Destiny's Daughter

“I’m not leaving him,” Dawn said stubbornly.

  O’Malley stormed over from his command vehicle and pointed at Dawn. “You’re putting my crew in grave danger, lady.”

  “Stay back then,” Dawn said. “I can handle this.” She turned and squished through the mud towards the craft.

  O’Malley and Gould floundered after her, their heavy boots sinking deeper with each stride.

  To the front, slightly above the wing, Dawn could just discern the outline of a small rectangular door. She turned to Gould, pointed to the wing, and demanded, “Give me a leg up.”

  “You’ll skate on your ass with all that mud on your feet,” Gould noted.

  Dawn pulled her jacket off. “Okay,” she agreed tersely. “I will wipe them.” She placed her hands on the front of the wing and lifted her right foot.

  Gould shook her head, knelt down, hands locked together. Dawn put her foot in Gould’s hands, and braced herself.

  Gould took Dawn’s weight. “3-2-1.” She said, hoisting her up.

  Dawn leapt onto the wing, spun into a sitting position and swung her back against the fuselage in one fluid movement. She lifted her feet, wiped them with her jacket, and then turned to stand up.

  A ladder clunked against the front of the fuselage and Gould scrambled up it, axe in hand. “Thought I’d do it the easy way.”

  Dawn pointed up to a small flap to the top right of the door. “It looks like the access lever cover,” she shouted.

  “The what?”

  “External handle or something like that.” Dawn grabbed the axe, motioned to Gould to keep her head down then swung an almighty blow against the flap. The effort made her lose her balance on the soaked metal. She slipped on the treacherous surface, landed heavily on her back, and slid sideways off the wing. She hit one of the crew on the way down before landing face down in the mud.

  Furious with herself, she spat out mud with a mouthful of expletives and cursed the bruises to her limbs and ego.

  Tennyson, the man she’d fallen on was kneeling in a pool of green and blue liquids.

  Dawn struggled to her feet, impatiently brushing aside a helping hand.

  Warner bent down to Tennyson. “Hey let’s get a medic to look at your neck.

  “I’ve had worse knocks.” Tennyson shook his head warily. He scooped up some of the liquid. “Hey what’s this stuff?” he asked.

  Dawn turned, distracted. “It’s the fuel mixture.”

  Tennyson leapt to his feet, groaned, and clasped his head.

  “Don’t worry. It is totally safe,” she told him.

  Warner pointed to the starboard engine. “What about those flames?”

  “Great idea!” Dawn said. That mixture will extinguish them far better than water.” She turned away.

  “Man, that’s a crock of bull!” Warner exclaimed, shaking his head in disbelief.

  Dawn ignored him, and trudged to the front of the wing.

  Gould forced open the flap as Dawn scurried up the ladder. Gould shone her flashlight inside the aperture, and said, “that must be the door release lever.”

  Her gloved hand was far too large for the opening so she frantically tore the glove off. Even twisted at forty-five degrees across the corners, her hand was still too large to fit into the hole. Her thumb joint caught against the upper corner.

  “I should do this,” Dawn said.

  Gould shook her head, used her left hand to squeeze the right one even smaller, and grimaced as it scraped against the metalwork. She hooked two fingers around the handle and tried to tug the lever but she had no room to pull. There were only two ways to get her hand out again: Let go of the lever, or risk scraping the flesh off.

  Bang! Bang! Pop! Dawn looked up in horror. Bang! The third of the four flares hadn’t fully ignited. “Phosphor! You idiots!” she screamed.

  “Tell your people to get out now!” Dawn shouted.

  “What’s the sudden panic?”

  Dawn pointed up at the dud flare, and yelled, “Clear the area immediately,”

  Gould clicked her radio button. “Chief, looks like the flares will ignite the spilled fuel. Get out! Repeat. Get everyone out!”

  “What’s that?” O’Malley replied.

  “Clear the whole area now!” Gould shouted. She turned to Dawn, and said, “are you sure there’s a boy trapped in here?”

  “Absolutely certain,” Dawn replied evenly.

  “Well I can’t activate the door like this,” Gould said, “you’re going to have to pull me,”

  Dawn hooked her arms under Gould’s shoulders and braced her right foot against the hull. She had one eye on the fizzling flare.

  Both women braced themselves and took a deep breath. “Ready?” asked Dawn.

  “On three.”

  Dawn looked in horror as sparks burst from the dud flare. She locked her arms around Gould, pressed her right foot hard against the bulkhead, and threw herself back.

  Gould screamed as the metal edges peeled a large patch of skin from either side of her hand. She fell back.

