Combustion (34 page)

Judd shoots him a sharp nod. ‘Okay, I’ll see you.’

‘Not if I see you first.’

They share a grim smile then Judd slides out of the cockpit, scrambles under the chopper, grabs the hook at the end of the rope and thumps on the underside of the fuselage with his fist.

The Aussie hears it and works the winch. It quickly unspools every inch of rope, almost forty metres. Hook in hand, Judd crawls from under the chopper and points skyward.

Corey powers up and the Loach rises quickly. He looks down, makes sure he isn’t too high and there’s enough play in the rope for Judd to work with, then pulls the little chopper into a hover.

As the astronaut approaches the weapon a cloud of black smoke drifts across the walkway from the burning Air-Crane and obscures Corey’s view. The Loach is too high for its rotor wash to clear it. Corey holds position and waits for the signal, hopes to God that black lattice atrocity doesn’t explode.

~ * ~

Hook in hand, Judd surveys the weapon for a spot to latch on. The problem is the smoke from the crashed Air-Crane. It smells like death, stings his eyes, irritates his throat and cuts visibility to a few metres. He tries his best to ignore it as he searches for a place –

Click.

The fact he can hear the sound of a pistol being cocked above the throb of the Loach’s rotor blades means it must be very close. He turns.

It’s Handsome Guy.

Christ.
He’s
still
alive? How did he survive that crash? He’s covered in black sludge but doesn’t seem to be injured.
At all.
He has a pistol in hand and aims it at Judd’s face.

‘Let go of the hook.’

Judd does it. It swings away, disappears into the smoke.

‘Now give me the counteragent.’

Judd points at his jacket pocket. ‘It’s in here.’

Handsome steps closer. ‘Slowly.’

Judd reaches inside his jacket with his right hand and very deliberately draws out the metal cylinder - then flicks it hard.

It extends. It’s not the canister, but the brass telescope from the Loach.

Judd springs forward and clubs the pistol from Handsome’s hand. It skitters across the walkway and disappears into the smoke haze.

Handsome charges the astronaut.

Judd swings the telescope.

And the battle is joined.

Clang.
The heavy telescope slams into Handsome’s torso. He staggers sideways, stunned. He recovers his balance but Judd steps forward and swings the instrument again.

Clank.
It clips Handsome across the jaw. He turns with the blow, then swings back with a right fist, cracks Judd in the mouth. The astronaut jolts back and he stumbles to the ground, rolls to his feet and swings the telescope once more.

Clunk.
Handsome throws out a forearm to block the stroke and the telescope snaps in two, never designed for hand-to-hand combat. Judd drops it, then nails him with an uppercut to the chin. Handsome rocks backwards, then pivots and swings into a roundhouse kick, slams Judd in the solar plexus, knocks him off his feet.

Crunch.
Handsome lands on top of the astronaut, jams a forearm across his throat. He might be shorter and lighter than Judd but he’s stronger than he appears. Judd whacks him in the cheek with a left jab but Handsome holds the forearm in place and searches his clothes -

‘Yes.’ He wrenches the canister from the astronaut’s jacket pocket, finds his feet, backs away, searches for the pistol within the smoke haze, scoops it up and aims it at Judd.

The astronaut freezes. Handsome steps towards him, nods at the bomb. ‘Two good men gave their lives to make this a reality. And now you will too. Congratulations, Judd Bell, you’re the first visitor to the new Ground Zero.’

He pulls the trigger.

Bam.
The gunshot rings out.

Handsome staggers forward - then drops to his knees and slumps to the ground face first, a scarlet bullet wound in the middle of his back. The canister of counteragent falls from his hand, hits the ground with a clank and rolls to Judd’s feet.

‘What the hell?’ Judd is both shocked and relieved. He looks from Handsome to a figure that looms through the haze towards him.

Ponytail.

The old man limps, appears to be badly injured, his body streaked with a mix of blood and oil. He holds a raised pistol.

‘Oh, damn.’ Judd is still shocked but he’s no longer relieved. He pulls in a sharp breath and waits for the next gunshot. Ponytail limps towards him - then lowers the weapon, kneels beside Handsome and turns him over. Handsome weakly reaches for his jacket pocket but Ponytail gently pushes his hand away, reaches into the jacket pocket himself and pulls out a cigarette pack-sized black box that Judd thinks can only be the bomb’s detonator.

Shit!
He starts towards Ponytail - but the old guy turns and throws the box into the middle of the tar pit. It lands with a splash and disappears below the surface.

Judd exhales, feels like his life just flashed before his eyes. ‘Thank you.’ He doesn’t know what else to say.

Ponytail doesn’t look up at him. ‘I didn’t do it for you.’

~ * ~

Kilroy turns to Bunsen and cradles his head, overwhelmed with grief. ‘I’m sorry.’

Bunsen stares up at him, confused. ‘Why?’ His eyes are glassy, his voice a low rasp.

‘I had to stop you. The city is on its knees.’

‘That was the
point.’

‘I spent the best days of my life exploring this town with you.’

Bunsen smiles at the memory. There’s blood in his mouth.

‘I just - I couldn’t let it be destroyed. No matter what.’

The light fades from Bunsen’s eyes. ‘But it - will be —’

Kilroy is confused. Bunsen coughs blood, his voice little more than a croak. ‘The bomb - it’s on a timer - you must leave - now.’

~ * ~

Judd steps towards them. ‘Did he say the bomb is on a timer?’

Ponytail doesn’t answer, just stares down at Handsome.

‘How long? How long is the timer?’

Neither of them responds.

‘Answer me!’ Judd crouches down - then realises they’re not ignoring him, they’re dead. Both of them. He sees a gaping wound under Ponytail’s arm, the ground beneath him slick with blood.

