‘No time to debate,’ the SEAL commander snapped. ‘Qeycad’s only a few miles away and I’m not risking us being identified or attacked.’
Ethan watched the truck for a moment longer and then he made his decision.
‘Put us overhead.’
The SEAL commander stared at Ethan for a moment. ‘What are you going to do?’
Ethan smiled faintly. ‘I don’t know. I’m sort of making this up as I go.’
The SEAL shrugged and relayed Ethan’s request forward to the pilots. The Seahawk surged forward as they accelerated, and the SEAL commander opened the helicopter’s side door once more and allowed Ethan a glimpse of the wildly careering truck a few hundred feet below them as they thundered overhead.
‘Let’s make use of this human baggage,’ the SEAL commander suggested to his men as he gestured to the captives. ‘Maybe we can use them to slow that jeep down a little.’
Ethan heard the two Somalians pinned to the helicopter’s deck squeal in terror, fearing that they were about to be jettisoned over the side as the SEALs hauled them to their feet. He got out of his seat and grabbed the SEAL commander’s arm.
‘Let them be, just get me onto that truck.’
The commander narrowed his eyes and glanced at the prisoners. ‘They’ll only go back to looting and raping. Why spare them?’
‘Because we’re not them,’ Ethan replied. ‘Right?’
‘They can identify us,’ the SEAL snapped. ‘This is as far as the helo’ goes, and it’s your last chance to slow that truck down! It’s not negotiable, unless you’re giving these pirates the same human rights as their victims?’
Ethan stared at the SEAL but he had no viable response as the soldier turned and had his men force the two captives to their feet, both men weeping openly and begging for mercy. Even before Ethan could protest further, he was shoved to one side and the two captives were propelled from the helicopter to plunge down into the path of the truck.
Ethan saw their bodies spiral down, limbs pounding the air in a terminal attempt to prevent their impact with the ground, and then they hit the earth in the truck’s path in puffs of golden dust as the Seahawk sank lower and the truck slowed as it tried to manoeuvre past the gruesome obstacles.
‘Isn’t it time for you to leave?’ the SEAL commander suggested.
The Seahawk lowered over the desert sands rushing by below them, the fuselage bucking and gyrating in the wind currents as vast plumes of dust and sand billowed outward under the turbulent down wash from the rotors. Ethan stepped out to the edge of the open doorway, saw the truck swerve desperately to one side in an attempt to avoid the helicopter. Ethan looked right and saw the track weave to the right between dense clumps of hardy thorn bushes cluttering the landscape, and he realized that the truck would have to pass beneath them.
The hot desert wind tugged at his hair and shirt as he leaned out, the truck less than ten feet below him as the helicopter pilot skilfully guided them down, and then Ethan took a breath and jumped.
His stomach lifted into his throat as he plunged down and slammed into the back of the truck with a resounding thump just as the vehicle lurched to the right. Ethan slammed into the side of the metal doors in the rear of the truck, his legs flailing as he threw his hands over his head to protect it.
The Seahawk helicopter surged upward and away, turning east as Ethan scrambled for purchase in the truck and dragged himself forward. A grubby window looked into the cab, where he could see both the driver and a passenger inside. The driver, and old man with yellowing teeth, was looking back at him, a gun held in one hand as he tried to aim backwards over his shoulder while driving the truck.
Ethan threw himself aside as a gunshot cracked out. The dirty window shattered in a cascade of broken glass that showered across Ethan as the shot went by him. He rolled to one side of the vehicle, directly behind the driver’s seat where he could not be attacked, and crawled forward as he drew his own pistol and prepared to put it against the driver’s head.
The truck suddenly threw him forward as the driver hit the brakes and Ethan tumbled into the back of the cab and slammed against the unyielding metal in a tangle of limbs as the truck lurched forward again, the engine growling as it accelerated.
Ethan rolled down the back of the truck and barely grabbed hold of the side before he was thrown out of the back and onto the dusty track behind them, his legs dragging on the rough earth as he hung on grimly to the tail gate. Fury seared Ethan’s guts as he dragged himself back onto the truck and realized that he had no choice. Another wild gunshot through the shattered rear window clanged off the bodywork to his right in a cloud of sparks that were snatched away by the hot wind, and he slammed himself down into a prone position in the rear of the truck and took aim at the metal panel behind the driver. The rough surface of the track jostled him and spoiled his aim, but with a large target so close before him he could hardly miss.
Ethan fired three shots, each of the bullets easily piercing the thin metal of the truck’s cab and slamming into the driver’s body. Ethan saw the driver’s head quiver as the bullets impaled him and the sound of the truck’s engine began to decrease as the driver’s body slackened in the wake of the gunshots.
Ethan scrambled forward to the window and reached in through the shattered window as the truck swerved to the right toward dense thickets of thorn scrub. He pushed the wheel to the left and the truck straightened up as he realized that Lopez was strapped into the passenger seat, her head lolling this way and that and her chin on her chest.
Panic ripped at Ethan’s heart as the truck rumbled to a halt on the desolate trail and the engine coughed into silence as it stalled. Ethan vaulted over the side of the truck and opened the driver’s door to see the old man slumped in his seat, his eyes open and his chest heaving, blood pouring from wounds in his belly and chest.
Ethan could hear the air rattling into and out of his ruined lungs, but the man did not move an inch. The bullets must have torn through his spinal cord, and now blood bubbled in pink spheres on his lips as Ethan reached in to jerk his chin up with one hand and glare into the old man’s eyes.
‘Where is Abrahem?!’ he demanded.
The old man looked at Ethan for a moment, his eyes briefly focusing in on him and then he smiled, his yellowing teeth stained with blood.
‘Alluhah Akbhar,‘ he whispered.
Ethan scowled and jumped down from the cab as he hurried around to Lopez’s side and opened her door. He reached up to her neck and pressed his forefingers to her throat, then almost shouted in glee as he felt a pulse throbbing strongly beneath his touch.
A damp rattle issued from the old man’s lungs, and Ethan looked across to see his head sag, his beard pressing upon his chest as his eyes closed.
‘Son of a bitch,’ Ethan uttered, his voice sounding loud in the otherwise silent desert dawn.
The truck’s engine was clicking as the hot metal cooled and contracted, and Ethan could see no sign of any water bottles or other survival equipment inside. All he could hope now was that none of his shots had perforated the engine or radiator and that he could get back to the shore before the Seahawk was forced to abandon them in this war — torn and desolate nation.
Ethan reached across and unclipped the old man’s seat belt, then let his body fall from the seat to land in the dust at his feet. Ethan climbed aboard and shut his door just as Lopez lifted her head and stared at him blankly.
‘Where are we?’