Blood Prize (21 page)

T
he captain stood over the soldier, watching him die; the man’s abdomen torn beyond assistance. He tried to lessen the tension in his own stomach by controlling and slowing the rate of his breathing.

You’re the lucky one. You’ll soon be dead and gone from this hell.

As his heartbeat began to regulate, he considered his own situation. Could survival be worth this betrayal? Death might be a better option than having this shame on his conscience.

Vogel interrupted his thoughts.

“Have you found Uta’s tracks, captain?”

“Yes. She left a blood trail that a drunk could follow.”

“Leave her for the dingos then. She’ll bleed to death anyway. We have to stay on Fox.”

He didn’t agree with Vogel’s logic. If left alive, Uta The Raptor remained a significant threat, but he couldn’t afford to divide and deplete his small force of men any further in an attempt to find her.

“Do we have an estimate on our helicopter, sir? Fox must be close to the bottom by now.”

“Yes. The timing’s perfect. They’ll have to make a run for it, knowing that we’re close behind. With infrared, they’ll be out in the open with no cover and visible from the air. There’s no escape. I’ve got them.”

The captain shook his head; a lot of things could go wrong. He looked over at his boss. Vogel’s excitement made him nervous. He appeared unstable; mentally.

How do I deal with this? If I help him, my men die and if I kill him, we die as well.

_____________

Uta let her blood spill purposely onto several false trails. She knew the SRP didn’t want to follow her, but she added this further motivation to help with their decision. Vogel needed all of his dwindling force to chase after Fox and the remnants of the G11’s.

They must also know I’d kill whoever they sent. It’s a shame … I owe these bastards a little hurt, but they won’t waste men now.

She continued to crawl through the wet bracken and despite her waterproof outer layers some of the moisture found its way underneath. Combined with her sweat, the dampness made her inner layers sodden, freezing her skin.

“Keep focused. Concentrate.”

The trunk of a huge fallen eucalypt acted as cover; providing her a place to assess the extent of her wounds without being harassed.

They’ve only managed to hit me twice.

The first strike creating the most damage; the projectile entering her back and shaving the top of her hip, before exiting. As she lay wounded on the ground another projectile punctured the left side of her upper chest, carving a passage up and through the top of her shoulder. Neither bullet seemed to fracture any bone or damage any vital organs, or arteries, but any movement in either area, felt excruciating.

The pain didn’t stop her from smiling.

“I might actually survive this.”

Blood loss and distance to an evacuation point created her most immediate concerns. Once she stemmed all of her leakages, she still needed to negotiate the steep and difficult terrain to a possible pickup area below. Such escape routes existed, but from her current location, they required a bush-bash over two separate ridgelines, to the west branch of the Kiewa River and finally down to the Dungey Track.

No, that’s out of the question … I won’t make it.

The only other choice remaining, meant following well behind the SRP, down the Bungalow Spur. From here she could make contact and be picked up by one of the cardinal’s men.

Despite her positive determinations, she realised that she could just as easily die here from her wounds.

_____________

Like a giant bird of prey, the helicopter hovered overhead; its catch caught in the beam of its search lights.

“I’ve got them covered, Mr Vogel.”

“How many are there?”

“I have three adults, two male and one female. What’re your orders, sir?”

“Land and send your guard in to contain them until we arrive. Do not take the light off them for any reason and don’t kill anyone. Wound, if you have to shoot. Is that understood?”

“Yes sir. They’ve already surrendered their weapons and they’re horizontal and immobilised.”

“Have you seen any SRP personnel in the vicinity? Anyone other than the three you described.”

“No, sir. I haven’t seen anyone else.”

Frederick felt a shiver move up his spine and spread across his back. He shuddered and pulled his shoulder blades together to counter the sensation. He couldn’t come up with any viable reason for their disappearance.

I’m going to make you pay, Noah. You’re going to spill your guts, literally.

Why show them any mercy? He shook with power; trembling at the thought of butchering all of them, except Fox.

He rubbed his hands together with delight. He risked everything on his plan succeeding and for several horrible hours, his doom seemed the more likely outcome.

He rushed over and shook his captain’s shoulders with an enthusiasm that the man didn’t return.

“We found Surat’s body and we know Uta’s behind us. That only leaves Noah, Fox and the girl; two male and one female. We’ve won, captain. From here on you need to concentrate on your strategy for the clean-up operation. Is that understood?”

Vogel didn’t wait for a response. He ran out in front of his team without any apprehension, or concern.

“I can’t wait to kill you, Noah. It’s going to be a pleasure.”

The thrill of capturing your enemies and knowing that you are going to dispatch them, begging and screaming into oblivion, is the right of all truly powerful men.

He felt dominant and superior. He could see himself at the head of the Assembly table. He could see them kneeling at his feet, kissing his hand.

“I’ve done it. I’ve won.”

