of one of the rotors. So, too, was the pilot's head, though his body was still strapped in place, his hands on the controls.

Santiago seemed to have fared better. Ransom couldn't see all of him but what he could see didn't appear to have any major bodily damage, nor was he leaking a pool of blood onto the floor.

The wreck was filled with acrid-smelling smoke and the stink of aviation fuel, so Ransom decided it was best to get out of it as soon as possible.