Will to Survive (3 page)

I thought about doing one lap around the neighborhood, just to make sure everything was working as it should, and then I decided against it, just wanting to get on with the mission. I banked sharply and headed toward our destination. The sooner we were there, the sooner it would be over.

We were heading almost due east, straight into the rising sun. It was still beneath the horizon, but there was a thin line of light—a reddish glow along the curve of the earth in front of us.

“Normally our advantage would be that we were coming in under cover of darkness and our enemy wasn't expecting us,” Herb said over the intercom. “Today our advantage is that they
are
expecting us. Or at least they expect Brett to come back in the plane at some point.”

“I hadn't even thought of that. We don't have to rely on darkness.”

“Light just means more of them will come out to the tarmac as we land. More is better. Just think—Brett may be looking up at us right now from somewhere down there as he's moving toward the compound, gloating. Although he might also be wondering why it took so long for the plane to take off.”

I thought of Brett and the remaining men, scurrying to get back to the compound just like rats racing back to their nests.

“If it had worked, if I had brought the plane to their compound, how long do you think it would have been before he killed me?”

“You would have been kept alive as long as you had value either as a pilot or a hostage. It could have been weeks or even months, although you might have wished you were dead.”

“That wasn't going to happen,” I said. “Even if they got me to pilot the Cessna into the air, I wasn't going to put it down gently at the compound. I knew I'd already be as good as dead, so I wasn't going to die alone and I wasn't going to give them the plane.”

“You would have crashed it?”

I nodded. I knew for certain that was what I would have done.

“That would have been a very difficult decision, but I believe you … How are you feeling?”

I didn't answer right away, letting the question echo in my headset. Then I shrugged. “I'm not sure.”

“There will be plenty of time to talk it over later. Assuming we live through this.”

I looked at him; he had a little smirk on his face.

“You really aren't being particularly reassuring right now, Herb. What is our backup plan, by the way? You know, in case this little mission of ours doesn't work out the way we planned?”

“Well, either we make it work or we die trying.”

“That doesn't strike me as the best backup plan.”

“It's not much different from the plan you had to crash this aircraft—except with me it's only a backup plan.”

The rising sun was revealing more and more below us. While I had no hope of spotting Brett or his men, there was so much I could see. Below us on the shadowy landscape were houses—some of whose owners had banded together to form small enclaves with fences and barricades. Other houses were nothing more than burned-out shells. Streets were without movement but not without vehicles. All modern cars and trucks had been rendered useless when the virus hit and their on-board computers self-destructed. Hundreds, thousands of computer-dependent vehicles were still scattered down there, littering the roads, unmoving and unmoved.

Within some of those houses a few families or random clusters of people remained, struggling to survive somehow among the chaos and violence that had washed over everything.

Soon those people would be out getting water or working on their gardens. I just hoped none of them—innocently trying to just stay alive—were met by Brett and his band, who wouldn't hesitate to take everything they had, including their lives.

“I understand Brett wanting to kidnap me, but I'm just not sure why he wanted to kill you so bad,” I said.

“I think it was meant as a compliment.”

“How is him wanting to kill you a compliment?”

“He saw me as a threat and he wanted to eliminate the threat by eliminating me. I guess in some ways that's what I'm trying to do right now, return the compliment.”

“Do you think he's already at the compound?”

“If he and his crew managed to hijack a vehicle, they could be there. On foot his trek will take between five and six hours, so in that case he won't be there until long after we're gone,” Herb said.

“Then we won't kill him.”

“But what we do
might
result in him being killed,” Herb said.

“How so?”

“This bomb will cause major destruction and take out many of the men at the compound.”

“I still don't understand. If Brett isn't even there, how will it kill him?” I asked.

“When he finally does arrive to a scene of carnage I'm hoping they'll feel he's responsible—and then they will react.”

“And turn on him.”

“That's the hope. And I don't think any of the survivors at the compound are going to be thinking about giving him a fair trial or jail time. I'm hoping he'll be greeted by a bullet in the head as soon as he walks in.”

“And you think it was our mistake for not simply killing him instead of arresting him?”

“No, it's
my
mistake. I should have done it the night we confronted him, put an end to all of it.”

“But you couldn't,” I said.

“Oh, I could have. I
should
have. Those guards and their families paid the price of my indecision, my weakness, my—”

“Your fairness and compassion,” I said, cutting him off.

“Fairness and compassion can be a weakness. Compassion stops you from pulling the trigger. Instead of killing, though, you get yourself killed. We still don't know the full price we're going to pay for my mistake.”

“Maybe he'll just leave us alone.”

“He will never leave us alone until either he's dead or we're dead, or the neighborhood is destroyed.”

“You can't be certain of that,” I said.

“I'm completely certain. I know how people like him think, how they feel … or don't feel. Only a six-foot-deep grave is going to stop him from coming back to haunt us, so I hope we can help put him into one.”

I'd never heard Herb sound so angry and bloodthirsty.

The leading edge of the sun was now peeking over the horizon. It was a blazing, brilliant orange fireball and it was throwing off enough light for us to clearly see the ground below. We were flying the most direct route between our neighborhood and our enemy's compound thirty-five miles away. Brett was someplace below and there was no way he could miss seeing us up in the sky, since we were the only aircraft in the area. It gave me some satisfaction to know that if he saw us he'd be confused—why were we still flying, why hadn't we reached the compound? Would he be able to wrap his head around the idea that his men were dead and I was free, that instead of being a captive to be tormented and killed, I was going to inflict a blow to him and to our enemies?

We flew in silence for a minute.

