Combustion (30 page)

Bunsen watches the white shape rocket towards him.

What is that -?

Whack.
It hits him flush on the cheek and stings like hell.

‘Hey!’ He touches the point of impact. Whatever it was has split the skin and really hurts. He glances at the ground, sees the woman threw an iPhone, looks back at her, re-aims and squeezes the trigger.

She won’t need a phone where she’s going -

~ * ~

Whump.
Corey hits Handsome Guy like a train.

The Australian drives him into the grass and the guy doesn’t fire the shot. He scrambles to his feet and swings the pistol towards Corey. Before he can pull the trigger the Australian springs forward, twists the weapon from his grip and kicks him in the gut.

Handsome staggers backwards, trips and lands on the ground with an almost comical exhalation of breath.

Corey steps forward and points the pistol at him. ‘Not so tough without your gun, are you?’

The man looks up at him and grins.

‘You got nothing to smile about, mate. You are done.’

‘What
is
your name?’

‘You can call me “the Australian who just kicked your arse”. It doesn’t really trip off the tongue but I think it captures my general vibe.’

The man’s grin widens. ‘You’re going to die today, like all the others. You just don’t know it yet.’

‘You’re kinda mouthy for a guy without a gun.’

‘That’s because I’m a guy with a detonator to a really big bomb.’ Bunsen holds up a cigarette-pack sized box, his finger touching the green button on top. ‘I guess I have something to smile about after all. Now tell me, do you think you can shoot me before I press this button?’

Corey hesitates.

‘Drop the gun or we’ll find out.’

Corey reluctantly does it.

~ * ~

Thump, thump, thump.
The Tyrannosaur skims across the park directly towards Bunsen, Enrico in the pilot’s seat. The rotor wash kicks up a blizzard of smoke and leaves that blasts into Bunsen and almost knocks the Australian off his feet.

A rope ladder drops from the rear cabin door and swings low. Kilroy steadies it as Bunsen grabs hold. He quickly climbs it to the cabin as the giant chopper lifts into the purple sky.

Corey recovers his balance, picks up the pistol and aims it at the Air-Crane. He’s pretty sure that if he hits one of the rotors the chopper will auto-rotate to the ground and the landing will be soft enough not to detonate the weapon. Unfortunately ‘pretty sure’ isn’t really good enough. So he releases the trigger and lowers the weapon - and immediately has second thoughts. Will history be kind to him? Would it be better for this neighbourhood to be destroyed rather than whatever location the weapon is being transported to now? Is it on the way to a crowded Disneyland? Or the Santa Monica Pier? Or Universal CityWalk? He can’t help but think it was better that Flight 93 crashed into a field in Shanksville, Pennsylvania, rather than its intended target on 9/11. Did he just send that bomb to the equivalent of the White House?

What
did
that prick have planned for it? Corey knows there’s only one way to find out. He must follow it. He turns for the Loach then catches sight of something under the rising Air-Crane and stops dead. ‘You’ve gotta be kidding me.’

Judd lies on top of the giant weapon under the chopper’s airframe, his face a picture of steely determination. He waves at Corey.

Dumbstruck, Corey waves back. Suddenly he’s very glad he didn’t shoot down the Air-Crane. Lola approaches, her retrieved iPhone in hand. ‘What on earth are you waving at?’

Corey just points at the climbing chopper. She looks up and sees Judd. Stunned, she instinctively waves too. ‘Is he insane?’

Corey turns and runs for the Loach. ‘We gotta follow them.’

Lola’s right beside him, astonished. ‘Why would he do that?’

‘To prove a point.’

‘What point?’

‘That he’s the hero everyone thinks he is.’

‘But he
is
a hero.’

‘He doesn’t believe it.’ Corey takes a moment. ‘I just realised I probably shouldn’t have told you that. Please keep it to yourself.’

‘Of course. And thanks for helping me out with that guy back there.’

