Brought Down

24. Exchange

Julian

They take the black bag off my head and I find myself standing in the middle of a deserted plain. It stretches in every direction for as far as I can see, meeting at the horizon with the other plain, made of dirty clouds. Between them, there's only dull grey light and the wind that gets immediately into my hair and throws dust into my eyes.

The guard who's taken the bag off pays no more attention to me. He walks away and gets into the off-roader. The second guy at the wheel shifts the car into reverse.

I want to call out for them, but there's a gag in my mouth, and they clearly don't intend to do anything about that. My hands are still cuffed behind my back, too.

I watch the car make a turn and drive away. I follow it with my eyes until it's only a speck in the distance.

Strange. When exchanging prisoners, you don't just leave them alone like this. Perhaps that's what they agreed upon with Burnface, to keep their people safe. Maybe they arranged to leave me here, while Burnface is to leave the supplies at another place, so that the exchanging parties don't have to meet. But how are they to make sure he fulfills his part of the bargain?

Something doesn't add up. There's got to be something else here. Maybe a sniper, to take me out if Burnface tries to pull any tricks? I look around, but for as far as I can see, there's nothing that could serve as a hiding spot.

The wind strengthens, forcing me to turn away. At least I'm not cold. They have put some coat on me so no wind gets through. I can try to walk, but my foot cuffs are connected by too short a chain. And there's surely a sniper nearby, or something else to assure I don't just leave the designated spot.

I look around again, squinting against the wind. How are they to make sure that I play along? Come to think of that, how are they to assure I don't disclose anything about their hideaway to Burnface?

There's only one way to do that, and it includes me dead. But how?..

Then it hits me.

The coat.

The thought makes me freeze. I was already blindfolded when they put the coat on me, so now I look down at it for the first time. It looks thick, as if there's a vest attached to it, or some additional padding inside it. It's heavy, too.

I shift a little against it, and my suspicions turn into confidence. There's something inside. Explosives? It's got to be that. They put some explosives on me. To be detonated either by remote control or... no, surely, it's got to be a remote control. Probably they'd wait for me to be aboard the mothership. That will not only allow them to assure I don't talk, but also cause some damage, perhaps even bring the mothership down. They may actually succeed.

I won't know. I will be, by then, torn into a thousand pieces of meat and bones and... Damn. Damn! So much pain. Such an awful way to die.

Slowly, I turn around. My surroundings seem more illuminated now, and I can hear some noise apart from the wind. I look up, and there're smears of white and yellow lights gleaming through the clouds, growing bigger and brighter. Judging by their size and position, it's not the mothership. It's a shuttle Burnface has sent to pick me up. They'll detonate it there, then. They couldn't allow me any amount of time long enough to disclose anything.

I back away, looking up, choking on my gag, my heart hammering. The approaching lights designate the last minutes of my life. The shuttle is still concealed by the clouds, but I can hear the roar of its engines.

The very awareness that each breath I take may be my last is maddening. My imagination pictures the sensations of being torn apart so vividly that I can almost feel it happening. I close my eyes. Damn it, let it just happen fast.

The sound of the engines grows louder, and I feel a strong gust of wind push me in the back. I open my eyes. The shuttle hasn't descended from the clouds yet, but the noise is closer. It's behind me.

I turn and see a military jet coming to a halt a couple of hundred meters away. The cockpit roof slides back and a man gets out. He gestures for me to come over, then sets off and runs in my direction. Despite the distance and the lack of illumination, I recognize Garrett's blond hair.

I make a few short, faltering steps, then stop abruptly. I'm a bomb about to explode. There's no need to take him with me. He's not bad. He listened. He said I was all right.

I back away, but he's approaching rapidly. The lights above us burst through the clouds, and the grey valley turns white.

"No," I try to shout through my gag, but what comes out is unintelligible. Garret reaches me, throws a glance at my foot cuffs, then grabs me and throws me over his shoulder like a sack. "No!" I try to yell through the gag again. "Let go! There's a bomb on me! A bomb!"

"Shut up," he mutters, starting to run back to his jet. "You think I don't know?"

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