“It is once you get up above all the smog,” Ryland said. “Why Australia again?”
“Checking out that newest compound that I’ve had my eye on. Besides, the alpha team is coming off that ugly job in Perth. No one left there to deal with. So we’ll give them a day or two of R&R, then head home.”
“Right. We could have some equally ugly payback on that job.”
Bullard shrugged. “That goes for most of our jobs. It’s the life.”
“Don’t you already have enough compounds to look after?” Garret asked.
“Yes, I do, but that kid in me still looks to take over the world. Just remember that.”
“Better you go home to Africa and look after your first two compounds,” Ryland said.
“Maybe so,” Bullard admitted, “but it seems hard to not continue expanding.”
“You need a partner,” Ryland said abruptly. “That might ease the savage beast inside and keep you at home more.”
“Well, the only one I like,” he said, “is married to my best friend.”
“Sorry,” Ryland said quietly. “What a shit deal.”
“No,” Bullard said. “I came on the scene last. Clearly they were always meant to be together. Especially now that they’re a family.”
“If you say so,” Ryland said.
Bullard nodded. “Damn right, I say so. Now to change the subject. Terkel contacted me.”
“What did he want?” Ryland asked. “He’s a strange one.”
“He is, but when he speaks, I listen.”
“Sure, I do too. But who understands what he says?”
Bullard burst out laughing. “True. It often sounds like he’s speaking in riddles. This time, however, he was very clear. An old enemy stalks me.”
“That’s nothing new. We have tons of those.”
“Very true. But he was dead serious this time.”
And that set the tone for the next many hours. They landed in Hawaii, and, while they fueled up, everybody got off to stretch their legs, walking around outside a bit. This was a small private airstrip, not exactly full of hangars and tourists. Then they hopped back on board again for takeoff.
“I can fly,” Ryland offered, as they took off.
“We’ll switch in a bit,” Bullard said. “Surprisingly I’m doing okay yet, but I’ll let you take her down.”
“Yeah, it’s still a long flight,” Ryland said, studying the islands below. “What a stunning view of the area.”
“I love the islands here. Sometimes I just wonder about the benefit of, you know, crashing into the sea, coming up on a deserted island, and finding the simple life again,” Bullard said with a laugh.
“I hear you,” Ryland said. “Every once in a while, I wonder the same.”
Several hours later Ryland looked up and said abruptly, “We’ve made good time, considering we’ve already passed Fiji.”
Bullard yawned.
“Let’s switch.”
Bullard smiled, nodded, and said, “Fine. I’ll hand it to you.” Bullard stood.
Just then a funny noise came from the engine on the right side. Followed by dead silence.
They looked at each other, and Ryland said, “Uh-oh. That’s not good.”
Boom!
And the plane exploded.
Chapter 1
Ryland Roscoe opened his eyelids to the brilliant hot sun above. He slammed them shut immediately, the dry salt making thick crusts on his eyelashes. He reached up his free arm, limp, probably broken, and slowly wiped his face. He eased over the massive pieces of debris that he’d tied together into a makeshift raft to check on his buddy. His good arm had an iron grip on Garret.
Ryland had lost track of time, the sun beating down hard on him, and the lack of drinkable water making this an endurance run. That he’d even survived the airplane explosion was one thing, but it was a separate one entirely as to whether he would survive this slow death in the sunny heat atop warm ocean waters.
In the distance he heard some shriek or a yell. Probably the damn birds again. Though most would wait until he died, a lot of them flew overhead on a regular basis to check to see if he’d moved. He’d lost track of time as he slipped in and out of consciousness.
When he heard another odd shriek, he lifted his head and blinked, then blinked again. A boat came toward him, some sailboat yacht-looking thing, but everything was blurred, and the size of it shifted in and out with his vision.
He kicked Garret in his unbroken leg, hard. “Garret, we got company.”
Immediately Garret groaned and lifted his head. He stared and then he dropped his head back down again. “Good guys or bad guys?” he whispered in an equally hoarse voice to match Ryland’s own.
“Well, I sure as hell hope it’s good guys,” Ryland said. “Just hang on there, buddy.” They were both hurt, but Ryland was likely less hurt than Garret. His leg was at an odd angle, but thankfully it was a clean break and so far, there hadn’t been enough blood to bring the sharks. He knew it wouldn’t take much to lure them here, as a circle of them appeared when they initially came down, but so much plane debris was spread at least one mile across the oceans that they had soon lost interest.
“Ahoy, anybody alive?” she asked.
He slowly raised his injured arm and called out, “Yes!”
At that, he heard another excited shriek and before long the sailboat pulled up closer to his spot on the debris. A woman called out, “I’m throwing you a buoy—look for it.”
He shifted as much as he could to see a swimming buoy tossed his way. He managed to snag it with his injured arm, wincing, but maintaining his death grip on Garret’s belt. Ryland waited, balancing precariously on his floating home. They were slowly tugged toward the boat. He shifted as much as he could without bringing on the waves of pain waiting for him. “My buddy, he’s hurt worse than I am.”
The same woman calmly said, “Good to know. Can you help get him up?”
Ryland lifted himself up on his good elbow, not letting go of Garret, released the buoy from his broken arm, and gritted his teeth as he grabbed the side of the boat, his body screaming in pain. “Garret, come on, buddy. We’ve got to get you up and out of here.”
Garret lifted his head and stared at him. “I’m here.”
“I know you are, and I know you’re hurt, but we’ve got to get you onto that boat.” It was a painfully slow process, but the woman had surprising strength. She grabbed Garret’s belt, and—with Ryland lifting and her pulling—they managed to get Garret’s broken body up and over the side of her sailboat. The only thing that made it slightly more unmanageable was that Garret had passed out when first lifted. She slowly lowered Garret’s head to the deck.
Immediately she looked over the edge of her sailboat at his floating raft and asked, “What about you?” Her gaze landed first on his arm, then traveled down that same side to his leg. “Jesus,” she said. “Let’s get you up here. Be careful. That leg looks pretty raw.”
“The leg is a bitch,” he said, “and the arm and ribs too. Everything on that side. But if I’m lucky, nothing else is too badly broken.”