Ethan struggled against Jake’s foot, fighting for breath. ‘It’s not my fault Sam threw you off the team,’ he panted. ‘It’s not anyone’s fault but yours.’
Jake raised the plank, menace in his eyes. ‘Want some more of this, do you?’ But before he could bring it down, Ethan saw his chance and went for it. Grabbing Jake’s foot, he twisted hard, turning with it as he went. Jake went down, the plank and the cigarette spinning off into the dark.
Ethan saw Mr Blond watching – though luckily still too dazed to do much. Mr Black wheeled round to see what was going on – and that was enough to allow Johnny to clamber to his feet. Now the man was torn between helping Jake and stopping Johnny.
As Jake struggled up onto his knees, Ethan leaped to his feet and smashed in with a kick, hard and fast, aiming for Jake’s stomach. Jake squealed and toppled backwards, coughing in pain. Ethan didn’t give him a chance to recover. As he tried to get up, Ethan kicked him back down. Jake wasn’t really fighting any more, but Ethan was beyond caring. He was locked in the moment now. It was all that mattered: he couldn’t hear or see properly, his body was in pain, there was blood in his mouth – and all he wanted to do was keep raining in the kicks and punches, take all his anger out on Jake till there was nothing left. Nothing at all.
But somewhere at the back of his mind a warning sounded: he knew he had to back off – stop before he lost control completely. He staggered backwards, aware now of Jake’s groans. The other two men were now trying to deal with Johnny, who was just about managing to stay out of their reach.
Then Ethan spotted the plank Jake had used against him. Calmly he walked over, picked it up, came back.
Jake looked up at him. ‘No… don’t-’
Ethan broke the plank across his knee with a crack that signalled the end. Enough.
Only apparently Mr Blond wasn’t following the same script, because as Ethan looked down at Jake, he felt huge arms wrap around him from behind. The stink of tobacco breath caught in his nostrils and stubble rasped against the back of his neck as he was lifted bodily off the ground.
Suddenly the arms released him, but Ethan wasn’t given a chance to escape. Two fists pounded into the sides of his neck, dropping him to the ground, where he landed next to Jake.
Ethan turned to see the man spit and smile, crack his knuckles, flex his neck. Then he reached down and picked up Ethan as though he weighed no more than a child. Ethan struggled, but this time it was useless. Mr Blond had him tight, arms pinned.
Jake pushed himself to his feet and wiped blood from his mouth. He held one half of the plank in his hand.
‘Screw Sam and screw you!’ he hissed, and he launched the end of the plank at Ethan’s stomach.
The blow made Ethan retch. He folded up, pain racing through his body, coughed, tasted bile in his throat, felt sick, scared.
Mr Blond refused to let him fall, just held him tight for more of the same.
Jake came in with another blow from the plank. It hurt just as bad. Ethan heard Jake laugh. Then he puked. It stung his throat, and he could see blood in it.
‘Nice.’ Jake laughed as Mr Blond dropped Ethan face down in his own vomit.
Ethan stayed where he was. He knew he was deep in shit and that there was fuck all he could do about it. Moments later, Johnny was thrown to the ground next to him. Johnny looked at him, attempted a smile, but said nothing. Then Ethan saw Jake and his goons looming above them and knew what was coming next.
The screeching of tyres split the night and finally ended the fight. Ethan turned his head to see what was going on and saw headlights burst round the corner of the hangar like fireworks. Gravel and dirt scattered as Sam pulled his Defender up sharp, kicked the door open and hurled himself towards the boys like a raging bull.
‘Another time, Rookie!’ said Jake, and he and the two goons bolted.
Sam skidded to the ground. ‘Ethan? Johnny? You OK?’
Ethan sat up, coughed, shook his head to clear it, then nodded.
‘We’ll live,’ said Johnny.
‘Well, you look like you’ve been shat out of a bear’s arse,’ said Sam. He turned back to Ethan. ‘What’s Jake done?’
Ethan pointed at the open doors to the hangar. ‘They’ve killed the kit, Sam,’ he said. ‘Ruined it.’
Sam stood, ran over to the doors, turned back, face hard. ‘Can you walk?’
In answer, Ethan and Johnny pulled themselves to their feet.
‘What state are they in?’ asked Sam. ‘I saw Jake was bleeding. What about the other two?’
‘Not great,’ said Johnny, stretching his back. ‘Same as us.’
‘Right,’ commanded Sam. ‘Defender. Now.’
He turned, and Ethan and Johnny clambered into the back seats. The engine thrummed into life with a heavy growl.
‘They headed off down there.’ Johnny pointed, leaning over the front seats. ‘Down the grass airstrip. They must’ve cut across the fields to get here or something.’
‘What about the fence that surrounds the place?’ asked Ethan.
‘It’s just a fence,’ said Johnny. ‘It’s not patrolled or anything. Not any more.’
Sam kicked the Defender forward, headlights sweeping the night.
‘There they are!’ yelled Ethan, spotting three figures running ahead.
Sam dropped a gear, accelerated.
Suddenly Ethan spotted something else just in front of Jake and the two men. It was a helicopter. ‘Shit!’
Sam looked at Ethan. ‘What’s up?’
Ethan said nothing; just pointed.
Sam saw the helicopter. ‘You’re kidding me,’ he said.
The blades were just starting to spin.
‘Told you he was a rich kid,’ said Johnny, looking at Ethan. ‘The tosser flew in.’
Sam gunned the Defender.
Ethan gripped the metal rail behind the front seats to stop himself lurching back into Johnny. He could see Jake just ahead, closing in on the helicopter, its blades now a blur.
Sam swung the Defender round, trying to block Jake’s route.
Jake dodged, and before Sam could make another pass, he’d reached the helicopter.
Sam rammed the gearstick forward and made to go after Jake. ‘Too late, Sam,’ said Johnny. ‘Look.’
Leaning from the open door of the helicopter, Jake waved a one-fingered salute.
And from the Defender, the three of them returned the gesture.
Back in the office, Sam quizzed Johnny and Ethan on what had happened. They explained everything – from Jake’s phone call, through discovering what was going on, to the moment when their plan went to shit and they got their arses kicked.
‘Lucky I turned up when I did,’ said Sam.
They nodded.
‘And I’m to understand that neither of you started the pushing and shoving, right?’
Ethan and Johnny nodded again.
‘Why didn’t you just bolt? Fighting isn’t clever or glamorous. Most of the time it’s best to just hit hard and run away. How did it get out of hand so quickly?’
‘They grabbed me first,’ said Johnny, ‘before I could do anything about it. Ethan just jumped in to help. I don’t think they were expecting it. Then it all kicked off.’
Sam turned to Ethan. ‘So Jake phoned you and you decided to come over here, but you weren’t looking for a fight?’
‘No,’ said Ethan firmly, slowly realizing that he was in an awful lot of pain. ‘I just wanted to stop him doing whatever he was doing. I figured that whatever it was couldn’t be good. Didn’t figure he’d have two other blokes with him.’
‘That was your first mistake,’ said Sam. ‘Always plan for what might happen if everything goes to shit. That way, when it does, you might be able to get out of it.’
Ethan felt this was suspiciously like getting a bollocking – which didn’t seem very fair, considering he and Johnny had done their best to save the rigs.
‘Can you remember where your bike is, Ethan?’
Sam’s question pulled Ethan from his thoughts and he simply nodded.