Adventures of the Cosmic Woman

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The long, straight stick hung off its broken stump just out of Infield's reach. Her ears crackled. Explosions and sharp whistles continued to erupt higher up the mountainside. The roar of the tank engines drew nearer. Infield pushed herself to jump up. No flight. Just the hard smack of the ground against her feet again.

'Why?' she hissed. 'How does this work?'

A hard thump – near. The shockwave rattled Infield's bones. Her teeth chattered. The pain that had been growing in her ears felt like two steel hooks digging into her eardrums. The stick fell to the ground. Infield quickly picked it up and ran back to the cover near the rock. The ground a hard slope. Her ankles stabbed with pain in each stride.

It won't matter. Powers back any second now. Everything will heal

The smoke filled the forest. Infield's eyes watered as she used the shard of glass to cut into the prison guard's shirt and tear off a patch of fabric. The air was suffocating and hot.

An engine – close.

The truck was coming back. The rumbling sound crept up from around the bend. She quickly tore the fabric into strips and broke off the thicker end of the stick. Fixed the piece of glass. Tied it with the strip of fabric. Took the shiv and her spear up near the big rock. A hairy tickle dashed across her hand – a spider.

The truck stopped. Someone dismounted. Infield carefully threw the stick like a spear along the path so it crashed in the foliage down the slope from him. Lights flashed on in the direction of the sound. The crackle and loud rumble of the fire added a chorus of popping and snapping and moaning while the continuing bombardment from the tanks confused everything. They wouldn't stay long. Infield lay down in the leaves and listened as the footsteps approached. This time she was right down at the base of the boulder. The beam of the flashlight appeared again. The soldier followed it. Infield's heart pounded. Emotions seared – guilt, sadness, hurt; he has a mum and dad...

The soldier's foot fell within reach.

Infield lunged up and drove the piece of glass deep into his neck. A bark from his Steyr. Infield sawed back and forth rapidly as his body crumpled down to the ground. Warm sticky blood oozed over her forearm. She seized the gun. The body fell away. She swiveled in the grass as they came around the outcropping. Looked through the sites. The truck. Found the first target. Fired. Down he went. Then the other side. Found him. He was moving. Steady. Fired. He fell.

She crouched low and scurried sideways in the smoky darkness - there was still another two in the truck. The truck engine revved. It started to head off. Infield charged up to the path and fell short of showing herself from behind the boulders. A stream of bullets smashed away at her shelter. Infield quickly ran around the boulder. She could just see the truck moving downhill. She crouched, aimed at the gunman and fired. He dropped out of sight. Then she ran right up onto the path, followed the truck, took a knee, aimed, fired. It was an Eskadron. A Russian-made armored assault vehicle. But there was a weak point at the back, for the driver it was the rear passenger's headrest right behind him. She shot right through it.

The vehicle rolled to a stop.

The tank engines revved louder all around. A night chorus of rumbling and thrashing of trees.

Infield stepped over the bodies and hurried to the stopped vehicle. The gunman - who'd stood at the fifty-caliber machine gun mounted on the roll cage - was curled up in the fetal position on the floor. His gullet was shot out through his neck. Infield patted him down. He had a field knife. That went in her pouch. She crawled through the passenger seats and felt around for something useful. Grenades - nope. The driver sat slumped. He had a handgun at his belt.