Walled In by Hughes David Owain

Author:Hughes, David Owain [Hughes, David Owain]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Crowded Quarantine Publications
Published: 2014-01-24T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Jeff had swapped seats with Amy, letting the child sit up front with Maria for the rest of the journey, so that he could rest his leg on the back seat. They were now outside “Wings Flying Club”. A few cars were parked in the clubhouse’s car park. The windows to the small, pub-like building were a shattered mess – upstairs and down. A couple of dead bodies lay on the gravelled floor at the entrance to the place. Jeff recognised one of them as the owner. Derek Copper.

“The place looks deserted, Jeff,” Maria said.

“We can’t risk getting out. If you drive around back, you’ll see a mesh fence circling the entire perimeter of the airfield.”

“Then what?”

“We drive through it.”

Maria went to speak again, but something caught her eye. In the darkness of one of the bottom windows of the clubhouse, she saw a face. It was coming closer out of the gloom.

“Jeff…Over there. Inside.”

“Shit. Get us round back.”

Then Jeff saw the muzzle flash and crackle of gunfire before the bullets started pelting the framework of the Toyota – ting-ting-ting-ting-ting-ting-ting.

“Down!” Jeff yelled

The windshield caved in; the grill hissed; the bonnet whined in peppered agony. Jeff could smell singed metal. Then he heard one of the front tyres rupture.

“Drive, drive, drive,” he shouted.

Maria, with her head ducked behind the wheel, drove half-blind. Amy was hunched in the well. Bullets tapped at the passenger door as Maria veered the jeep to the left of the building, and went around the back. Then the firing stopped. They were out of the gunman’s sight. Maria ploughed the 4x4 through the mesh fence, taking it with them for part of the route over the airfield before finally leaving it behind.

The tyre that had been shot out now ripped, and both Jeff and Maria heard it tear completely off the alloy. They were going to have to make it to Jeff’s hangar on the rim, cutting their speed by more than half. This gave the shooter time to get out of the building, and back on their heels. Soon enough, bullets tore away at the arse of the Toyota: the backlights disintegrated under a pebble-dashing of hot lead; the dials on the dashboard burst and exploded.

“Brake,” Jeff said. “And keep down.”

Jeff grabbed the SA80 and waited for the gunman to run dry of ammo.

Maria felt like a sitting duck as bullets continued to whizz and whine into the jeep. When the firing ceased, Jeff wasted no time in springing from his position. The man with the gun was less than thirty feet away, reloading; Jeff unloaded the entire magazine of his machine-gun into the attacker. Riddling the man’s chest, gut, legs, arms and face before he finally collapsed to the floor. “Got you,” Jeff hissed. “Head over to that hangar on the right. My plane is in there.”

Maria rolled the crippled 4x4 over to the huge, white hangar. The roof was ark-shaped, with a massive roller door gracing its front, and a small, standard sized door in its centre.

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