“Clever Americans,” said Dazhou. “Prepare the missile to fire at the platform.”
“It is ready, Captain.”
“Fire.”
The shifting of the platform had torn a large gash in the deck on the second level, making it impossible to reach the ladder.
“We can go over the side,” suggested Bison, pointing to the rail. “Then climb around on that girder there.”
“Good!” yelled Jennifer. “Last one in the boat’s a rotten egg,” she said, sliding through the railing.
Jennifer had two advantages over the burly Whiplashers: She was considerably thinner and shorter than all of them, even Liu. She also wasn’t trying to hump packs of gear and guns. She made it down to the ladder before them, and tested it with the weight of one foot; it remained solid. But after two steps it started to slide away toward the ocean; Jennifer scrambled down two rungs and then leaned over to the girder, grabbing on as the ladder collapsed downward in slow motion.
“Whoa, shit!” yelled Bison above her.
“I’m all right!” Jennifer leaned around the girder, trying to find a way for the others to get down. The path to her pier was now blocked, but each of the others had a narrow work ladder that ended a few feet above the water. If Bison and Liu could climb up and then across the girder near them, they could make it to the easternmost pier and have the boat pick them up.
“Worth a shot,” said Bison as Jennifer explained it to them. “Either that or climb out to the pole at the center there and slide down”
“You’d have to go all the way back up to reach that.”
“That or fly,” he said.
Sergeant Liu began working his way over, picking through a mangled gate of metal and thick wires to reach a solid, open girder that ran about ten feet across open water. “It’s doable,” he said, starting across.
Jennifer watched as Bison followed. Taller than Liu and much bulkier, especially with his bulletproof vest, he had a hard time getting through the narrow passage a third of the way across.
“Get rid of the packs,” she told him, but either the sergeant didn’t hear or, like all Dreamland personnel, was pig-headed when it came to accomplishing a mission. He made it to the girder and began climbing across. About six feet out, the metal, which looked to be a good foot thick, snapped.
Jennifer watched in shock as Bison fell six feet, then stopped abruptly in midair. Her mind couldn’t comprehend what had happened — it looked as if God had reached down and grabbed him, holding him over the sea. Incredulous, she climbed back up to the point where the deck had snapped, then reached over to the nearby girder — it was only twelve inches, but the fall looked like forever. She reached it, pulled herself up, and began making her way toward Bison, going hand over hand on a three-inch pipe for twenty feet until she reached the metalwork directly over him.
A piece of jagged metal had snagged his vest and one of the backpacks; he was literally hanging by threads, his body twisting. “You with me, Bison?” she shouted down.
“I think.” He sounded dazed.
“You are one lucky motherfucker,” she said.
All of a sudden, Bison seemed to become fully aware of where he was. He started to reach for the metal that held him. He couldn’t quite get it.
“No,” said Jennifer. “I think you can climb up and grab the girder overhead, then come over to this pier and come down. It’s a better bet than jumping.”
“I don’t think it’ll hold.”
“The girder?”
“This metal. I think I’ll just unhook and jump.”
“It’s too far. And if you miss, you’ll smack into the metal below.”
“I ain’t going to fall.”
Bison pulled on the pipe, trying to swing.
“It’s not going to work, Bison,” said Jennifer. She could see from where she was that the gap between the Whiplash trooper and the metal was nearly ten feet — much too much to jump. “Go up.”
“Maybe that is the best way,” he said. He started to pull himself up, then lost his balance. As he swung down, the pipe shifted an inch downward, taking him further away.
“I don’t like this,” he said.
“It’ll be easier if you let go of the packs and the two machine-guns,” she said.
“No,” said Bison. “I can make it with them.”
“Let go of the fucking packs!” she yelled at him, furious.
Bison looked around and, finally, dropped the guns and pack that hadn’t snagged. They crashed against the metal, then rebounded into the water. He pulled himself up, groping over and across the girder to a large flange at the side of the pier where she was. The metal, about the size of a manhole cover, formed a kind of seat and he rested there for a few moments. Jennifer scrambled up to see how he was.
“You got a dirty mouth for a girl,” he said when she reached him.
“And you’re as stubborn as a mule.”
“As a buffalo. That’s how I got the nickname,” he said proudly.
They climbed down about thirty feet to a platform that completely surrounded the pier. The only way to get down would be to hang off and try and get a foothold on the girder before stretching down. It was impossible to see the work ladder from above. Jennifer thought she was nimble enough to do it, but might not be tall enough to reach back easily; Bison, on the other hand, looked tall enough but exhausted. One of them was bound to slip.
Another girder extended out over the water a few feet above the platform; a pulley set at the bottom of the metal beam was all that remained from a small lift that had been used to move equipment.
“I think we should jump from there,” she told Bison, pointing. “Jump?”
“Look, it’s only twenty feet from the water. As long as we keep our balance to the very end and go out there, we won’t hit anything. It’s like a diving platform. The others can pick us up.”
“Shit on that. Twenty fuckin’ feet”
“Easier than snaking under this platform, I bet.”
“Twenty fuckin’ feet. Maybe thirty.”
“I bet you did worse than that at Lackland when you went through special operations training.”
“Yeah, but that was Lackland. Everybody was out of their mind there”
“Come on. You go first,” she told him.
“Ladies first.”
“We’ll both go first. Come on.”
“You ain’t walking out there, are you?” he said as she climbed up.
“Should I run?” she said, standing on the girder.
“Jesus,” said Bison. He pulled himself up and started to crawl out behind her.
Jennifer waited until Bison was on behind her, then started resolutely toward the edge. She felt her right foot slip, and pushed forward — she did run now, pushing her momentum so that she was sure she would fall far from the metalwork. As gravity took her, she pushed her legs together and brought her arms in together, covering her upper body.
The water punched at her so hard that she was convinced she had struck the metal. Her lungs rebelled; she pushed upward, flailing desperately. Finally she saw light just ahead, but two strokes failed to bring her to the surface. She felt despair, tasted the salt water in her mouth.
But she’d hit rock bottom a month and a half before, when the air force seemed to turn against her, launching an investigation that targeted her. She’d survived that; she could survive anything.
A shock of cold jerked her body as if she’d touched a power line. Jennifer’s head bobbed upward, breaking the water’s surface. She gasped once, twice, then felt herself lurching backward.
Liu pulled her into one of the Zodiacs. She sat upright just in time to see Bison pulling himself onto the other a few yards away.
The motor at the rear revved. The lightweight boat bucked forward, picking up speed quickly.