Page 86 of Mayflower

“It’s harmless. It’s temporary. It has minimal side effects,” I say as if trying to convince myself as we jump on ATVs. The guards create an all-around shield, and we move away from the parking lot and toward the airport in a convoy.

It’s dawn. Ayana is cloaked in the chemical fog. It’s strangely quiet, save for occasional gunshots here and there. Feels like a fantasy world. That’s what we used to love about Ayana—its peace. Until it was ripped out of our hands. This is our chance to take it back and do the right thing by its people.

Riding out of the main Ayana gate, I see fires blasting here and there, and several guards with masks on wave for us to pass through.

I swerve my ATV to go around a man on all-fours, crawling along the road. Then another one. There are several guns left behind them. Another group of men is on the ground, moving like zombies. Not ours—Butcher’s.

“It’s fucking working,” I murmur.

We pass more guards as we turn on the road that leads to the airport. They are all wearing masks, some of them have several guns hanging off their shoulder—they are disarming the rebels they find.

We are pushing through the chemical fog. I don’t even worry about how Tsariuk will land his army during this fog, because the man is a fucking Terminator.

The signs of the incapacitating agent’s effect are everywhere. There are motionless bodies on the ground. Peaceful, like sleeping animals. Surprisingly, they made it to the airport. There are no sounds of early birds. Nothing. Not even shots anymore. Except the air is trembling. There’s slight vibration in it. I can feel it on the surface of my skin. And it takes me a moment to realize that it’s the aircrafts, so powerful, somewhere out of sight, above us, that it makes the whole resort reverberate.

We drive through the airport gates. The red emergency light system for landing is on. And the jungle around the airport starts shaking as if during a storm.

There’s loud roaring in the air. A Cobra, a Sikorsky, I think. An entire fleet of Apaches are making circles above us in a wide radius, protecting the landing ones.

“Fuck me, did he bring an army with him?” I hear Marlow’s voice in my earpiece.

I chuckle. “What do you expect? It’s Papa fucking Tsariuk.”

The first helicopter to land looks like an iron monster descending from the sky.

“What the fuck is this?” Marlow asks.

“Mil Mi-26 Halo, sir,” the dispatcher’s voice in our earpieces says. “With a capacity of twenty tons.”

“Jesus,” Marlow says at the same time I think it.

“They are letting their tactical team out first,” the dispatcher says. “Then Mr. Tsariuk and his aid team.”

“Aid team,” Marlow snorts.

Dad used to teach me about all different aircrafts and military equipment. I never paid much attention. It wasn’t my thing. But I’m sure that a Halo is one of the heaviest lifters in the world with a capacity of close to 100 troops. I only saw one several times in my life when my dad took me on a work trip with him.

So, when that monster lands and an army pours out of it, I huff in shock as Marlow curses under his breath. “What do we do now?”

I put my hand on his shoulder. “Relax. That was part of the plan. Ortiz and Bishop should be on a direct line with their commander who is with Tsariuk in one of those Cobras. They are handling it. Ortiz will navigate the combat team to Ayana. That’s our priority. The rest, with our guards, will go through the jungle to Port Mrei. There’s another craft coming with first aid and supplies.”

I told Marlow to relax, though I’m stressed. We stand like fucking servants waiting for the king to make an appearance. It’s stuffy, despite early morning, my face under the mask sweating. Sweat trickles down my back. I look up to see that it’s raining. It’s just a drizzle that coats my mask’s lenses, and I have to wipe them off.

“Tsariuk said the rain will push down the gasses,” I say, remembering Bishop’s words. “So, that will eliminate the effect pretty quickly.”

“Does he control the fucking weather too?” Marlow snaps.

“Bishop is the former military meteorologist, remember? So, yeah, I would say they made sure they implemented the gas attack in that small window.”

“That fucking guy…” Marlow murmurs.

I look at my watch—the agent should be dispersed in the air while those who didn’t have masks would be fast asleep for at least an hour. Ayana should be fine. So will the hospital. Port Mrei is a different story. By the time they wake up, we hope to have the special ops taking charge of everything, now that Butcher is dead.

Tsariuk’s Cobra helicopter lands, his army surrounding it like he is the Pope landing in a war zone.

It’s not the first time Tsariuk has landed at Ayana, but I still look on in awe. This man is like Voland with an escort of dozens of the deadliest men. And Maddy—pardon, Milena—managed to get away from him?

A dozen men approach us, Tsariuk’s broad figure among them. Dozens of soldiers, all masked and armed to the tee, disperse, creating an entourage more impressive than my dad ever had. Tsariuk definitely reminds me of my father.

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