Danny hunched in his seat as an angry lead-bodied wasp punched through the side window of the van just above his head. The window disintegrated into a thousand tiny shards. “Get down. Lie as flat as you can!”
The passengers pitched to the floor of the van. With only a baleful stare as forewarning, Ghost flung open the passenger door and was swallowed by the thick foliage almost instantly.
Several more bullets punched into the van, in one side and out the other. Nervous yelps at different pitches issued from the floor. Danny pressed down on the gas pedal as far as it would go. Staring into the wing mirror, he could see two vehicles blocking the road: a pickup, not unlike the one Clay had stolen, and a boxy sedan. Men in suits were spread out in a skirmish line, weapons raised, peppering the van with bullets as it sped towards them. The rear of the van slewed from side to side as Danny struggled to keep to the narrow track. A scream rang out from the floor of the van as a bullet found flesh.
“Hang on to something! We’re going to hit them hard!”
The shooters leapt in different directions to avoid being crushed. Danny grimaced as he rammed the parked sedan. The deafening sound of protesting metal echoed through the inside of the van, adding to the shrill cacophony. The sedan bucked to one side, its hood crumpled and windscreen spiderwebbed.
One of the women in the back of the van began to repeat the same prayer over and over like a mantra. “Please God, don’t let me die. Please God, don’t let me die.”
“Shite!” The boxy sedan, although shunted to one side, still blocked the road. Danny shifted into drive and the van lurched forward. “Hang on, I’m hitting them again.”
The van had only gained twenty feet when one of the shooters sprang up, his pistol level with Danny’s face. With an angry yell, Danny wrenched the steering wheel in the man’s direction. The bullet smacked into the padded headrest with a disconcerting whump. The shooter leapt away from the van again, this time tumbling into the dirt.
“That was too close for comfort,” Danny said as the tyres of the van lost traction. The other shooters were up and back in the fight. Bullets cut through the van. The vehicle was never designed for the jungle track and Danny cursed under his breath as one of the rear tyres blew out. The van dipped to the rear right corner, instantly becoming even less responsive.
Clay stared at him through the open window of the pickup, his face a glowering mask. The pickup was angled just behind the rocky outcrop that Danny had pranged. The barrel of the shotgun extended from the window. The gun boomed twice in rapid succession and the shooter closest to Danny pinwheeled to the ground.
Danny gritted his teeth. They didn’t have the firepower to engage the four remaining shooters. The risk to the rescued captives was just too high. Danny stabbed a finger towards a gap in the trees. A blocked bridge in front and a roadblock behind. “I’ll make my own bloody road.”
Clay’s shotgun roared again. Several of the pistols answered. The shooters had retreated, using the wedged vehicles as cover.
Danny hit the gas. It felt like gravity had found extra purchase on the van’s frame, each second longer than the last. He was sure a bullet would find its mark any moment and he would end his days bleeding out in an unnamed pocket of the big green. He grinned in defiance as the tyres finally gained traction and the bullet-riddled panel truck shot off the narrow road and into the dense jungle.
The shotgun boomed again, and then the lights from Clay’s pickup were bright behind him.
“Stay close, big brother,” yelled Danny.
Danny steered the van down an uneven slope. The gaps between the trees were haphazard and he sideswiped more than one obstacle. The sounds of impact inside the van were deafening. The passengers in the back yelped intermittently, as Danny fought to keep it moving. The gradient of the slope increased. A branch thicker than Danny’s upper arm whipped across the windscreen with a loud thud, and the glass fractured. Another tree branch shattered it. The surrounding canopy was dark and oppressive as the van’s headlights illuminated only the foliage directly in its path.
Danny only managed a brief bark of surprise as he tried to steer away from the shard of rock that jutted from the ground like the dorsal fin of a colossal shark. The passenger side of the van slammed into the unyielding rock with a howl of screeching metal. The van lurched into the air as the side door ripped open, buckling at an unnatural angle. Despite the damage, the van continued to move, listing and shuddering like a dying beast.
Danny glanced over his shoulder. Flashes of light from the damaged door caused a strobe effect on the stricken faces that stared back at him. One of the younger woman gave a heart-rending sob. They all looked so young.
The steering wheel was slack in his hands. The dashboard lit up in orange and red.
Time seemed to dilate to an agonising slowness again as Danny focused on the massive tree trunk standing directly in their path. It was nearly as wide as the van itself. He wrenched the wheel to one side and stamped down on the brake pedal. The van hardly deviated from its path.
“Hang on!”
Too little, too late!
Then the world folded around him. The right front corner of the van smashed inward with terrible ferocity. With no seat belt to hold him in position, he was thrown bodily through the windshield. Missing the tree by mere inches, Danny tumbled in a desperate cartwheel. Keeping his head tucked and covered with his arms, Danny landed first on his chest, the breath exploding from his lungs, then his legs continued his uncoordinated gymnastic tumble. A tree branch knocked him into a thick bush.
Danny came to his senses hanging upside down, only the palms of his hands on the ground. Emitting an elongated moan, he set about gaining his feet. The thick leaves of the shrub seemed determined to continue their hold on him. Letting his arms bend, he tucked his head tight and pedalled with both legs in turn. Then he was falling again, rolling onto his back.
“Danny!”
Danny was lifted to his feet as if he weighed no more than a child.
“Holy hell, brother! Are you okay?”
“Marks out of ten for a shitty landing?” groaned Danny.
“Nil points!” said Clay. “And you take the piss out of my driving.”
A pained shriek from the ruined van set Danny stumbling to the source of the sound. Clay followed close behind. Hardly an inch of the van seemed undamaged. Countless spots of light shone through the bullet holes in the mangled body. “Looks like a damned mirrorball.”
Danny shielded his eyes as he stepped into the full glare of the pickup’s lights. One of the rescued women lay at the side of the van, her right leg twisted at an angle that made Danny wince.
Danny exchanged a look with Clay, who retrieved the shotgun from the pickup and took up position to watch for their pursuers.