Slayers (Jake Hawkins Book 1) (36 page)

The ramp stopped at a perfect horizontal angle. Jake saw open sky. The Super Stallion was dizzyingly high. Irene had brought the flying behemoth to a standstill, hovering in the air. He looked out at the curvature of the earth. Iquitos lay below.

“
We
’
re eight thousand feet up!
”
Wolfe roared above the wind.
“
I haven
’
t bothered to give you an altimeter. I don
’
t want you wasting time checking a dial on your wrist. As soon as you
’
re stable, count to three and deploy.
”

“
Before I go,
”
Jake said.
“
I know you
’
re hiding something from me. Archfiend told me, in the hive. He said when I find out, I
’
ll never be the same.
”

Wolfe paused.
“
There
’
s a lot I haven
’
t told you, Jake. But now
’
s not the time. I
’
ll explain everything when I see you again.
”

Jake shrugged. Wolfe let go of his shoulder and gave him a hard slap on the back.
“
Now get out there.
”

“
Pick me up as soon as I
’
ve got Zoe,
”
Jake said.
“
I
’
ll call you.
”

Wolfe nodded.

Jake let his mind go blank. He tried to run, but his legs faltered.

Do it!

He broke into a sprint for the rear ramp, away from Wolfe. To his left, Crank, Thorn and Felix flashed by in a blur. The parachute was heavy on his back, like a deadweight. Then he was out on the ramp, surrounded on all three sides by the elements. Up this high, it was cold. The wind buffeted against his body. He ignored it, and kept running.

The ramp dropped off into nothingness and he took one more deep breath and dove out into the sky.

There was no stomach drop.

No inkling that he was falling at near terminal velocity.

Just the world catapulting as he spun through the air and the all-consuming howl of the wind against his body. It cut through his clothes like a thousand icy knives. The thin material did nothing to fight the cold. He couldn
’
t see. Sensory overload had kicked in.

Arch your back.

Jake arched. He was upside down, or something like that, but he fought against the momentum. It took a few seconds, but he began to level out. It seemed like an eternity. He splayed his arms wide and bent his legs just like Wolfe had told him to. Suddenly he was floating on his stomach in the air.

At least it felt like he was floating. Eight thousand feet up, the earth was beautiful. It didn
’
t seem to be growing any closer, splayed out in all directions underneath him. For a fleeting second, Jake experienced a rush of elation like nothing he had ever felt before. He smiled. He could see tight clusters of buildings, nothing more than pinpricks from this height, surrounded by gorgeous green plains and snaking rivers. To his left, the Amazon Rainforest.

He was
flying.

The feeling was overpowering. Sure, he was unstable, shaky in the air, volatile, and it felt like he was going to tip over onto his back at any moment, but for a brief moment in time he was more alive than he had ever been.

Wolfe had told him to deploy his parachute as soon as he was stable. There was no way to check his height. The buildings far below didn't seem to be growing any closer. Jake reached back and fumbled against the bottom of the backpack. He came up with nothing.

Where
’
s the bloody pilot chute?

Still nothing. Now, he was closing the distance between the buildings. Fast. In desperation, he started to slap different areas of the backpack. Wild, panicked breaths were cut off by the unrelenting wind. He struggled to breathe.

He found it. His fingertips brushed over a small, plastic ball hanging from the bottom of the pack. Terror seized him as he looked down and saw the fast approaching rooftops. He yanked the pilot chute out of its holster, held it an arm
’
s length from his body and released it.

He couldn
’
t see, but he sensed the small bag zipping up, catching the air, inflating, wrenching the main parachute out, which in turn caught the wind and billowed out above his head. Each cell inflated until the canopy expanded to its full capacity. The deceleration wrenched him up by the shoulders with a vicious jolt.

He was suspended a thousand feet above the ground by two straps tightened to his upper legs. His feet dangled in thin air. His mouth went dry.

Just as Wolfe had said would happen, two yellow toggles appeared above. Jake took one in each hand and gently lowered the left toggle until his elbow was bent at ninety degrees. The parachute lurched to the left, scaring him momentarily. Now, he was facing the city.

Down below, chaos ensued. Plumes of smoke rose intermittently from across the skyline. Car alarms sounded in the distance. He stared in awe at the scene before him, but then his attention was taken by the parachute coming into land.

He was heading straight for the rooftop of a three-storey building. It looked like the perfect place to land. The roof was made of flat concrete, with nothing but a metal ventilation unit at the far end, puffing steam out into the air. He tugged the right strap just a little to correct his trajectory. The chute descended further and he shot over the lip of the rooftop
’
s edge. He was now skimming through the air above the concrete. Far too fast to land. Wolfe was right. He would need to flare the parachute to avoid breaking both his legs.

There was sudden movement ahead. A slayer stepped out from behind the ventilation unit. It had been obscured from view before, but now Jake noticed it tense up, ready to attack. As soon as he landed, off-balance, awkwardly, it would move in for the kill.

There was an alternative.

Jake adjusted his aim a little and straightened his legs out in front. Right now was the perfect time to flare. He was just above the roof. But he didn
’
t. He kept on shooting towards the slayer.

It realised what was happening far too late.

Standing at the far end of the rooftop, it had no room to dive out of the way.

He soared in and dropkicked it in a bone-jarring collision, planting both his feet into its chest and sending it flying. The slayer cleared the end of the rooftop by a metre and dropped straight down to the asphalt three storeys below. Jake reached up and wrenched down on both straps with all his might. Each end of the parachute arced down toward him and he slowed considerably. His stomach dropped a little. He thumped down onto the concrete on his rear. A second earlier, and he would have shattered his coccyx from the impact.

He came to a skidding halt at the very edge of the rooftop. His feet dropped over the edge, into open space. But then he was stationary, centimetres from falling to a grisly fate. He fell back and unclipped his harness with a sigh of relief.

