Slam. Corey hits the grass hard and Ponytail lands right beside him. The Australian elbows him across the jaw and Ponytail cries out in pain. Corey looks up as the now pilotless Air-Crane ceases to fly and its huge front wheel drops directly towards his chest—
Jeezus! Corey rolls left as the tyre slams onto the grass beside him. The chopper bounces twice — then turns and rolls straight towards him. He scrambles clear, finds his feet, realises he’s right beside the open cockpit door again and climbs inside—
Crunch. Ponytail crash-tackles him to the grass.
39
Bunsen takes in the destruction. The wellhead is gone, leaving a five-inch-wide pipe from which a low-pressure stream of crude oil flows. He kneels beside the hole, unzips his bag, and draws out a long, thin aluminium cylinder, same as the one he used at Moreno High School. He works the iPhone’s screen and the cylinder’s propeller spins to life. He then slides the cylinder down the pipe and it disappears.
He studies the numbers which update on the phone’s screen: forty, one hundred and twenty, three hundred and seventy. Seconds pass until the number reaches fifteen hundred and stops. One point five kilometres. It’s at depth and all systems are nominal.
He heads for the exit. He’s happy and there’s a spring in his step. Phase Three is almost complete.
Lola watches the handsome guy move towards the exit. What the hell did he just send down that well? Didn’t Judd say he did something similar at Moreno High? She moves off quickly and quietly, follows him through the jungle of pipes and tanks as she dials Judd’s number.
It rings, but nobody picks up.
Come on!
Judd feels his phone buzz in his pocket but his hands are full and he can’t answer it. The pilot, he now realises, may not be trained in the art of hand-to-hand combat but he’s one strong son of a bitch. He’s currently on top of Judd and has him pinned to the ground.
Whik, whik, whik. The spinning tail rotor cuts through the smoke haze and swings straight towards them as the Air-Crane continues to turn. Judd sees it coming and realises the bottom edge of the blade is in line with the pilot’s head. Excellent. All Judd has to do is hold him in this position and the guy is toast.
The pilot sees the rotor, instantly collapses an elbow, rolls right and flips Judd over so now he’s on top. Now the bottom edge of the blade is in line with Judd’s head. Not so excellent.
Whik, whik, whik. The thundering rotor is three metres away. Judd tries to roll clear but the pilot has the arm strength of a silverback gorilla and holds him tight. Christ! Judd shifts his knee, pushes it down into the guy’s cahones and presses as hard as he can.
Whik, whik, whik. The rotor is right there. Judd presses harder. The pilot flinches—
Whik, whik, whik. Judd rolls clear as the rotor sweeps overhead. The astronaut scrambles to his feet, searches for his opponent—
Crunch. The pilot tackles Judd from behind and drives him into the ground.
Bunsen exits the building — and takes in the scene in the park. He’s no longer happy and has most definitely lost the spring in his step. ‘What the fuck is going on?’
The Tyrannosaur spins around in circles. To the right Enrico fights — is that Judd Bell? And to the left, Kilroy fights — the Australian whose name he can’t remember.
Apoplectic, Bunsen draws his pistol and sprints towards the park.
Judd Bell dies first.
Ponytail has Corey in a headlock and try as he might he can’t get free—
Something soft and grey brushes against the Australian’s face, then again. What the hell is that?
It’s Ponytail’s ponytail.
Errr, gross — but also, potentially useful. Corey reaches up, grabs at it, misses, tries again, gets a handful of it and yanks hard.
Ponytail’s head jerks to the right and Corey wrenches himself free, twists the hair around his fist, pulls it hard and slams Ponytail’s head into the Air-Crane’s cockpit door.
Ponytail bounces off and drives an elbow into Corey’s gut. Winded, the Australian backpedals — then sees the pistol lying on the grass five metres away. Ponytail sees it too and they both sprint, dive, slide across the grass for it—
Ponytail gets there first, grabs the weapon with his right hand and swings it towards Corey’s face. The Australian shoves Ponytail’s arm up—
Bam. The pistol fires into the sky—
Whik, whik, whik. The tail rotor swings around and the bottom edge clips the gun and all five of Ponytail’s fingers.
They’re instantly vaporised. Ponytail screams blue murder and slumps to the ground, tries to stem the flow of blood from the nub that is now his right hand. Covered in a fine mist of the red stuff, Corey rolls left and finds his feet—
Whik, whik, whik. The tail rotor is right in front of him! He stops dead as it swings past, centimetres from his face, then runs for the Air-Crane’s cockpit. He’s going to fly this thing out right now.
Why don’t they answer?
Phone jammed to her ear, Lola clears the doorway and sees the handsome guy run on to the park, a pistol in hand.
Damn it.
What did Corey say? ‘Whatever you do, don’t engage these people. Please. Do. Not. Engage.’
He was very clear. He said it twice. He even said ‘please’.
What does she do?
She can’t just stand here and watch this guy shoot them. She breaks into a run, picks up speed instantly, sprints directly towards the handsome guy. She’s fast, but most importantly, she’s faster than him, all those years spent on track at UCLA finally proving useful in the real world. She catches him quickly, armed with nothing but her iPhone, a brass telescope and the element of surprise.
She hopes it’s enough.
Slam. She tackles him hard, drives him into the grass. Wow. She feels like a damn superhero! Now what? She wants his gun. She springs to her feet, scrambles forward, bends to grab it. This is working out brilliantly—
Wham. Handsome swings around and kicks her in the breadbasket.
Damn, that hurts!
All the air leaves her body. She stumbles backwards, arms wind-milling, and crashes to the ground.
She doesn’t feel like a superhero any more.
‘What is that bloody woman doing?’
Astonished, Corey stares out at Lola from the pilot seat of the Air-Crane, which continues to rotate because he can’t find the wheel brake. He told her twice. Do. Not. Engage. But what did she do? She engaged, and is now laid out flat on the far side of the park. Pistol in hand, Handsome pulls himself to his feet and turns to her.
Jeezus. This is exactly what he feared would happen. He can’t fly the Air-Crane out now, can’t leave her like this. He pushes the door open, jumps out of the cockpit and runs—
Whik, whik, whik. The tail rotor swings towards him.
‘Oh, come on!’ He sprints hard, outruns it, sets a course for the handsome guy, who’s a good thirty metres away. The only thing Corey has going for him is that the bloke won’t hear him coming over the Air-Crane’s turbines. The Australian has no idea what he’ll do when he gets there, he just knows he must get there.