Walker, Trivette, Shipwreck, and I didn't hesitate when Firefly gave us back our guns. Springing to my feet, I raced to the back of the warehouse, where McElroy and the truck were. Order bounded ahead, and Shipwreck and the two Texas Rangers were right behind me.

I saw one of the big loading bay doors close ahead of us, and heard the sound of a semi truck pulling out. Order stopped at the closing door, and we humans caught up. "Stay," I ordered my dog, and he sat down.

I flung open the door beside the ones made for loading, and ran out, aiming my SIG P229 at the truck. The others arrived behind me, and Walker shouted, "Driver, stop the truck right now!" But the tractor-trailer kept rolling down the warehouse driveway.

I fired into one of the back tires. It wasn't enough on its own to stop the truck, but after I shot two more tires and Walker hit two on the front, the driver brought the semi to a halt. He stepped out, his hands above his head.

Trivette quickly handcuffed the driver, but when he did, the truck, with thirteen wheels still intact, resumed rolling, albeit with a couple rims scraping the concrete.

I ran to catch up as the truck turned onto the road. Looking in the window, I saw who had climbed into the driver's seat: Dwayne McElroy. Evidently, he had gotten in the passenger's seat when they were done loading the truck, and had taken over when the driver had given up.

"Stop the truck now!" I shouted, aiming through the window at McElroy's head. But he stomped on the pedal and peeled out. I saw Shipwreck trying to leap onto the back of the trailer, but he fell short and landed on the road with a thud. Trivette was busy with the truck driver, and I didn't see Walker.

I saw my chance. One well-timed jump could do it…

Bracing myself, I leapt with all my might at the spare tire rack on the rear-left side of the trailer. I grasped the corner of the trailer, and my feet found footing on the rack. Looking across the trailer back, I saw Cordell Walker hanging on to the right-rear corner, presumably standing on that side's spare tire rack.

Moving onto the back bumper, I climbed upside down so that I was clinging to the bottom of the trailer's chassis. Walker did the same, and we stayed like that as the truck rolled out onto the highway.

"Let's shoot the tires!" I shouted to Walker above the roar of the truck's engine as I heard sirens approaching. Walker nodded, and we drew our pistols.

The road zipped by below me, an unending stream of moving asphalt. Climbing onto the truck probably wasn't a really good idea; we could have just radioed for backup; but I wasn't about to take the chance of McElroy getting away with those devices. As it turned out, the police had no trouble finding the truck, but I hadn't known that would happen when it was pulling away from the warehouse.

Walker and I blasted away at McElroy's tires. Sparks flew where the rims met the road, and I knew they could be deadly if they hit the gas tank.

Finally, the loss of tires slowed the truck down enough that Walker and I dropped from the chassis and rolled to a stop on the highway.

We stood up. "He's not getting away," Walker observed as several police cars surrounded the gradually slowing truck.

"No," I replied, grimacing at my scars from dropping onto the road but nonetheless smiling as the truck finally came to a stop. "He's not."

GI Joe-Walker Texas Ranger-GI Joe-Walker Texas Ranger

"We have reached our cruising altitude of 42,000 feet," the stewardess announced over the plane's loudspeaker. "You may now turn on your electronic devices."

Shipwreck paused the movie on his laptop and took off his headphones. "What did she say? I didn't hear."

"Never mind," I told him. Shrugging, he put the headphones back on.

The plane soared west, toward Utah. When we landed, we would drive the rest of the way from Salt Lake City International Airport to the nondescript compound in the desert, under which lay G.I. Joe headquarters. But for now, I could relax.

Or so I thought.

I grudgingly looked at the caller ID on my cell phone. In the military, one doesn't ignore one's commanding officer and live to tell the tale; thus I answered Duke's call: "Yes, sir?"

"Good work, Law. I called to inform you that Cobra will not be making any more mind control devices. A Navy SEAL team went in to capture the scientist who designed the things, and he was shot while trying to escape. All his research was destroyed."

"I'm glad of that, sir. No one needs to have access to that technology."

"You're right about that, Law; you're right about that. So what of McElroy?"

"He was handed over to the FBI. They'll make sure he gets what's coming for him."

"Good. Well, I'll see you at HQ."

"Yes, sir. Goodbye."

I hung up the phone and sat back in my seat, only for the cursed thing to ring again.

"What is it, Walker?"

"Just wanted to annoy you," the Ranger replied. "I knew you'd be trying to relax."

"You really know how to get on a guy's nerves."

"Thanks, I try. Look, when you come back to Texas, do me a favor, ok?"

"Sure, what is it?" I asked.

"Don't get me into a shootout with terrorists."

"No promises," I replied, "but next time people are shooting at you, I'll try to make sure they're just street thugs. Deal?"

"Thanks. It means a lot to me."

"What are friends for?"

I hung up the phone and sat back once more. I closed my eyes and started drifting off, but was prevented from falling asleep by yet another call.

I didn't even look to see who it was. It could have been the Prince of Wales, for all I knew.

I asked the stewardess for a glass of water. When she handed it to me, I put my phone in it.

There. Now I could finally have some peace.