John slipped into the copilot's seat.
"Please return to the passenger cabin," the pilot said sharply. He didn't need this distraction, not with the tower giving him instructions and some maniac outside the plane. How was that even possible?
"You can't turn the plane around," John said.
The pilot looked at him. "Hey, kid, there's somebody in trouble out there. We can't just ignore him!"
"I can fly a plane," John said quietly. He held one hand up, and there was a sudden click. The blade of the knife looked short, but extremely sharp. "If you attempt to turn back we will kill you and I will take over. My advice is to keep to your route and let us take care of this situation. Do you understand?" he asked.
The pilot snapped a look at the kid, ready to face him down. Then something in John's eyes registered. He wasn't looking at some dumb, punk kid who didn't understand the situation. He was looking a man who meant what he said.
"Sure," he said wonderingly. "You got it."
"Good." John said. He smiled and squeezed the pilot's shoulder, then turned back to the passenger compartment.
Somehow the pilot felt better for that brief contact. Damned if he could figure out why. He licked his lips and toggled the com to talk to air traffic control.
"Seems we don't need to turn back after all, Owen Roberts. My passengers have the situation under control."
Which, from the continued pounding, they did not. But he wasn't prepared to die on behalf of someone stupid enough to hitch a ride this way no matter what Owen Roberts had to say.
Three peeled back the metal skin and bared the locking mechanism. Reaching into the hole, he worked it, pushing hard against the pressure of air escaping the cabin with its free hand. Simultaneously it tried to bring its foot forward, ready to step into the hatchway when it slammed open.
Oxygen masks dropped from the ceiling and dangled ignored as Dieter flung himself at the door, catching it just as the lock disengaged. He hauled it closed by main strength, bracing one foot against the frame to give himself leverage, and looked around for something to jam the mechanism.
Sarah dragged her bag close and pulled out the lid over the hidden compartment.
Outside, Three patiently worked the mechanism again.
Dieter grabbed it as he saw it begin to move and tried to hold it closed. He held the handles and twisted until lights swam before his eyes, his breath coming in sharp controlled gasps. But they turned inexorably, as though his was the strength of a child. Von Rossbach began to know real terror. This had never happened to him before.
Sarah handed something to John and he came up behind Dieter. "Let it in," John said.
"Let it!" Dieter grunted. "I can't stop it!"
"Don't let it all the way in," Sarah said quickly.
"John, this isn't a good idea," Dieter said from the corner of his mouth. "We don't have any guns."
John gave his head a little shake, frowning. "Guns wouldn't work anyway. We'll use this." He held up the lump of plastique that his mother had given him. In his other hand was the detonator.
"Oh, joy," Dieter said weakly, closing his eyes.
Taking a deep breath and a firmer grip on the hatch's handles, he allowed them to turn. Then held on with all his might as the airstream sought to tear the door from his grip.
Three grasped the inside edge of the door frame with its left hand, pushed its right arm through the opening, and began to pull up its leg.
Dieter pulled the door to, catching the Terminator's forearm in the opening.
Three wasn't worried. It had tested its strength against the humans and it had won. It angled its arm outward and the door began to open again as it pulled its leg up.
John moved forward and wrapped the plastique around the Terminator's arm just below the elbow. He didn't want to permanently damage the door. Then he inserted the detonator and gave the cap a sharp twist.
"Fire in hole!" he shouted, and they dived for their seats and huddled behind them.
The door was flung open, crashing against the fuselage as the airstream took it.
The charge went off with a flash and a sharp bang, filling the thin air of the cabin with the smell of burnt explosive.
"What the hell are you people doing!" the pilot yelled frantically. "What the hell was that?"
"SHUT UP!" Sarah yelled back, her hands working the soft puttylike explosive into a long snake between her palms.
When they looked up over the chair backs the Terminator was still holding on to the door frame despite its shattered upper arm. Slowly it fitted its left leg into the opening and began hoisting itself in, fighting the wind that threatened to rip it from the plane's side.
Sarah handed John another rope of plastique and a detonator and he and Dieter dived toward the door. John distracted the Terminator while von Rossbach slid in behind it and tried to pull the door to. With one big hand grasping the door frame, he reached for the handle.
The Terminator flailed its stub of an arm at John, then suddenly slammed its shoulder into Dieter. Von Rossbach's feet slid out from under him on the carpeted deck; he went down on his hip and looked up at the machine. It reached for him with its broken arm, looked at the ruined stub, then turned once again to John.
Dieter pushed himself to his knees and once again reached for the door, staying low to avoid another body blow. He grasped the door handle just as John got close enough to the Terminator to make Sarah gasp. Bracing his leg against the door frame, Dieter reached out and caught the door with his other hand and heaved, pulling with all his strength against the force of the air, every muscle screaming.
The Terminator gained purchase and began to pull its body forward. It was slower than it should have been, as though the small explosion had thrown it
partially off-line somehow. But it was still stronger than a human.
With a full-throated roar, von Rossbach pulled the door to, slamming it against the body of the Terminator. It turned its head toward the Austrian and continued to thrust its body forward as hard as it could.
John moved forward and wrapped the explosive just above the Terminator's knee and planted the detonator. He looked up at von Rossbach.
"Go!" von Rossbach told him.
Dieter could hardly let go. This monster would burst into the cabin like a shot.
Von Rossbach's mind supplied an unwanted vision of the Terminator coming through the door ripping the plastique off of its leg and planting it on his chest.
He pulled harder, gritting his teeth, until they grated, and stopped the thing's forward motion.
The charge went off after what seemed an eternity and Dieter was flung backward into the bulkhead, hard enough to knock him unconscious for a few seconds. When his blurred vision cleared he was greeted by the sight of the Terminator dangling in the open doorway, trying to angle its big body close enough to the plane to swing in through the door. Dieter found he couldn't move and all he could say was, "Unhnnn!"
"John!" Sarah said, leaping forward. She ignored the pilot's shouts as she worked the last piece of plastique between her hands.
John grabbed the door and tried to drag it away from the fuselage. The hinges grated and moved reluctantly, but it was the massive push of the air that defeated
him. Sarah stopped what she was doing and leant her strength to his, pulling the door toward her with all her might.
Three watched the humans try to close the door. It saw both of its primary targets within its reach, if only it could get to them. Its left arm and leg dangled uselessly and several circuits had been fried. For the moment it had to watch them helplessly as it clung on by one hand and rapidly rerouted power.