Eric Walters - The Rule of Three

The light from the explosions reached us before the noise.

I pulled up and banked hard, both hands gripping the yoke to stabilize us as we were rocked by another explosion. Herb tossed more grenades over the side, and the sounds of explosions overwhelmed the roar of the engine. We sailed away from the light and were swallowed by the predawn darkness.

I took a glance over my shoulder as I continued the curve. I could see the whole scene playing out. There were more flames, more light, and more chaos.

“Do you want me to make another pass over the compound?” I asked.

“No. Come along hard and high. I want you to come in right over the top of the road,” Herb said. “Do you see those lights?”

“I see so many.”

“There are vehicle lights, going along Burnham. That’s them chasing after our squads.”

“Where are our people?”

“Somewhere in front of those lights, driving as fast as they can, or scrambling on foot to disappear into the surrounding houses,” Herb said. “Catch those lights. I want to get to them before they get to the first ambush site.”

I wanted that, too. I banked hard. If we could stop them in their tracks they couldn’t pursue our people, or even get to where my mother and her squad were waiting in ambush. Todd was with that group. They had been situated to protect the retreat of the attacking squad led by Brett. I could picture Brett down there acting like an action hero. I was grateful to have him on our side.

The compound came into full view off to the left as I completed the turn. I could see dozens of vehicles and half as many buildings on fire.

“As you close in on the vehicles I want you to come in low and slow,” Herb said. “They’ll be so focused on the chase that they won’t be expecting to be attacked from the air and from behind.”

I straightened out as we came over the road. There were seven or eight vehicles up ahead. Despite being almost at full throttle I wasn’t closing very fast. Our extra weight was slowing us down.

“How soon before they hit the spot where the ambush is going to happen?”

“Soon. Less than two miles,” Herb said.

We’d catch them before that. We were coming up to the last truck in their convoy. If they looked back and up they’d see us and we’d be a sitting duck—or at least a low-flying duck. I had to hope that Herb was right about the surprise.

I pulled back on the stick, gaining some more height and slowing us down in the trade-off. Herb wanted me to come in slow, anyway. The altimeter read seventy-five feet.

My eye was distracted by a flash of light. I looked over. Using a little cardboard box as a windshield, Herb had sparked his lighter and lit the wick on three Molotov cocktails. Now we’d no longer be invisible in the dark sky.

“Get me closer.”

I pushed down on the stick until we were right over the top of the last truck, keeping exact pace with it. Then Herb dropped the flaming cocktail and as I shot ahead there was a burst of light from behind and the plane was bathed in the glow. We kept on flying, passing the second truck and a third, as Herb dropped his other two gas bombs over the side, followed quickly by a couple more grenades. The explosions and percussion waves pushed against the plane, bucking and rocking us.

The rear lights of the trucks ahead blazed as the two lead trucks slammed on their brakes and the three cars behind smashed into the back of them.

We raced past the first truck and were caught in the upper edge of its headlights. I pulled up, trying to avoid the glare, and gunned the accelerator.

Herb lit another Molotov cocktail and dropped it over the side. I could picture it shattering and exploding onto the road beneath us.

“I want them to think hard about going any farther,” Herb said.

He lit another one and dropped it to the pavement.

“Take one more pass,” Herb said. “But this time they’ll be looking for us to come in head-on. We’re going to hit them from the side.”

I banked sharply to the right. I wasn’t positive, but I figured they might have seen my turn. That meant that if anything they would be expecting us to come in from the north. I wasn’t going to do the expected. Herb had said the side, but he didn’t say which side. I reduced the turn. I was going to go long and curve completely around them in a big circle so that I could attack from the south. As I continued to bank there were a number of pools of light on the road. Two were the Molotov cocktails Herb had just dropped on the road itself. The others had to be trucks on fire. There were no more headlights. The drivers had finally figured out that they should turn them off, and with my goggles there was still enough light on the road for me to see the darkened shapes moving along…

But wait, they were retreating!

“They’re driving away!” I yelled.

“They don’t have much stomach for a real fight,” Herb said. “Let’s finish them. Make the pass.”

They were moving fast, and I had to try to time my pass to make up for their speed. I increased my bank and aimed for a spot ahead where I hoped I could intercept them. In the distance I could see their compound, fire and smoke and light shooting up into the sky.

“I won’t be able to get to them until they’re almost back home,” I said.

“Perfect. They’ll think they’re safe and relax. We’ll show them they’re wrong. I’m going to drop the entire bag, all the remaining grenades and the Molotov cocktails. This is going to be one incredible explosion. I don’t want to miss, so get me in as close as you can,” Herb said.

“The closer I get, the more the chance they’ll see us.”

“I want them to see us. They know we have an ultralight. I want them to know that it was us that attacked them.”

“If you want I’ll get you in so close that you can hand the bag to somebody.”

“Not that close, but I want to drop it right on the roof of one of the lead vehicles if I can.”

I nodded. I’d do what he wanted even if it was the last thing we did. Then I realized it might be the last thing we did. We were going to dive-bomb a convoy of heavily armed men who knew we were up here somewhere, who could be scanning the sky looking for us. I couldn’t think about that. I needed to focus on what I was doing. There were enough ways to kill yourself flying in an ultralight before dawn without worrying about people trying to shoot you down as well.

I was high and to the south of the convoy. They were running dark without headlights, but they were still visible, darker shadows against the dark pavement. I had to think that if they were visible to me, maybe I was visible to them.

I wanted to intercept the first truck, come in from the side at about two o’clock and then pass by, low, and disappear behind the stretch of houses on the north side before they could react and direct accurate fire on us.

“Less than twenty seconds,” I said to Herb.

“I’m ready.” He had the bag in his lap and was holding a grenade in one hand, prepared to pull the pin.

“I’m going to come in slightly from your side to give you a target.”

I took a deep breath. “Here we go.” I pushed back on the stick, and we dove toward the ground and the fast-moving trucks. Was I going to shoot over the road before they arrived or would they zip past before I reached the intercept point? I did a slight adjustment to correct for their speed and— There were muzzle bursts from one of the shadows! I felt the plane buck and realized that we were being hit. I fought the urge to pull back or swerve to the side even as there were more bright bursts from weapons.

“Bombs away!” Herb yelled as he pulled the pin, and in one smooth motion put the grenade back in the bag and dropped the whole thing. We zoomed past the second truck in the convoy and I pulled up hard on the stick, and then there was an explosion. The plane rocked upward and I could feel a wave of heat engulf us. I struggled with both hands to control the tilting, rocking plane. We slid sideways and for a second my hand slipped off the stick. I regained my grip and pulled hard, and then we were flying flat and level, the plane back in my control.