Lost Dawns: A Short Prequel Novel to the Lost Millinnium Trilogy Page 9

  * * *

  Jack came awake to knocking. The sky was beginning to streak with predawn colors outside his open window. He hit the light and raced for the door.

  Opening it cautiously, he came face to face with Samantha. She held a long bowie knife that dripped blood.

  She lunged for him.

  He grabbed for her knife arm and was about to break it when she collapsed like a house of cards.

  "Dick's dead," she said, her whisper hollow.

  Jack pulled Samantha the rest of the way into his room. The flimsy gown she wore caught on the door. As he slammed it shut, most of what she was wearing got left in the hall.

  Samantha was too far gone to notice.

  "I woke up. Dick was beside me. This was sticking out of him." She mumbled like a child. Her eyes focused on the knife, as if seeing it for the first time.

  She dropped it. Blood smeared the beige carpet.

  Jack picked it up. DM was carved on the pummel. No question who it belonged to. But who put it in its owner's back?

  Jack turned for the phone, dragging Samantha with him. He lifted the receiver – silence.

  He set Samantha on the bed, pulled out his bow and strung it. Slinging a quiver over his shoulder, he nocked an arrow, picked the administrator up and half carried her back into the hall.

  She clung to him for security. Naked to reality, she sought shelter like a child.

  Jack looked in both directions. The hallway was empty. He turned for Judith's room.

  * * *

  Judith pulled on her housecoat as she made her way to the door. She opened it to find Jack and Samantha standing there, one half, the other totally naked, looking for all the world like the lurid cover of a fantasy paperback.

  "Captain Miller's dead,” Jack snapped out. “The phones are too. You better get dressed. You got anything for her?"

  Judith reached for Samantha just as Brent stuck his head out of his room. "What's happening?"

  "The balloon's gone up. You better get some clothes on, old boy. Life's about to get interesting." Judith answered.

  "Right-oh." Brent sounded too damn chipper for her money.

  As Judith turned back to Samantha, Marilyn cautiously edged out of her room. She was not wearing much either. Didn't anyone sleep in a decent nighty anymore?

  However, the unwavering AR-15 was mostly what held Judith's attention.

  Marilyn's eyes darted from person to person, taking in the scene before saying, “I'll be dressed in a second," and she was gone.

  Jack unloaded Samantha on Judith, then edged into her doorway, blocking it to stand hall monitor in his BVD's.

  Judith led Samantha to her closet. She had two jump suits that would be best for whatever today held. Judith yanked one on, then helped Samantha into the other. She did not even try to zip it up all the way.

  But there was nothing sexy about the bureaucrat today. The real world had come calling, smashing her fantasy of control and power, leaving her as adrift as any orphaned waif.

  Judith felt sorrow for her, but no sympathy.

  By the time Judith rejoined Jack at the door, Brent was there, too. The old fellow carried a pistol, a relic of World War Two.

  Marilyn reappeared with a small arsenal. She and Brent stood guard to give Jack time to dress.

  It took him only a minute, but he returned in full Battle Dress Uniform. The sight of him in war dress, more than anything else this morning, told Judith matters had changed.

  She shuddered as he borrowed Marilyn's pistol.

  "I'll take point. Marilyn, will you cover the rear guard?"

  She nodded.

  "Brent, you stay with the women in the middle. Let's move slow and careful. There're friendlies out there with loaded weapons. They can kill you just as dead as the knife Samantha pulled out of Dick's back."

  "Dick!" Marilyn echoed.

  "He's dead," Samantha said, still made it sound like a question.

  Marilyn scowled and turned to cover the rear, the muzzle of her rifle tracking the path of her eyes.

  Jack led down the hall to the rear entrance. At the bottom of the stairs, Judith joined him. She searched the grounds as he did.

  Nothing moved.

  Jack signaled her to stay and began a hunched run toward the swimming pool.

  "Halt." The voice was more menacing by its calm.

