Jason Frost - Warlord 05 - Terminal Island (26 page)

“I haven’t seen him.”

“What do you mean? He was charging out of the woods like some furry Lone Ranger. That bastard Fallows had hold of me. He tried to shoot me, but Spock was on him just as he was pulling the trigger. Saved my life.”

“I saw Fallows leave.”

D.B.’s eyes went wide with fear. “God, no!” She ran off. Eric followed her.

They saw him at the same time, both running toward him, Eric’s longer legs getting him there first.

“Oh, please, no!” D.B. wailed.

Spock’s eyes were open, but he was dead. There were three bloody holes in his chest and one in his arm. Eric could tell from the trampled brush what had happened. Fallows had fired at Spock, wounding him, but Spock had given chase. But once Fallows put enough space between them, he turned and finished the gorilla off with a burst to the chest.

Eric looked at D.B., who knelt next to Spock stroking the fur on his forehead.

“I’m not going to cry, if that’s what you’re expecting,” she said stiffly. Blood webbed across her cheek and neck as intricately as warpaint. “I just want to get Fallows.”

“Let’s get you and Wendy mended first.” Eric was conscious of how little time he had to catch Tim and Fallows before the submarine took off. He grabbed D.B. by the arm and led her back to Wendy.

Wendy had already done a good job of first aid on herself, and even managed to drag her body around until she found a branch to use as a cane.

Eric and D.B. helped her to the infirmary while Eric explained what General Nhu had told him.

“We’d better get going then,” D.B. said, adjusting the bandages on her neck and ear.

Eric didn’t have time to argue with D.B. It wouldn’t have done any good. He could see the hate in her eyes, in her whole body. It was a tightness that couldn’t be relaxed until she had confronted Fallows. Eric understood.

“You’ll be okay?” Eric asked Wendy.

“Sure. To tell you the truth, I probably wouldn’t go with you even if I could. This zoo is my world. I’ve got a lot to do getting them back to their own exhibits before they kill each other. I’ve got to tell Madonna about Spock. Sounds silly, but they understand about death. She’s going to take it hard.” Her dark Oriental eyes prismed with tears. She flipped her long hair back over her shoulder, using the same gesture to secretly wipe her eyes.

On their way back to the wall, they saw something moving near the tree where Eric had left General Nhu. It ducked into the bushes and kept running.

“He’s loose,” D.B. said, readying her gun.

“Wait,” Eric told her. He ran closer. The general was still there. Or at least part of him was. His torso had been chewed almost in two. A leg was gone.

“Jesus,” D.B. said, coming up behind Eric. “What did that?”

Eric picked up a rock and threw it into the brush. A giant lizard skittered away, a half-chewed leg still in his mouth. “Komodo Dragon Monitor,” Eric said.

“Ugly mother,” D.B. said.

They scaled the wall quickly and jogged at a good clip toward Coronado, where the submarine was based. They could see a few fires flickering across Balboa Park, but they avoided them.

“How are we going to destroy the missile base?” D.B. asked as they ran.

“Who said anything about that? I just want to get Tim back.”

“But the missile threatens the U.S.”

“Let the U.S. worry about it. They can drop leaflets on it. It’s my son I want.”

D.B. didn’t say anything to that. She ran in silence next to him until they stood on the ridge overlooking the beach that led to the submarine. They could see the small white shack that housed the missile, the barbed wire around it, the big billboard-sized sign with a battery-run light shining on it. It read: U.S. Navy Installation. Stay Out. Danger. Active Mine Field.

On the beach, Fallows and Tim walked among eight of Fallows’ soldiers. They headed toward the submarine.

Eric and D.B. dropped to the ground to watch.

Fallows waved for his men to fan ahead of him and Tim. Three of the men had flashlights to lead the way. Fallows reached out and held Tim back. Unaware, the rest of the men continued to march ahead.

“What’s he doing?” D.B. asked.

Suddenly Fallows unslung his submachine gun and opened fire on the backs of his men. All eight fell to the sand, the dropped flashlights shooting crossing beams of light across the sand. Fallows went to each man and pumped an extra bullet in his head. He tossed the empty magazine and slapped in a fresh one from the body of one of his men.

“What’d he do that for?” D.B. asked.

“He’s getting ready to complete his deal with the Soviet admiral. He doesn’t want his own men around asking where he’s going and why he’s not taking them with him. The rest of his men are probably back at camp waiting for him.”