  Dawn released Gould, spun around to land face down, arms stretched to cushion her fall.

  Gould crashed heavily onto the wing. Dawn leapt to her feet and reached out to Gould. From the corner of her eye she saw an orange flame descend.

  Dawn threw herself face down. The whole wing lifted. A sheet of flame hit the rear edge and swept over them at a thirty-degree angle.

  On the ground, Sub-commander Tennyson reacted first. He threw himself face down in the mud avoiding the direct impact. Others were not so lucky.

  O’Malley was blown against the side of his support truck. The fireball shot in through the open door, blew the driver across the cab, and set fire to the seats.

  The blast blew the windows out of an SUV, and showered the six crew members inside with glass and fire. Flames swirled round the cabin, rapidly increasing in ferocity.

  Dawn quickly scanned the craft. The door had barely opened two inches and the ladder lay on the ground beneath the craft’s nose. Dawn helped Gould to her feet, said. “Wait here,” then leapt off the wing.

  O’Malley stumbled to the front of the truck, flung open the door, and dragged the driver out of the burning cab.

  Tennyson ran towards the SUV and called to a tall, thin man. “Lorimar, give me a hand.”

  Dawn lifted the ladder out of the mud, dragged it back towards the wing, and with a mighty heave, flung it up against the side of the craft. She grabbed an axe and scurried up the ladder. She leapt onto the wing. “Go!” she shouted to Gould.

  “I’m not leaving you alone,” Gould shouted back.

  Dawn grabbed Gould’s arm, dragged her to the ladder. “Get out. Now!” She pointed to the wounded below, “They need your help.”

  “Be safe,” Gould relented and clambered down the ladder.

  Dawn stared past the flaps of skin hanging either side of the hole, and the blood dribbling down the hull, and saw the door release lever fully extended. She knew then she’d have to force the door open by herself.

  Axe in hand, she reached for the ladder, but it slid forward taking her with it. Her left foot slid off the wing, her right hand instinctively grabbed for support, squashed a flap of Gould’s skin against the hull. Dawn swung her foot onto the ladder and stood spread-eagled, her right toes barely touching the wing.

  The ladder rested against the side of the unlatched door. Dawn threw herself fully onto the ladder as flames lit up the side of the craft. She looked over her left shoulder to see the two vehicles ablaze, both within thirty feet of her.

  She drove the axe into the tiny gap between door and hull and levered it with all her strength.

  Tennyson and Lorimar struggled to open the SUV’s charred, buckled left rear door. Inside a woman screamed for help, her voice, hoarse, rasping from scorched lungs, through a windpipe full of toxins. The left side of her face was charred and sliced by glass, the right side still clearly recognizable.

  Lorimar leaned in through the door frame. His
long spindly arm reached for the internal handle. Glass fragments cut into his protective suit and dug into his armpit. He wrenched the handle and pulled hard on the door. Tennyson jimmied the door with an axe handle. When it finally it gave way, it shot back before Lorimar could extract his shoulders. He grunted on impact with the rear post. The woman staggered out as flames licked at Lorimar’s trapped head and fumes choked him. Tennyson yanked the door several times as Lorimar struggled wildly. Finally, it moved forward. Lorimar fell to the ground, gasping for air.

  Tennyson clambered into the SUV, to reach a man barely conscious, a shard of glass embedded in his right eye. Tennyson gently held the man’s left hand, leaned over, and said. “Take it easy. We’re going to get you out.”

  O’Malley nearly collapsed under the weight of the injured driver he was trying to carry. He took a deep breath, slowly raised himself back up, lifted his head towards the trucks, and stumbled forward. Two soldiers rushed to his aid.

  Gould staggered towards the ambulance, clutching her bloodied hand to her chest. “Chief, Dawn needs help urgently,” she shouted.

  “Negative. We got our hands full getting the injured out of here!” O’Malley shouted.

  “Well, give me a hydraulic ram to open the door,” Gould yelled.

  O’Malley responded “I’ve given the order to evacuate so―”.

  Boom! A deafening explosion rocked the area. The support truck’s right wheels lifted off the ground. It flipped onto its side.

  A plume of flame shot high into the sky. One lump of metal ripped through the SUV, another smashed a truck’s tail gate. More fragments whistled overhead.

  “What the hell was that?” Gould yelled.

  “Nitrous oxide bottle’s gone up,” O’Malley shouted as he banged on the side of a truck. “Go now! Get out!” he ordered.

  The truck accelerated away.

  O’Malley continued. “When the oxygen bottles blow it’ll be like World War III. They’ll zip round here like Scud missiles.”