  Jack froze. He held his gun away from him, but did not drop it. "We got a problem. Captain Miller's been killed and the phones are dead in the dormitories."

  A ranch hand moved from behind a bush. The M-16 not leaving Jack as he spoke into a radio, then asked. "Who's with you, sir?"

  "Judith, Samantha, Brent and Captain Brunner." Jack said, and signaled those behind him.

  Judith stepped into the open, pulling Samantha. Brent waved his .45, then slipped back behind a brick wall, covering their questioner with his weapon.

  Judith could not help wondering where men learned these silly games.

  Two more cowboys appeared, weapons at the ready. In a minute the Station Chief hustled up, hardly out of breath.

  "Hell's a popping everywhere. Teams have gone off net. Others have beat off suicide raids." His steel gray eyes searched the group. "Strange, we've only got one dead."

  "Sir, Launa's out there. I've got to get her," Jack said.

  The CIA man sucked on his lips. "I guess you do have to, son. Better draw body armor and a rifle. Take along a spare set for the girl, too," he added.

  Jack was already off at a run.

  Marilyn joined the group, safetying her assault rifle. She went straight to Samantha's side. "You look like you could use some coffee."

  The captain took the woman's arm and lead her toward the dining room.

  Judith's ears were old, but she did not miss Marilyn's next words. "I know you've had a rough morning, but I'd like to talk again about the make-up of the teams.”

  Brent joined Judith as she watched the two women depart. He uncocked his ancient automatic, then pointed it at the sky and pulled the trigger on an empty chamber. "I never trust these things."

  "Guns's don't kill people; people kill people," Judith quoted thoughtfully. "I'd like a cup of coffee, too."

  * * *

  Launa came up for air and dove quickly before the bullets caught her. Things got dicey as she careened through a series of small waterfalls. She did it well and if she lived, she would have the bruises and welts to prove it.

  In the white water, she got a breath without coming under fire, but the calm pool below exploded with bullets when she came up for air.

  The next series of falls included a turn in her favor. Her hunter would have to walk farther than she would have to swim. There was also a deadfall of trees at the bend. Massive trunks were knocked here and there like a child's game of sticks.

  He would have to walk around that.

  On the far side of the pool was a pebbled beach. Any sane person would be across it and running for the hills.

  Launa was too mad to be sane.

  Someone was trying to kill her and he was not too smart. The automatic weapon sounded like an AK-47. He had sprayed her like a street punk on a drive by shooting – stupid for hitting a single target.

  Launa wanted to meet this turkey. If she was unpredictable, she just might.

  Bounding from the stream, she soaked the beach. She even left her sling and one moccasin scattered on the pebbles before she slipped back into the water.

  Using an overhanging tree, she pulled herself up the rocky bank onto the other side and surveyed the situation.

  The beach across from her looked like someone had made a panicked exit across it. The sling was no great loss; she was not about to trade rocks with automatic weapons fire.

  No, she’d ambush her target and go hand to hand with the dumb punk.

  She spotted a pathway down the rocky embankment that would probably be her hunter's avenue to the water.

  A pole caught in the deadfall looked dangerous enough for her. An e
roded space below the deadfall made for a good hiding place.

  She had had enough of running; it was time to kill something.

  Concealed behind a rock overhang, Launa hunched down with her makeshift quarterstaff and made herself small. Listening, she ignored the noise of the waterfall.

  She heard footsteps, one pair.

  * * *

  Launa’s designated assassin fingered the trigger guard on his assault rifle, smiling as he glanced at the beach across from him. "Shit, have I got that broad on the run. I didn't need no three of us."

  He would enjoy spending the extra money almost as much as he was enjoying chasing the army girl through the woods.

  "She even left her little sling thing."

  He flicked the safety on, then started down the rocky bank. A chunk slipped out from beneath his foot, he half fell to a large outcropping.

  He was more careful as he looked for the rest of the way down to the water's edge. But even the fall did not spoil his fantasies. "I'm gonna have fun when I catch her. As long as I got a body to bring in, what do they care what I did with her."

