Page 23 of What is Lost

She got into the face of the dark-haired jock. “Give me the keys!” she shouted. “Give me the keys and a weapon, Daniel, or it’s going to be too late!”

Sheknewthat guy? “Roni!” John tried interposing himself between her and the man she called Daniel. “Roni, stop. What are you doing?”

“Stay out of it, John!” Jamming her hands in his chest, she straight-armed him out of the way with a furious shove before whipping round to the other man.

“Help me, Daniel!” she said, fiercely. “Give me a weapon!”

“I don’t know you,” the dark-haired man said at the same moment the weedy, knife-nosed CIA guy planted a palm against Roni’s chest, holding her back the way a parent might keep a child throwing a fit at bay.

“Problem here?” He looked down the length ofhis nose. “Do you need something, Captain…” He squinted at Roni’s name tape. “Captain Keller?”

“Yeah, for you to get your hands off me.” Roni brought a forearm up in an abrupt movement and knocked the man’s hand away. “I’m not talking to you.”

“Oooh.”One of the other jocks, a guy with beach-blond hair in a tail, elbowed a neighbor. “Hellcat.”

“Stow it, Flowers.” The one she’d called Daniel squinted down at her. “Have we met? I think I’d remember you. Got a brother in the Marines?”

She shook her head. “My dad’s an instructor at Mountain Warfare. You probably know him.”

The man opened his mouth, closed it then brightened. “Roni. He was always talking about you. But I still don’t...”

“Because I knowyourdad,” she said. “I’ve been in your house. You know your dad still has your induction picture on his mantel?”

“Roni?” John frowned. “What are you?—”

“He’s Driver’s son,” Roni said, never taking her eyes from the other man.

His mouth fell open. “OurDriver? From DCC?”

“Lucky you,” Daniel Driver said. “Piece of work, isn’t he?”

“Stop being an ass,” Roni said. “Take a look around you. We need your help, Daniel. We needweapons and a vehicle, and we need them right now.”

“We?” John said at the same moment the CIA guy said, “Out of the question.”

“Stow it, Mac. I got this.” Driver’s voice was as brooding and dark as his looks. “Nice that you know that son of a bitch,” he said to Roni. “Say hi next time you’re stateside. But those people, whatever happens to them…not my problem. I have my own mission specs here.”

“But you’re aMarine,” Roni said.

“That’s debatable,” Mac said, his voice dry and just the near side of sarcastic. “In any event, he’s not on loan to you.”

“And I’mstillnot talking to you.” Roni kept her gaze squarely on Driver. “Once a Marine, always a Marine, and that transport is a U.S. military aircraft in need of help.”

“It’s a big plane,” Driver said. “All it has to do is take off and then land again when the crowd’s under control.”

“What iswrongwith you?” The cords stood out on Roni’s neck. “Those people are in the way. They’ll get sucked into the engines if they’re too close and ifthathappens, the plane’s crippled! How will you have done yourjobif you ignore?—”

A screech cut the air that John recognized as the scream of the Moose’s hydraulic winches and just as he was thinking,Wait, that’s too early. They can’tpossibly have offloaded everything,the air swelled with a sudden, enraged roar, the whine of gears and then a sustained burst of gunfire. Spinning on his heel, he looked toward the terminal and felt his heart stutter.

The tarmac had gonefrom a simple crowd to a mosh pit.

The C-17’s pilot seemed to have finally realized that without additional troops they couldn’t do anything. But that also meant they had to reverse what they had begun: get that loading ramp closed, unplug from that generator, and get the hell out of Dodge.

If they could. People clawed for purchase as the Moose’s aft loading ramp slowly ground and whirred its way back to safe. Shouting, the loadmaster tried kicking himself free of one man who’d hooked his hands around the loadmaster’s left ankle. Grabbing a long grappling hook, the loadmaster whipped the hook down, hard, smashing the man’s wrist. Screeching, the man fell back even as another, younger and stronger, took his place and then a third and then even more men, all scrambling and trying to monkey their way aboard.

Crouching, one wiry guy in a torn tunic leapt from the backs of those struggling for purchaseand collided with the loadmaster. Knocked off balance, the loadmaster swayed, his arms frantically pinwheeling, feet jittering a tap-dance. The toe of his left boot caught the wiry guy under the jaw and as that man tumbled off the ramp, the loadmaster toppled. He hit the ramp so hard, his head bounced. Dazed, shaking his head like a dog who’s just bitten into something nasty, he managed to crab back on all fours.

Got to do something.The melee reminded John of another scene fromWar of the Worlds:of that ferry pulling away as the desperate clung to the ramp; of Robbie running to save them. Of the ferry captain gawping at a bright green whirlpool alongside his ship because he knew that, in another five seconds, they would all be dead.

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