Alert
Thank you to Heiduska and Eternity's End for reviewing. Here's Ch 2. Hope you people like it, or else I'm out of a job.
Chapter 2- Island
Tony Pacossi slowly woke up. He'd been knocked out, thrown clear of the plane, when it had first hit the ground. He'd been one of the two pilots in the plane, along with Jon Varner.
Tony heard the soft, rhythmic sound of waves on a beach. He opened one eye.
He was lying, floating more like, in a shallow lagoon. Ahead of him was a pale beach, which stopped at a solid wall of foliage and trees. The only reason he hadn't drowned in four feet of water was that his head was resting on a ragged chunk of metal. Part of the plane's wing.
Tony started to move, and felt a sharp pain in his leg. There was a gash running down his leg, blood mingling with the water.
He tried to stand again, limped his way out of the lagoon, onto the sandy beach. He saw the cockpit of the plane sticking out among broken trees, the splintered wood holding the aircraft up. The cockpit looked smashed in.
Tony walked under the ruined plane, avoiding all the debris on the ground. Broken glass, twisted metal, severed wires, sparking dangerously. A pillow from one of the bunk beds. A backpack, one pocket zipped open, spilling its contents onto the ground. A small MP3 player. A small knife.
He picked the tiny blade off the ground. How the hell... he thought, pocketing it. Tony continued going.
He got to the end of the plane.
And stared.
The entire back compartment of the aircraft was missing. The section that had the criminals. Gone.
He heard a banging coming from the second compartment. Someone was knocking on the wall. And yelling something in Spanish.
Oh jeez, not her. The female cop who'd brought one of the lawbreakers had exploded when Davenport had made an 'unwanted' comment about her. Punched him in the face. The fat wolf had deserved it, but still...
He climbed up onto one of the broken trees, and started inching up the trunk towards the plane. The door dividing the second and third sections was still intact. And locked.
At least I've got a key.
--------
Davenport had gotten up from where he'd been laying, sprawled out on the ground, unconscious. Knocked out, whatever. When the plane had split in half, he'd been sucked out by the wind. Same thing with the criminals in the back. With any luck they're dead, he thought
Limping and swearing, he started walking towards a piece of wreckage. Hopefully there was something actually useful scattered somewhere.
--------
Scott Brewster was working his shift in the gun tower where Bolden had shot down that police plane. When he had heard Bolden brag about it the first time, Brewster congratulated him. Now, Brewster thought that it had been one stupid move. Someone was probably going to come looking for the remnants of the aircraft. And find their operation.
Brewster was twenty-six, and he had a Masters degree in Oceanography. The tan-furred ferret had been recruited for his knowledge of the ocean, and more specifically, the ocean floor. He was being paid handsomely, too. All the more reason to help.
He frowned when he heard footsteps upstairs. There wasn't supposed to be anyone else there. He left his desk, started up the stairs.
There was a gunshot, and his body came tumbling back down, coming to rest on the floor, where the bullet wound in his forehead made a spreading pool of crimson blood.
A tall, yellow-furred vixen dressed in a long black cloak stepped over the body, left the room, a small pistol gripped in one hand.
And that's the end of Chapter 2. I'd enjoy a few more reviews this time. :p