Max Arena (39 page)

Today, tonight
and every other time of day across the world roared with the
unifying sound and harmony of the Team Max anthem. Whatever
continent, whatever city, where ever the place, remote or big city,
the music was the same, but more importantly, a common emotion
filled the hearts of humanity. Joy.

5pm, 4
^th
October (later that
afternoon). Unleashed

With the
afternoon’s training session over, Max now sat alone in the back of
his orange van as the Team Max convoy sped along the freeway
towards the city where Max was scheduled to attend a public
relations dinner. Kris had stayed at the training ground for an
interview, while Elsa and the kids had headed straight back to the
airport to get an early flight back to the island estate. So, with
the spare time afforded and oblivious to the now routine protective
motorcade surrounding him, Max looked out at the long afternoon
shadows stretching beneath the crimson tinged sky and reflected on
the question Kris had posed last night.

‘When are you
going to start weapons training?’ Kris had asked.

A fair
question. After three months and now being half way to the arena,
apart from the odd javelin, Max had deliberately steered clear of
using weapons of any kind. Not because he didn’t feel comfortable
using them. Far from it. Despite not having any direct experience
with hand held blades or implements of any kind, he knew his
physical skills and natural instincts would hold him in good stead
when the time came. No, it was not inexperience or discomfort that
held him back. It was purpose.

So far, Max had
had no reason to use weapons of any kind as his own bare hands,
feet and muscle had been enough to get by. They were weapons enough
for now. He had not yet killed anyone or anything, alien or human
and Max knew that once he picked up an instrument of combat, it
would not be to wound or hurt. It would be to kill and that
prospect required restraint. He needed to control that side of him
which he knew lurked not so deeply inside.

Max was a
warrior. Not a soldier, but a killer. It was the
Nar'gellan blood inside him, yearning to break
free and fight, to the death. It was only his human compassion that
held the blood lust in check. If Max let that lust loose too early,
he may not rein it back in. It was too dangerous and could bring
them all undone, especially now when the world had warmed to him
and his popularity was sky high. If the public discovered his
barbaric streak, he might be branded a psychopath and lose all the
support he and the others had worked so hard to garner. That
outcome would also jeopardise their chances of making it to the
arena as public unrest would again spiral rapidly downwards. Right
now, Max was the only thing holding everyone together, but still
the question remained. When would he pick up a weapon?

Chatter from the front seat of the van
pulled Max from his thoughts. Up front, Peter sat in the passenger
seat with another member of his team
behind the steering wheel. Peter was listening
into his ear piece to an unseen voice while scanning the surrounds
outside the windows. He looked agitated.

‘
From which direction?’ Peter sharply asked
into his collar microphone.

A few seconds passed. Max craned slightly
forwards.

‘
Two
of them? What vectors?’ Peter asked even more
urgently.

Another few seconds silence, then Peter
suddenly bolted up straight.

‘
Repeat! Say again!’ he barked.

Max shifted forward to lean on his knees,
his head turned
slightly
askew to better hear.

Peter jolted forwards to pull the walkie
talkie from the dashboard, shouting into it, ‘Red Flag! Red Flag!
Get us off the freeway and underground
now
!’

The van immediately sped up, following the
lead cars in the convoy as they swerved across lanes to start
weaving their way forwards.

Max broke his restraints. ‘What’s happening,
Peter?’ he asked.

‘
Not now, mate!’ Peter quipped and then
into the walkie talkie, ‘There’s a shopping centre carpark just off
the next exit! Three kilometres down on the left! Sirens on and
clear the path!’

Max braced himself more firmly in the back
as the scenery outside started to blur. Wailing sirens now
surrounded them as the
four-strong motorcade of orange and black vehicles raced
through the scattering traffic.

‘
Talk to me, Peter!’ Max called out. ‘What
can I do?’

‘
Sit tight and…!’ Peter stopped
mid-sentence, placing a finger on his earpiece. ‘They did
what
?’

