Tom Savage - Mrs. John Doe

The roar of the plane grew louder, louder. Adrenaline suffused her, galvanizing her as the automatic actions of sheer necessity took over. With a sharp cry of pain, Nora pushed down with her hands, forcing her body up from the ground. She regained her feet and took off at a dead run, sprinting toward the hangar. She’d never run this fast in her life, and yet it seemed to take forever; the open doorway before her appeared to be moving away from her even as her pumping legs closed the distance. She was nearly to the door when the awful sounds reached her. There was a sudden screech as the pilot finally saw the car in his path and hit his brakes, but the plane was traveling much too fast by now. She heard a second shriek of tires on the slick asphalt as the aircraft veered, attempting to avoid the obstruction. She arrived at the hangar doorway and whirled around just in time to see the heavy plane slide sideways into the car and topple over onto it.

The two vehicles skittered down the runway together, and the plane’s right wing snapped off, flying away toward the far end of the hangar. The Aston Martin disappeared, crushed under the mighty weight, and sparks flew up all around it as metal was wrenched against metal. The boom of the impact would be heard for miles in this flat landscape. Farther off, near the big round fuel storage tank, the wing smashed to the ground and its engine burst into flames. The crumpled wreck of the plane and the car exploded in a sudden, blinding flash of light.

Nora felt the blast of intense heat an instant before she heard the accompanying sound. She was thrown backward through the open door, into the hangar, and she landed hard on top of the dead man inside the doorway. The first explosion sent a ball of fire straight up into the sky, and chunks of burning metal shot out in all directions. Nora rolled off the body and away from the open door, crawling toward Josef, as the windows of the roll-up doors behind her imploded and sheets of glass flew across the room. One, two, three huge crashes sounded as parts of the plane smashed into the tin walls of the hangar, denting the corrugated metal inward. A second explosion from the wreckage brought more flames shooting in through the open door.

Nora was on her feet. She ran over to the office door, wresting the crowbar out of the padlock socket. The two men tumbled out, shouting curses. The younger one was raising his fist to strike her when the biggest explosion occurred, knocking all three of them back against the office wall.

The farthest wall from where they were standing crumpled inward, bringing flames and black smoke into the room, and the entire building began to sag sideways. That must have been the big, round fuel storage tank at that end, Nora thought, remembering the burning wing of the plane that had landed beside it. She stared at the gaping hole, and then she moved.

“Help me!” she shouted at the two men as she ran over to Josef. “Please, help me with him!”

The Cowpers were not sticking around to assist her. They pushed past her and scurried out the back door of the hangar as fast as they could. Nora was relieved to see that Josef’s eyes were open; he was already struggling to rise. She took his hand firmly in her own and heaved him to his feet. The smoke and flames increased, and the stench of burning fuel filled the room, what remained of it. The ancient biplane was on fire, and the twin-engine would soon join it. She staggered toward the back door, dragging Josef along. He leaned heavily against her, but at least his legs were moving. Two more explosions in the distance, beyond the wall of flames that had just been the wall of the hangar: The truck and the planes outside were going the way of the fuel tank.

Nora stumbled out through the rear door, pulling Josef with her, and not a moment too soon. The rain poured down on them as the tearing, screeching sounds began behind them, followed by an unearthly clatter as the roof collapsed and tons of steel beams and corrugated tin smashed down to the floor. She circled Josef’s waist with her good arm, half dragging him out across the field, toward the trees. If I can just get him into the woods, she thought, I can find the car.

No need. She felt another thrill of relief when she saw the bright headlights zigzagging through the forest ahead of them, and she heard the car’s engine. Two more explosions behind them-the planes in the hangar, she guessed-and the remaining metal walls toppled to the ground. She could feel the blast of heat on her back, even at this distance. The headlights bobbed some more, then the brown Focus burst through the trees, bearing down on them. She blinked in the dazzle of the lights as the car came to a lurching stop. Jeff opened the driver’s door and started to get out.

“Move over!” Nora cried. She opened the rear door and helped Josef in, then threw herself into the front seat beside her husband. He was now in the passenger seat, pulling his injured right leg after him with both hands. Nora grasped the steering wheel with her right hand, reaching down with her left hand for the shifting lever, grateful that the Focus was an automatic, and swung the car around toward the driveway.

The hangar was gone now, engulfed by the flames that shot up into the rainy sky. Beyond it, on the runway, the other fire still burned, the remains of the plane and the Aston Martin. Not to mention the remains of Nassim Gamal, his two lackeys, the pilot, and Bill Howard. She glanced back at the conflagration, not at all disturbed by the uncharitable thought that arrived in her mind: Good riddance .

They passed the Cowpers, father and son, running madly along the road toward the motorway. Jeff glanced out at them and turned to Nora. “Who the hell are these guys? Should we pick them up?”

“Not a chance!” she cried. “Let them run for it, the cowards!” She made the turn onto the motorway and floored it, putting distance between them and the fire. “I don’t think I’ve ever been as happy to see you as I was just now.”

Despite his pain, Jeff managed to laugh. “I saw your fireworks and thought I’d join the party. What the hell happened back there?”

She shrugged. “Oh, you know me. I can never turn down a good part. Sigourney Weaver was busy, so I filled in for her.” Then she said, “Mustapha shot Josef, and I shot him.” She told him the rest: the Aston Martin, the plane, the burning hangar. “Bill’s dead-they’re all dead. I never even killed a cockroach before today, but I’ve killed seven people in the last two hours. I don’t know how I feel about that, but now we have to find a hospital. Josef’s lost a lot of blood, and your leg needs looking at, and I’m not feeling so hot either.”

He looked over at her, staring at her left sleeve, which was now red with blood.

“Don’t panic,” she said, repeating his words to her two hours ago. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

He grinned at her in his usual way, but his voice was filled with wonder and new respect. “You’re quite the action hero, Pal!”

Nora smiled weakly over at him, then stared out at the landscape beyond the windshield wipers, blinking away tears of relief. She was here, in this car with her husband, and she would see her daughter again after all. Now she knew that there really were things worth dying for. She’d heard that cliché many times, but as with so many clichés, it was astonishingly true. She glanced in the rearview mirror to check on Josef Abrams, who was stretched out across the backseat, asleep or unconscious, she didn’t know which. She silently prayed for him.

Jeff said, “There’s a town up ahead.”

Nora nodded, but she didn’t say anything. She concentrated on driving and ignored the throbbing pain from the torn flesh above her left elbow. The lights of the village grew brighter in the wet windshield. They were nearly there when the first responders passed them, police cars and fire engines screaming by in the opposite direction. She watched in the rearview mirror as they flew off toward the massive column of smoke and flame that billowed up into the angry sky.