The only sound came from the hissing of the ventilation unit. There was a gentle
whoosh
as his canopy began to deflate. Jake swung his legs back over onto flat ground and picked himself up. He left the parachute on the concrete. There was no need for it anymore.

There was a buzzing against his thigh. Still shaking from the rush of free fall, he clumsily fished it out and answered.

“
Was that you?!
”
an exasperated voice yelled.

Zoe
.

“
Was what me?
”
Jake said.

“
Someone just came down in a parachute,
”
she said.
“
They dropkicked one of those things off the roof! I think it
’
s dead.
”

He looked around.
“
Yeah, that was me. You saw it?
”

“
You
’
re truly crazy, you know that?
”

He ignored the remark.
“
Are you close?
”

“
Look down the alleyway in front of you. See those boxes?
”

“
No way
…”

For the first time, Jake looked out over his surroundings. His building was one in a long row of similar structures, facing out onto a narrow, dilapidated street devoid of all life. There were clear signs of mass panic. The windows of nearly every store on the opposite side of the street were broken. Cars had been abandoned in the middle of the road. They were clustered up tight, skewed at random angles across the tarmac. He swore. Even if he stole a car, there was no way to find a way through the maze of vehicles. It was already an impossible mission.

He saw the alleyway Zoe was in, across the street. It was a tiny, dark path, nothing more than a crack between two buildings, but sure enough he spotted a crouching figure at the end.

“
Did you use the co-ordinates I gave you?
”
she asked.

“
You bet I did. I
’
m not that lucky.
”

“
Well, you landed in the right place,
”
she said.

“
Yeah,
”
Jake said, smiling.
“
About time I had some good news. Stay there, Zoe. I
’
ll be there soon.
”

He hung up and assessed his options. There was no sign of life in the street below, but he guessed there would be slayers lurking in the shadows, waiting for the opportune moment to strike. The slayer he had kicked off the roof had landed on a parked car. It was lying on the dented bonnet, coughing up blood, suffering from heavy internal injuries.

Jake moved to the ventilation unit and saw the exit to a fire escape built into the side. High on adrenalin, he kicked out against the lock. The door didn
’
t budge. Another kick, and the wood splintered. He retreated back and then charged forward, slamming his bulk against the damaged frame.

The door burst open, revealing a narrow concrete stairwell spiraling down to the ground floor, illuminated by pale halogen lights. He hurried down, taking the stairs three at a time. Each of Jake
’
s footsteps echoed off the walls. The silence was unbearable after such an intense experience. He felt the blood rushing to his head, and his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

At the last step, he hesitated. In here, it was quiet. And safe. Out there were slayers running rampart, looking for a meal. He savoured the peace for a second longer, knowing that there would be nothing but violence and bloodshed out in the city.

Then he leapt off the stairs and charged out through the ground floor entrance and onto the main road.

Straight away, a lone slayer came sprinting out from an alleyway on his side of the street, hissing and roaring. The injured slayer he incapacitated straightened up, spurred on by its comrade. Jake didn
’
t have time to unbuckle his Snowdog.

Offence is the best defence
. Link had taught him that.

The slayer from the alleyway was running in from the left, while the other was only a few steps in front. He charged at the one in front and punched it square in the face, before it knew what was coming. It slashed at him. The move was slower than he had come to expect. Its three-storey fall had done serious damage to its reflexes. He parried the claws away. Seized it by the shirt. Slammed it back into the car it had fallen on. As he threw it back, taking off the open passenger door with a crash, it slumped over. It was now semi-conscious, and out of the picture.

The healthy slayer pounced as he turned to face it. He dropped low, pressing his stomach to the footpath. It passed far over his head, carried by a frenzy of momentum, and landed on the bonnet of the car. It spun round.

It met all four barrels of his Snowdog.

Jake had drawn the weapon lightning fast. He pulled the trigger once. The slayer was dead before it hit the ground.

The coast seemed clear. Both slayers were down and Zoe was just across the street. But then what? He had no means of escape. His eyes danced over the shopfronts, in search of inspiration. Suddenly, with a pulse-quickening rush of ecstasy, he found exactly what he was looking for.

A couple of hundred metres down, on the opposite side of the street, was a huge sign that read
‘
MOTORCYCLE BONANZA
–
SECOND HAND MADNESS!
’
in English, and then in Peruvian above. It lay above a rundown store with large floor-to-ceiling windows. Inside, Jake eyed rows of motorbikes. It didn
’
t matter what condition they were in. They would get him to where he needed to go.

Now he had an escape plan.

The only experience he had was riding at his uncle
’
s farm. Rich Hawkins had been a motocross champion in his twenties. He had taught Jake to ride. But that had been four years ago.

Perhaps he could remember a trick or two.

He could sense Zoe watching him from the end of the alleyway ahead, crouched low behind a stack of boxes. He held up a single flat palm, signalling to wait, and took off towards the shop. As he ran, weaving in and out of abandoned cars, he drew the satellite phone from his pocket and dialled Wolfe
’
s number.

He answered straight away.

“
How
’
d the jump go?
”
was the first thing Wolfe said.
“
You okay?
”

“
So far.
”

“
What
’
s the plan?
”

“
I need you to pick me up in five minutes.
”

“
Where are you?
”

“
I have no idea.
”

Jake vaulted up onto the bonnet of a minivan and peered down the road. There was a never-ending sprawl of empty vehicles running as far as the eye could see. At the very end of the road, nothing more than a speck, was what looked to be a skyscraper under construction. The framework was in place. It towered above its surroundings
–
a significant landmark. He described it to Wolfe.

“
We
’
re close to that,
”
Wolfe said.
“
We
’
ll land at its base. Be there in five.
”