Corey doesn’t respond. They run on, their footfalls and breathing the only sound. After a moment she turns to him. ‘What?’

‘Nothing.’

‘When someone says “nothing” it’s always “something”.’

‘You ignored everything I said.’

‘See? Always something.’

‘Do not engage those people. I said it
twice.
I even said
please.
It was just dumb luck that I got to that guy before he shot you.’

‘That guy
was marching across the park to shoot
you.
And Judd. I wasn’t going to let that happen so I tackled him.’

‘Don’t help me, please. I can look after myself. I don’t want you to die trying to help me unnecessarily.’

‘I wasn’t “trying to help you” I was
actually
helping you and it looked pretty
necessary
to me. You should thank me.’

He shoots her an incredulous look. ‘You don’t get thanked for doing crazy-dangerous stuff. There’s no thanking for that. Just please, don’t do it again.’

‘But
you
do it all the time. Flying the chopper through those skyscrapers was the most crazy-dangerous thing I’ve ever seen in my life.’

‘I didn’t
choose
to do it. I was
forced
to.’

‘And so was I. That guy was going to kill you. That’s why you should thank me.’

‘And we’re back to where we started.’

They run on in silence, their footfalls and breathing, which is heavier than it was a moment ago, the only sound.

He glances at her. ‘You’re good at arguing your side.’

‘That’s why I’ve got such a big house.’

He can’t help but smile at that. ‘I just - I don’t want you to get hurt.’

‘And I don’t want me to get hurt either.’ She looks at him. ‘I’ll be careful.’

He regards her for a moment and realises that’s the closest they’ll get to an agreement. ‘Okay. And thanks, for tackling that guy.’

She nods. ‘Anytime. And thank you for doing the same.’

He sees the Loach appear out of the gloom. A young guy lies on the ground in front of it, terrified. That’s because Spike stands on his chest and growls at him with bared teeth, his snout inches from the poor sucker’s nose.

Corey takes in the tableau. ‘You picked the wrong dog, mate.’

The guy’s voice trembles. ‘I was just looking at the chopper, I didn’t mean anything by it, honest.’

Lola climbs into the passenger seat. ‘I think we all know anyone who says “honest” at the end of a sentence usually isn’t.’

‘You gotta get this crazy mutt off me.’

Corey slides into the pilot’s seat. ‘You’ll need to be much nicer than that.’

‘Get this . . . lovely animal off me?’

Corey fires up the Loach’s turbine. ‘And what’s the magic word?’

‘Please?’

The rotors start to turn. ‘Not in the form of a question.’

‘Please.’

‘There you go. Spike, get behind.’

The dog hops off the guy, who immediately scrambles away. Spike chases him for a moment, then doubles back and leaps into the cockpit and lands beside Lola. She rubs his head. ‘Oh, you’re a good boy.’ He nuzzles against her. Corey takes this in as he works the controls and the Loach springs off the roadway.

They both pull on their headsets and survey the horizon. The haze is thick and Corey can see no sign of the Air-Crane. ‘Where is it?’

Lola drags the telescope out of her jacket pocket, scans the smoke. ‘There!’ She points to the far left and up. ‘It’s high.’

Corey looks high and sees a distant black dot. ‘Right. Thank you.’ He sets a course for it and shakes his head. ‘What the hell was he thinking?’

Lola holds up her phone. ‘Why don’t we find out?’

Corey points to a cable that protrudes from the communications panel. ‘If you plug it in we should both be able to hear him.’

~ * ~

40

It seemed like a good idea at the time.

In reality it’s possibly the worst idea Judd’s ever had.
Ever.
He’s so desperate to prove he’s not a fraud that he’s going to dig himself an early grave. And by ‘early’ he means a little later today.

At least it’s not as loud up here as he expected. From his position directly under the airframe and above the weapon he is protected from the worst of the wind and noise. The only real negatives are the vibrations that have made his hands numb from holding the weapon and the fact
he’s about to die.

