Collins bounced around the passenger seat. “Almost there, man. You gonna fight me for the privilege of wasting these assholes?”
“Damn right I am.”
As the three Jaguars snarled down Kister Road, heading hard toward the north, the Alfa and the Lexus coaxed enough speed and power out of their engines to pull alongside. Suddenly it was a five-vehicle chase without a car’s length between them, the antidote to a deadly aerosolized plague being the prize.
Smyth powered down his own window just as all three Jaguars powered down theirs.
Guns bristled through the openings.
“Now we’re fucking talking,” the Delta soldier rasped.
Crouch’s vision was filled by a tremendous, all-encompassing cascade of furious white water. This was the Horseshoe Falls, one of three that made up the great cataract and by far the most powerful. One hundred and sixty five feet straight down, the raging torrent dropped in freefall, sending spray blooming into the atmosphere and colorful rainbows arcing over the landscape. Crouch had read somewhere that over four million cubic feet of water traveled over the falls every single minute, a figure that was almost impossible to comprehend. From this position, however, it wasn’t difficult at all.
“Pull up!” Caitlyn cried.
Crouch saw the large white ship below them, famously known as the Maid of the Mist. And in spectacular fashion a vast wall of mist was even now pluming upward. The chopper almost skimmed waves as it dropped low, then shot up before the great falls. Water spray enshrouded it, billowing past. One of the mercenary helos paced them, almost alongside, its occupants leaning out and trying to shoot him down.
Then Russo’s machine was barreling in from the side, Silk and Radford locked on with their weapons. Their shots smacked home on target, puncturing metal skin and glass windows and then the bodies inside. The chopper groaned and went into freefall, plunging through the mists and the turmoil of water to the harsh rocks below.
An explosion rocked the base of the falls, fire competing with water for a few brief seconds before the deluge consumed all.
Crouch swept up over the top of the falls, attention fragmented by the beauty of the sweeping horseshoe and the nearby Bridal Veil Falls, the colossal width of the river, and the stretch of railing to his right where hundreds of people stood watching.
No time for niceties, Michael.
He swung the bird around, sprayed by water, momentarily lining up with Russo’s own deadly whirlybird, before shooting off in a different direction. This time he swooped down vertically with the water, almost matching the falls’ deluge foot for foot, watching as the drifting ship below grew closer and closer. Faint flashes sparkled from down there; tourists taking photos. Crouch leaned his bird over, allowing Healey to fire out of what was now effectively the “top”. Ignoring the engine’s groaning complaints he saw Healey fire into the undercarriage of another merc chopper, making the whole frame judder. As he righted his own machine he saw Russo dipping down under fire, following the great curve of the Horseshoe Falls, blasted by water and mist.
Healey fired once more, sending another merc chopper into the hungry waters below. Now they were two on two and Crouch didn’t expect their good fortune to last much longer. A moment later he cursed himself, realizing he’d tempted fate as his own windscreen cracked under fire. Not only that, as he evaded and swung away he was faced by a different bird, this one with a man leaning out of the door and an RPG in hand.
“Evade!” Caitlyn screamed.
Crouch shoved the stick almost through the floor as Healey yelled and the weapon discharged. Yorgi smashed his skull against the door’s metal frame, drawing blood and almost losing his grip on his weapon. The RPG skimmed them with a whistle, passing through the white cascade and detonating soundlessly against the wall of the falls. Crouch veered around as their enemy prepped another rocket.
“Healey!” he cried.
The soldier turned but he was on the wrong side. Yorgi, holding his weapon clumsily and wiping blood across his cheeks, sighted their adversary.
“I may not be good shot. But you, my friend, are worth whole clip.”
He kept his finger depressed until the man with the RPG fell from the chopper, swallowed by churning waters. Unfortunately he dropped the grenade launcher inside the chopper and it was picked up by another man.
Crouch blasted forward again, crisscrossing Russo’s own path but fifty feet below. His route took him up and over the concrete viewing deck which sent uncountable tourists and locals scrambling to safety.
Russo thundered above the falls once more, the sound of his rotors scything through the air muted but not lost under the overwhelming noise of flowing water.
Crouch touched his comms. “Remember your training, Russo. Get on their tails. Let’s finish this.”
Drake rolled and tucked, escaping any stray bullets as the twelve lab rats went down screaming. To either side he saw Alicia and Mai, Dahl and Trent jumping for cover but also carefully watching their rear to gauge what was going to happen next.
As the scientists went down Callan Dudley was revealed, tall, brawny and sneering, eyes wild with promised violence. Alongside him were six men, all toting weapons.
“Ain’t no cures here, arsehole. Yer bitch is as good as dead! The antidote, as they say, just left the building.”
Drake relayed the information through his comms.
Alicia glanced from behind a low-standing freezer. “Do you ever stop talking? You’re louder than a friggin’ space shuttle launch.”
“Oh aye? Well come out here, bitch, and we’ll do more than blather.”
“If that means ‘talk’ then all right.”
Drake wasn’t caught unawares by Alicia’s sudden move. He knew her well enough by now to be expecting it. When she popped up from behind the freezer he rose too. Mai fell to the floor to their right, already firing. Bullets formed a lattice network in the air, a lethal grid of death. Alicia took a hit to the chest, Trent to the arm. By design, both wore Kevlar and neither faltered. Drake didn’t fail to notice that Alicia stayed on her feet when hit but hoped the intense situation would make her forget.
Dudley paced forward with all the arrogance and rolling shoulders of a prize fighter. He wore a white vest that showed off brawny arm muscles and faded tattoos, tight blue jeans and highly polished Doc Martens. He flung his gun at Alicia as she shrugged off the bullet.
“Yer goin’ on yer back, bitch.”
Alicia’s smile was as sweet as honey. “You clearly don’t know me very well.”
Dudley punched hard like a boxer, keeping his right fist at his cheek as his left probed with exploratory jabs. Alicia palmed the hits away, light on her feet, always moving. Drake snaked around the side of the large space, coming up on a mercenary about to take a shot at Alicia.
“Ey up!”
Confusion was his final expression before a bullet ended his contract with the Pythians.
Drake pushed on. Dahl was a bulldozer barging down the middle, leaping from table to table onto intimidated mercs. Mai swept up behind him, rendering his wounded victims unconscious before they could rise and cause further problems.
Trent crouched at Drake’s side. “Alicia Myles,” he said. “I’ve heard stories about her. The real thing is a little different. More… rousing.”
Drake moved through a tangled network of what appeared to be oil barrels, tracking two more mercs. “Oh aye. We keep hoping she’ll settle down. Take up PlayStation or something.”
“That may not help. My kid, Mikey, has one. Even makes him crazy.”