Читать книгу Through the Devil’s Eye - C.R. Cummings - Страница 10

Chapter 4

FLIGHT

Willy turned to Mr Drew. “Take off! Get us out here!” he yelled. But Mr Drew was staring at the drama with stunned disbelief. He shook his head and muttered then met Willy’s eyes.

“What the hell?” he gasped.

Terror surged in Willy. He could see that Mr Drew did not believe what he was seeing and hearing. But Willy had recent and real experience of criminal types and knew with sickening certainty that there were people who would kill others without compunction—and he sensed that Zoltan was one of them. The look in his eyes told him that.

“Mr Drew, they are criminals. They will shoot us. Take off!” he yelled, pointing along the runway.

Mr Drew cast another shocked glance at where the woman lay and then turned to his controls. To Willy’s relief the engine surged and the aircraft began to swing to port out towards the runway. As it did he got a last glance of Zoltan and saw that the man was hefting the automatic rifle into his shoulder and cocking it. Tremors of panic coursed through Willy and he began to cringe in anticipation of being struck by a bullet.

Off to their right Willy saw Mr Dragovisic pointing and shouting and his men scattering to run in all directions. Barry and Seth the Handyman went racing towards the hangar and Mr Carter towards the parked vehicle.

He’s going to get a gun, Willy thought, remembering the weapons hung at the rear of the cab.

Snap!

Willy flinched and stared in horror at the small starred hole that had suddenly appeared in the Perspex window beside him. We are being shot at, he thought, panic and fear of death surging in him and making him tremble and feel liquid in the stomach and bowels.

Mr Drew swore and then reefed the throttle open before reaching for the propeller controls. The aircraft began to roll rapidly forward, the open field now ahead of it.

We might make it, Willy thought.

But even as he did there was another whacking sound and he felt a sharp stinging blow on his right arm. Another shot cracked through the cabin and Mr Drew cried out. Willy jerked his head to glance at him. He saw that Mr Drew was gripping the controls tightly and staring white faced at the two starred holes that had now appeared in the front windscreen.

Bang! Bang! Whang-wheeeee!

More shots came, slamming in from the right rear. They were hitting the aircraft but Willy could not tell where except that the screeching ricochet told him that at least one had struck solid steel. Then more bullets struck the aircraft, smacking into the rear of the cabin and punching right through to pock-mark the windows and windshield. The only hopeful thing was that aircraft was now roaring along the gravel runway.

More shots and more hits. We must get up and away, Willy thought, fear swirling in him. He gripped the seat hard and stared through the bullet scarred windscreen and began to mutter prayers. Ahead he saw the runway vanish into a heat haze which looked like shimmering water. Dancing in it was line after line of jagged grey hills.

Then the tail was up and hope surged. Mr Drew pulled sharply back on the control column and the aircraft lifted off in a zooming climb that sent Willy’s stomach lurching into a bilious swirl. The aircraft jinked and then Mr Drew heaved it to port in a juddering turn so steep that Willy found himself staring at the sky. The horizon appeared to be running up and down across the windscreen. Just as abruptly Mr Drew straightened out and put the aircraft into a climb to get over the rugged ridge of limestone that now appeared in front of them.

“Give me a course for Muldarga,” Mr Drew gasped. Then he coughed and groaned.

Willy turned to look at him and was aghast to see flecks of blood on his lips and shirt front. “You’ve been hit!” he cried, a new wave of fear sweeping through him.

“Just… (cough)… give… m… me the b… bloody course!” Mr Drew gasped.

“Yes sir,” Willy replied. Trembling with emotion he reached for his map in the door pocket. As he lifted it up he was shocked to see that blood was trickling down his right arm and hand onto the map.

I’ve been hit! he told himself. His left hand went to his throbbing shoulder and came away red with blood. For a few seconds he could only stare at it in disbelieving horror.

Mr Drew glanced at him and shouted, “Never mind that! Give me a bloody course—quickly!”

Willy shook his head to clear it and snatched up the ruler and pulled his pencil from his pocket with fingers that were slippery with blood. Quickly he wiped the blood onto his white shirt and then, despite his trembling fingers, he managed to rule a line.

Protractor, he thought.

But as he bent to search for it the engine gave a shuddering cough and began to splutter. Willy looked up and saw with dismay that a streamer of white smoke was shredding out of the cowling and back past his window. Then, as he turned to speak to Mr Drew, the smoke turned black and came in a blinding cloud.

Mr Drew swore and immediately switched the engine off. “Don’t want a fire,” he croaked. He settled the aircraft into a glide and stared through the front. Willy found he was gasping for breath, hyperventilating from fear.

Calm down! he told himself. Then he began to cough as some of the smoke was sucked into the cabin.

