Fast (48 page)

#

‘That’s a
big
truck,’ said Coleman, tracking Bora in his rear-view mirror.

            Then he saw the twelve quad bikes.
Here comes trouble.

            Like scrambling jet fighters, the quad bikes hit the floor and zoomed around Bora’s truck. The bikes were much faster than the A-frame. In seconds they drew level with King and Forest, who defensively veered the scorpion truck left and right to keep the quad bikes at a safe distance.

            Coleman tested the tray-back’s handling on the habitation level floor.

            Not promising.

            The pedestrian loop was made for shoes, not tires. He couldn’t outmaneuver the agile quad bikes in the heavily-loaded tray-back.

            He certainly couldn’t stop.

            Four quad bikes overtook the scorpion truck and powered straight towards Coleman and Vanessa. Coleman searched the route ahead. They were approaching the eastern wall fast.

            ‘We’ll have to do a lap,’ he said. ‘We can’t stop or they’ll catch us.’

            ‘They’re right behind us!’ warned Vanessa.

            ‘What’s that? Right there. What’s that in the wall?’ Coleman pointed out his window.

            ‘They’re trying to jump on the back of the truck!’ she warned.

            Coleman knew exactly what the quad bike riders were doing, but something else had hijacked his attention. ‘I know. Just listen, Vanessa. What’s that system in the recessed cage in the wall?’

            She glanced out Coleman’s window. ‘That’s an electrical substation. The main power runs behind that substation.’

            Coleman scanned the dashboard and then snatched up the CB radio. He thumbed the switch on the microphone as he began the broad right-hand turn to start his lap around the pedestrian loop. The caged electrical substation flew past on the truck’s left side.

            Please let their radio be switched on.

            ‘King, Forest, you hearing me?’

            Forest’s voice immediately came back over the dash-mounted speaker. ‘We hear you, Captain. This is a pretty crappy situation, right here.’

            ‘I need you to distract those quad bikes. Whatever it takes.’

            ‘You got it. But, Captain, you got two on your tail already.’

            Before Coleman could respond, two solid weights landed on the tray-back. Two riderless quad bikes peel away from the truck.

            ‘They’re on the back,’ squawked Vanessa, turning in the cab.

            Coleman dropped the radio and the steering wheel at the same time. ‘Take the wheel.’

            Vanessa scooted across the seat, grabbing the wheel as Coleman climbed out the window.

            ‘What’s the plan?’ She called after his heels.

Forest tossed the CB microphone back onto the dashboard.

            Ahead, he saw Coleman climbing out the tray-back’s driver side window. The Captain faced off against the two gunmen who had jumped onto the tray-back from the quad bikes.

            Forest and King had their own problems.

            The remaining quad bikes wove in tight patterns around the scorpion truck. Forest counted three bikes on their left, two on the right, and at least five more right behind them.

            Worse, behind the quad bikes and gaining fast, Bora sped through the pack like a white shark charging baby seals.

            ‘They’re everywhere,’ moaned Forest. ‘How can we distract all of them?’

            King grunted, unconcerned. ‘I’ve got a surprise for them.’

            ‘What surprise?’ Forest knew trouble when he heard it. King’s capacity for creative thinking bordered on the dangerously insane. Forest suddenly wanted to swap trucks with Vanessa. ‘What do you mean? What surprise?’

            King winked at Forest. ‘You’re going to love this. Hold on.’

            Forest braced himself for god knew what.

            What’s he going to do? Trust me to pick the wrong truck.

            King yanked a control lever under the steering column. Red warning lights flared over the dashboard. Forest felt the scorpion shake as its giant legs began unfolding down either side. King released the lever when the hydraulic braces extended halfway to the ground.

            Forest was confused for a moment. Then he felt something shift in the back.

            The retracted legs had formed a cage-like barrier in the back of the truck. The barrier had been restraining something. With the legs halfway down, whatever they were carrying began shifting around.

            Forest spun and stared at the scorpion truck’s single piece of cargo.

            It was a chunk of concrete rubble the size of a big refrigerator.

            No wait….

            It wasn’t just rubble. It had steel reinforcing inside. The reinforcing bars ran through the huge chunk and ended in three heavy-duty anchor points. The anchor points all stuck from one end of the rough sphere. Thick steel cable from the mini-crane looped through these anchors.