T
he roar of the helicopter’s rotors assailed the clearing as it descended on the captives beneath.

Tom’s eyes hurt from the force of its search lights. He tried to look back at the others in the clearing, but couldn’t see them through the dense foliage.

Sharp sticks and small jagged rocks dug into his hands and knees as he crawled through the gully.

Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.

He earned every metre he gained, once the tangle of blackberry vines took hold of his clothing and skin. They lacerated his legs, arms and a good proportion of his torso, with crisscross patterns of stinging, superficial cuts.

Through the vines he spotted a soldier jumping from the helicopter. The man backed out into the light and moved cautiously towards Isobel and the others.

Now … Go.

Tom took a deep breath, freed himself from the vines and ran to where the man exited the helicopter. He didn’t need to be quiet; the whirl of the slowing rotors covered the sound of his footfalls.

He pushed the top half of his body into the cockpit, produced his weapon and confronted the pilot.

“You. Stop. Don’t move. Don’t give me a reason to kill you. Do you hear me?”

The pilot nodded his understanding; his fear obvious, which lifted Tom’s confidence.

He pressed his advantage.

“I’m going to back out of the cockpit and you’re going to follow me. Move very slowly. If you try to warn your friend, I’ll blow a hole through the back of your head.”

Tom manoeuvred himself and the pilot out of the aircraft. His plan depended on the SRP shooter not being able to look back directly into the glare of the search lights.

He whispered an instruction to the pilot and pushed the barrel of his weapon into the man’s back for emphasis.

The pilot obeyed and called out to the soldier.

“I’ve found some rope to tie them up with. I’m coming over to give you a hand.”

Tom continued to shield himself behind the pilot, by utilising the man’s shadow. He gambled on the fact that the pilot didn’t get paid enough to die for other people’s causes.

“Down. On your stomach. Now.”

With a prod from the barrel of Tom’s gun, the pilot went to ground.

Too late … The soldier turned and spotted him.

He struck out at the SRP trooper with the butt of his weapon, but the man moved quickly. He flung out his arm and deflected the blow; Tom’s gun striking him on the wrist and discharging. Both weapons fell to the ground.

The soldier recovered and took the initiative. From a crouched position, he flung mud into Tom’s face and launched a kick towards his stomach. Tom backed away from his strike, as pain burst into his head; the blow coming from behind, propelling him forward into the full force of another kick from the soldier. It struck him in the upper stomach region and he doubled over and fell; the air driven from his lungs.

Tom attempted to roll away and rise to his feet, as the two men kicked and punched his torso and legs. He fell onto his back and tried to cover his mid-section by pulling his knees up and continuing to roll.

“No … No you don’t.”

Tom reacted as the soldier reached for his weapon. He couldn’t allow him to reach it. He struck out at him with his right leg.

The man tripped, stumbled and fell over.

Tom forced himself to his knees and his lungs filled with oxygen. He tried to stand, but the pilot took him in a headlock, using his strength to roll him onto his stomach. The man grunted with effort, as he twisted Tom’s head towards the light.

As Tom gasped for breath, he saw a dark silhouette in the blinding glare in front of him; the man carried the unmistakable shape of a gun in his hand and pointed it towards him.

V
ogel saw a glow from the town of Harrietville and the brilliance of the helicopter’s searchlights through the trees ahead of him.

He panted for breath.

“Just five or six more minutes … and you’re mine, Fox.”

If the G11’s didn’t have the Prize, he could easily take control of Fox’s mind with the right concoction of drugs and find it that way. Once they took effect, Fox could not deny him.

“I’m close … So damn close.”

A powerful feeling of exhilaration flooded through him. The feeling of escaping a probable death at the hands of the Assembly made his success all the sweeter. As he raced on towards his destiny, he couldn’t feel the pain in the muscles around his knees and he no longer felt tired.

“Hurry up, you imbeciles.”

He laughed aloud as his imagination created a glorious visualisation: He reclined at the head of the marble boardroom table, confronting the Assembly board. He smiled at their faces, rigid with shock, but each expression turned to respect; each succumbing to his wishes without compromise. Every man stood and raised his glass to the
new
chairman.

“Sir … Vogel … Look.”

The captain’s warning took several seconds to break through his fantasy and gain his awareness.

“Look … The helicopter, it’s moving.”

_____________

Tom gasped for breath as the pilot choked off his oxygen supply with a forearm across his throat. He squinted and tried to focus on the shape in front of him. It appeared as a ghostly apparition; a black nothingness, only granted form by the fierceness of the light enveloping it.

Could this be the end? The grim reaper coming for my soul.

He heard the evil entity begin to speak and felt surprised that he recognised its voice.

“Let him go. Now, or you’re a dead man.”

The man let go.

“Now roll onto your stomach and pull your hands up behind your back.”

Tom filled his lungs with precious oxygen and allowed himself a moment to recover.

“Noah. Thank God.”

