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My friend grunted — the same grunt he always gave when one of us was pointing out something obvious. And yes, it was obvious. But I had to make sure.
“This is fucked, you know that? I mean really, seriously fucked.”
Another pair of shots rang out, as the noise of the chopper grew louder. Soon the sound would obliterate everything else. We wouldn’t be able to hear our own voices, much less—
“There!”
An opening split the horizon, creating a narrow valley between two ancient, crumbling mesas. Cole jerked the wheel again, crushing a virgin path through the desert grit and gravel. The pedal was pinned to the floor. The engine screamed.
“Did I mention this is fucked?”
The meeting had been changed three times, and all by them. Ferrera’s men had been defiantly paranoid, not that I could blame them. After all, wewereplanning an ambush. But with the Sikorsky barreling down on us right now, I guess their ambush had been just a tiny bit better.
“Think she’s okay?” Cole asked hesitantly.
It seemed batshit crazy, pushing our pregnant girlfriend from our still-moving vehicle and into the desert. We’d slowed almost to a complete stop, though. She’d be a little bruised and battered, maybe scraped up. But in all other aspects, generally okay.
Besides, Quinn was tough and we were banking on that. Tough and smart and resourceful. Savvy enough to find quick cover after being dumped in the middle of nowhere, or so I secretly hoped.
And right now, anywhere was better than here.
“FASTER!” I shouted, after looking back.
“I can’tgoany faster!” Cole growled.
A 50-caliber round exploded the ground directly in front of us, sending clods of dirt flying through a blossoming plume of dust. Cole didn’t even flinch. Whoever was in the chopper was good, but not great. They’d hit the jeep three times already, so far at least, they hadn’t hit us.
“Shoot that prick,” spat Cole.
I whipped around and raised my own rifle, hoping for the best. With all the shifting and fishtailing it would be hard to get off a shot, much less a good one. I could always get lucky though. If life had taught me anything, it was that when you took chances, luck generally seemed to favor you anyway.
“C’mon already!” Cole shouted back angrily. “Or would you rather take the wheel and give me that thin-”
I fired in short staccato bursts. Round after round sped past the swerving, sweeping chopper as the pilot worked the pedals to yaw the bird left and right. I saw one of my bullets bounce harmlessly off the side as he feathered the tail rotor back and forth. The movements made the chopper almost impossible to hit.
But it also prevented the guy with the .50 cal from shooting back. At least temporarily.
“Clip me!”
Cole reached back and provided me with another magazine. In one practiced motion I dropped the empty and slammed in the new one. It was something we’d done a hundred times, in dozens of different situations. This one felt different, though. Maybe because with each passing second, we were getting further and further away fromher.
“Motherfucker!”
I fired again, this time leading the chopper according to the pilot’s previous movements. Tiny sparks appeared on the Sikorsky’s aluminum hull as I scored a few more hits. It was a suppressing fire more than anything else, though. I knew it in my heart. I knew that eventually—
Fwwwsshhhhh!
A thin plume of white smoke erupted in a line, connecting the landscape with the side of the chopper. The Sikorsky exploded spectacularly, breaking cleanly in half. The rotors broke free and spun out of the ensuing fireball as its flaming carcass plunged, trailing black smoke, on its way to the canyon floor.
And all of this happened in the span of a single second.
“NICE FUCKING SHOT!” Cole screamed euphorically.
My rifle was still raised, but was now pointed at the empty desert sky. I was still in shock. It took a moment before I could even register what happened.
Then I saw that thin line of white smoke again, which was becoming thicker and more crooked as the wind whipped it away. And I knew.
“Pull over!”