Peter abruptly leaned forwards to look
through the windscreen and up to the sky. Max judged the direction
of his gaze and turned to look out his own window and up to the
same place in the sky. Framed against the late afternoon sky, he
saw their aerial support, an Australian Army Black Hawk helicopter,
shadowing them.

Suddenly,
the Black Hawk banked sharply to the right, just
as something streaked in from behind it. The incoming object
slammed directly into the Black Hawk, instantly turning it into a
fireball.

‘
All
assets! We need all assets
now
!’ Peter yelled into his collar microphone. Pulling a
mobile phone from his trousers pocket, he tossed it over his
shoulder to Max and called out, ‘Hit triple one! That’s Joe’s hot
line and tell him we’re under attack with full reinforcements
called in!’

Max immediately pressed the required buttons
as the van swerved sharply, throwing him off balance. ‘Who shot
down the Black Hawk?’ Max yelled as he held the phone up to his
ear.

‘Don’t know yet! Unconfirmed!’

The phone rang three times and Joe’s voice
came on.

‘Yes, Peter?’ Prime Minister Joseph Tollsen
asked.

‘
It’s Max,’ Max said. ‘Peter’s busy. We’re
under attack.’

‘You’re what?’

‘Someone just shot down our Black Hawk and
the whole motorcade is steaming to some underground carpark just
off the freeway.’

‘Who fired at you?’

‘Pete, do you know who shot at us yet?’

Peter’s bottom jaw fell and he pulled off
his sunglasses to look at the driver. Hollowly, he said, ‘The
yanks. They’ve got two Apaches on us.’

Max froze. Abdullah’s warning boomed though
his head. “Beware wolves in sheep’s clothing.”

‘Well, Max?’ sounded Joe’s voice in the
phone. ‘Who fired on you?’

Max shook his head and answered. ‘The
Americans. Two Apaches apparently are right on us.’

Silence screamed back down the line. Then
Joe spoke again.

‘
Close the call,’ he said. ‘You keep your
focus there. I’ll get things moving from here and Max, Peter will
get you out of this.’

‘I know he will, Joe. I know he will,’ Max
replied and the line went dead.

The van lurched again and Max threw out a
forearm to stay upright.

‘
There!’ Peter yelled and held the walkie
talkie up to his mouth. ‘There’s the off ramp. Everyone off now!
The carpark entry is straight through the main intersection at the
base of the ramp and then immediately to the left. Run the light if
it’s red and take out the boom gate going in.’

The van lurched again, this time to
the
left. Max looked
through the windscreen and saw the lead four wheel drives burst
through the surrounding traffic to charge onto the off ramp. Other
cars squealed tyres as they ducked and weaved out of the way,
skittering to the sides. Then everything escalated.

The very front four wheel drive suddenly
erupted in a shower of glass and metal shards. One of its front
tyres blew out and the vehicle instantly lifted off the road
to become momentarily airborne.
Smashing back into the ground, metal shrieked and groaned as it
slid further down the off ramp. The second lead car accelerated and
sped around the sliding wreck, Max’s van following suit along with
the last four wheel drive at the rear.

A second explosion rocked the van causing
Max, Peter and the driver to flinch. Max spun round and discovered
the
last four wheel
drive skewing wildly off the tarmac to smash into the concrete
barrier on the edge of the off ramp, its chassis completely
destroyed.

‘They’re picking us off!’ Peter yelled. ‘Get
us into that carpark!’

The van’s engine roared as it followed the
new lead four wheel drive down towards the intersection. Max fixed
his gaze out in front, forsaking the burning wreckage behind them.
Salvation lay in front. Death lay behind.

Then, in the blink of an eye, the new lead
car suddenly lifted up and bl
ew sideways off the road as a missile slammed into its
side, igniting it into a mass of flame and smoke.

‘Keep going!’ Peter yelled.

The driver floored the accelerator,
throwing Max back in his seat.

‘
Get us in there!’
Peter added.

