Page 92 of Wild Idol
Copper rounds pelted the fuselage, clinking and clanking, sending my heartbeat skyrocketing.
I angled my rifle through the cargo door and returned fire. The rifle hammered my shoulder, spewing rounds of blistering hell.
County patrol boats were on the way, but it would take a little while for them to get here.
More bullets crisscrossed the night.
I sent another flurry of rounds into the aircraft, puncturing the fuselage and wings.
Everett climbed aboard as I traded rounds with Kade.
A bullet sparked off the bulkhead beside me, sending another spike of adrenaline through my veins.
The goons piled into the aircraft and pulled the clamshell door shut. I guess they figured it was time to get the hell out of Dodge. The aircraft could certainly outrun the helicopter.
The pilot throttled up, and the aircraft rolled down the tarmac.
One of my bullets had ruptured a fuel tank in the wing, spilling AV gas onto the tarmac and the tail.
Tango One circled around and flew parallel to the plane.
I continued to fire more rounds into the engine. A ricochet sparked, and flames erupted. The intake sucked them in, and the tail spit fire as the XT40 picked up speed, racing down the runway.
Fire spewed from the tail like dragon’s breath.
The nose lifted, and the front wheels came off the ground. Soon, the plane was in the air, black smoke billing from the exhaust. It didn’t have enough thrust to make it over the treetops. It was already at speed, and there wasn’t enough runway to land.
There was nothing they could do at this point.
The writing was on the wall, and the whole thing unfolded like a train wreck in slow motion.
The XT 40 crashed into the treetops. Wings sheared off, and the plane cartwheeled into the dense woods. Fuel spewed, igniting the trees. The luxury plane plowed into the forest, a ball of flames lighting up the night sky.
There was no way anyone survived.
Tango One circled the scene as the flames engulfed the area, a noxious cloud of smoke filling the sky—a mix of fuel, leather, and plastic.
Below, a figure crawled from the wreckage, flailing about—a human torch.
I had a feeling it was a sensation Everett would experience for the rest of eternity.
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First responders swarmed the island. Deputies sifted through the charred wreckage. EMTs and paramedics were on hand, but no survivors were found. Brenda and her crew examined the remains. The FAA and NTSB would be on the scene soon to investigate. A news helicopter hovered overhead, spotlighting the area with a wide beam.
Firefighters doused the flames and tried to keep the situation under control. A brushfire could light up the entire island.
We put down on the tarmac and got to see the carnage firsthand.
It wasn’t long before Paris Delaney and her news crew arrived in another helicopter. Her cameraman lensed up the twisted wreckage, and Paris tried to get as many details as she could out of anybody and everybody. She found me, and the camera closed in. “Deputy Wild, what can you tell us?”
I kept my mouth shut.
“Can you tell us who was aboard that aircraft?”
“I can’t discuss an ongoing investigation.”
The pilot of Tango One went over the aircraft and evaluated it. We’d taken a few hits during the exchange. There were scuffs and scrapes here and there, along with a few bullet holes. A window was cracked and had a few craters in it. But it didn’t obstruct visibility. The tail boom and rotor appeared to be intact, and there were no apparent leaks from fuel lines or hydraulic systems.
