The Rescue(85)

“Got it,” said Decker.

“Once I start the engine, I need you to push the plane up the ramp,” she said. “I can’t build up enough momentum to pull the plane up the ramp without help.”

“Where do we grab it to push?” said Pierce.

“Use the support struts under the wing,” she said. “Between the propeller and the two of you, we’ll be fine.”

Decker nodded, wanting to say a few words about Kurt, but she’d already pulled her head back inside the plane. There’d be plenty of time for that later. He whispered to Pierce before they split up, “You think she’ll leave us here?”

“I sure hope not. I don’t feel like walking back to the motel.”

“I wouldn’t blame her,” said Decker before crawling under the rear fuselage. “I’m not sure this thing can take off with all of us.”

He located the bolt and yanked it out, dropping it to the ground. A knotted rope lay over the top of the wing, which he grabbed and walked back a few feet.

“You ready?” said Decker.

“Yep!” said Pierce.

The Cessna’s engine roared to life, startling him to the point where he almost dropped the rope. The propeller noise was deafening inside the enclosure, the prop wash kicking up a cloud of dust that filled the space almost instantly.

Decker pulled the rope, easily moving the door along the track. Careful not to stumble into the tail elevator, he kept heaving until his back hit the rear of the underground hangar. From there, he adjusted his grip on a higher knot and pulled again, repeating the process until the back of the door hit the end of the track. He glanced at Pierce, who gave him a thumbs-up, and they dashed forward to push the plane out of the hangar. Before grabbing the strut extending from the wing to the fuselage, he checked the countdown timer. Twenty-nine seconds.

The aircraft rocked back and forth, trying to roll up the ramp under its own power, but without distance to build up speed, it would never make it without help. He dug into the ground with his boots and leaned a shoulder into the strut, straining against the impossible weight of the aircraft. The Cessna inched forward, leaving Decker with serious doubts about getting it up the ramp. He pushed harder, but the aircraft barely made any progress.

He was particularly concerned because the noise of opening the hangar door had undoubtedly attracted the attention of any mercenaries that hadn’t descended into Aleman’s underground lair. Just when he was about to suggest they go topside and engage any responding targets, the propeller sound intensified, and the plane started to pick up speed.

Decker pushed against the strut with renewed energy, the aircraft now easily moving up the ramp. The plane tipped forward when its wheels reached level ground beyond the ramp, the movement taking Decker by surprise. He let go of the wing and turned as the tail swung up and out of the underground hangar, missing the edge of the hangar door by no more than a foot.

The door next to him opened, and two young kids beckoned him inside. As he climbed into the cabin, Pierce rolled under the fuselage and starting jogging alongside the moving aircraft. Decker gripped the back of the front passenger seat and extended a hand to Pierce, who took it eagerly and swung inside. He reached up and pulled the door shut, making sure it latched securely before turning to find a place to sit.

From what he could tell, they were in the same-model Cessna that had dropped them fewer than thirty minutes earlier, except the front passenger seat remained in place.

“Can we take off with this many onboard?” Decker asked, twisting in the cramped cargo compartment.

“You volunteering to jump out?” said Larissa.

“Only if I have to.”

“We’ll be fine,” she said, pushing the throttle forward.

Decker held on to the passenger seat as the Cessna raced forward. He took the phone out of his vest and checked the timer.

“Three seconds!” he called out.

She nodded but didn’t turn to look. He glanced to his left in time to see a brilliant flash, followed by a billowing fireball that rose a few hundred feet into the night sky. The plane yawed to the left a few seconds later as the shock wave hit them. Their pilot easily corrected the nudge, pointing them directly at the dark-blue line on the horizon. Fortunately, most of the explosive force had been directed upward due to the depth of the underground structure.

The plane rumbled across the flat ground for several more seconds before Decker felt it leave the ground and hang in the air, almost like it couldn’t climb any higher.

“Hang on!” said Aleman’s wife.

Decker tightened his grip on the passenger seat a moment before the plane pitched skyward, picking up speed. If he’d let go at that moment, he would have undoubtedly flown back into Pierce, who was pressed against the back of the cargo area. His two-handed grip on the passenger seat back started to loosen as the aircraft continued to climb above the Texas landscape. He risked a quick look through the port-side window, the ground below them flickering orange from the tower of flames a short distance away. He couldn’t imagine what was going through the children’s minds right now. Nobody said a word until the Alemans’ homestead was a bright-orange speck behind them.

“Where are you taking us?” said Decker.

“Avenger Field in Sweetwater,” she said. “Unless you brought passports.”

Decker had mixed feelings about the destination. They had flown out of Avenger Field for the jump, which presented a risk. If their pilot had decided it was in his best interest to report the jump to the police, they could face a precarious situation upon landing. Then again, the pilot would never expect them to return this quickly. The skydive destination was over fifty miles away, and they’d taken a taxi to the airfield, hopefully giving the pilot the impression that they weren’t returning. He glanced at Pierce, who shrugged and gave him a why-not look.