Juggernaut

‘I’ll stay with you,’ said Voss. ‘Too much weird shit going down. Someone ought to watch your back.’

‘Thanks.’

Lucy pulled on gloves and goggles. She twisted foam plugs into her ears and wrapped her shemagh scarf over her mouth and nose.

She pressed Start. Slow rotation. She turned the head wheel. The drill bit advanced and scoured steel. Metallic shriek. Coiled shavings. Mineral oil lubricant trickled down the vault door and pooled at her feet.

Huang collapsed. He was talking to Amanda. He swigged water and said:

‘Maybe we should string a couple of grenades—’

Then he dropped his canteen. His eyes rolled upward and his mouth fell open. He toppled backwards onto the flagstones and began to shake. He arched his spine. His boots danced. He pissed his pants. He whined and drooled. Amanda held him down and tried to check his airway.

‘Breathe. Come on. Breathe.’

He stopped trembling and lay still.

‘Let’s get you to the chopper.’

Toon helped lift Huang onto the stretcher. They laid him in Talon.

Amanda shone a Maglite in Huang’s eyes. He blinked. Slow dilation. He turned his head.

‘Just chill, all right?’ said Amanda. ‘Lie still. We’ll get you home in no time.’

She jabbed him in the thigh with a morphine auto-injector pen, and watched him pass out.

‘Go check the perimeter,’ she told Toon. ‘I don’t trust Gaunt to watch our backs.’

She pulled on a fresh pair of gloves and peeled back the wad of dressing taped to Huang’s neck. The wound had turned black. It stank of rotting flesh. Fine metal spines protruded from the putrid skin, like silver hairs. She took tweezers from the medical kit, pinched one of the spines and pulled.

‘You can’t help him.’

Jabril had quietly climbed in the chopper and sat on a bench seat.

‘What is this shit?’ asked Amanda.

‘A disease. It’s like rabies, in some respects. This sickness will progress. He will become demented and attack.’

Amanda redressed the wound. She loaded a fresh shot of tetracycline into the injector gun and fired it into Huang’s thigh.

‘How long has he got?’

‘Not long.’

‘We’ll get him back to Baghdad,’ said Amanda. ‘Get him to the combat ICU. That’s his best chance.’

‘You should restrain him.’

‘He’s my friend.’

‘It won’t make any difference. A few hours from now he won’t recognise your face. He will think of you as prey.’

‘Watch him,’ said Amanda. ‘I’m going to check on Toon.’

She peeled off latex gloves and left.

Huang moaned. His eyelids fluttered.

Jabril reached beneath the bench. He pulled out a holdall. He opened a wholesale carton of Salems. A cloth package hidden behind packs of cigarettes. A Soviet frag grenade. The case was chipped and rusted.

He pulled the prosthetic hook from the stump of his forearm and pushed the grenade into the hollow cup. He twisted the prosthetic back on to his stump and buttoned his sleeve.

Huang coughed and arched his back.

‘Don’t fight,’ murmured Jabril. ‘It will be over soon.’

He sat back and contemplated the white light shafting from the distant temple entrance.

Gaunt and Raphael stripped Bad Moon. They tossed seat cushions, fire extinguishers, life vests and a raft.

‘Unbolt the seat frames,’ said Gaunt. ‘Three tons of gold. We need space and lift.’

‘These fucks won’t be flying back with us. That’s a shitload of weight we won’t need to haul.’

Amanda’s voice over the com channel:

‘Huang is pretty fucked up, boss. Not much I can do for him. We have to get him to a hospital. He needs specialist help.’

Lucy’s voice:

‘We’re minutes away from the gold. We’ll be airborne within the hour. Can he hold on?’

‘Maybe. If his condition deteriorates any further, we’ll need to haul ass no matter what.’

Gaunt released the Velcro straps of his flak jacket and removed the silenced Sig tucked behind his chest plate. He rechecked the chamber, rechecked the mag.

‘Follow my lead, all right?’ he told Raphael. ‘Be ready for my signal.’

Toon ripped the lid from MRE teriyaki and speared chicken with a plastic fork. He gagged. The food tasted of mildew.

He walked to the edge of the courtyard, spat the food and tossed the bowl into shadows. He uncapped his canteen and rinsed his mouth.

He saw a tall silhouette.

‘Voss, baby. How’s it going?’ Toon rinsed his mouth again. ‘Fucking rancid. Must be the heat. Got any of that Red Man? I need to clear the taste.’

The figure stepped forward and was lit by moonlight. Toon glimpsed wild hair and ripped clothes. He backed away and fumbled for the Maglite in his pocket. The beam lit a decayed, skeletal thing, reaching for him with clawed fingers.

Toon dropped the flashlight and drew his Glock. Six shots, centre-of-mass. The thing staggered backward, strobed by muzzle-flash. Chunks blown out of its belly and chest. It fell and lay still.

Amanda came running.