What the hell was he thinking?

He watches the ground sweep past for a moment, then turns and looks into the rear cabin. He can see only the legs and torsos of Handsome Guy and Ponytail in the Air-Crane’s rear cabin. The old man seems to be injured in some way. Handsome is holding what appears to be a missile launcher across his knees. Judd’s certain he’s surveying the horizon to make sure they’re not being followed, which, Judd is also sure, is exactly what Corey and Lola are doing right now.

Judd turns and studies the weapon he’s lying on. The sides are cloaked in camouflage netting but from the top he can see the whole thing clearly. The three weapons inside the football-shaped lattice are surely US Army bunker busters from their length, width and markings.

Somehow he has to disarm them. That’s the reason he climbed up here after all. Being so close to the weapon he can see it is completely handmade, which gives him hope, for an exposed wire or a loose detonator or some other manufacturing defect that will present him with a way to disable it.

He goes in search of it.

~ * ~

Corey drops the Loach low, maybe fifty metres off the ground, skims the smoke haze. Beside him Lola studies her phone. The call to Judd still isn’t going through. She hits redial, then peers through the brass telescope and focuses on the Air-Crane as it cuts across the darkening horizon above them. ‘It’s closer, but we’re still two clicks away.’

‘Okey-doke.’

She looks at the Australian. He got a little annoyed with her before, but she takes it as a good sign. If he didn’t care he wouldn’t get upset, would he? She’s always thought the opposite of love isn’t hate so much as indifference. Then she realises she really shouldn’t read too much into anything he said. She blew him off and embarrassed him last night so he was probably just venting frustration.

The call fails again. She hits redial.

~ * ~

Judd shakes his head. Amazing. He’s searched this thing and found no manufacturing flaws
at all.
The weapon may be handmade but the craftsmanship is first rate. He can tell by the quality of the welding used on the metal tubes that connect and surround the three central bombs and make up the latticework. He can’t even find any exposed wires for the electronics systems. And that means just one thing: catching a ride on the back of this thing has been a monumental waste of time -

He hears sloshing.
Liquid
sloshing. Is it coming from the av-gas in the Air-Crane’s fuel tanks directly above him? No. It’s definitely coming from the weapon, specifically those metal tubes. He sees what looks like a welded radiator cap at the centre of the weapon. He feels around the base and touches liquid. It’s clear, but has an almost grainy texture when he rubs it between his fingers. He smells it. Sweet, but with a synthetic edge. Definitely not oil or gasoline or any kind of accelerant he’s aware of.

It’s the Swarm. He’s sure of it.

This bomb is full of the Swarm.

That cannot, under any circumstances, be a good thing.

There’s a buzz in his pocket. Judd pulls out his phone and answers it with a shout, the microphone’s noise-cancelling feature working overtime. ‘Hello?’

~ * ~

Judd’s voice is distant and muffled, but Corey can hear him well enough. ‘What the hell are you
doing,
mate?’

‘Trying to disarm this friggin’ thing.’

‘Did you?’

‘No - but I’m pretty sure it’s full of the Swarm. There’d have to be four or five hundred litres inside it at a guess. Enough to infect something really big.’

Corey listens. ‘Like what?’

‘Somewhere with a lot of oil. A reservoir maybe? A refinery?’

Lola hears this as she scans the horizon with the telescope, focuses on the Air-Crane, then something beyond it. She studies it for a long moment then yanks the telescope from her eye. ‘I think I know where they’re taking it.’

Judd’s voice echoes down the line. ‘Where?’

‘La Brea. You’re flying straight towards it.’

‘Christ, that makes sense.’

Corey has no idea what they’re talking about. ‘What’s a La Brea?’

Lola turns to him. ‘The La Brea Tar Pits. There’s like a - cluster of oil lakes around the Miracle Mile on Wilshire Boulevard. One of the lakes is huge - like, millions-of-gallons huge. The Air-Crane’s heading straight for it.’