Luckily the smoke was on his side and clearing so that Mr Drew could still see. Willy looked out and was shocked to see that they were just scraping over the top of another of the long grey parallel ridges of jagged limestone. As they swept over it the turbulence tossed them around and Mr Drew had to struggle to keep the aircraft in trim.

He turned to Willy and said, “Activate the EPIRB.”

It took willpower for Willy to tear his eyes away from the view ahead. Shaking with fear he groped in the pocket beside the seat and extracted the yellow signal device. Now he realized just how useful training was as he knew exactly what to do to turn it on. Satisfied it was transmitting he placed it back in its pouch. The knowledge that the tiny radio transmitter was already sending signals to satellites in space which would relay their location to a Rescue Centre in Canberra gave him some hope.

At least we will be found quickly, he thought.

Mr Drew hit his arm to attract his attention. “Call… cough… radio,” he gasped.

With an effort of will Willy wrenched his frightened gaze from the smoke and nodded. He picked up the radio handset and pressed the transmit switch. “Race Control, Race Control, this is… grrrkzzzsssh. grrrkkkssszh.”

What the? Willy thought, staring at the handset in dismay. He tried again but all he could get was a crackling, buzzing sound. It was one that he had heard before but at that moment he could not place where or what it meant.

“I can’t get through,” he called.

Mr Drew nodded. “I heard. Inter… (cough) (cough) interference,” he croaked. “They’re jamming us.”

Willy knew what he meant from cadet exercises and the knowledge scared him. He tried again but without any luck. Then he stared through the front and what he saw caused him more spasms of fear. As far as he could see there was row after row of rugged, spiky limestone ridges. These seemed to stretch on into the far distance until they were lost in the heat shimmer. Below was just savannah woodland. It was obvious to him that there was no chance of them clearing the next ridge.

Mr Drew thought so too as he croaked, “Got to put her down.” With that he eased the aircraft around to port and craned forward to peer through the damaged windscreen and smoke.

Willy sat almost paralysed with terror. All he could see were trees that were too close together for the aircraft. A terrible feeling of helplessness gripped him and part of his mind kept trying to tell him that it wasn’t true. But he knew it was and horrible images of dying flitted through his mind.

How will it be? he wondered. Torn to pieces to lie bleeding to death? Or trapped in blazing wreckage screaming with the pain and fear until the hot air seared the lungs and the flesh began to shrivel and char? Oh I hope it is quick, he thought.

Mr Drew turned and spoke quite calmly. “Now listen young Willy, if you ever have to put a plane down in the bush you want to avoid having one wing tip strike a tree. If that happens the plane can be spun around and cartwheel and your chances of survival become almost zilch. What you need to try to do is hit two trees with both wingtips at the same moment. That should rip the wings off and slow you down. That is what I am attempting. Got it?”

“Yes sir,” Willy croaked. Now his whole being seemed filled by the rapidly approaching trees. Terror gripped his mind with a freezing hand. But he was aware enough to note that Mr Drew had swung the plane to port and then levelled out quite close to the limestone ridge on that side. He saw that there was a small clearing, not nearly long enough but with two big white-trunked ghost gums on the far side.

As the aircraft floated over the last of the tree canopy before the clearing Mr Drew put the nose sharply down and then almost at once pulled back on the stick. Willy felt the wheels brush and crackle through the upper leaves and branches of the tree and then the aircraft seemed to stagger and drop. It was almost a stall but instead the machine floated down, the nose aiming between the two big trees. There were more trees ahead and Willy could only stare at them in horror.

“Brace!” Mr Drew shouted.

Despite an almost overwhelming urge to throw his arms up to protect his face Willy did as he had been taught, bending forward as far as he could and gripping his legs. As he did his stomach heaved and the top of his head seemed to cringe in anticipation of being stove in. Then his world dissolved into a series of violent lurches, vibrations and shudders, all accompanied by smashing, ripping and splintering sounds. The aircraft spun and dropped, landing on the ground with a bone jarring thud. It bounced and then spun sideways. Willy clung on but was sickeningly aware that his strength was almost useless against the stunning forces of the crash. His arms and legs jerked and struck at things and his head snapped up and down so violently he thought his neck must break. A sharp pain lanced through his right shoulder and his left seemed to go numb. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the wing and strut vanish.

Crash! Crang! Crumple!

Suddenly the violent motion stopped and Willy found himself looking at open sky where the wing and door had been. I’m alive! he thought as he looked wildly around. Part of his mind noted that the grass beside him was almost as tall as him and a corner of his consciousness made the deduction that the undercarriage had been torn off.

Then Mr Drew’s gasping, wheezing voice penetrated. “Get out lad! Get out quick in case she burns.”

