He had no intention of dying today. It wasn’t just his life at stake. The code to extinction needed to be broken and right now he was the most likely person on the planet to do so. If he died, billions of others might soon follow.
Sam swallowed and pulled the watch free from the hinge.
Instantly, both ailerons started to move wildly. They settled into a neutral position and the calm sea below raced to greet them. Sam’s eyes turned from the sea to the pilot. The man had dipped the nose to gain airspeed. It was probably the only option, but risky too. If he didn’t have enough time, all the pilot would have achieved by doing so, was to ensure that he struck the water faster and harder.
With his heart in his mouth, he yelled, “For God’s sake, pull up, man!”
The pilot glanced at him. His blue-gray eyes were malevolent, and he grinned like a man possessed — a man who’d risked everything and lost. For such a person, all options were available.
Sam felt his gut churn with fear, as comprehension greeted him like an unwanted stranger — he’s going to kill himself just to be certain I don’t survive.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Sam knew he was out of options.
If he or the seaplane struck the water at this speed he would be dead. There was no point trying to jump. His downward momentum was already deadly.
There’s an odd feeling of peace that comes across a person who realizes that death is imminent and that there is nothing they can do to change it. If there had been more time, he might have reflected that his life had been extraordinary. That he’d lived more days in his short life than most could have in ten lifetimes. But instead, his final thoughts turned to the future of mankind.
Best hope to hell you can break the code to extinction, Billie!
In the cockpit, the pilot firmly pulled the control wheel toward his chest. At first, the de Havilland’s nose refused to move. But a split second later, it was coaxed to rise.
The dark blue of the deeper water appeared to race faster to meet them, as though it was eager to reach them, before the seaplane could be manipulated into leveling out.
The sea lost and the little de Havilland won.
It leveled out precisely as it reached the water. The slender pontoons skimmed across the top of the water, as the pilot pushed the throttle all the way in, and the floatplane started to climb again.
Sam grinned as he struggled to maintain his grip on the wing’s strut. He gazed at the pilot, who’d now recovered full control over the aircraft.
The pilot glanced backward and met his eye, grinning wildly and laughing at the same time. “Sam Reilly — you sure are one crazy son of a bitch!”
Sam stared at him, trying to read some sort of purpose in his attacker’s face. “I did ask earlier to get off the ride…”
The pilot laughed. When the laughing eventually stopped, he smiled. It was a surprisingly engaging smile. “I’m glad I got the chance to meet you. This has been one hell of a fun day, hasn’t it?”
“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” Sam returned the smile. “Now what happens?”
“I’m afraid you’re really going to have to die. It’s nothing personal. Bigger things at stake than you or me. But you already knew that, didn’t you?” The pilot grinned like the devil. “If it’s any consolation, you weren’t going to live much longer anyway. No one is. Now at least your death will serve a purpose. The colony thanks you.”
Sam wanted to ask, what colony?
But he didn’t get the chance.
The pilot shoved the control wheel hard to the right and the aircraft started to roll. Sam had braced, expecting to be thrown downward, but instead, his attacker had rolled to the right — sending Sam’s side of the wing upward.
This time, the pilot didn’t attempt to level out again.
Instead, the de Havilland Canada DHC-3 Otter, continued to roll. Against its structural recommendations, and as a tribute to her strong airframe, she continued to roll a hundred and eighty degrees.
The pilot brought her to straight and level in an upside-down position.
Sam’s heart raced as the bulk of his body came to rest on top of the wing. Staring downward at the fuselage, he spotted a small cylindrical opening.
It was the air intake manifold.
Sam pulled off his shirt and stuffed it into the opening. The engine quickly drew it further inside, until it became wedged hard and all airflow ceased.
The engine coughed.
Sam clenched the side of the wing strut with all his might. The pilot, as expected, assumed that the roll had caused the engine to flood the carburetor, and consequently completed the maneuver until they were once again flying straight and level in an upright position.
The propeller continued to spin, but already it was losing strength.
With the carburetor starved of air, the engine sputtered and choked.
And then cut out completely.
Inside the cockpit, the pilot dipped the nose to maintain airspeed. Unaware of the cause of the engine’s problem and suspecting it to be flooded, he went about setting the fuel mixture to idle cut off and the throttle to wide open while cranking the engine. The idea was to attempt to allow excess fuel to exit the engine through the exhaust. Then, once enough fuel cleared the cylinders and a proper ratio of fuel to air was achieved, the engine would begin firing.
It probably would have worked, too — if the engine had been flooded.
If the air intake manifold hadn’t been blocked by me…
Sam stared at his attacker and smiled.
The pilot was working hard to resolve the problem. They were losing altitude. The aircraft had a decent glide ratio and already the pilot set a new course directly toward the closest piece of land — the city of Belize.
Sam grinned and then shouted, “You broke your toy airplane… I guess we’re both going to meet our maker together.”
“Speak for yourself,” the pilot replied. “See that land up ahead?”
Sam glanced at the sandy peninsula jutting out into a sea of shallow green and turquoise water. “Yeah, it’s the city of Belize.”
“I think I can reach it.”
“You think?” Sam teased.
“Yeah, I fucking think. Then I’m going to get out and kill you.”
Sam started to laugh uncontrollably.
The pilot snapped his head around. “What the fuck are you laughing about?”
Sam stopped laughing. His jaw was set firm and his piercing blue eyes were fixed on his attacker. “I don’t die that easy. Oh, and by the way, if you glance over your shoulder you’ll notice my friends are right behind us.”
The pilot glanced over his shoulder and swore. A moment later, he lowered the nose and set up for a landing. At the edge of the city a rocky cliff, thirty feet high, jutted out into the sea. On the other side of the cliff a single road led to the popular southern end of the city, filled with tourists and locals wanting to have a good time.
Sam studied their glidepath. It was going to be close. Too close for him to be certain they would clear the cliff at all. He glanced at the water. It was still fifty feet below, but as they got closer he might just make it if he jumped.
He dismissed the idea. The priority was catching his attacker. He needed answers, and right now, the man piloting the aircraft was just about the only person who could provide them.
Sam held on, and the seaplane gradually approached the land.
The aircraft crossed the rocky cliff, clearing it by a full three feet. Sam waited. A split second later, its twin pontoons struck land.
Sam jumped.
He hit the grass and rolled.
When he finally stopped, Sam stood up.