He glimpses the hook within the smoke, follows it, grabs at it — misses. It’s so close. It swings in front of him again. He reaches out — snags it. He turns to the bomb.
Where the hell is it?
It was just here, but he can’t see anything through this damn smoke—
There it is. It looms through the fog like an iceberg on Titanic’s maiden voyage. It’s close, just two metres away. He tugs the rope towards it—
Twang. It pulls tight, won’t reach.
It’s ten centimetres short.
Ten centimetres!
Judd yanks on it again. ‘Come on!’
Twang. It won’t reach. The Loach has drifted and it’s too far away. He pulls on it with all his might, leans into it, strains, uses every ounce of energy. ‘Come on, you mutha!’
He drags the chopper across the sky—
Clank. The hook attaches to the bomb’s latticework.
‘Yes!’ He pulls on the rope once, like he’s plucking a gigantic guitar string.
Corey feels the vibration shake the little chopper. Then a second. Then a third. That’s the signal. ‘Time to go.’
He powers up.
Judd hears the chopper’s turbine spool, can feel the rope tighten in his hand. It’s actually happening. He’d smile if he didn’t think it would somehow tempt fate and jinx everything.
Screw it.
He smiles. For just a moment—
A high-pitched whistling sound cuts the soundscape, instantly grows to an ear-splitting crescendo. It comes from his right. He turns to it.
A Boeing 737 punches through the purple haze and drops towards the walkway — right where Judd stands and the Loach hovers.
‘Oh, damn.’
Rhonda.
He completely forgot about Rhonda — and her jet.
He guesses it’s a kilometre away but who can tell through all this damn smoke? However far away it is, it will land on him in a matter of seconds.
He wishes he hadn’t smiled.
46
Corey can’t hear anything over the throb of the Loach’s rotors, but he sees a flash of movement in the chopper’s side-view mirror. He looks closer. ‘What is that — oh, jeez!’
A 737 drops out of the sky straight towards the Loach, its wake turbulence swatting the smoke haze into a series of gigantic swirling vortices. It appears to be missing an engine.
This is not good. Descending will not work. The jet will just land on top of the Loach. He needs to go up. Fast. Corey gives the little yellow chopper full bananas. The turbine screams and the rotors throb — and the Loach does not rise an inch.
Judd watches the 737 approach. He knows it cannot change course or fly around because its engines aren’t operational and there’s nowhere else to land.
Corey must know the jet is coming because the Loach’s turbine screams and its rotors roar — but nothing is happening. The bomb is so heavy and it’s jammed into the grass so deeply that it will not move. No wonder they used an Air-Crane to ferry the damn thing around.
Judd wrenches the rope from side to side, lays a foot on the bomb and rocks it back and forth, tries to work it free.
It does not move.
Corey eyes the approaching jet as it grows large in his side-view mirror. Jeez, it’s close. ‘You-can-do-it-baby!’ The bomb is either extremely heavy, or stuck, or both—
He feels the rope sway the chopper from left to right. Judd must be trying to work it free. Corey joins in, sharply jolts the chopper from side to side, hopes it might help pull it free.
Yes! Good one, Corey! Judd frantically yanks the rope side to side in time with the Loach as he rocks the weapon back and forth with his right foot—
Pop. It slides out of the dirt and rises. Judd holds the rope, keeps his foot on the weapon and takes the ride. He turns and checks the 737’s position.
Christ!
It’s shockingly close, less than a football field away and dropping straight towards him. He’s rising directly into the path of the jet.
The little chopper climbs, but it’s slow.
Too slow.
‘Come-on-baby-baby-please!’ Corey’s eyes flick to the side-view mirror.
The airliner is right there!
The 737 sweeps past and Judd’s eyes momentarily find the cockpit.
Time slows.
He looks inside and sees Rhonda at the controls, mouth frozen in a stunned ‘O’ shape as her eyes move from her boyfriend to what-the-hell-is-he-standing-on-it-sure-as-hell-looks-like-a-weapon-of-mass-destruction!
Beside her Severson has the same ‘O’ expression going on, but he’s waving, which leads Judd to believe Rhonda’s the one doing the flying — definitely the correct choice. He wonders if Severson told her about the bomb or if this is the first she’s hearing about it.
Time speeds up.
The wing slices under the weapon with about half a metre to spare, but the tailfin is a different matter. The wake turbulence sends the bomb, and Judd, straight into it. It hits flush on and sets the giant weapon spinning wildly. Judd holds on to the rope for dear life as he whips around and around and around.
The 737’s rear landing gear slaps the centre of the walkway then its front wheels touch down.
‘Flaps up! Brakes on full!’ Rhonda works the controls. She’s really pissed. ‘Why didn’t you tell me there was a bomb?’
‘Because I wanted you to stay focused on this!’ He points at the end of the walkway. Through the haze they can see the grassy parkland and the stand of trees beyond. It’s close.
Rhonda grits her teeth. ‘Hold on!’
Severson grips the edge of the copilot’s seat. ‘I’m holding!’
The jet spears off the end of the walkway.
The wheels touch the grass and instantly dig into the moist surface.
Crack. They snap off and the jet belly flops onto the ground and skids. They no longer have control of the aircraft.
The fuselage convulses as Severson unhappily takes in the fast approaching trees. ‘We’re heading straight to the scene of the accident.’
Rhonda knows it. ‘We need reverse thrust. I’m going to restart the engine.’
‘What?’
‘You wanted improvising, well, this is improvising!’
‘It’ll explode.’
‘Which will also happen when we hit those trees.’ She pushes the throttle lever for the starboard side jet full forward, hears the engine run up behind her, then triggers the thrust reversers.
With a jolt the aircraft instantly decelerates and Rhonda is hopeful. She lets the engine run and run, then she hears that terrible sound, like gravel inside a cement mixer, and pulls the throttle lever back to shut it down—
Too late.
The engine detonates.
Ka-boom. The explosion is massive. The jet violently twists and metal rips and the world turns over. For a moment Rhonda’s vertical, then she’s on the cockpit’s roof with a terrified Severson right beside her—
The bad news is that the explosion rolled the jet and now it slides along the parkway upside down. The really bad news is that she hears metal tear again—
Riiip. Rhonda is flung sideways and suddenly grass rushes past her face. She looks up and sees the rear half of the jet’s fuselage slide away to the left as the cockpit arcs to the right.