Kingdom of Monsters by John Schneider (latest novels to read .TXT) 📕

far as General Rhodes is concerned, I am THE asset.”

“Who's General Rhodes?”

Sergeant Garner again started to object, but this time Shanna held up a shushing hand.

“You just sit still,” she said.  “Knowing General Rhodes... and I do,”  Shanna paused, allowing the emphasis to sink in, “I'm sure he wouldn't want to hear that you upset me.  You're under strict orders, I'm sure.”

Garner frowned.

“Ma'am.  With all due respect, you're sharing sensitive information.”

Shanna smiled.  “I am,” she agreed.  “My whole life is sensitive information.  Now hush.”

“Yeah, douche-bag,” Maverick volunteered.  “Hush.”

Garner eyed Maverick darkly, and Rosa saw his fingers tap, just for a second, on the rifle in his lap.

Rosa wondered if Maverick wasn't pushing his luck.  In this era of expendable civilians and gender-quotas, might not redundant components be dealt with callously?

Maverick seemed pretty confident in the importance of his own asset, so to speak, but Rosa found herself doubtful if he might not be earning himself a bullet.

For the moment, Garner's patience held.

Then the first of the pterosaurs attacked.

With the same sort of lethally professional movements Rosa associated with Lieutenant Walker, both Wilkes and Garner were at their stations on either side of the chopper in moments.  They also took out the leathery flying devils with the same sort of accuracy Rosa had seen Lucas target sickle-claws – elite training.

The problem was that pterosaurs had a tendency to swarm.  An entire group might mob a chopper, letting themselves get chopped up, as if the whirling blades activated some basic instinct, like a bug into an electric zapper.

Unfortunately, that most often meant the rotor blades were broken away, clogged with the sheer weight of that much chopped meat.

The pilots seemed to know this – at this point, any chopper pilots who hadn't learned to evade pterosaurs, were probably already dead.

There was a lurch as the chopper arched upward – altitude and speed, established protocol – first evade the mob, and then outrun them.

It would have worked if not for a particularly large individual, with easily a fifty-foot wingspan, that caught them sideways.

Even large pterosaurs were light-boned, but this was still an animal in excess of a thousand pounds, impacting against a flying object the size of a city bus.

It was enough to smash the windshield, and the six-foot beak that came in through the window impaled the pilot like a spear.

The creature itself was killed on impact, neck broken, its beak planted through the pilot's chest into his seat, leaving its own dangling body draped over the windshield.

Rosa felt the chopper lurch into a sudden nosedive as both creature and pilot slumped over the controls.  The co-pilot wrestled for the joystick, but it was pinned beneath their combined dead weight.

Maverick was already up and moving, and was met immediately by Garner, his rifle business-end up.

This was the moment, Rosa thought, where Maverick pushed it too far – and he clearly intended to, because as he stepped casually past Garner to the cockpit, he extended a stiff straight punch that knocked the soldier out cold.

Wilkes moved immediately to intercept, but Maverick was already helping the co-pilot pull the impaling beak free of the dead pilot's chest.

Maverick shouted back angrily at Wilkes, “Don't just stand there, ya damned fool.  Help us out!”

The plummeting chopper seemed to lean into its dive, leaving the passengers clinging to their seats.  Wilkes did not so much comply as was thrown forward, and his added strength allowed them to wrench the prehistoric bird-thing loose.

Rosa didn't see precisely what happened next.  As the big pterosaur's corpse started to tumble away, it looked like the head – part air-rudder, part fishing-scythe – caught wind and jerked in the tight compartment, catching the co-pilot in the throat.

Blood splattered like a hose.  Wilkes sputtered as gore splashed his face.

Maverick shoved him aside, as he yanked the dead pilot out of the seat, grabbing the joystick.

“What the hell are you doing?” Wilkes shouted.  “Are you a pilot?”

“Grew up flying my daddy's crop-duster,” Maverick replied, straining to pull them level.  “How hard could it be?”

Behind them, Mr. Wilson's eyes were shut.

“Ah Jeez,” he muttered, “he's gonna kill us all.”

Centrifugal force was against them, like going into a tight turn too fast – the moment of vertigo as you began to tilt.

Rosa felt the sickening shift in momentum – the drop in the stomach – the grab of gravity after you step out over a height you know is enough to kill you.

The mountain below peaked and dropped off rapidly beyond its south face.  At the angle they were coming in, their trajectory either put them broadside into the peak itself, or over the top into the canyon beyond.

The crash-part seemed inevitable.

Allison clutched baby Lucas, with Bud's arms wrapped tight around them both.   Wilkes clung from the doorway to the cockpit, still standing over Garner, who remained out cold.  Cameron and Shanna both buckled in.  Glancing out the window at the fast-approaching ground, Rosa did likewise.

Maverick grunted as he strained the joystick and tipped their momentum just slightly over the top of the peak.

The heavy-duty aircraft hit the descending slope, and began to slide down the opposite side of the mountain.

Rosa was just thinking how lucky there were no large trees ahead, until she realized that was because there was a drop-off, and open-canyon beyond.

The impact had crumpled their landing gear, and they were in a free slide.

“Do something!” Wilkes stammered.

“What do you want me to do?” Maverick barked back.  “Jump out and drag my feet?”

The spinning rotors sputtered and quit as the big chopper skidded up to the edge of the cliff.  The front of the craft slid over the side, dangling into open air.

But just before the weight begin to tip, the chopper slid to a stop.

Maverick let out a slow whistle.

There was a communal escalation of relief from the cabin.

Mr. Wilson shook his head in open disbelief.  “I'll say this for him, the son of a bitch is hard to kill.”

Allison looked down at stoic little Lucas, who hadn't uttered a sound through