Page 11 of Mile High With the Bikers
“Motherfucker,” I curse under my breath.
One pilot is slumped over the stick, and the guy in the copilot seat is struggling with the controls. He looks up with a slight unhinged gleam in his eyes when we burst in. “I don't know who the hell you are, but buckle the fuck up! If you don’t let me land this thing, we're all gonna die.”
“Woah. Don't let us stop you.”
There are two fold-down chairs behind the pilots. I shove Rory into one and Bull buckles himself into the other. Shrapnel pulls the dead pilot out of his seat and takes his place. Me, I run backand shout to warn the rest of the plane. “Get your fucking belts on! It’s going to be bumpy!”
Everyone scrambles for something to buckle themselves into or hang onto, just as something brushes loudly over the bottom of the plane and shakes it side to side. Sal gets thrown sideways into the wall. Fuck him. The grind of electric motors signals wheels coming down, but we're leaning hard left. If we touch down like this, we're in fucking trouble. Through the open cockpit door, there's a field opening up past the trees, and we're aiming right for it. I join my friends, brace myself for impact and close my eyes. We’ve done all we can. Silence is my prayer.
We only barely clear the woods when the wing touches down with a metallic shriek that will haunt me until I die. Rory screams. The plane turns until the wing clears, then we're wobbling too far the other way, and then back, where the wheels hit hard enough that we bounce right back up. Then down again. The brakes screech, and there's the roar of the engines reversing. I think. I’m a biker, not a fucking Blue Angel.
I reach over to grab Rory’s hand. Her fingers feel so fucking small against mine, but they grip for dear life. Suddenly we're spinning and there's a loud snap that makes the side of the plane drop hard. Jesus fuck, I'm gonna feel that in the morning.
Then just a long grinding noise as the plane slides along the ground, slower and slower, right up until it doesn't anymore.
We fucking lived!
Something explodes behind us.
Motherfucker.
6
SHRAPNEL
I'mout of my chair so fast I almost rip the fucking belt off. The crash, the burning… I can feel it picking at the scars in my brain. Who the hell needs sleep, right? Not me for the next few days.
Diesel's got Rory in his arms. She looks over at me and smiles, but the tear tracks down her cheeks tell a different story. He strokes a hand down her back. “I don’t know what that was, but it can't be good. We’ve gotta get off this fucking deathtrap.”
I run my hands through my hair, tugging on the short strands a little to center myself with the pain. “With you there, brother.”
The co-pilot is staring at the body of his colleague and looks like he wants to puke.
“Hey, buddy… You done good, but let’s get out of here, okay?” Bull says in a gentle voice like he’s talking to a scared dog. He puts a hand on his shoulder and steers him away from the body. “The main door’s fucked. How about you show us the emergency exit? Right, Rory?”
“Yeah, um, yeah. Right.” Rory pushes away and stands up, smoothing down her uniform with shaking hands. She opens a hatch near the cockpit and pulls out a black backpack. “But I need to find my—Mr. Whittaker. I need to find him. Did you see him? Is he hurt?”
“He was alive enough to be pissed off last time we saw him.” Mentioning the blood is probably too much information at the moment.
“I think his bodyguards have it under control. Worry about yourself,” Bull says as we pick work our way back into the destroyed meeting room. He steps over a groaning man who didn't find somewhere to sit fast enough, and looks around.
An acrid odor tickles my nose. “Look later. We need to get the fuck outta here. Something's burning.”
“Everyone got all their shit?” I pat my piece under my cut. Shrapnel and Bull nod.
With Rory and the co-pilot, we get the emergency exit open and the rubber slide deployed. I had to do this once in training, and for once it’s not a bad memory. The co-pilot is the first to go. “Move it!” I wave to the others.
A geeky looking older guy tries to push past to get out, but Bull glares down at him and he backs off without a fight. The mood is strange. The near death experience has put everyone on the same team temporarily, but the groups have split off into their different factions, watching each other with suspicion. A graying lady with sharp eyes is crouching behind a chair, watching for her chance. Everyone wants to get the fuck out, but nobody wants to show anyone else their backs.
Fucking Silas McGrath, walks out of the back hall flanked by two guards. He looks around in disgust. I’m surprised to see him here, he usually stays in the background, happy to take people’s money and fuck up their lives from a distance.
Rory hesitates at the top of the slide. “I don't know if I can?—”
“Sorry, babe, but this is a get the fuck out before we're all on fire sort of situation.” Wrapping her slim wrist in my fist, I yank her close. “You're gonna be fine, okay? We’ll get you out of here and home before you know it.”
“But—”
The door to the front bathroom pops open, revealing Whittaker, supported by his bodyguard. The dark patch on his suit jacket has spread. Someone needs to get that fucker to a hospital, but considering he’s got more money than God and is at the center of this whole mess, he can solve his own problems.
