Monday, September 6, 2010

Day Thirty-Six

Day 36: 06 Sep 2010

Not in any better mood today, but I have to relay what happened out in the desert. It's wrong not to.

Besides, I've got plenty of time. After a long drive, the Chinese guys threw me into a room with no windows and no door handle. So I'm not going anywhere for a while.

Vince was right -- there was a chopper yesterday morning, and it was pretty fucking big. I don't know helicopters, so I can't tell you what it was, but it was bigger than Vince's house.

As soon as he saw it, Vince moved. He threw aside a rug and pulled up a few boards, revealing an impressively scary cache of automatic weapons. He handed me a big gun.

"Ever use one of these before?"

"Some rifles when I was a kid. Nothing like this."

"It's an M249 SAW, so it's belt-fed. That means you got a lotta bullets. When the shooting starts, just keep firing till you run out. There'll be another one behind you."

I nodded and picked up the gun -- it was heavy. Everyone else grabbed guns, too, but it looked like they all knew how to use them. A voice shouted down at us from the chopper -- a loudspeaker, I think. The voice was soft, flat. It spoke in rapid Chinese.

"Cass? What the hell did he just say?" I asked.

"I don't fucking know. I'm from Minnesota, jerk. Do you think we all know kung fu, too?"

The voice came down again -- this time, in English.

"We want only Mr. Travis, understand? The rest of you may depart."

I recognized it now -- the soft voice, the fucked-up word order. It was Mr. William.

"Dane, let's answer the man," Vince said.

He lifted a massive gun to his shoulder -- a bigger gun than mine, even -- and opened fire. The chopper instantly started shooting. Huge bullets tore through the center of the room, hitting no one, but making a very clear statement.

"Shit. Miniguns," Vince said.

"They didn't seem too mini to me," I said.

"They have us outgunned. Cassie, you take Travis and get out of here," Vince said. "Dane and I will draw their fire."

"I hate this plan," Dane said, bringing up his own machine gun.

"Come on, Travis. Move. We've got about five seconds."

I ran after Cassie, still holding my gun, and followed her out the back door to the Thunderbird. As she started the engine, I could hear Dane and Vince firing on the helicopter. We tore away, and I looked out the rearview mirror. I could see the chopper dumping an impossible amount of bullets on the cabin. Dane and Vince weren't firing anymore.

"Are they --"

"Dead? Probably," Cassie said, slamming the pedal to the floor. The speedometer needle crept up past 125 miles an hour. I looked in the rearview again -- the chopper was after us now. I couldn't see the cabin anymore.

"Shit. They're too damn fast. I'll never be able to outrun 'em in a straight line," Cassie said. "Hang on."

She ratcheted the wheel to the left, hard and fast. I almost flew out the open passenger window.

"Don't just sit there. Shoot at them!" she yelled, so I stuck the gun out the window. Before I could pull the trigger, the chopper opened up, shredding the back half of the T-bird. We veered off, flipped, and. . .

Well, I don't remember much after that, except waking up in the van all pissed off. I have to assume they killed Cassie, too. So you can see why I was in a bad mood yesterday.

Today -- just sitting around in a blank room. Again. At least this one has TV. See? Of course, I don't understand a word of it.

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