valerio wrote:it happens. Just relax, take your time, no worries about your writing and you'll do fine for your loyal fans.
valerio wrote:loyal fans.
*glee* :3
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Chapter 5 – Masquerade
“Hey, Duke?” hissed Bailey from her hiding place near the floor of the truck.
“Yeah?” Duke whispered back, peering cautiously over the dashboard and making a small adjustment to the steering wheel.
Bailey shifted in place, trying to make her position less cramped. “Remember how I said this might actually work?”
“Yeah?” Duke said again, a bit more cautiously this time.
Bailey craned her neck to cast Duke a baleful glare. “I take it back. This was a stupid idea.”
Duke sighed, then gently patted his seat. Or, rather, the lap of Idiot Number One. He, along with Idiot Number Two, was strapped into the seat, still in a state of peaceful unconsciousness. Over on the passenger's side, Zara was holding the other man in position, doing her best to keep his head form lolling to one side or the other.
Bailey was lying on the jouncing, dusty floor of the cabin, helping Duke work the pedals while the Shepherd steered. In theory, if any of the trucks Rasshim's soldiers commanded tried get a look inside, Duke would duck down and make it seem as though two humans were driving the truck.
That was the theory. It was about to be tested. Duke cast a quick glance in his rear-view mirror. The two other trucks, still almost overflowing with armed soldiers, were gaining on them. “Bailey!” he called to the Boxer crouched below. “I need more gas!”
“Yeah?” came the female's muffled, but no less biting reply. “And I need . We're already flooring it, we aren't gonna go any faster.”
“Well,” Duke said flatly. “That's just great.” The truck's wheels droned on, rumbling across the ill-maintained asphalt of the desert road. “Well... what if we tried slamming on the brakes, letting them come past us, then turning around and trying to make our escape in the other direction?”
Bailey leaned back, turning her head skyward once more. “Then they would know something was up, and they would turn around and catch us. Or shoot us. One of the two.”
“Hmm.” Duke frowned, tightening his grip on the wheel. They were running out of time. Those soldiers couldn't have been more than a hundred feet back, and they were closing in. “Any ideas, Zara?”
“Hmm?” The tan-furred female jackal looked up in mild surprise. “Oh. I do not know. You two are big military dog, I have been hoping that you would come up with something.” A hint of a smile played across her lips.
“Right. So we're stuck,” Duke sighed. “Bailey, ease up on the accelerator so we can let them pull up alongside us.”
Bailey let her paw off the pedal and gave the brakes a gentle touch. “I hope you've got a plan, boss man.”
“Actually, I was going to wing it.”
Bailey laughed silently. “My kinda plan,” she said with a toothy grin. “Worst comes to worst, I'll bite 'em in the shins and go from there. Who knows, maybe one'll drop their gun or somethin'.”
“That's the spirit,” Duke replied without conviction. The other two trucks were rapidly approaching in the mirror. “Zara, ready?”
The female bit her lip, casting a nervous glance out at the sun-scorched road. “I... suppose that I am.”
“Good. Just try and cover your guy's mouth with that bandana he's wearing. Wouldn't want to answer questions for 'im and not have his mouth move.” Duke did the same for that man he was seated on, and took another quick glance out the window. “Alright. Bailey, they're pulling up alongside. You need to stay absolutely quiet.”
“He said, stating the stupidly obvious,” Bailey muttered. Still, she shrank lower down in the dusty compartment. Zara ducked down and flattened herself against the floor of the truck as Bailey had.
Duke, on the other hand, plastered himself against the door of the truck, taking care to rest Idiot Number One's hand on the wheel to assure they wouldn't just drift off the road. Now came the hard part.
The sound of another engine and the gravelly rumble of tires on asphalt increased in volume, until it sounded to Duke like the other truck was directly behind. Which it was.
A human's voice called out, straining to be heard over the roaring din and avoid being swept away by the wind. Duke resisted the urge to peek over the edge of the door and stayed where he was, wedged against the unconscious man's leg. “Zara!” he hissed, trying to keep an eye on the door and look over to the jackal at the same time. “What's he saying?”
“He said hello, and asked if we needed help,” Zara responded promptly. “What should I say back?”
“Ah... just say hi back, and that we're fine. That should do for now.” Duke gently grabbed the arm of the man strapped in to the driver's seat of their own truck and moved it back and forth in what he hoped looked like a wave.
The man's hand flopped back and forth like a ragdoll. Duke cringed, and quickly pulled the arm back down.
Zara called back to the man in the other truck, adopting an exaggerated low, gravelly tone. She sounded more like a troll with a sinus infection than any human Duke had ever heard. “Oh, we are
so dead.,” groaned Bailey from the floor of the truck.
