Alex Knox was patched into Hail Proton’s mission room speakers from his flight station on the Hail Nucleus. Hail asked Knox, as well as Hail Proton’s pilots, “What’s the status of Foo Fighters and Foreigner?”
With her old drone, Turtles retired after suffering a C-4 enema, Sarah Starling, less experienced than Jason Wilson, was assigned to pilot Seagulls. Jason Wilson flew the combat drone, Foo Fighters.
Over the mission room speakers, Alex Knox reported, “Foreigner is in the air, and we are one mile out.”
Jason Wilson told the group, “Foo Fighters is over the top of the compound now. The video is on screen six.”
Hail scanned the screens until he saw the feed being sent from the smaller drone, Foo Fighters. From a hundred feet in the air, Hail saw a black SUV rocket out from the garage and make a crazy turn onto the compound’s long brick driveway. Less than a minute later, the SUV was swallowed by the vastness of the jungle. Darting after the SUV, Hail saw two white Land Rovers exit another garage on the premises. It was apparent they were in hot pursuit of the SUV.
“I think we have to assume that Kara and Kornev are in the SUV,” Hail said to the room.
Captain Nichols, still seated in the captain’s chair answered, “I would say that is a safe bet.”
“And the Land Rovers, undoubtedly, are the bad guys,” Nichols added.
From the vantage point of the drone, Foo Fighters, it was relatively easy to follow the road the vehicles were on. Hail looked ahead, tracing the road visually until it terminated at the runway about a mile away.
“Quick as we can, I want to get Foo Fighters hovering over the runway, so we can intercept Diambu’s men when they come out of the jungle.”
“Man, that’s a long way. We are carrying a lot of ammo,” Wilson said. “I’m not sure we have the battery power to get there and fight.”
“There’s no other option as far as I can tell,” Hail said, sounding a little desperate. “It’s too tight to engage them on that narrow road in that thick jungle. The runway will be our best opportunity,” Hail said.
“Roger that,” Wilson said, and bent his right flight controller to the left. The video stream craned to the left and then down, as the drone’s angle of attack pitched forward to pick up more speed.
“Where is Foreigner?” Hail asked.
Knox responded, “We’re getting close, Skipper. About a quarter mile and we should be on the X.”
Hail watched the end of the jungle road, subconsciously running the math through his head. He calculated that at if the SUV was doing 60 miles per hour on the narrow road then it was doing a mile per minute. The road was about a mile long, so Hail began silently counting to sixty.
Sarah Starling was flying Seagulls. She finally had caught up and was flying the drone just above the cars and trees. Between breaks in the jungle canopy, Hail could see flashes of automatic machine gunfire coming from the lead Land Rover. If the Suburban didn’t emerge from the road in the next twenty seconds, Kara and Kornev probably would never make it out of the jungle. He didn’t care what happened to the Russian scumbag, but he cared a great deal what happened to Kara. For some strange reason, he resented that fact, because he was at risk of loving someone he could lose again.
Hail had reached his count to “sixty,” when the SUV flew out of the jungle, catching several feet of air before slamming back onto the black runway.
Just as the SUV centered itself on the wide airstrip, Foo Fighters arrived and dove down toward the black tarmac. A moment later, both Land Rovers rocketed out of the jungle. Their big .50 caliber guns bounced around and then settled on their mounts. They turned right on the smooth black surface in hot pursuit of the Suburban.
Hail watched Foo Fighters’ and Seagulls’ cameras as the two Land Rovers pulled alongside one another. Two black heads poked up from the back of each vehicle with each man taking control of their mounted guns.
The video was quite exceptional. Hail could see both men rack the slide of their guns and prepare to fire the weapons. Understanding that Kara and Kornev only had seconds to live, Hail yelled, “Get a gun on them.”
Jason Wilson slid his thumb under his flight stick’s safety cover and pressed the little red button. The gun on Foo Fighters opened up at the same instant the men below began firing at the SUV.
Snake Island, Nigeria
The bullets came in loud and fast. What remained of the SUV’s back window had dislodged from the frame and had fallen inside the vehicle. One bullet later, the front windshield exploded with cracks, as if it were a sheet of ice hit with a sledgehammer. If Kara’s head was located where any responsible driver’s head should have been, she would have been instantaneously killed. But she was now driving blindly, having scrunched down low in her seat, so her head was below window level. She hoped that Afua had added Kevlar to the back of the seats. For what the SUVs cost, it wouldn’t have been an unreasonable addition. Most men who had money and feared for their lives would typically have vehicles specifically built to include armored exteriors, Kevlar seats and bulletproof glass. Kind of like The Beast the president had. The glass had shattered but it had not blown apart, so that indicated that the SUV had some special work done to the glass. Kara was bad at math but guessed she could drive in this position for another twenty seconds before she would be forced to see where they were going. When they reached the end of the runway, there would be some decisions they would have to make.
From behind the Suburban, the machine guns pumped out large .50 caliber rounds. Kara heard Kornev cuss as the rounds flew over their heads and peppered the back of their seats. As each bullet was absorbed by the Kevlar seatbacks, it made a loud thud, as if a hippopotamus was being put down with a mallet.
Other than the occasional cuss words, in either English, Russian, or in some language Kara didn’t know, Kornev was silent. But, then when being pursued by those prepared to kill you, there wasn’t a helluva lot to say. They would either make it out or they wouldn’t.
Kara snuck a quick peek over the steering wheel. The jungle was only about 300 yards away. If they made it to the jungle without the SUV being disabled or Kara catching a round in the back of her head, their chances of survival would improve.
As Kara prepared to pop back up and find the elusive road ahead of them, an explosion behind them shook the jungle. The shockwave hit the SUV, followed by a ball of fire that encompassed their vehicle. The Suburban fishtailed to the right. It was a slight wobble at first, but as Kara tried to counter steer, the SUV protested and went up on two wheels.
“What the fu—” but Kornev didn’t get the words out.
The Suburban’s heavily treaded tires dug into the asphalt, and the vehicle flipped over onto its passenger side and began skidding down the runway. Kara was buckled in and stuck to her seat. Even though she had warned Kornev to get strapped in, he had ignored her recommendation. Kornev flopped face-first down onto the backseat passenger door with only the tempered glass protecting his face. If not for that slight barrier, Victor would have received a facelift, courtesy of the asphalt road.
The roof of the Suburban caught an edge and the SUV began to barrel roll. As the car tumbled over and over, Kara thought she heard more automatic fire, but this time it didn’t sound like the big .50 calibers. She heard a smaller gun, and it was shooting much faster. The rounds were coming out so fast it sounded like one continuous sound — like that of a demonic chainsaw. As the SUV continued its never-ending tumble down the runway, Kara saw Kornev in the front seat next to her. But moments later, he was gone. She didn’t know if he had flown out the front windshield along with the mat of shattered glass that had cut loose two revolutions previous. Kornev’s safety was well outside her control. Kara covered her face with her hands, and she ducked her head down. The airbag had long ago deployed. It was now deflated while the vehicle continued to roll. Each time the car rolled, the roof began to cave in further. It was like a tin can being stepped on by a giant. Kara ducked lower and placed her arms in front of her face to keep her nose from smashing into the steering wheel. For now, there was nothing to do but ride it out.