           
Forest remembered the type of testing carried out on the terrorism-proof building materials.

           
Destructive testing.

            Suddenly he recognized the object.

            This was part of the equipment used to test new building products. The large uneven sphere could be accelerated into test structures to simulate structural impact damage.

            It was a wrecking ball.

            King suddenly jerked the steering wheel left. The wrecking ball rolled to one side and teetered precariously over the edge of the truck.

            ‘You’re not serious!’ Forest felt the entire truck list sideways under the weight. The hydraulic legs screeched as they dragged along the floor under the wrecking ball’s weight. Sparks flew up the side of the truck.

            King grinned and wrenched up another control. ‘It’s time for a little experiment of our own.’

            Forest heard the crane spooling its cable into the back of the truck, then King slammed the steering wheel back the other way.

            The wrecking ball rolled off the back.

            Losing its load, the truck instantly lurched up under Forest. A second later the wrecking ball touched down. The impact came right up through the truck.

            Forest stared wide-eyed at the wrecking ball bouncing beside the truck. It rapidly drew off the loops of steel cable.

It’s drawing off the cable too quickly. It’s going to rip the crane off.

            King released the mini-crane controls and the cable stopped spooling. ‘Hold on.’

            Gobsmacked, Forest watched the last few coils of cable disappear from the back of the truck.

            As the line of cable between the crane and the wrecking ball jerked taunt, both men were hurled forward in their seats. The crane didn’t come off. King kept the gas pedal pumped to the floor.

            The wrecking ball jerked twice then swung in a bouncing arc back behind the truck. The scorpion truck was now dragging the wrecking ball by the crane cable.

            Forest saw the cement ball sideswipe the nearest quad bike. The wrecking ball pulverized the rider without even slowing. The bike flew off through the air.

            King smirked into his rear view mirror. ‘Now, let’s have some fun.’

#

Coleman scrambled onto the tray-back.

            The two terrorists found their feet. All three crouched on the orange rope webbing securing the stones. The webbing looked badly stretched from Coleman’s stunt driving. Knee-high boulders slid and cracked against each other in the tray. Vanessa maneuvered to prevent two more riders from leaping onto the tray-back.

            Coleman judged the man crouched on the right as the greater threat. He seemed more secure in his footing. He watched Coleman alertly.

            Both terrorists had tightened their weapon straps to make the jump to the tray-back. Their submachine guns were strapped tightly to their chests.

            I can’t let them use those weapons.

            But the gunmen had no intention of fumbling with weapon straps on the dangerously shifting boulders. The man on Coleman’s left darted his hand through the webbing and drew a long-handled hammer from between the rocks.

           
Son of a bitch
, thought Coleman.
Look at the size of that hammer.

            The truck’s toolbox must have spilled tools over the tray, the large hammer included. Coleman saw a few other loose tools, but they’d all bounced down the back near the gunmen.

            Scanning the webbing under his boots for a weapon, Coleman just saw more bouncing rocks.

            Nothing. What about in the toolbox?

            He fumbled behind himself in the dented toolbox. He found something steel, a small chisel, and hurled it at the man with the hammer.

            The flying chisel
clinked
off the steel head of the gunman’s hammer as Coleman searched again.

            He found something long and thin. He drew the item from the toolbox. It was a pinch bar.

            Head-cracker. That’s more like it.

            The meter-long steel bar made a sharp U-turn at one end. It was the type of tool used for opening crates or levering rocks into place. This one was painted fire engine red.

            The terrorist swung up the hammer and launched himself at Coleman. The man wasn’t risking his footing on the treacherously colliding stones. He simply jumped with the hammer, swinging the heavy weapon in an overhead arc that descended straight at Coleman’s head. The terrorist’s full flying weight was behind the attack.

            Coleman needed to make sure it missed.

            Even a glancing blow from the hammer could knock him senseless. And he hadn’t forgotten about the other terrorist on the tray-back. The second terrorist was fishing his hand around in the tray, struggling to yank something up through the too-small gaps in the webbing.

            Coleman swung the pinch bar up in a wide circle that intercepted the downward trajectory of the hammer.

            As the two weapons collided, he jerked his body to the left.

            The glancing strike of the pinch bar
just
threw the hammer off target.