“Hush,” Duke whispered, listening intently for the reply. A new voice shouted across the windswept gap this time, with what seemed like an accusatory note hidden within. Duke looked to Zara with confusion. “Translation?”
“They, ah... they are wanting to know why we are not being with the other men of Rasshim.” Zara looked from Duke to Bailey with widened eyes. “What is it that I should tell them?”
Duke's pulse quickened. This whole charade might fall apart within seconds if they didn't do something fast. “Um... I don't know, tell them that we're... uh... carrying prisoners! Yes, that's it.” Duke nudged the female Boxer crowded on the floor by his feet as Zara called out her response. “Bailey! Go in the back and pretend to be a prisoner.”
Bailey tilted her head back and gave Duke a look that logically should have frozen the Shepherd's blood in his veins. “What kind of friggin' idea is that?”
Duke let out an irritated sigh. Even though they were ten feet away from a couple dozen armed soldiers out for their blood, that was no excuse for insubordination. “Just do it. It might buy us some-”
“Duke! Bailey!” Zara hissed. “They are wanting us to pull over.”
“-time,” Duke finished with a groan. “Right. Well, we obviously can't do that, and we can't outrun them...”
“I've got an idea.” Bailey slithered up from her place by the truck's pedals. “Zara, take my place. Duke, make sure we stay right alongside that truck. I've got an idea.”
“Hold up,” Duke said, putting a paw firmly on Bailey's shoulder. “What, exactly, are you planning on doing?”
Bailey smacked away Duke's paw and hauled herself up onto the seat. “I'll just jump over to the other truck, grab a gun, and shoot out their tires,” she said in a tone that would probably have been more appropriate for discussing a shopping list. “Easy.”
Duke's eyes narrowed, and he pulled Bailey back from the open window and looked her squarely in the eyes. “No. Absolutely not. That would be tantamount to suicide.”
“Well, do you have a better idea?” A dangerous note of smoldering irritation had crept into Bailey's tone. “Either we do something now or we'll have something like thirty armed soldiers trying to shoot us full of holes!”
“Right, but I won't let you do THAT!” Duke tapped on the steering wheel with rapidly diminishing patience. “Right, here's what we'll do.”
“
DUCK!” Zara shrieked. An instant later, a rolling storm of cracking sounds split the air, and a dozen metal slugs whizzed through the cabin of the truck, tearing through the thin metal like it was wet paper. Duke let out a stream of obscenities, instinctively jerking the wheel to the left.
The dogs' truck crashed into the one driven by Rasshim's men with a shuddering crunch, sending bits of metal and shattered glass flying everywhere. The shooting abruptly ceased as the soldiers yelled out and tried to keep their balance.
Duke turned away, then pulled another hard left to crash back into the truck. This time, his window was lined up with the passenger's side.
The man seated there had a pistol aimed directly at Duke's forehead.
Time seemed to slow down. Adrenaline pumped into the Shepherd's bloodstream, his pulse skyrocketed. Then, in an instant, he calmed himself. He knew what to do.
He knocked Bailey aside and slammed on the brakes. The other truck seemed to fling itself forward with a screech of tires on asphalt. The opening in the windows that connected the two trucks scythed shut, and with a yelp of pain, the man dropped his sidearm. The weapon landed in Duke's lap.
“Hey, Bailey,” he called. The frazzled-looking Boxer poked her head up from below and fixed Duke with an indignant glare. “Th'heck was that for?”
“Here's a gun,” Duke said without taking his eyes off the road. “Care to shoot out their tires for me?”
Bailey's irritated aura vanished, replaced by a wide, all too familiar grin. “No need to ask twice. I'm on it.” Bailey snatched up the pistol and leaned across Duke, staying steady despite the jouncing of the truck's creaking suspension. She leaned out the window, brought the weapon level with her eyes, aimed, and fired.
One, two shots buried buried themselves in the dirt behind the truck. But three, four, five and six tore holes in the vehicle's back tires, sending the truck spinning wildly off to the side of the road with the newly deformed black wheels hissing angrily into the desert air.
Bailey retreated back inside the cabin of the truck and blew the smoke from her pistol with a smug grin. “That should slow 'em down.”
Duke cast Zara a glance, noting with a furrowed brow that she was tightly gripping the edge of the door, with her ears laid flat against her head. The jackal's gaze flitted all over, and her mouth was drawn in a tight grimace. Understandable, of course. This was a combat situation. He was trained for it, Bailey actually seemed to enjoy it half the time, but... Zara just hadn't been prepared for it.
