For the three trucks – two plus the one that had gone on ahead with Spooky’s clan – a six-mile, fifteen-minute drive in good weather turned into a harrowing hour in the storm. On one steep section, Spooky’s truck started to slide back down the hill toward a cliff. Flyboy drove forward and crashed his vehicle into the back, enough to stop the slide. After that, they had inched upward in the lowest gear possible.
Visibility almost nil, the Edens huddled together for warmth in the uncovered backs of the trucks, wet snow piling up on them. Reaper sat alone and stared off into space. Larry tried to talk to her, but Skull told him to just leave her alone.
At the top of the last hill they found an unpaved landing strip beside a few buildings. Spooky drove down the middle of the runway, unable to see more than fifty yards. For a moment he feared that the plane was not there, but then he spotted the lights on the wingtips and the shadowy outline of a fuselage.
A four-engined C-130J Super Hercules transport aircraft with extra fuel pods sat at the downwind end of the runway, engines idling. Figures sprayed de-icer from hoses attached to a tanker-trailer that had obviously been unloaded from the plane itself.
Spooky raced forward and pulled around to the back of the aircraft as the tail ramp rapidly lowered. He jumped out and greeted the thin figure waiting, a man with neck tattoos barely visible above his winter parka.
“I was afraid you weren’t going to make it,” Python told him.
“We had some complications,” Spooky said. “Might have some company on our trail soon. How quickly can we get out of here?”
“Soon as you load up. Weather’s only getting worse.” He looked up at the shivering Edens.
Spooky saw Reaper’s eyes light up as she spotted Python, watched as she jumped down and embraced her sometime lover. He wondered if the two even realized how he used them to manipulate each other. In this case, their connection ensured maximum motivation for Python to be here with the plane to complete the mission.
The Nguyens and the others climbed down from the beds of the trucks and made their way into the back of the cargo plane. Python freed himself from Reaper with a smile and yelled, “Pack in forward, tight! Fill every seat!”
A man in a flight suit made his way from the front of the aircraft and tugged on Python’s sleeve. He made a cutting motion in front of his throat and yelled, “Winds are gusting at ninety knots and visibility is almost nil. We’re grounded.”
“Come on now,” said Python with an easy smile. “This is why I pay you. If anyone could do it I’d hire a cheaper pilot.”
“This isn’t about money,” the pilot said. “We try to take off in this and we’re going to end up dead.”
Spooky stepped forward to give the pilot his best, deadliest stare. “Our options are rather limited at this point. No doubt the enemy is only a few minutes behind us. You either get this plane off the ground or we all go back to that death camp we just left.”
“It’s not a choice,” said the pilot. “It’s impossible. No one can fly in this.”
Suddenly the man was pinned against the side of the plane, Spooky’s hand wrapped around his throat. The pilot struggled but couldn’t break free, despite outweighing the Degar by fifty pounds. “Perhaps I should explain your situation. You get in the cockpit and get us airborne or you die right here.”
“Did someone say fly?” Flyboy asked, coming up to break the tableau. “I can fly.”
Spooky let the pilot loose.
The man rubbed his neck and stepped away from Spooky. “Not in this. You feel those wind gusts?”
Flyboy nodded. “Sure. Nothing to it.” He held out his hand. “Headset.”
“You’re insane,” the pilot said, passing over his headset.
“Can you really fly this thing?” Reaper asked Flyboy.
Flyboy’s face showed hurt. “I guess I’ll just have to prove it to you.”
“Nothing like working with professionals,” said Skull.
“Yeah, I miss this,” answered Larry.
“Shut up, you son of a bitch,” said Reaper to Larry, putting her hand on her knife. “You weren’t part of the plan. We’d have been long gone if we hadn’t had to take down that blockhouse and break you out. Five good people are probably dead because of you. I hope to hell it turns out to be worth it.”
Larry’s smile disappeared and he nodded. “Got it. Sorry.”
“I’m not,” said Skull.
“That’s because you’re just as sick as Spooky,” Reaper snarled.
“Ooh, now that stings.”
Larry laid a hand on Skull’s arm and dragged him effortlessly toward the plane. “Sorry again, miss. Skull uses humor as a defense. He don’t mean no disrespect.”
Spooky touched Reaper, causing her to jump. “Feud later. Fly now.”
The propellers began to speed up. The two were the last aboard, and the ramp lifted off the ground, but didn’t close yet.
The plane started to roll. With no more seats, Reaper, Spooky and Python were forced to stand on the inside of the ramp. Many of the Edens lay flat on the airplane floor in exhaustion.
***
Reaper instinctively ran a mental checklist and felt a stab of pain. Shortfuse and Tarzan had stayed at the camp with Hulk, whom she’d seen fall. Bunny and Hawkeye had gone back. Stitch and Spirit were here. She might see Livewire again, if he made it to the caves. Buzz?
“Where’s Buzz?” she yelled.
“There he is,” said Spooky pointing out over the open ramp to the man making his way from around behind the back of the trucks.
“Idiot. Come on!” yelled Reaper waving him forward.
He ran and leapt onto the ramp as the C-130 gathered speed. The man was shaking and pale.
“You almost got left behind,” Reaper said.
Without the slightest warning, Buzz pulled his pistol and pointed it at Spooky’s head, pulling the trigger, and then he turned to leap off.
Spooky jerked backward and fell atop Python, bleeding.
“What the hell?” said Reaper, grappling Buzz, preventing him from exiting the ramp.
He punched her in the face with his free hand and fired another shot into Spooky.
She scrabbled for her knife.
He pointed the pistol at Reaper’s head.
She ducked instinctively and let go.
With an inarticulate guttural, Python rushed Buzz.
Buzz turned his pistol and shot the thin man in the face, punching a hole out the back of his head, spraying blood and brains onto the inner wall of the moving airplane.
Reaper lunged, driving her knife into Buzz’s kidney, a textbook attack. He spasmed, paralyzed by the pain.
She heard the hammering of an assault rifle. A cluster of bullets slammed into the man, turning his torso into hamburger, and he slumped and slid off the ramp, leaving Reaper to stand, stunned, knife in hand.
Python!
Before she’d wiped off her blade and put it away, she knew Python’s cause was hopeless. His open, staring eyes held no life. Crouching, she picked up his limp hand and held it to her cheek.
The plane’s speed increased. Around her, the team held onto cargo nettings and each other as the plane’s nose lifted and the powerful engines dragged it into the leaden sky. Gusts buffeted them, shoving the aircraft left and right, dropping it suddenly like a carnival ride.
Below them, they could see armored vehicles cresting the hill. Searchlights pierced the increasing darkness, probing for the aircraft, but they failed to find it.
Skull slung his assault rifle and slammed his hand against a button aft of the left paratroop door. With a pneumatic whine, the ramp closed, leaving them in sudden peace, surrounded only by the muffled roar of the engines and the airflow over the plane. “What the hell was that?” he said to her.
Reaper forced herself to speak. “Some kind of traitor or mole. We had our suspicions, but no proof, and he never did anything overt.”
“Until just now, when he put two into Spooky. Don’t worry, though. I punched his ticket.”
“Spooky.” Reaper sat up suddenly and looked for the little man. She saw Stitch patching him up. The medic gave her a thumbs-up.
“Guess I’ll get some rack time,” said Skull.
“You do that.”
“Need anything?”
“Go away, Skull.”
A moment later she felt him drape a blanket around her shoulders. She sat unmoving on the ramp with the flesh that had been Python, and allowed herself to mourn.