Fear helped Willy to move. Despite what felt like sharp pains in every limb and a painful sensation in his chest he looked down and began pulling at the seat belt release catch.

Undo! Undo! he thought with rising panic as the smell of hot oil filled his nostrils. But the catch seemed to be jammed and he grew frantic in his efforts to unbuckle it.

Then he sniffed a whiff of real heat and that almost sent him into panic. Hyperventilating and shaking with fear and shock he looked around for a way out. Then he saw Mr Drew trying to undo his seat buckle as well. Mr Drew is caught, he thought. A feeling of time slowing down and being cold swept through him.

Aloud Willy said, “Calm down Willy. Take it slow. Now look and work out what is wrong.”

Once he had done that he saw that the seat belt was strained taut by his weight because the aircraft was half on its side. As soon as he saw that he used his legs to push up and ease the tension. After that it was easy and the seat belt buckle popped open and fell away. He shrugged off the other half and then turned to help Mr Drew.

As he did Mr Drew looked him in the eyes and shook his head. “Don’t waste time on me Willy. I’m done for. You get out before she catches fire.”

Willy shook his head. “No sir. I’ll get you out. Just try to lift up with your arms,” he replied. The look on Mr Drew’s face and the beads of sweat on his face made Willy feel sick with apprehension but he swallowed and moved to help him.

Mr Drew did as he was told and Willy used his arms to help lift him to take the pressure off the catch. It took quite a struggle but at last the catch came open with a snap. Mr Drew almost collapsed back down into the wreckage but Willy caught him and held him up. As he did he was horribly aware of a burning pain in his right shoulder and of his left arm and shoulder feeling numb and useless.

For a few moments Willy feared that he did not have the strength to help Mr Drew out. By ignoring the pains and bumps as he moved to a crouch he was able to get a better grip. Then he struggled with a growing sense of desperation to lift Mr Drew up and out. To his frantic frustration both his clothes and Mr Drew’s kept snagging on every projection in the cockpit.

I’ll have to drag him out, Willy thought when he found he could not lift him.

To do that he squirmed and bumped his way around until he could stand and get some leverage with his legs. Then he reached down and grabbed Mr Drew under the armpits and began hauling. It hurt his own shoulders and back, sending darts of fire up and down his right arm but he managed to do it. After a few seconds of frantic hauling and lifting he was able to back out into the long grass and then drag Mr Drew out as well.

But by then Willy felt exhausted and he stopped to recover his strength. Pain lanced and throbbed through his upper body and his chest heaved as he gulped in air. A drip of something sticky into his right eye made him wipe at it with his forearm and as he drew it away he saw it was smeared with blood.

Must have banged my head, he thought.

Then he again smelt a strong odour of hot oil and a whiff of avgas. I must get him further away in case the plane burns or explodes, he thought. He bent to get a grip and found that Mr Drew was looking at him and shaking his head.

“Never mind me Willy. Save (cough) yourself,” Mr Drew croaked. As he spoke flecks of blood were ejected from his mouth to form a pattern of red droplets around his mouth and on his face.

The sight sent shivers of nauseous apprehension through Willy but he persisted. “I will get you clear in case of fire. You will be alright sir,” Willy replied.

Mr Drew shook his head vigorously. “No… (cough)… you don’t (cough) don’t understand. Those men will be here soon. They will kill you. Get going while you still can,” he gasped.

The word ‘kill’ sent a chill through Willy and he sensed that Mr Drew was right. But he wasn’t ready to give up yet. “I will still get you to safety sir. Then I will try to get help. We must be a good five kilometres from that place and it will take them a while to find us,” he replied. He began dragging Mr Drew through the grass.

But Mr Drew struggled and hit at his wrists. “Stop Willy. You don’t understand. I… I’m (cough)… done for anyway. Get going. They have a helicopter.”

Helicopter! Willy had forgotten that. And even as he straightened up he felt that peculiar vibration in the air that he knew was caused by a helicopter’s rotors.

Helicopter! And I am a sitting duck! Where can I hide? he thought.

A stab of pure panic lanced through Willy and he looked frantically around. Instinctively he ran towards the nearest gully, a shallow washout about fifty paces away. As he did images he had seen on TV of men shooting wild pigs and brumbies from helicopters came to him. Those marksmen had been absolutely deadly, rarely missing.

Where can I hide? he thought frantically.

The buzzing vibration drew rapidly louder and Willy knew that he had only seconds to act. At seemingly the same moment it occurred to him that he wore a white shirt. That will be horribly visible from the air, his racing mind told him. But there was no time to take it off, much less dirty it. Frantically he cast around for something to hide under.