  * * *

  Launa cared very much what he did.

  Murmuring a prayer of gratitude for the distraction of this guy's greed and lust, she listened to rocks slide, then footsteps as he found the expected path.

  She readied herself for the lunge.

  As she swung around the rock, he had his back to her, looking for the next step down.

  She drove her pole into his neck, driving him forward, knocking him off balance. His head snapped back as he tumbled.

  Pitching into the water, his forehead smashed against a rock on the way down.

  Launa ran forward and snagged his gun sling with her pole. She wanted his weapon but she did not want a fight over it.

  She weighed the advantages of capturing him, but the way his skull was dented, it seemed a moot question.

  She reached for his gun; it would not come off. She held him under with the pole and studied the situation.

  Bubbles escaped his mouth; he did not struggle.

  A sick feeling grew in Launa's gut. She was looking at death for the first time. Death was part of her profession. She knew it, but she had never faced it like this.

  The bile rose in her empty stomach. Tightening every muscle, she willed herself to stay in control.

  Carefully, she rolled him over. He slipped off the rock and sank; gun, ammunition, boots and all.

  "Damn. I want that gear." She used her pole to search for him.

  Two minutes later the body went over the small falls at the end of the pool. Moments later a sodden mass hung for a moment at the next fall then plunged over.

  It was a big cascade. She hiked around to it.

  Halfway down the fall, wedged between rocks, was the guy who wanted her dead.

  The tumbling water smashed his head against the rock again and again. The face was gone. The skull was shattered. Brains and blood colored the foam.

  "Well, Jack, I hope now you'll give me credit for taking care of myself," she shouted.

  Then she was sick.

  9

  Launa headed down stream as fast as she dared. When she heard a helicopter coming, she dodged into the woods. She had had enough surprises.

  They got the next one.

  The chopper came in low and fast. As the Huey passed her, she spotted Jack in the co-pilot's seat.

  Breaking cover, she stumbled over a rock. The chopper was gone before she recovered.

  Five minutes later she heard rotor blades again and waited near a bush. It looked like the same one so she did not hide.

  It passed her, looped around and hovered over the stream in front of her. Jack stepped out on the runners carrying several things, then dropped into the water.

  Despite his three-week growth of beard, Jack was in BDU's, battle dress uniform.

  A cold chill swept over Launa. He had not been in a uniform since the day she volunteered.

  Jack's load came into focus as he waded toward her – M-16s and body armor. Maybe she wasn't the only one with problems this morning.

  The helicopter lifted and flew over the trees behind her. She kept her eyes on Jack. As he reached the bank, he looked her full in the face.

  "Someone blew up the Leader's chancellery last night, but missed him. I'm sorry for the dumbest, most pig-headed, shit for brains stunt I've ever pulled in my life, but while you were safe out here, someone killed Miller and several other teams were suicide bombed. In the rush this morning, I didn't get your clothes, but here's body armor and a rifle."

  Launa reached for the M-16. "You sure you trust me with a gun?" she said, pulling back the charging handle.

  "With my life." The words were simple. Even in her anger, Launa could taste the absolute.

  "Good, because you'll find a body dangling from a water fall two miles back. He had an AK-47. We've all had our troubles this morning, Captain."

  Launa made the rank a slap.

  Jack shot a worried glance upstream, then faced her. "Yes, sir. If you'll come with me."

  He wrapped the body armor around her.

  She put her arms through the holes. So this is what the well undressed centerfold is wearing this week.

  Like most armor she had tried on, it was too big for her. She might not get arrested for indecent exposure. If anyone complained, she'd shoot'em before she'd take any more crap. She'd faced an assault gun today and killed a man bare handed. She was ready for any army.

  Deferentially, Jack kicked stones out of her path. She let him. He owed her a lot. The helicopter waited in a clearing.

  It lifted as she was belting in and quickly gained speed.

  Launa watched the forest race past, fondling her rifle, struggling with feelings. She had survived. She had killed. She was ready now. God help anyone who got in her way.

