Pulse

SIXTY-TWO

The man behind the Gatling gun had quick reflexes, but they were geared toward self-preservation. Even though he had the superior weapon and his sites lined up, when King fired his rifle from the hip, sending rounds pinging off the side of the chopper, the guard ducked down with his hands over his head. King suspected the man never thought he'd actually ever have to use the gun, and certainly not under attack. With the way clear, he ran for the open side of the helicopter as Ridley ran for the other.

Upon reaching the hatch, King dove straight through the chopper, striking the larger man like a linebacker, knocking him out of the chopper. But the impact knocked the wind out of him, too. When he regained his footing, Ridley was already throwing a haymaker. The first punch connected with King's injured side, sending a flare of pain to his toes. But King sidestepped the second swing, causing Ridley to hit the helicopter's metal side. The sound of his pain-filled shout was drowned out by the thunderous roar of the chopper, but was cut short entirely by King's heel connecting with his temple. The roundhouse kick sent Ridley to the ground.

Ridley stood as the hel icopter pil ot began to lift off. He came at King again with enough force to take both of them off the helipad and into the woods below, but King saw the attack coming, took hold of the rising helicopter struts, and planted both of his feet square on Ridley's face. The man fell back like his feet had been pulled out from under him and cracked his head on the hard pavement. His eyes fluttered for a moment, then stilled. To King's surprise, the helicopter began to lower again.

As much as he would have liked to allow the six-ton helicopter to land on top of Ridley there was still the matter of stopping the implosion of Pinckney Valley. He dragged Ridley clear as the Eurocopter landed. Beck crouched inside, aiming King's rifle at the two terrified men there. She gave King a smile and a salute.

King searched Ridley's suit jacket and found the PDA. He pulled it out and unlocked it. The screen showed a small countdown ticking away in the lower-left-hand corner. "I think he's activated it!"

"I don't know how to stop it," she replied. "How much time is left?"

"Just under ten minutes."

"Get on board. We'll figure it out in the air!"

King dragged Ridley on board the chopper with the help of the timid Gatling gun operator. The man pleaded with King that he was just doing his job. Never wanted to hurt anyone. When King saw tears in the man's eyes he realized he was closer to being a kid. Probably still a teenager. Barely Gen-Y.

King ordered the kid and pilot to take them to the campground. Neither argued or had any intention of doing so. The gun in Beck's hand would have been enough motivation, but the phony CIA badge— one of many badges the team carried for similar situations — flashed by King was enough to make them fear disappearing off the face of the planet.

The group held their breath as the pilot flew the chopper out of the trees at a perfect angle. A shift to the right or left would send the blades into tree trunks. A little too much height would cut into the canopy, and a downward shift would plow them into the trees rising at a steady angle in front of them. Anyone watching from above would see the helicopter emerge, almost magically, from the forest.

As they cleared the trees and rose higher, King pulled out his cell phone and activated his direct line to the only person he thought could help.

"This is Aleman. What can I do you for?"

"Ale, it's King."

"What's up?"

"We've got…" He looked at the timer on Ridley's PDA. "Eight minutes and thirty-three seconds to stop an explosion triggered by a remote signal sent from Richard Ridley's PDA."

Aleman groaned. "What did they rig?"

"There's a massive natural gas deposit beneath the valley here. He's going to light it up, destroy the whole town and kill thousands of people."

"Okay. Call me back."

King was incredulous. "What!"

"Call me back from Ridley's PDA. Hurry."

King didn't argue. This was Aleman's forte. He had no choice but to trust the man. He dialed Aleman from Ridley's PDA. But when the phone on the other end picked up, a loud squealing sound came through, like a dial-up modem. A text message appeared on the screen.

A flash of movement tore his eyes away from the PDA message. As he turned, the moving object coalesced into a muddy wing-tip shoe. Ridley. King moved away from the kick, but only managed to soften the blow. Ridley's heel connected with his cheek, knocking him across the cabin where he spilled onto Beck.

When King spun, he expected Ridley to press the attack, but was greeted by a gust of wind and the unhindered noise of the rotor blades cutting through air. Ridley stood at the open door, clutching the sides while his suit coat flapped violently around his waist. "I could have offered you the world."

"You would have destroyed it," King said as he righted himself.

Ridley backed out a little farther, glancing down. His face twisted with nausea from the height.

"Don't be stupid," King said.

"Death is a more becoming alternative to imprisonment. I was meant to be free." He looked at Beck. "Eternity awaits." He let go of the door frame and fell back as a smile stretched across his face.

King and Beck looked out the side, watching his body twist in the air. His face struck a horizontal pine branch tree that sent his body into a rapid head over heels flip. A second branch tore his arm away. He disappeared in a spray of blood as the pine canopy swallowed him up.

King slid away from the open door and closed it. He turned to Beck, who had already moved back inside. "I don't think that was quite the noble fall he had intended."

Beck glanced out the window as she began to reply. "Ridley was—

Oh my God!"

Beck's cry drew King to the window. The campground quad spun beneath them as the pilot circled. The scene looked hopeless. Knight was on the ground, motionless next to the wrecked Chevy Tahoe. Bishop stood alone on the quad, backing slowly away from the Hydra, whose body and heads lowered to the ground like a cat about to pounce. In seconds Bishop would be a stain on the grass. And if he happened to survive the attack thanks to his regenerative abilities, his mind would most certainly be lost. His heart sank as he thought for sure he'd have to watch his friend die gruesomely.

Then he remembered the Gatling gun.