And there it was—a piece of crumpled wing, all white and silver. Willy sprinted for it and dived down beside it even as the helicopter swept into view a few hundred metres behind him. Flattening himself as much as he could Willy squirmed in under the twisted metal, ignoring sharp edges that tore at his shirt and skin.

The people in the helicopter obviously saw the wreck at once as the machine came sweeping round in a buzzing curve which took it right over the top of Willy. He did not dare look up, knowing that upturned faces were particularly visible from the air. Instead he lay flat and tried to steady his breathing ready to run.

To his dismay the helicopter buzzed around again and then came in to what was obviously a landing approach only about fifty metres beyond the wreck. The trees were just far enough apart to allow this manoeuvre with reasonable safety. From in the long grass Willy watched as it settled. Out of it climbed a big man in a white shirt and grey slacks. He was holding a rifle with a telescopic sight.

Willy shook with reaction and fear and bit his lip. Mr Dragovic or something, the owner, he thought.

The helicopter’s engine was switched off and the pilot climbed out even before the rotors had stopped. Unsafe practice that, Willy thought. But it wasn’t the pilot who had his attention but Mr Dragovisic. He was walking towards the wreck, rifle at the ready and eyes scanning the whole valley.

Willy had the hope that Mr Dragovisic might not find Mr Drew, or, if he did, that he would help him. But those hopes were almost instantly dashed. Within a minute Mr Dragovisic had reached the wreck and discovered the wounded pilot. He looked down at him and then bent to point the rifle into the wreck.

Looking for me, Willy thought, his whole body now trembling with shock and fright.

The helicopter pilot came hurrying through the long grass to join his boss. As he joined him and he looked down at Mr Drew he said, “Here’s one. Where’s the kid?”

Mr Dragovisic shook his head. “Not here. Might be back there in the wreckage,” he said, pointing towards where Willy lay. That sent more chills of dread through Willy and he crouched lower in the grass. But then he raised his head again, feeling he just had to know.

Mr Dragovisic looked around and then said, “Did they get out a radio message?”

“Don’t think so boss. I heard them start transmitting so we jammed it. But there should be an EPIRB here and it might have been activated,” the pilot answered.

“Find it and turn it off,” Mr Dragovisic snarled.

Hearing that shocked Willy and he watched with dismay as the helicopter pilot rummaged in the wreckage. To Willy’s dismay the pilot quickly found the bright yellow EPIRB. He lifted it up and switched it off.

“Was working alright, but hopefully not long enough for them to get a proper fix. But there will be a search now Boss. Their base knows they are in this area. This could ruin the whole operation.”

“I know. So ve make sure there nothing to find is,” Mr Dragovisic said.

“How you gunna do that boss?” the helicopter pilot asked as he smashed the EPIRB against a tree.

“Ve move zis wreckage and ve clean the place up,” Mr Dragovisic replied.

The helicopter pilot nodded and pointed down at Mr Drew. “What about this joker? He’s got a bullet in him. How we gunna explain that?”

“Ve put anozer bullet in him so he don’t talk and ve make the body disappear too,” Mr Dragovisic answered.

On hearing that Willy gasped with horror. He could not believe that the man could so cold bloodedly propose such a thing. But he knew from horrible experience that men were capable of such acts. Through his mind flitted ghastly images of his murdered Uncle Ted, and of the drug growers shot in cold blood by the Columbian gang in the Lamb Range only four months before. Now, even as he hoped it wasn’t true, he saw Mr Dragovisic hold the rifle barrel down near Mr Drew’s head.

He’s not going to surely? Willy thought, appalled at the idea.

Bang!

Willy gasped and then stared aghast as he saw Mr Drew’s body twitch. Then the stunning reality of what he had just seen swamped Willy and he shook with horror and terror.

That is what they will do to me when they catch me, he thought. As the terror almost overwhelmed him he began to panic and he experienced a frantic urge to run. But some shred of self control kept his muscles still.

Mr Dragovisic then looked around and said to the helicopter pilot, “Go back and get Mr Carter to get some trucks and der front-end loader here. Guide zem through these verdamt hills. And bring back Zoltan and a couple of his men so ve can find zis boy. While you are gone I vill have a look for him. Be quick. I want zis place cleaned up before any search planes spot it.”

“How you gunna hide the crash site boss?” the helicopter pilot asked, staring down at the body of Mr Drew.

“Tell Mr Carter to bring some of those prefab cattle yards. We will build a set of temporary yards and put some cattle here. They will soon trample out any signs. Now get going. I need men here and fast.”

“Yes boss.”

Willy bit his knuckles and tried to stop himself shaking as he watched the helicopter pilot start walking back towards his machine. Then Willy saw Mr Dragovisic turn and look in his direction.

Now he is going to look for me, he thought, the terror all but paralysing him.