The vindication was cold comfort. The truth of it was that they were now caught between a rock and a hard place. Somers had successfully beat the frankensteins off twice now, but this time there wouldn’t be a moving vehicle to come to the team’s rescue.
In seemingly no time at all, she found herself at the hilltop, staring down into the compound.
“Stop here,” King said.
His comment surprised her, and when she looked over, she saw him nodding his head. “I caught some of what you said,” he confessed. “My hearing’s coming back a little bit. You made the right call. But I have an idea.”
She glanced down into the compound where the massed frankensteins had noticed their return and were starting to move toward the gate. “I’m listening, but make it quick.”
“Everybody out!” This time, King’s shout was intentional. He leaned toward Zelda, and in a less strident tone, he added: “Leave it in neutral.”
At last, Zelda understood. She straightened the wheel, shifted the gear selector to ‘N’ and then applied the parking brake before sliding out of the driver’s seat. When everyone was out, she released the brake, whereupon Somers gave the van a hearty push and sent it careening down the hill.
Many of the monstrosities leapt out of the way, but nearly a dozen of them decided to meet the charge head-on — wild dogs facing down a charging elephant. Broken bodies went flying in every direction. The multiple impacts caused the vehicle to veer slightly to the right, and as it reached the compound, the front bumper crashed into one of the gateposts with a crunch that reached their ears a moment later.
“I guess we’re not getting our deposit back,” Tremblay said.
TWENTY-NINE
Shin watched the van crash into the gateposts, and then he lowered his eye once more to the rifle’s scope. Human forms flitted across his field of view, moving past the crosshairs, but they never lingered in one place long enough for him to take a shot.
The men with the Kalashnikovs — the ‘gangstas’—had been the first priority targets. They were armed, and to all appearances, they had acted as the leadership element. They were the head of the serpent, as it were — for the larger body of unarmed slave soldiers. Taking the leaders out had been easy enough. Even when their comrades in arms had begun to fall, they had done what men in combat always do; they sought cover and started looking for a place to direct their answering fire.
Unfortunately, cutting the head off the snake had not killed the snake. Shin realized that he had misinterpreted the relationship between the triad officers and the slave force. They were not leaders or shepherds, marshaling a force of unwilling conscripts; they were the leash restraining a pack of wild animals, and now that they were gone, the beasts were running wild. Deprived of intelligent leadership, they simply reacted to anything that moved. Right now, their collective attention seemed to be focused on the small group escaping into the woods surrounding the compound.
There was nothing more for him to do. “Time to go,” he announced.
‘Race’ Banion, acknowledged with a nod and stowed his spotter’s scope in his backpack, as Shin broke down his rifle and prepared to move out.
True to his callsign, Banion sprinted ahead, and Shin, still nursing a sore ankle, had to push himself just to keep the man in sight. Worse, the Delta sniper wasn’t following their original route, staying on the high ground where the terrain was more solid and there was less foliage, but he chose a direct route, bushwacking through the woods. Shin gave up trying to dog the man’s footsteps, and kept to the longer but more familiar path he had used earlier.
The noise of the helicopter, which had been steadily powering up for several minutes, abruptly changed in timber and pitch as the aircraft lifted off the roof of Building Two, and for a moment, the deafening thump of its rotors beating the air overwhelmed all other sounds. Then, just as quickly, the sound began to diminish. Shin glanced skyward and saw the running lights of the helicopter moving away to the southwest.
Just before the din of the departing craft vanished altogether, Shin heard a rustling noise in the undergrowth, from the general direction Banion had gone. He stopped for a second, craning his head to locate the source of the noise, but the woods had already gone silent again.
“Race?” He spoke in a stage whisper. This far from the compound, there wasn’t a need for absolute stealth. He didn’t want to use the radio, preferring to keep the net open for communication with the rest of the team. “You out there?”
No reply.
He listened a few seconds longer, then he resumed his trek. In his night-vision display, he could see several glowing objects directly ahead, and he correctly guessed that they were infrared chem-lights Parker had deployed as a beacon to guide the disparate elements of the team to the rendezvous. A minute later, he saw Parker and ‘Dark’ Meyers, both in the prone firing position and facing in opposite directions.
Parker glanced up at him and then looked past him, searching the woods with his gaze. “Where’s Race?”
“He took a shortcut. I expected him to be here already.”
Parker frowned. “Damn it, doesn’t anybody pay attention to what I say?” He keyed his mic. “Race, this is Irish. Do you copy?”
There was no response.
Shin’s forehead creased in concern. It wasn’t impossible that Banion had gotten turned around in the dense undergrowth and wandered off in the wrong direction, but if he wasn’t responding to the radio, it portended something more dire. Shin thought about the injury he had suffered moving through the low areas in broad daylight; Banion could have similarly fallen and been knocked unconscious.
Parker repeated the message again, with no more success, then shook his head with a scowl. “King, this Irish. What’s your ETA?”
Zelda’s voice came over the radio. Her words were in short, clipped bursts, and Shin thought she might be running as she spoke. “This is Legend. King’s comms are out. Estimate five mikes to the rally point.”
“Roger, Legend. I have to go collect one of my wayward children. The rally point is marked with IR glowsticks, but we’ll try to be back and waiting for you.”
“Good copy, Irish. Legend out.”
Parker rose to his feet and faced Shin. “Do you remember where you lost him?”
Shin felt a twinge of irritation at the implication that he was somehow responsible for what had happened, but he let the misdirected criticism pass without comment. Instead, he simply waved for Parker and Meyers to follow.
He had no difficulty retracing his steps, but as he returned to the spot where he had been standing when the helicopter had taken off, he realized that he couldn’t recall exactly when he’d last seen Banion. He gestured down a gentle slope at the general area where he had heard the rustling noise.
Parker peered into the unlit shadows. “Race! You out there?” When there was no answer, he turned to the others. “Okay, spread out. We’ll walk a police line. Maybe we’ll trip over him.”
Shin moved to Parker’s left and placed himself about twenty feet away. Meyers moved to the other side. At a signal from Parker, they all started down the slope. After just a few steps, the tangle of vegetation broke up the orderliness of the effort, but Shin could still see Parker, and less distinctly, Meyers through the trees.
There was sudden thrashing in the foliage. Meyers let out a yelp and then simply vanished, as if a trapdoor in the forest floor had opened beneath him. A squeal of static and noise burst over the radio, followed by loud staccato cracks overhead — the sound, Shin realized suddenly, of bullets striking and breaking tree branches.