Horror made Hayden’s eyes widen, her face turn white. Staring up at the rocket launcher she momentarily froze.
Surely he realizes he would die too?
Maybe, maybe not. Truth was he didn’t care. To this man it was all a deadly game, a boy’s day out, and each successive high intoxicated him to try the next. Her vision, her world, was filled with metallic death and a wide drooling grin.
“C’est la vie, bitch,” he drawled.
His finger tightened on the trigger. Hayden couldn’t look away. The missile shook slightly. And then the rocket struck.
But it was a rocket of hard flesh and bone, an enormous man-made rocket called Mano Kinimaka, and he smashed into Dudley hard enough to snap him in two. The rocket launcher tumbled away and then hit the ground and fired — its unstoppable missile speeding toward the rear of the vault. Kinimaka tripped over his own blurry feet, falling and rolling. Dudley coasted helplessly into the air at least six feet, then came down on his back, stunned. Komodo was on his knees, lifting a rifle.
Dudley’s boys laughed hard as they closed in behind him.
One leapt at Komodo, taking advantage of the soldier’s befuddlement, and added to it, striking him in the face. Another started kicking at Kinimaka, dancing out of the Hawaiian’s reach and then darting back in. Two more lifted Dudley, unable to stop from cracking unintelligible jokes. That left two surplus and Dudley’s brother, who now sat near the shelving, finishing off with the camera.
“Best get goin’, lads,” he said. “Backup’ll be here soon.”
Most of the men complained, enjoying their fun.
“Ach, I don’t mean this minute,” the brother drawled. “Kill the feckers first.”
A shout of pleasure went up. Hayden rolled away from her attackers, seeing the world spin at least three times. Nausea rose within as a sharp kick connected with her spine. Damn, they were at such a disadvantage here. It was then that she thought of Ben again, and her father’s sacrifices, and so many others — all that they had lost — and a feeling of pure anger rose within her.
What the hell am I doing here? Curling up into a fucking ball?
At least she was still alive to live out her hopes and dreams. Ignoring the discomfort, the vertigo and the heavy pounding, she kicked back, using the momentum to jump to her knees. The world turned violently, but she thrust it away, focusing on the men before her. One came at her with a knee, which she deftly palmed aside. Now she spied her Glock to the left. A second attacked with a rush and she fell under him, risking a roll and paying dearly for it. Again the world turned, her head screamed and she threw up. But her attacker sprawled in her wake, smashing his head to the floor.
Hayden reached out for the Glock.
To her left Komodo wrestled with another Irishman, looking stronger with each passing second. The initial concussion was wearing off, the soldiers were trained to fight through it. Smyth, flat out and groaning until now, suddenly sat up and there was a machine pistol in his hands.
An Irishman kicked it away, then collapsed as Smyth punched his thigh. Hayden grabbed the Glock and aimed it at her nearest attacker.
“Hey now, lassie, hey now. It’s all just a bit of fun.”
He backed away. His compatriot jumped up, grinning. “Time we got the feck outta here.”
They rushed her. Hayden squeezed a shot off, winging one, but got a knee to the face for her trouble. Blood flowed. She fell backwards again, groaning, but used the fall to twist her body around so that she now faced their fleeing backs.
“Stop!”
She could stop them, wound them, but her team needed her more than her mission. Without pause she whirled once more. Smyth had thrown off his attacker; the man was already in flight. Komodo threw his to the floor. Kinimaka had caught a boot intent on breaking his ribs and was now twisting an ankle.
“Let ‘em go,” a voice rang out, Dudley’s brother. “And we’ll let yer live. Can’t do fairer than that.”
Hayden evaluated their position. Three machine pistols were pointed at them — one by a dazed Dudley. Kinimaka, Smyth and Komodo were starting to get the best of the other four attackers, though there were no guarantees in this fight. Quickly she raised her Glock, nodding at the same time.
“Go,” she said. “Get the hell outta here. We’ll see you soon.”
Her team was bruised and battered, like her. This deal was as good as it was going to get.
Dudley stretched his clearly aching body. “We’ll be counting on it, bitch. Counting down the days. And next time, yer’d best bring some real men.”
“Then go.” Hayden, with her body starting to relax and the adrenalin seeping away, was trying hard not to see double. “Before I change my mind.”
Dudley’s brother was walking away from the pile of tablets, machine gun trained upon them. “Whadya say, brother?”
“Make a bleedin’ mess, Malachi. Yer know yer want to.”
Dudley’s brother grinned, but Hayden suddenly rose to her feet. “No! Stop. You destroy one of those tablets and the deal’s off!”
Her three colleagues rose to stand at her side, weapons reacquired. Dudley blinked as he regarded them.
“Mexican standoff, eh? Well, we did get the rubbings too, and it’ll sure help yer’s find us again, right?”
Hayden squinted. “Yeah, whatever you said. If it helps you run away then just go.”
The Irishmen backed off, covering the Americans the entire time. No more words were passed and by the time they were alone, Hayden was crouched down in front of the tablets.
“Go make sure they leave without killing anyone else,” she told Smyth and Komodo. “And send the backup down here when it finally arrives. We need to secure these tablets and find out what they say.”
Kinimaka laid a hand on her shoulder. “You okay?”
“Barely, Mano. Barely. I guess that’s another life gone. One of these days I’m gonna find I ran out.”
“Don’t say that. And besides, we run out together. You got me?”
Hayden found herself smiling. “I got you.”
Kinimaka crouched down at her side, an arm now draped over her shoulder. His left knee struck a precarious tablet, sending it crashing to the floor. Luckily, though cracking from side to side, the object stayed in place.
“Shit.”
“I guess some things just never change.”