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“Hosni, no!” Sam shouted.
Hosni’s machine gun bucked, and the muzzle flashed orange. Bullets peppered the Z-9’s windshield. The helicopter banked sharply right, then accelerated away, skimming over the lake’s surface toward the ridgeline, where it banked again until its nose was again aimed at the Bell.
“Hosni, run!” Sam shouted, then to Remi: “Behind the gondola! Go!”
Remi spun into a sprint, with Sam close on her heels.
“Remi, the crevasse!” Sam called. “Veer left.”
Remi did, then pushed off with both legs, diving headfirst onto the gondola. Sam hit it a moment later, then pushed himself to his knees and helped Remi onto the ice shelf. They tumbled down the backside and landed in a sprawling heap.
From across the plateau they heard the chattering of Hosni’s machine gun. Sam stood up and peeked over the ice. Hosni was standing defiantly at the edge of the plateau, firing at the oncoming Z-9.
“Hosni, get out of there!”
The Z-9 stopped in a hover a hundred yards away. Sam saw a flash from the left-hand rocket pod. Hosni saw it as well. He turned and began sprinting toward Sam and Remi.
“Faster!” Sam shouted.
With a brilliant flash of light and a plume of smoke, a pair of rockets burst from the Z-9’s pod. In a split second they reached the Bell, one striking the ground beneath the tail, the other slamming into the engine compartment.
The Bell convulsed, leapt upward, then exploded.
Sam ducked and threw himself over Remi. They felt the blast ripple through the plateau, felt the ice crackle beneath them. A wave of shrapnel pelted into the gondola and through the ice shelf a foot above their heads.
Then silence.
Sam said, “Follow me,” and crawled down the length of the ice shelf to the end of the gondola. On his belly, he wriggled forward and peered around the corner.
The plateau was strewn with the shattered remains of the Bell. Jagged chunks of the fuselage, still rocking from the concussion, sat amid a sheet of burning aviation fuel. Splintered lengths of rotor blade jutted from the snowbanks.
The Z-9 had retreated across the lake to the ridgeline, where it hovered, rocket pods still pointed menacingly at the plateau.
Remi said, “Do you see Hosni?”
“I’m looking.”
Sam spotted him lying beside a ragged piece of the Bell’s windshield. The body was charred. Then Sam spotted something else. Directly ahead of them, twenty feet away, was Hosni’s machine gun. It looked intact. He pulled back and faced Remi.
“He’s gone. Never felt a thing.”
“Oh, no.”
“I spotted his machine gun. I think I can reach it.”
“Sam, no. You don’t even know if it works. Where’s the Z-9?”
“Hovering. Probably radioing their base for instructions. They’ve already spotted us; they’ll be coming in for a closer look.”
“You can’t hope to hold them off for long.”
“My guess is they want us alive. Otherwise, they would be pounding this plateau with missiles.”
“Why, what are they after?”
“I have a hunch.”
“Me too. We’ll compare notes later, if we’re alive. What’s your plan?”