‘Fuck!’ The astronaut stands, grabs the canister of counteragent, then searches the black smoke for the hook and rope which hang from the hovering Loach. He cannot see either, or the chopper. The haze is even thicker than before. ‘Where is it?’ he shouts into the fog, his frustration extreme.

He takes a breath, tries not to inhale too much smoke, fails - and coughs hard. People the world over think he is a hero. Well, this is where he gets to prove it. This is where the rubber meets the road. He has to get this right,
right now,
even if every fibre of his being tells him to leave this place and get away from this bomb as fast as possible.

He looks up, searches the sky, catches sight of the Loach’s rotors as they strobe through the haze. From its position he guesstimates where the rope might be and moves in that direction, fast -

He glimpses the hook within the smoke, follows it, grabs at it - misses. It’s so close. It swings in front of him again. He reaches out - snags it. He turns to the bomb.

Where the hell is it?

It was just here, but he can’t see anything through this damn smoke -

There it is.
It looms through the fog like an iceberg on
Titanic’s
maiden voyage. It’s close, just two metres away. He tugs the rope towards it -

Twang.
It pulls tight, won’t reach.

It’s ten centimetres short.

Ten centimetres!

Judd yanks on it again. ‘Come on!’

Twang.
It won’t reach. The Loach has drifted and it’s too far away. He pulls on it with all his might, leans into it, strains, uses every ounce of energy. ‘Come on, you mutha!’

He drags the chopper across the sky -

Clank.
The hook attaches to the bomb’s latticework.

‘Yes!’ He pulls on the rope once, like he’s plucking a gigantic guitar string.

~ * ~

Corey feels the vibration shake the little chopper. Then a second. Then a third. That’s the signal. ‘Time to go.’

He powers up.

~ * ~

Judd hears the chopper’s turbine spool, can feel the rope tighten in his hand. It’s actually happening. He’d smile if he didn’t think it would somehow tempt fate and jinx everything.

Screw it.

He smiles. For just a moment -

A high-pitched whistling sound cuts the soundscape, instantly grows to an ear-splitting crescendo. It comes from his right. He turns to it.

A Boeing 737 punches through the purple haze and drops towards the walkway - right where Judd stands and the Loach hovers.

‘Oh, damn.’

Rhonda.

He completely forgot about Rhonda - and her
jet.

He guesses it’s a kilometre away but who can tell through all this damn smoke? However far away it is, it will land on him in a matter of seconds.

He wishes he hadn’t smiled.

~ * ~

47

Corey can’t hear anything over the throb of the Loach’s rotors, but he sees a flash of movement in the chopper’s side-view mirror. He looks closer. ‘What is that - oh, jeez!’

A 737 drops out of the sky straight towards the Loach, its wake turbulence swatting the smoke haze into a series of gigantic swirling vortices. It appears to be missing an engine.

This is not good. Descending will not work. The jet will just land on top of the Loach. He needs to go up.
Fast.
Corey gives the little yellow chopper full bananas. The turbine screams and the rotors throb - and the Loach does not rise an inch.

~ * ~

Judd watches the 737 approach. He knows it cannot change course or fly around because its engines aren’t operational and there’s nowhere else to land.

Corey must know the jet is coming because the Loach’s turbine screams and its rotors roar - but nothing is happening. The bomb is so heavy and it’s jammed into the grass so deeply that it will not move. No wonder they used an Air-Crane to ferry the damn thing around.

Judd wrenches the rope from side to side, lays a foot on the bomb and rocks it back and forth, tries to work it free.

It does not move.

~ * ~

Corey eyes the approaching jet as it grows large in his side-view mirror. Jeez, it’s close. ‘You-can-do-it-baby!’ The bomb is either extremely heavy, or stuck, or both -

He feels the rope sway the chopper from left to right. Judd must be trying to work it free. Corey joins in, sharply jolts the chopper from side to side, hopes it might help pull it free.

~ * ~

Yes! Good one, Corey! Judd frantically yanks the rope side to side in time with the Loach as he rocks the weapon back and forth with his right foot -

Pop.
It slides out of the dirt and rises. Judd holds the rope, keeps his foot on the weapon and takes the ride. He turns and checks the 737’s position.

Christ!

It’s shockingly close, less than a football field away and dropping straight towards him. He’s rising directly
into the path of the jet.

~ * ~

The little chopper climbs, but it’s slow.

Too slow.

‘Come-on-baby-baby-please!’ Corey’s eyes flick to the side-view mirror.

The airliner is right there!

~ * ~

The 737 sweeps past and Judd’s eyes momentarily find the cockpit.

Time slows.

He looks inside and sees Rhonda at the controls, mouth frozen in a stunned ‘O’ shape as her eyes move from her boyfriend to what-the-hell-is-he-standing-on-it-sure-as-hell-looks-like-a-
weapon-of-mass-destruction!

Beside her Severson has the same ‘O’ expression going on, but he’s waving, which leads Judd to believe Rhonda’s the one doing the flying - definitely the correct choice. He wonders if Severson told her about the bomb or if this is the first she’s hearing about it.

Time speeds up.

The wing slices under the weapon with about half a metre to spare, but the tailfin is a different matter. The wake turbulence sends the bomb, and Judd, straight into it. It hits flush on and sets the giant weapon spinning wildly. Judd holds on to the rope for dear life as he whips around and around and around.

~ * ~

The 737’s rear landing gear slaps the centre of the walkway then its front wheels touch down.

‘Flaps up! Brakes on full!’ Rhonda works the controls. She’s really pissed. ‘Why didn’t you tell me there was a
bomb?’

‘Because I wanted you to stay focused on this!’ He points at the end of the walkway. Through the haze they can see the grassy parkland and the stand of trees beyond. It’s close.