A bullet whizzed through the cabin, punching a fist-sized hole in the windshield. Duke flinched, causing the truck to swerve off to the side of the road before Duke could, with a pounding heart, get them back to the center. Right. Time to concentrate on getting away.
Another volley of shots rattled through the cabin. Duke was vaguely aware of Zara screaming. Bailey raised her pistol and yelled something as well. Duke barely noticed. He just steered the truck so that they were directly in front of the second of Rasshim's vehicles, yelled for the other two to hang on...
And slammed on the brakes again.
The truck bearing Rasshim's men flung itself forward into the dogs' vehicle, bashing the vehicle's grill two feet into the engine block in a spray of spare parts and an explosion of screeching metal. Soldiers hanging off the side lost their grip and fell off, tumbling into the sand like discarded childrens' toys.
Duke reached down with his foot and slammed the accelerator to the floor. Bailey and Zara, who had been thrown forward when he'd hit the brakes, tumbled back in their seats. Duke paid them no heed. He was staring coldly down the road with narrowed eyes. The truck rattled around them, almost seeming like it could shake itself to pieces at any moment. A few stray shots ricocheted off the metal of the truck's cabin, but they quickly trailed off into nothing. Soon, the only sound were those of the truck: the ailing engine, grumbling like an injured animal; the tires rumbling along the road.
Bailey let out a nervous titter of laughter, and the silence was broken. She pulled herself up onto the seat next to Duke, and her faint giggles soon grew, until she was laughing hard enough that it almost knocked her out of her seat. The waves subsided, and after a moment she sat still in her seat, wiping her watering eyes with a wide grin plastered onto her face. “I... heh... can't believe we... a-heh... actually pulled that off!”
Duke gave an ambiguous grunt, and adjusted the rearview mirror. The two trucks he saw receding into the distance were most certainly undriveable. Smoke billowed from the one they'd just slammed into, and the one Bailey had shot the tires out on sat listlessly in the sand even further back. As they drove on, Rasshim's men quickly became nothing more than specks against the dust and scattered farmland.
Duke patted the leg of the unconscious man he'd seated himself on. “Tell you what,” he said. “We'll ditch these guys, and go from there. How's that sound?”
“Sounds great,” Bailey replied, pulling herself up onto the seat in between Duke and Zara. The jackal flinched, looking like she'd just been pulled back to reality. Bailey barely noticed, instead looking to Duke with a wide grin. “We've just gotta find a patrol and we're home free.”
Duke nodded absently, staring off down the road. “Right,” he muttered. “Home free.”
They definitely weren't out of this yet, though. He was sure of that.
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“This is Hydra One to FOB Delhi, do you copy, over”
“FOB Delhi to Hydra One, we read you loud and clear. Are you prepared to proceed to the target, over?”
Sergeant First Class James Anselmo listened to the pilot's terse reply. “Affirmative. We are in position to proceed to the target, over.”
“Roger that, you are authorized to proceed. FOB Delhi out.”
The Apache helicopter banked hard to the right with barely a change in the omnipresent drone of the rotors. Sergeant Anselmo got a tighter grip on the support rail and his assault rifle, but didn't really register the change. When he'd first heard that Duke and his squad were MIA, he'd been the first to propose, and then volunteer for the rescue mission. They'd already taken out Rasshim's forces in the abandoned village, retrieving Sebastian and Achilles in the process, but Duke and Bailey were still missing.
Fortunately, they'd managed to pick up the signal from the GPS devices embedded in the two dogs' collars and use that to find the general direction they'd been taken in.
Sergeant Jim Anselmo glared forward, through the cockpit and into the blazing afternoon sky. They might be combing the desert by air for hours after they reached the last point the GPS devices had transmitted from, but was going to get back the dog who saved his life.
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Far below, a jackal crouching in the brush watched in stony silence as the Apache helicopter roared overhead. He waited a few moments, then pulled out a dusty radio unit, fumbled with the controls, and muttered a few terse words into it. A man's voice answered in a similar tone.
The American helicopter was rapidly receding into the distance. The jackal watched for a few moments more, nodding in grim satisfaction. With short, efficient motions, he got to his feet and brushed some of the dust from his brown fur.
The jackal's dark eyes narrowed as he watched the helicopter reach the horizon. It wouldn't be long now.
With the radio unit slung over his shoulder, the slender jackal darted from his hiding place and followed in the chopper's wake.
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Autuor's Nose: Yeah, that took way too long. I'm going to get started on Chapter 6 right away. You know... so this doesn't happen again. The tricky part I mentioned will probably fit better at the beginning of the next chapter.
So. Until next time, folks!