  “We can’t just leave her,” Gould argued.

  O’Malley turned to Gould. “That’s a direct order. Get your butt in that ambulance now, lady.”

  Gould waved her blood-soaked hand in his face. “Screw your orders. I’m not―”

  A jet of flame erupted from the support truck with an ear-piercing shriek. They watched, horrified, as an oxygen cylinder flew towards the spacecraft.

  Langan, back at the command truck, now dressed in combat trousers six inches too long and a flak jacket that barely buttoned, watched the blazing tail of the oxygen cylinder arch through the air. “Oh! Thank you, God!” he cried out, as the cylinder whizzed inches above the craft.

  He walked towards a Humvee and held out his hand to Sergeant Jack Ashburn, a tall, lithe twenty-year veteran. Langan pointed to the vehicle. “Give me the keys, please.”

  “I can’t do that without Colonel Jackson’s―”

  “I’m in charge here, sergeant! So give me the keys.” Langan casually moved his steel helmet from left to right hand.

  Ashburn leaned forward menacingly. “I don’t answer to civilians playing soldier,” he hissed.

  “You’ll obey my orders,” Langan told him, coldly calm.

  “Hey, you can’t do Kung Fu shit like that girl.”

  “No but there’s something I can do,” Langan told him. He waved his left index finger in Ashburn’s face.

  “What’s that?”

  Langan hit Ashburn’s head three times with his helmet. “This.” He kicked him in the groin.

  As Ashburn fell, Langan strode towards the Humvee. He called to the driver, Jim Parker. “Give me the keys, son.”

  “It’s too dangerous out there, sir,”

  “You don’t have to go,”

  “No but you’re going to need me,” Parker said, starting the engine.

  Langan opened the rear door.

  “Bit late to be playing the hero now,” murmured Corporal Lewis in the front passenger seat.

  Langan clambered in. “What was that, son?”

  “Err, nothing, sir.”

  Langan grabbed Lewis’ shoulder. “Be man enough to say it to my face.”

  “I was just talking to, err, Parker…” Lewis stammered.

  “I know who you were talking to. I’d like you to have the balls to repeat what you said.”

  “Well, err, why should…”

  Parker turned to Langan. “I think what he was trying to say, sir, was, err well...” He grimaced. “Some people think that you kept a safe distance while your girl put her life on the line.”

  Langan smiled at him. “Well that’s pretty much the truth, isn’t it?”

  Lewis heaved a sigh of relief. Parker nodded. “You couldn’t possibly have expected all this devastation, sir.”

  Langan nodded very slowly. “No, I’m afraid I didn’t.” He patted Parker’s shoulder. “Thank you for your help, soldier.”

  A piece of gas cylinder casing hit the hood of the vehicle, ricocheted onto the windshield and over the top.

  Lewis dove for cover. Parker didn’t flinch. He just kept on course.

  A large chunk of metal buckled the rear passenger door, and shook the whole vehicle.

  Before anyone could react, a red hot jagged piece tore into Parker’s door. He glanced down at the smoldering dagger-like tip protruding two inches into his cabin space. “Smoking!” He drove on steadily, unflustered.

  Langan leaned back relaxed. “I take it you’ve seen plenty of action.”

  “Cakewalk compared to the Taliban, sir.” The vehicle stopped.

  Lewis emerged from the foot well. “Jeez! That was close.”

  They both ignored him and reached for their goggles and masks.

  Langan clambered out. The buckled door only halfway open, even after he’d kicked it with both feet. He pulled the helmet strap over his chin. Through the smoke and debris, Langan saw the spaceship’s fuselage resting on the ground, its landing gear buckled. The hull was scorched but still intact.

  Small, scattered pockets of fire burned around the two men. Parker warily picked his way between them. “She’s one lucky girl if she’s inside that,” he said.

  Langan picked up the discarded axe. “Let’s hope so.” He walked towards the door.

  Parker bent down and shone his flashlight under the wing.

  Langan looked puzzled. “What are you doing?”

  “Making sure she wasn’t caught by the blast.”

  A lump welled up in Langan’s throat. He watched for a moment then asked, quietly, “No body?”

  “All clear,” Parker reported.

  Langan held his left hand six inches from the hull to check for residual heat. “Excellent heat resistant properties,” he said, then tapped it lightly with the back of his hand.

  “So, she got inside, and slammed the door shut. Snug as a bug, safe from all the fireworks, you reckon?” Parker inquired.

  “Yes,” Langan answered. “Dawn’s a very resourceful young woman.”