Fallows had hold of Tim’s wrist and was running through the navy base. On the other side of the base, Eric could see the submarine waiting.

“What do we do now, Doc Rock?”

Eric stood up. “We improvise.”

Eric picked up an SMG from one of the dead bodies. D.B. grabbed a couple extra clips for hers. She tagged after Eric, barely keeping within twenty yards of him.

Eric’s first stop was the missile base. He climbed the roof of one of the buildings near the missile shack. From here he could see Admiral Jones and three sailors standing on the deck of the submarine waiting for Fallows to arrive. The admiral checked his watch constantly, tapping it with his fingernail. His three sailors stood in their American uniforms waiting. The submarine itself was an American Fast-Attack type, used mostly for detection. He could see the name
Mississippi
on the side of the sub. Right down to the last detail, he thought.

He could see Fallows and Tim still running through the maze of buildings and trailers toward where the submarine was waiting. Another few minutes and they would be aboard, on their way to the outside world. Tim lost forever.

Eric turned, aimed his SMG at the mine field. He fired a string of bullets that stitched through the mine field in a zig-zag pattern. Finally one hit a mine and a muffled explosion sounded. He fired again, eventually hitting another. The mine exploded, throwing waves of sand in all directions.

Admiral Jones looked up, startled.

Eric took aim. They were too far out of range for him to actually hit one of the men. But he ought to at least be able to hit the damn ship. That’s all it would take. He opened fire. The first few rounds fell short, kicking up sand. The next burst plunked into the water near the ship. The third burst pinged into the sub and sent the admiral and his men scurrying for the hatch. Within seconds, the submarine was airtight and moving away.

Eric fired a few more rounds to keep them going. He stopped and looked over at Fallows. Fallows pointed a flashlight in Eric’s direction, but the distance merely diffused the light, swallowing it before it could reach Eric. Then the flashlight clicked off and Fallows and Tim were gone.

Eric slid down the roof and climbed back to the ground. D.B. was waiting for him.

“What’s going on?”

“The sub’s gone. Fallows is coming this way.”

She hefted her gun. “Good.”

“Not good. Last time he shot at you he had a 400-lb. gorilla charging him. This time he won’t miss. There’s something else I want you to do, and there’s no time to argue.”

“What, go home and cook a good meal?”

“Go over to that shack and cook a good missile. You wanted to destroy the thing for God and country and Betsy Ross. Well, you’ve got to do it before that sub goes under the Halo. After that, any tampering with it sets off the neutron bomb.”

D.B. smiled excitedly. “Finally a job worthy of my talents.” The smile dropped from her face. “What’ll I do?”

“Burn the place down. The fire should melt some of the circuits before they can transmit the signal.”

“How do I get through the mine field?”

“You don’t. You’ve got to make some Molotov cocktails or something. They used a few of the jeeps while they were here. There must be some gas in them you could siphon. You’ve got about ten minutes. Go!”

D.B. hesitated, kissed him quickly on the lips, and ran off.

Eric didn’t really think much of her chances of actually destroying the equipment, but the task would keep her out of the way. Whatever happened next was between Eric and Fallows. And Tim.

Fallows unlocked the trailer door and pulled Tim inside. The twenty-foot trailer had been used as a construction headquarters while a new recreation facility was being built. The blueprints on the drawing board indicated they were going to call it the “Catalina Canteena.” It would have ping-pong tables, pool tables, and twelve lanes of bowling.

Against the back wall of the trailer was a beat-up old GE refrigerator. Fallows kicked through the rubble on the floor, dragging Tim behind him. When he got to the refrigerator he yanked open the door. Inside, the shelves were stacked with boxes of gold. Jewelry, teeth, watches.

“Looks like your dad did it to you again, Tim,” Fallows said. “He screwed up your chances of getting off this island for good.” He slammed the door shut and the whole refrigerator shook. “Now all we’ve got is this fucking gold. Not worth anything. I’ve killed most of my men. We’ll have to start all over again.” Fallows brushed his hand over his buzz-cut white hair. He smiled, revealing back teeth as white as his hair. “It shouldn’t be hard to recruit people. Soon we’ll have an even bigger and badder army. Right?”

Tim nodded.

“Let’s get out of here.” Fallows led Tim back out the trailer, stopping to grab a set of keys he’d nailed to the bottom of the drafting table. “One important lesson is to always have an escape plan. I’ve got a jeep outside filled with gasoline I bought from one of the Russian sailors. Even sailors like a little gold now and then.”

