The masked man had vanished.
Jackal shone his flashlight at the aircraft. “He must’ve slipped through that opening in the plane,” Jackal said, training the beam at the large fissure in the fuselage. “I say we each take a side and box him in. Do you want the port or starboard side?”
“Doesn’t matter to me. Let’s just kill this guy and get back to business,” I answered.
“Roger that.” Jackal took a step forward.
I grabbed the sleeve of his coat. He stopped, then looked at me.
“Watch yourself. This guy isn’t like the other two,” I said. “He can actually fight, like he’s had some sort of training.”
“Not anything we can’t handle,” Jackal shot back. His one arm carrying the flashlight bent at a ninety-degree angle with the other draped over the top. He moved past me and around the tail end of the plane.
I moved toward the wreckage, head tilted forward to keep the ash from pelting my face. The top of the hood hung just below my brow. I swept what remained of the busted wing and around the opening of the aircraft.
The gun-mounted light illuminated the ashfall whipping about in the air in front of me as I closed in.
Jackal’s light shone through the windows on the port side of the jet as I neared the tear just above the wing.
A muffled report sounded, followed by a flash of white from the cabin of the jet.
Jackal’s light vanished. Two more rounds popped off from the starboard side.
The gun-mounted light sliced through the darkness, capturing a glimpse of a gas mask as the man brushed past the fissure.
He fired at the opening. The two rounds blew past me, and I took cover, my shoulder hugging the steel between the two windows.
He fired again, punching through the glass in front of me. The gunfire ceased for a moment.
I moved toward the fissure with the rifle shouldered. My finger rested on the kill switch. The gun-mounted light caught a glimpse of his black jacket heading for the cockpit.
I squeezed the trigger, firing at his back. A dense thud hit the floor.
Jackal advanced through the opening on the starboard side.
I stepped up on the wing and threaded my frame through the mangled steel in the fuselage.
“You all right?” I asked, shouldering the rifle and training the light at the floor.
Jackal nodded. “Yeah. He clipped my shoulder, but I’ll be fine.”
Gas Mask writhed on the floor on his side. He tried to move, but struggled to get away. He rolled to his back, lifted his piece in the air, and trained it at us.
Jackal placed two rounds, one center mass and one in the middle of his forehead, just above the thick rubber seal of the mask he wore. “That should take care of that.”
“Hopefully that’s all of them,” I replied.
“Let’s roll out before any more surprises pop up.”
We left through the starboard side of the jet and double-timed it back to our ride, not wanting to wait around in case anyone else showed up. I grabbed my travel bag on the way and made for the vehicle.
Jackal ran around the front end of the jeep to the driver’s side and slipped through the open door. He revved the engine, feeding the off-road vehicle copious amounts of octane.
The jeep idled rough, acting as though the dense air had a strangle hold on the engine. It grumbled and sputtered.
I opened the passenger door, crammed my travel bag and rifle in on the floorboard, then climbed onto the leather bucket seat. I yanked the hood of the coat back, then shook my head.
Ash fluttered inside the jeep, gathering on my pants. The soot that burned my eyes waned, lessening the discomfort.
My upper lip felt wet. I wrenched the visor down and peered into the small-rectangular mirror. A thin trail of blood ran from both nostrils down past my lip. I ran the back of my hand across my mouth, wiping it away.
Tepid air blasted from the vents on the dash. I thumbed the heater off, severing the flow of the pungent air from the vehicle’s vents.
“Why did you do that?” Jackal asked, pointing at the temperature controls on the dash.
“All we’re doing is pumping that crap from outside inside the vehicle,” I replied, clearing my throat. I brushed my hand over my thigh, wiping the blood on the top of on my trousers. “I’m already having a hard time breathing. Feels like someone’s standing on my chest. The burning in my eyes isn’t as bad now, but it still stings a bit.”
Jackal nodded. “Yeah. I didn’t think about that. My nose hurts some and my eyes are watering. They sting like when you get smoke in them or something’s stuck in there.”
He dug his fingers into both sockets, blinked, then looked over at me. Thin-red lines snaked around his eyes.
“Can you see well enough?” I asked, looking at him through a slight haze. “Not sure my eyesight is any better, but if I need to drive, I will.”
“Yeah. It should clear out soon,” Jackal answered, blinking again, then opening his eyes wide. “Besides, we need to get on the move. This jeep isn’t sounding so hot. Can’t tell if it’s because of the soot outside choking the engine or if it’s just in bad shape. I’d like to avoid walking if at all possible.” He switched on the windshield wipers, knocking the gathering gray ash from the window.
Flashes of white slithered through the dark, eerie clouds, followed by more thunderous rumbles that shook the ground.
“Have you ever seen a storm like that