“I want you to come in low and slow,” Herb finally said.

“And then?”

“If they open fire, take evasive maneuvers and get us out of there as quickly as possible. If they don't shoot, then bring us in for a landing.”

For the first time in my life I hoped to be shot at.

The compound came into view off to the southeast. It was a large industrial area, with a big open road in the center that was now a runway, ringed by buildings of assorted sizes. The whole thing was surrounded by a high metal fence topped by barbed wire.

Herb was surveying the ground with his binoculars and could see the details I couldn't.

“Anything?” I asked.

“The perimeter fence has been repaired, but I can't see much else.”

“Maybe there isn't anything else to make out,” I suggested.

“I'm sure they're trying to keep things hidden from the air. It's not just that they want the Cessna for themselves; they want to deny us from having it.”

“I'm going to come in from the north and land toward the barracks,” I said.

“And will that give you enough runway to take off again?” Herb asked.

“I'm not sure. I think I might have to turn and go back over the same stretch of pavement. Do you need me to come to a complete stop?”

“The slower the better. I'd rather not bounce this amount of explosives any harder than I have to. Plastic explosives are fairly stable, but I'd rather it went off with the timer instead of with impact.”

“That won't happen, will it?” I asked anxiously.

“It really shouldn't happen, but if it does and it explodes, it's not like we'll have time to regret our decision … We'll be vaporized in less time than it takes to blink.”

“In that case I'll try to arrange it so you can gently place it on the pavement like it's a newborn baby.”

“Just remember, even if they don't shoot at us on the way down they're definitely going to shoot at us on the way back up, so let's not waste too much time on the ground.”

I knew the timer on the bomb would be set for thirty-five seconds. Just looking at the deadly package now in Herb's lap made me nervously wish we could set it for thirty-five minutes.

“Why not set the timer on the trigger for a little longer?” I asked.

“I want it to be just long enough for us to get away but not so long that other people can recognize the danger and escape. You ready?”

“I better be … here we go.”

I eased off on the throttle. The slower we came in, the less runway I'd need in order to land. The compound loomed dead ahead. I could see the fences, the runway, and the barracks, the place where most of the men would be sleeping.

I focused on the runway, though I couldn't help but see two armed guards step out of the shadows and away from the fence as we passed over. Even in that flash I could see they had rifles. We were low and exposed, but they weren't going to be shooting at us as we landed. Instead we'd be just as low and exposed as we took off—and then they'd be firing.

The wheels touched down and we bounced back up in the air wildly—I hadn't been focusing as much as I'd thought. I pushed the stick forward and worked the flaps to get us back down and create enough drag to keep us on the ground. We rolled along the pavement, and I applied the brakes and eased off the throttle on the whirring blades. I needed to slow us down and I also needed to travel enough of the runway so that we would have room to take off once I spun us around. It wasn't like I was going to get a second pass if I ran out of pavement.

We started to bounce. Off to the right were buildings: warehouses that could be holding vehicles, stocks, supplies, and certainly some guards. I wondered if they also held more prisoners, more slaves, as we'd found the first time we'd attacked their stronghold. I forced that thought out of my mind.

“We don't need to get much closer. Spin us around and get ready for takeoff!” Herb yelled.

I applied the brakes and we decelerated sharply. Herb worked to push open the door, fighting the wind from the prop. He nudged the bomb toward the door until it was hanging out, getting ready to drop. We slowed down to almost a stop as the barracks loomed in front of us. I saw two men holding weapons, moving toward us. I hit the right rudder and left brake to start our turn back up the runway, spinning us around in a tight circle so that the barracks disappeared and the open expanse of the runway came into view. At that instant, as we were barely moving forward, out of the corner of my eye I saw the bomb drop to the pavement. I braced for an explosion as Herb slammed the door shut.

“Go, go, go!” he screamed.

I goosed the gas and the engine roared. At first I drifted off the right edge of the runway and had to correct to bring us back in line, picking up speed.

“Thirty seconds!” Herb called out.

“I'm going as fast as I can!”

Over to the right, I could make out more guards lining the fence. I assumed they all were armed, but so far nobody had fired at us. I opened the throttle up full—faster and faster we raced along the runway until the wheels started to lift off. The end of the runway and the guards on the fence were still far away as I pulled back on the stick, trying to get as much elevation as possible as quickly as possible.

“Fifteen seconds!” Herb said.

The plane lifted up into the air, the ground disappearing from my view as I continued to pull back hard, gaining height and distance. Still nobody had shot at us, or at least hadn't come close enough for me to even know we were being fired at. Would I even hear gunfire over the roar of the engine? The motor screamed out in protest against what I was asking it to do. I banked hard to the left and, looking down, could see that the compound was behind us. We had gotten free.

“Why didn't they fire?” I screamed.

“Probably too confused. There was no time for anybody to give an order to open fire. We have to just be grateful.”

“But the bomb … it hasn't gone off?”

“Not yet … seven … six … five…”

His count was slightly off. Suddenly a massive ball of flames shot up into the air to my left and behind the plane. A plume of smoke followed, and then a shock wave hit the plane and we were bucked to the side. It felt like we had been pushed by a gigantic invisible hand, causing us to slide across the sky rather than flying across it. I struggled, banking into the direction of the slide, going with the force, and the plane came back under my control.

“What does it look like back there?” I yelled.

“I can't see much through the smoke, but it looks like it had the desired effect. There's going to be a crater in the runway big enough to drop a transport truck into,” Herb answered. “I want to see how much damage was done. Can you bring us around in a circuit wide enough to avoid gunfire but close enough for me to use my binoculars?”