Then Max heard it, the unmistakable thud,
thud, thud of helicopter rotors right overhead. A shadow blew
momentarily over the van from back to front and then they finally
saw it. Their assailant. A United States Army AH64 Apache
helicopter gunship and it was everything that fear could bring to
bear on a battlefield.

The driver of the van took his foot off
the accelerator
as his
eyes tracked the incoming beast skim over the top of the van and
begin to lower itself on the far side of the intersection ahead.
The slim bodied helicopter, bearing United States Army insignia,
spun to face them front on as it came down, its wing mounted chain
guns and missiles now pointing squarely at the van. The driver
halted the van at the base of the off ramp on the opposite side of
the intersection.

All traffic movement at the intersection
froze, leaving the centre of the four-way junction oddly vacant
and
apart from random
rubbish blowing in the downwash of the Apache, deathly still. A
handful of people in the stationary cars at the lights broke cover
and fled, but most stayed ducked down inside their cars, peeking
over dashboards and window ledges.

In the
Team Max van, all three men sat rigidly in their seats,
eyes stuck on the aerial demon squatting not more than twenty
meters away, its entire arsenal locked onto them. Peter moved first
as he lowered his chin down to his collar microphone.

‘
Max is unsecure,’ he said slowly and
clearly. ‘Single bogey has us cornered at the base of the off ramp.
Detail terminated. Bogey’s intentions unclear. Say again. Bogey’s
intentions unclear. No sign of second bogey. All assets hold their
distance till I say.’

‘What’s he doing, boss?’ the driver
asked.

Peter paused as he carefully leaned forward
to look out the windscreen at the sky. ‘I don’t know, but if he
wanted to kill Max, he would have done it by now.’

‘He can’t take Max hostage in that thing,’
the driver replied.

‘
He’s holding us here for some reason,’
Peter answered, continuing to search the sky, ‘but
for what, I don’t
know.’

‘
Maybe they want to…’ the driver
started.

‘
There!’ Peter yelled
, pointing to the left.

The driver spun his gaze to the
left and found another grey
helicopter coming in low over the surrounding buildings. This one
was different to the Apache, its frame more squat with skids on the
base instead of wheels and large, open doors on both sides. It also
carried fewer armaments compared to the Apache, but the view into
the big open doors revealed seated soldiers armed with guns. The
aircraft also bore a United States Marines insignia.

‘
We have a third bogey
,’ Peter said into his microphone.
‘Repeat, a third bogey. A UH-1 Yankee incoming to join the Apache
sitting in front of us. We could have a kidnap in play. I need live
beads on the Yankee ASAP to discourage it from taking Max. Confirm,
live beads.’

‘
Thoughts, boss?’ the driver asked,
watching the Yankee set down on the left hand side of the
intersection, causing some of the stationary cars to madly back out
of the way. As it set down, the new aircraft rotated ninety degrees
to face the starboard side door onto the vacant
junction.

‘
We’re a good ten minutes away from any
sort of support,’ Peter replied
, ‘so, we’re as good as on our own.’

‘What do we do?’ the driver asked.

‘
We sit tight while that thing’s in our
face,’ Peter said, flicking his head toward the
winged monster across the
intersection.

‘
What the…?’ the driver suddenly said,
craning slightly to the left.

Peter squinted in the same direction. Exiting
from the Yankee were three very odd figures. None of them looked
like soldiers, but to call them regular civilians was also off the
mark. Way off.

The first man
was huge. Massive. A giant black man dressed in
loose, long, black pants that ruffled around his legs in the Huey’s
downwash like twin parachutes and nothing but a maroon vest
covering his enormous, muscle clad torso. The second man was normal
build and wearing normal kit, but in his right hand he carried a
long, curved sword that glittered a light orange in the late
afternoon light. The third man was Asian in appearance and not
overly tall, but what he lacked in size, he doubled up on in
weapons. In each hand he carried a short sword, the twin blades
straight, simple and unadorned, but lethal in every respect. To the
average Xbox fanatic it looked just like a trio of computer game
characters come to life, striding out to do battle.