“Get up, Tom. Hurry.”

Isobel rushed over and embraced him. She felt wet and cold and her body shivered beneath his arms.

“Well done, Tom. Noah slipped and took ages to find his weapon. I thought …”

He touched her lips with his forefinger and smiled.

“We’re all alright. We’re safe, Iz.”

Isobel frowned and pointed towards Noah as he tied the pilot’s hands behind his back.

“Don’t we need him? If we’re going up in that thing, won’t we have to take him with us?”

Noah herded both Tom and Isobel toward the aircraft.

“No. We don’t need the pilot, lass. I trained in one of these old Shikra strike helicopters. This beauty’s called a Black Baza, like the Asian hawk. It’s famous for its attack manoeuvrability. This little Indian will do back-flips if you want it to.”

Tom tried to talk back over his shoulder, as Noah pushed him on.

“Where on earth did you learn to fly an Indian helicopter?”

“In the RAAF before I moved camp and joined the old SAS, but that’s a long story. Right now we’ve got to get into the air and get out of here.”

_____________

The captain continued to call to his superior as he ran.

“Sir. Can you hear that? The engine. They’ve fired up the engine.”

“So? What does that matter?”

“You ordered the pilot to land and contain. To stay there until you arrived. Well, he’s just increased the speed of the rotors.”

“For God’s sake, be clear captain. What does that mean?”

“It means that either your pilot is disobeying a direct order, or our enemies are about to escape.”

What? No. This can’t be happening.

“Run captain. We have to stop them.”

Frederick didn’t hear the noisy creek beside him as he tried to keep up with his men. His whole being lost its sense of exhilaration and he struggled with sudden exhaustion. With each stride, his knees began to hammer; his legs feeling more like blocks of concrete than flesh.

As his panic began to rise, his voice became a piercing shrill.

“Captain, do something. For God’s sake, do something.”

The captain didn’t answer. Vogel watched him run on towards the clearing.

“Shoot the pilot. Kill him before they can take off.”

He could see the glare of the helicopter’s searchlights and he began to realise the difficulty of hitting a target through the trees whilst on the run.

“Captain. Look out.”

As he ran, he began to make out two dark shapes emerging from the glare; both figures charging towards his captain.

_____________

Noah removed all weapons from the hostages and gave them an ultimatum.

“Run up the Bungalow Spur track as fast as you can and don’t deviate, or I’ll blow your heads off. Got it?”

The men seemed eager to please and Tom smiled at their speed, then he saw Noah waving at him ahead.

“Tom, hurry up and get back in. This is going to be a close thing. I’ve got to get this beauty off the ground before Vogel arrives.”

Tom sat in the front with Noah and wondered how he could make any sense out of the montage of gauges and switches.

I hope he knows what he’s doing.

As he thought this, the helicopter began to shudder and buck as it lifted into the air, causing Tom to grab the sides of his seat. He winced, again wondering about Noah’s dubious skills as a pilot. Based on his performance so far, he thought them either delusional, or worse still, suicidal.

He attempted to counter his heaving stomach by following the progress of the escapees. They ran in the bright glow of the spotlights, but the erratic movements of their ascent made the view difficult to sustain.

Between jolts, he managed to spot several different men running straight at the fleeing pair; one with his weapon extended, ready to fire.

“Noah, look. Over there. The SRP are here and the men …”

Before Tom could finish his statement, gunfire erupted on the track above in the clearing and the pilot went down. The other man fell to his knees and raised his hands in surrender. Another burst of gunfire struck him and he fell back over the pilot’s body.

Tom felt like throwing up. He shouted at Noah and grabbed at his arm.

“Noah. They’ve just killed them. Look … Look.”

Because of Tom’s pulling motion, the helicopter lurched to one side, narrowly missing a clump of tall stringy-bark eucalyptus trees. Tom twisted round in his seat trying to see Isobel.

“Iz, are you alright?”

Isobel’s hands grasped her knees; pulling them up in front of a face, bloodless with terror.

“Hang on. We’re nearly away. We’re going to make it.”

Tom hoped he sounded more convincing than he felt.

_____________

Vogel fell further behind his captain; the man sprinting far ahead of him. He appeared as a dark moving blur against the glare of the light. Frederick attempted to use a hand to shade his eyes, but it remained difficult to ascertain anything occurring ahead of him.

Shoot the pilot … Shoot the damn pilot.

He heard gunfire and saw a man tumble to the ground.

No …

The helicopter began rising into the air. Its lights flashed across the clearing, as it jerked from side to side.

Frederick started to scream, desperate to gain the captain’s attention.

“The helicopter
.
Quickly, it’s nearly up.”

Again the captain didn’t answer, so he ran on until he drew level with a body, then another; one wearing an SRP uniform.

We’ve been duped.

“Captain. Shoot at the helicopter. Shoot … Shoot …Shoot.”