Lab Rat part 56

Posted: March 13, 2011 in Fiction, Test Subject

I turn back to the helicopters. Okay, the helicopter. The second one is more like a meteor. Taryn shattered the top rotors and I get to see the glossy black egg tumble into the earth. It crumples on impact with a building. I want to watch to see whether it bursts into flames, but it occurs to me that I’m not carrying a bulletproof shield anymore. Just as I look up, the second chopper opens up with its guns. Whoopsie daisy! I dart upward. Once again, my maneuverability keeps me safe. The pilot must decide that the gun isn’t enough. Smoke belches from under one of the landing skids and a rocket falls free and hurtles toward me.

I roll to the left. To my horror, the rocket makes a course correction. This is going to suck. I tuck my legs up and roll over it as it reaches me. The rocket flies by and its jet washes me with fire. I straighten out and give the pilot the finger in defiance. He smiles at me. I look back, and the rocket is banking and turning around. Oh man. I turn toward the helicopter just in time to see him launch two more of the damn things. What was that I was saying about being a dead man? My fear is pushed aside for a moment by a mixture of inspiration and a desperate need to not die here. I charge the helicopter. As the two rockets pass me, I’m treated to another split-second wave of fire. No way to tell if I’m burned or not right now. Probably. I’m lucky like that. I watch the pilot try to pull his aircraft away, but I come up under it and hang on. I look back. Here comes the first rocket. I kick off of the bottom of the machine and fly straight down.

The rocket passes harmlessly under the chopper, and now the other two are circling back for me. The first one climbs, loops, and dives for me. The other two trace a smooth downward arc. I fly east as fast as I can. I stay down at street level. The last thing I need is that damn chopper adding more party favors to this game. I push harder, fly faster. I wish I had a speedometer. The stripes on the street are going by so fast that they look like a solid line. The wind tears at my skin. I take a hard right at the next intersection. I’m rewarded with the sound of an explosion. I risk looking back. Still two balls of fire behind me, and they’re still closing. I try the same trick again and take a hard left. Nothing. Both rockets make the turn. The buildings are getting taller around me, and traffic is getting denser. I’m heading into downtown. This was a terrible idea.

I revise my plan in my head. It’s no longer just “dodge rockets.” My new plan is a little more complex – avoid a direct hit and try to keep innocent bystanders safe. Where’s a carload of Parish’s men when I need them? I do a loop so tight my vision goes splotchy and the rockets shoot past me. I know without looking that they’ll be coming back. I race down the street, back the way I came. I can’t outrun them and I can’t shake them. I have to blow them up. I wish Taryn was here. I’m flying too fast to pick anything up, and I don’t know if I could lift anything substantial enough to set off the warheads. I wish I knew how they were tracking me.

Things are coming down to the wire. By the time you’re reading this, I have one day of work left. Maybe less if you aren’t the kind of person who reads daily. Other things that I hope have been resolved by the time you read this: I have been experiencing flu-like symptoms. I hope that doesn’t last. I’m still unsure what to do with all my junk. Boxing it up seems like the best plan. Jenna said she’d help distribute it to people who could use it. And my last load of laundry before I put the rubber to the road.


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