  Parker banged his hand against the closed door. “So how do we get her out?”

  “We ask her to open it.” Langan tapped out AVI on the hull with the blunt end of the axe handle.

  Parker smiled. “It’s not going to be that easy,” he commented.

  “While we’re waiting why don’t you call an ambulance?” Langan suggested.

  Parker gestured behind Langan. “Looks like the cavalry’s on its way.” He turned back towards the sound of a clunk.

  The door swung open slowly, the electric controls whirring quietly. Parker stared wide-eyed at the door and said, “Never in this world.”

  Langan laughed. “To be honest, I didn’t expect it either.” He stepped towards the doorway.

  Dawn held a young boy, wrapped in blankets, in her arms. “He’s unhurt but traumatized,” she said.

  Langan held out his arms. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s get both of you into the ambulance.”

  Dawn tried to pass the boy out to Langan, but t
he boy cowered behind the bulkhead, and struggled to get out of Dawn’s arms. She gently restrained him, pulled him closer, and wrapped her arms around him protectively. She whispered, “It’s alright. You’re safe now. Do you understand?”

  He nodded timidly.

  Emergency Medical Technician (EMT), Imelda Sanchez, a short rotund Latino, gave the boy her million-dollar smile. “Hello young fella. How are you?” she asked.

  He shrank into Dawn’s arms. She prompted him to respond and he replied shyly, “Alright.”

  “I’m Imelda,” the EMT said cheerfully. “What’s your name?”

  He stared blankly. Dawn whispered in his ear then gestured for him to talk to Imelda. Shyly he said, “Tommy.”

  “You look very thirsty, Tommy,” Imelda said. “Would you like a soda?”

  Dawn smiled at him and nodded. Tommy nodded hesitantly.

  Dawn held Tommy out towards Imelda and said, “This nice lady will get you a soda.”

  Imelda held her arms up but Tommy struggled and kicked out. Dawn pulled him back to her. “It’s alright,” she soothed. “I’m going to be back with you in two seconds.” She smiled at him. “Will you be a brave boy for me?”

  He nodded, and Dawn passed him over to Imelda then she jumped down from the craft. Tommy immediately leapt back into Dawn’s arms and buried his face against her right shoulder.

  “Poor little thing,” said Imelda. “Let’s get you two to the ambulance.”

  Langan walked along with them. Dawn turned to him. “I take it you’ve got the army to secure the spaceship.”

  “Over my dead body!” He stopped in his tracks, and reached for his cell phone.

  Imelda opened the ambulance’s rear doors as her colleague walked to the driver’s door. Dawn clambered in then glanced at Imelda on the first step and said, “This lovely lady’s got a soda for you.”

  “Let’s get him checked out first.”

  “It will reassure him.” Dawn laid Tommy on the bed.

  “It’s just that they’re in the cab.”

  “We’ll be fine for a minute.” Dawn’s eyes swept towards the door.

  Imelda reluctantly climbed out.

  Dawn gently lifted Tommy’s head, with her index finger behind his left ear lobe and her thumb behind the right. “You’re going to be just fine,” she told him. “Your parents will collect you shortly. Don’t be afraid. I’ll look after you” A quick glance around confirmed that nobody was watching. She squeezed the pressure points, Tommy’s eyes closed and his head slumped in her hand.

  Imelda returned, bottles in hand. Dawn looked at her frantically. “Quick! There’s something wrong.”

  “What’s happened?”

  “I don’t know!” she replied anxiously. “He just blacked out on me”

  Imelda brushed Dawn aside and swiftly checked for pulse and breathing. “He’s alright I think the shock and trauma has been too much for him. We’ve got to get him to hospital quickly.”

  “Okay,” Dawn answered, faking relief. “I’ll find his parents and escort them there.” Dawn grabbed two towels and a spare fluorescent jacket then leapt from the ambulance. She waved to Imelda then slammed the doors closed.

  “You should have gone with them, Dawn,” Langan said.

  “I don’t need a hospital bed,” she argued. “I just need some fresh air and a chance to clean up.” She tried to dry her hair while holding the other towel and jacket in her left hand.

  Langan took them from her. “Well, there’s nothing else we can do tonight so I’ll get my driver to take you back to town.”

  “What about finding Tommy’s family?” Dawn asked.

  “We’ll check for any police reports of abductions within a five hundred mile radius.”

  “Just give me fifteen minutes to clear my head,” Dawn stalled.

  Langan nodded.

  Dawn took the coat and towel from him and walked into the darkness.

  Langan called out, “You’re going to need some shoes.”

  Chapter Four

  The Cave