  She looked at Jack's helmeted head. The boy had better behave.

  * * *

  Judith looked up from the pad she had been making notes on when the female com tech raced up to the table Marilyn and Samantha were sitting at.

  "The chopper just radioed in – they've got Launa. Somebody tried to slab her, but she wasted the guy. Bare-assed with just a pole, she blew away an asshole with an AK-47. Now that's my kind of woman."

  The tech grinned at everyone, then, without so much as a nod to Samantha, strode away.

  Brent's eyes followed the tech. "That's one happy woman, maybe a bit jealous, but happy."

  Judith had kept her eyes on the other table. Marilyn had not taken the good news at all well. In a second she was up and following the tech out.

  "That is not a happy woman. How far does her jealousy go?" Judith mused through a frown.

  Brent shook his head slowly.

  A still shaken Samantha fumbled her way to their table. "I think I've made a terrible mistake. Marilyn tried to get me to send her and Jack as a team. I don't think she expected Launa back."

  The woman swayed, holding on to a chair for support. Then all color left her face. "Dick and I were leaving `Harvey's Place' last night when we spotted Marilyn using a phone. She must have seen us. She hung up and started yelling at us to get back here. Why didn't I say something about this earlier?"

  Her long fingernails dug into the white flesh of her palms, drawing blood.

  Judith stood, taking Samantha's hands in her own. "Too much has happened too fast, but I think we better go see the station chief."

  Judith was surprised that Samantha and Brent kept up the pace she set.

  * * *

  They were ten minutes out from the ranch when Jack unbuckled and came to sit beside Launa. He doffed his helmet and handed it to her as he leaned close to shout.

  "Marilyn disappeared after they announced you were coming back. The station chief suggests the pilot drop us off and make the approach to the ranch without us. He's game."

  The pilot glanced back at Launa, grinned and gave her a thumbs up. He looked too young to have flown in Nam
or even Saudi.

  "He won't have any gun support," Launa shouted back.

  "They'll have rifles scattered around the ranch."

  "You and I could do it better."

  "If we get killed, who takes the mission?" Jack's eyes never left hers.

  "They've got other teams."

  Jack shook his head.

  "That bad."

  He nodded.

  "She got any ground to air rockets?" Launa called to the pilot.

  He spoke into the radio. Almost a minute passed. Then he shook his head. "None missing from supply or checked out to that team. But she's got a shit pot of explosives. They've found a couple already and defused them."

  Launa wanted Marilyn. She knew it was personal, but the blood lust was up. "Let's force her hand. We go in fast and high."

  Launa flipped the safety off her weapon. "Which side do you want?"

  Jack went to the right hand door and buckled himself in. Launa went to the left, arranged the armor to do the most good and cinched herself in.

  The wind felt good on her bare skin. Suddenly she understood the berserkers, crazy Vikings who stripped and charged the enemy naked but for an ax. Maybe there was something to them after all.

  The ranch came in sight. They were high. The pilot had just started a powered descent when he shouted. "Hot LZ! Two o`clock."

  "Damn!" Launa cursed as Jack squeezed off a three-round burst, then another and another. The chopper filled with the acrid stink of his gunfire.

  Angry bees smashed through the cabin. The plexiglass windscreen shattered in a howling gale. The whine of the turbine changed. The rate of descent picked up.

  The Huey lurched to the right, began to spin. Launa saw smoke out her window. A building exploded in what must have been the two o'clock position.

  The chopper slowed its dive, then smashed into the ground.

  In a moment, Jack was standing over her, releasing her seat belt, helping her. She half stumbled, half was carried from the wreckage.

  Two men ran to the pilot. He was slumped in his harness, a large splotch of dark spreading over the chest of his green flight suit.

  Launa's legs turned to jelly and the ground came up quickly.

  Jack scooped her up as she fell.

  Judith was beside them. "The poor girl's totally spent. Can you carry her to her room?"