D. Thomas - Backlash

“Your time is up, Quinn,” Pierre said after a few more minutes, obviously agitated by the slow progress.

“I almost have it,” Lewis replied, acting as if he was equally frustrated with how things were going. “Somehow this thing thinks it’s in the southern hemisphere,” Lewis lied while furiously tapping the buttons.

“Maybe it is time to shoot one of your friends.” Pierre pointed the gun at Samantha and squeezed the trigger, the bullet stirring up dirt next to where she sat. “That was your only warning,” the Frenchman stated boldly, his cold stare telling Lewis he would not hesitate to kill them all if he didn’t get his way.

“Just 30 more seconds,” Lewis pleaded as he pressed the X and down-arrow buttons, performing a soft reset of the inReach. He did his best to act as nervous as he could, hoping Pierre wasn’t ready to give up too much leverage before he had what he wanted. Lewis willed Gonzalez or Samantha to make some sort of small distraction, giving him the time he needed to race to Pierre and pile-drive the tiny Frenchman into the rocky ground. His mental telepathy didn’t work, the satellite communicator beeped back to life before Lewis found an opening.

“Gently set it on the ground there,” Pierre said, pointing in front of Lewis’s feet, “then all of you move over to that rock and have a seat.”

Having no choice but to comply, Lewis and the girls soon found themselves sitting on a large rock, a few feet from the fire. Pierre kept his focus trained on them, slowly sidestepping over to the inReach and picking it up. His eyes skipped back and forth between the screen and his captives while his fingers worked the buttons, typing out a message. It took nearly half an hour for the reply to come back. The worried look on Pierre’s face gave Lewis hope; they might still make it out of this.

Pierre slid the inReach deep into his front pocket, keeping the gun pointed directly at Gonzalez the entire time. “It looks like we’ll be spending one more night together,” Pierre stated flatly. “The rest of my real team will be flying in as soon as it gets light.”

“He fixed your thing,” Samantha pointed out. “You said you’d let us go.”

Pierre’s expression remained neutral, not giving anything away when he said, “That is the recommendation I will make to my business partners when they arrive. Besides, I may still need your help to guide our choppers in.”

Lewis put his hand on Samantha’s leg, stopping her from a hasty reply. “Let’s get some rest,” he said to the others. Lewis knew from the start that Pierre had no intention of honoring his promise, yet he wanted to lull their captor into a false sense of confidence, while staying alert for any opportunity to take advantage of his complacency. Both Samantha and Gonzalez followed Lewis’s lead, scooting down off the rock, using it as a backrest as they closed their eyes and tried to sleep.

Despite the fear that coursed through their bodies, exhaustion first overcame Samantha and then Gonzalez as they each fell sound asleep. Lewis knew that getting some rest would greatly improve everyone’s chances of survival, giving their minds and muscles a renewed sharpness that could prove to be their only advantage against their adversaries. He too managed to get some sleep, forcing himself to wake up a couple times each hour to check on Pierre. The small Frenchman’s resolve never faltered, keeping his attention, as well as his gun, fixed on Lewis and the girls.

Lewis detected the sound of the approaching helicopters soon after the first rays of light began to brighten the night sky. He made an exaggerated effort of stretching and groaning, making sure he woke the still-sleeping girls. There was no more time to wait for an opportunity; they would have to create their own. “What do you suppose our chances are with these partners of yours?” he asked Pierre.

Pierre shrugged then pulled the inReach from his pocket, checking an incoming message. He was momentarily distracted, allowing Lewis to secretly palm the flare as he removed it from his sock, pretending to continue his stretching routine. Pierre grinned wickedly as he tossed the messaging device into the shaft twenty feet away. “The truth is,” Pierre hissed, “I don’t have any partners. My employees just sent a message saying they found a safe place to land, just down the hill from here. That means I no longer require your assistance.”

At that moment, a pair of black helicopters flew directly overhead, stirring up dust. Pierre instinctively ducked his head, turning slightly to check the path of the incoming choppers. The diversion was too short, and the distance to Pierre too far, preventing Lewis from rushing the gunman, but the distraction did provide the perfect cover for Lewis to throw his flare into the waning fire. Gonzalez and Samantha tensed their muscles, each recognizing Lewis’s plan.

Pierre turned back to his waiting victims, leveling the .38 at Lewis’s chest. Lewis began to worry that the flare was going to be too late, and prepared to make a last desperate lunge towards Pierre instead, hoping to at least give the girls a running chance. Just as Lewis lifted his foot, the flare exploded in a burst of blinding light and billowing smoke. “Run!” Lewis shouted over his shoulder, sprinting through the cloud of smoke towards Pierre. Gonzalez had already grabbed Samantha’s arm, pulling her up the hill, angling away from the fire.

The deception worked. It took almost a second for Pierre to recover from the initial shock of the explosion. He fired two quick rounds towards where Lewis had been standing before being blindsided by a freight train. The train, of course, was actually Lewis, who had taken a slightly circular route to disguise his path of attack before simply lowering his shoulder while running at full speed. The impact knocked Pierre to the ground, sending the revolver skidding into the bushes. Pierre’s eyes rolled back in his head, apparently knocked out from the punishing tackle.

Lewis took advantage of Pierre’s unconscious state and ran for the bushes to get the pistol. Pushing the first few fronds aside, he spotted the revolver just a couple feet away. Before he could grab it, he was clobbered from behind by a stick. Pierre had recovered incredibly quickly, grabbing the first weapon he found then breaking the large tree limb across Lewis’s head. The stick was now only half as long, but the wiry Frenchman lifted it again and took another brutal swing at Lewis’s skull. Lewis recovered from the initial strike just in time to raise his right arm, blocking the second attack. He ripped the stick out of Pierre’s hand, throwing it back towards the fire before punching the climber hard in the throat. Pierre collapsed to his knees, clutching his throat as he gasped for air.

Pierre’s men were on their way up the hill, alerted to potential problems after seeing the flare’s explosion. Lewis wasted no more time, scooping up the .38 before bounding up the hill after his fleeing friends. He ran through a small thicket, stopping when he heard Gonzalez whisper from a large thorn bush growing along the dried banks of a seasonal stream. Lewis spotted Samantha and Gonzalez hidden deep within the bush. They were visible now that he knew they were there, but suitably hidden from someone passing by. Lewis raced up the hill and hung a torn fragment of his shirt on the jagged limb of a fallen tree, 100 feet above the girls’ hiding spot. He returned quickly, hiding alongside his friends while trying to calculate their next move.

“Is Pierre dead?” Samantha asked in a quiet whisper.

Lewis returned a slight shake of his head, saying, “No, he is going to have a sore throat for a while though.” He then put his finger to his lips, indicating quiet, before pointing back towards the smoke from the flare. Pierre’s voice sounded different, but his accent was clear as he explained the situation and ordered his men to hunt down their prey. “Stay still and keep quiet,” Lewis whispered. “Here they come.”