24 Declassified 10 - Head Shot by David Jacobs

Author:David Jacobs [Jacobs, David]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780061771521
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2009-04-10T04:00:00+00:00

12

THE FOLLOWING TAKES PLACE BETWEEN THE HOURS OF 2 P.M. AND 3 P.M. MOUNTAIN DAYLIGHT TIME

Pine Ridge, Colorado

Jack Bauer wanted to put as much distance as possible between himself and the green cloud. He didn’t fight the fall, he went with it. It was no straight drop, of course; no man could have survived that. It was a skittering, sliding tumble that he helped along as much as possible down a fifty-degree-angled, weed- and brush-covered slope. His descent slowed at times, not often, but sometimes, and when it did, he did what he could to speed up the process, scrambling and rolling, anything to keep moving downward.

He had no time to think during that frantic downhill slide. He was too busy trying to keep from breaking his neck or anything else. Extensive martial arts training in judo had trained him in handling rough, violent falls but this was a marathon ordeal. Jack reacted by reflex and instinct, dodging rock outcroppings and darting toward open, weedy spaces. Everything zipped by him in a blur that was punctuated by sudden, jarring shocks and the flailing of thorny bushes as he tore through them. He took a brutal pounding.

The downgrade began evening out, becoming less steep, slowing his plunge in the process. He slammed to a halt on a level piece of ground.

He lay on his back, gasping, panting. His head swam. His motion had stopped but the world kept moving, wheeling past him in a dizzying whirl. He shut his eyes for a few beats, and when he opened them the world had caught up with him and stopped moving, too.

Jack felt like he’d been worked over from head to toe. His heart hammered, his pulse raced. Above was blue sky and a yellow dancing sun. He took several deep breaths. His ribs ached but nothing felt broken. They were particularly tender on his left side where his gun in its shoulder holster had banged against them.

He still had his pistol. That was something. The M–4 was long gone. He couldn’t remember if he’d had it with him when he went over the ridgetop or if he’d dropped it before then. The ammo pouch with its extra clips for the weapon was still with him, its strap tight against his neck as though trying to choke him. He got his fingers under the strap and tugged it to give himself some breathing room.

There was a chemical taste in his mouth and the back of his throat. The realization of it gave him a surging jolt of adrenaline that washed away the last of his stunned confusion and brought his awareness into sharp focus.

The green cloud!

Jack sat up, the action tormenting his aching body and forcing a groan from him. He’d been exposed to the gas externally and internally; externally where it had touched his skin and internally from the whiff of it he’d breathed before he escaped it.

Had he escaped it? He looked up and to the east, scanning the ridge. Its summit was several hundred feet above him, part of it obscured by the scalloped edge of green cloud.

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