“What about my dad? He’s out there.”

“On foot. We’ll be out of here in seconds. By the time he hunts us down again, he’ll be facing fifty armed men.” Fallows kept a firm grip on Tim’s wrist as they walked outside. A jeep stood with the hood open and wiring strewn everywhere as if it had been hit by a grenade.

Fallows pushed Tim into the passenger’s seat while he climbed behind the wheel and inserted the key.

“This thing will never start. Someone must have gotten to the wires,” Tim said.

Fallows turned the key and the engine kicked in perfectly. “Those wires are just camouflage. I stuck them there myself. They aren’t connected to anything. There are all kinds of tricks you haven’t learned yet. But you will. In time.”

Fallows shifted into gear and the jeep pulled out.

“Colonel!”

The voice boomed at them and Fallows hit the brakes. Ahead, standing on the roof of the trailer they had just come out of, stood Eric Ravensmith. His clothes were shredded, his face was streaked with dirt, but his eyes were steady. His crossbow was cocked, but resting on his hip, pointing skyward. In the hazy darkness of the Halo, he looked like some nightmare figure.

Fallows grabbed Tim and pulled him in front of him as a shield. He punched the gas pedal to the floor and steered the jeep as he drew his Walther from his holster.

Eric knelt, aimed, and fired his bolt. The stubby arrow drilled through the jeep’s windshield, shattering the glass and stabbing into the seat next to Fallows. It barely grazed his arm, but the glass flying into his face made him lose control of the jeep. His foot still flooring the gas pedal, he drove the jeep straight into the trailer.

The impact tipped the trailer over, throwing Eric to the ground. His crossbow flipped out of his hands during his fall and dropped on the other side of the barbed wire fence surrounding the base.

The jeep turned over, dumping Fallows and Tim onto the ground. Fallows recovered quickly, the wound on his leg aching again where that ape had clobbered him. Tim was dazed and Fallows quickly dragged him to the trailer, propped him against the underside, and handcuffed the boy to the axle.

Fallows wiped the blood from the gash in his forehead where windshield glass had cut him. He still held his Walther. “Come on, Eric. Let’s finish it.”

Eric shook his head again but the haziness wouldn’t clear. His sight was a little fuzzy, as if he were staring through gauze pads. He looked around for his crossbow, saw it lying on the other side of the hurricane fence topped with barbed wire.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” Fallows said from the other side of the trailer. “Showdown at high noon?”

Eric smelled gas. A gunshot blasted, followed by a muffled whoosh and Eric could see the smoke streaming upward. Flames peeked over the edge of the trailer.

“Uh oh,” Fallows said. “We’ve got a problem here, Eric. I accidentally discharged a firearm near spilled gasoline. Now the trailer’s on fire. Oh, did I mention? Tim’s handcuffed to the trailer. Looks like you’re batting 0 for 3 in the family-saving department.”

Eric froze. Fallows wanted to lure him out into the open. If he went, Fallows would kill him. If he didn’t, Tim would die.

Fallows felt the burn of adrenalin pumping through his body. He inhaled deeply, enjoying the smell of burning gasoline, the feeling of lives teetering, the weight of the gun in his hand heavy and powerful as a broad axe.

Tim struggled against the handcuffs, his wrists raw and bleeding. The fire seemed to grow bigger with each inch it took closer to him. Tim’s clothes were soaked with sweat from the heat, from fear. “Don’t worry, Tim,” Fallows said. “I’ll finish him off before the fire gets you. I hope.” He winked and ducked around the side of the trailer, stalking Eric. No one was there, though he could see fresh blood where Eric had fallen. Not much. A scraped elbow’s worth. He moved cautiously, keeping his eye on what was now the roof of the trailer. At the far corner of the trailer, he spotted the toe of Eric’s shoe barely visible.

He laughed. “Old trick, Eric.” He shot the toe and the empty shoe flew to the side. “Is that your best? Hell, I taught you that one, remember?” Fallows kept walking, slowly moving around the trailer. “All you’ve proved so far is you can walk barefoot — ”

The door to the trailer, which was now the roof, popped open and smoke and flame billowed up, and amongst the smoke and flame, Eric lunged out at Fallows like an escapee from hell. He rammed Fallows in the chest with his head, sending both of them sprawling to the ground. The Walther spun out of Fallows’ hand and skidded across the pavement. The flames consumed most of the trailer now and lit their battleground brightly.