War party showed no signs of leaving. In fact, they began preparing what looked like a home base, forming a barricade around the gas station from the abandoned trucks and other debris that was lying around.
“That doesn’t look too good. Soon they’re going to start looking around and they’ll find us,” Marie whispered.
“Yeah. We should leave,” Logan admitted, then tried to contact the Blackbird. It was either shot down or out of range. He hoped for the latter.
“How do we do that? If they see us, it’s all over. They’ll tear us apart for what we have done,” Marie hissed.
“I could arrange a diversion. Give you enough time to get away.”
“What? Are you nuts? You really think that I’d leave you in to their hands?”
“No, I’m not planning to get caught. I’ll just raise loud enough ruckus to draw their attention. When they look in to it, you can run away. I’ll find you later.”
“That has got to be the shittiest plan ever. No dice, Logan.”
“I wasn’t asking if you approve. Right now you don’t have the authority to question me. I still outrank you, missy.”
“Fuck you.”
“Love you too, kid. I was thinking that I’d blow up the gas pumps. It’ll take them a while to recover from that blast. If we’re lucky, we’ll both get away before they even realize what happened. With little more luck they’ll think of it as an accident and won’t even start to look for us.”
He laid flat on the roof of the gas station. He knew that Marie was somewhere below him, getting ready to bolt out and run as soon as explosions rocked their surroundings. He cursed his own stupidity. Shockwaves from those explosions would toss her just like they’d do to humans who were currently standing at the general vicinity of the pumps. Well, there was every possibility that the war party would scatter and die as the end result. Chances of that happening were in fact far greater than any of the men surviving the blast, but he had long ago learned not to rely on chances alone.
“But what choice do I have?” He murmured, raising the Beretta, again inwardly cursing, this time for his lousy weaponry. From this range it would be a small miracle if he hit his target, the most vulnerable spot at the gas pumps. Even if he did that, it would be even greater miracle if the impact of the shot would create a spark that would ignite the explosion. He drew a deep breath and cracked his neck. Breathed out and took aim.
“Here goes nothing...”
He was running blindly through hell, burning ground and air scorching his skin and flesh. He could still hear screams and cries. Explosion after another rocked the world, battering his eardrums and throwing him off balance, forcing him on his hands and knees. He could smell the burning gasoline. He could taste it at the back of his throat. It was coating his tongue. It stung in his eyes. His skin was blistering, his leather uniform slowly charring and melting. He didn’t know which way was up, which down. He could only hope that Marie had gotten far enough to avoid the eye of the fiery storm he was no wading through.
They were dead. Had to be, all of them. There was no way a human could survive the inferno he had created. Underground tanks the gas pumps were connected to have been full of the black and sticky gold. The owner of the station had probably gotten them filled up right before the shit hit the fan, and nobody had thought to take advantage of it later.
He stumbled over a small and shallow creek. Water running there was now boiling and offered only brief respite. He saw a footprint on the muddy edge of the stream, approximately the size of Marie’s boots. She had gotten at least this far.
His leg got caught to a tangle of branches and again he fell, scraping his well cooked face against the hard and unyielding ground. He spat out the debris he had accidentally chomped on and stood up, now first time truly taking in his surroundings.
This part of the forest had been saved from the initial blast waves, but the fire was rapidly approaching, feeding from the dry litter covering the forest floor and greedily reaching higher, climbing towards the canopy. At the opposite direction he could only see a scorched ground, and little further complete destruction, a crater surrounded with various bits and pieces of the structure that had previously served as their shelter for the night. Black and thick cloud of smoke was rising high on the clear sky. Summers would see that.
It took a while to sink in. Summers. He’d see the smoke. At first Logan didn’t know why it was so goddamned important, and why it was a bad thing. Summers would see the smoke. He’d return and see... Summers would see the ground zero.
“Fuck...”
He’d had to find Marie. He’d had to find her soon, preferably before their ride arrived. From the sight of the smoking crater Summers would assume that they were gone and he’d leave. Logan had no way of contacting the jet, not after his radio had melted to a charred lump of plastic and tangled wires.
“Marie!” He croaked, trying to clear his throat and spit out the back tar-like substance that was blocking his throat.
“Marie! Kid!” Only echo of his own voice and loud crackle of flames answered.
“Shit... Marie! Get back!” No answer.
“Marie! Our ride will be here soon! Get back here!” Flames crept closer; forcing him to back out from their way or lose the little skin he still got left.
“Kid! If you’re not here by the time I count to ten I’ll leave you to the wolves!” He practically screamed, trying to bestow proper authority in to his voice. In his own ears it sounded as a pitiful whisper, and he knew there was no use to try and call her. She wouldn’t hear him over the fire.
It was the hardest decision of his life to turn back and seek the safest route back to the crater previously known as a gas station, rather than to pursue Marie.
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