SAC Carrie Sims' operation didn't exactly go sideways. It went as crooked as a dog's hind leg when the Lear touched down and bullets immediately sprayed the cockpit. Josiah and Carrie had both undone their lap belts long before the well-hidden makeshift airstrip had come into view and as he dove for cover he yanked Carrie from her seat and pulled her into the fuselage and out of the line of further fire.
Buck was out of his seat the moment the first shot pierced the nose of the plane and hit Carrie. He heard her cry out as the bullet lodged in her thigh somewhere north of her knee and south of her pelvis. So much for a flack jacket if you're literally a sitting duck, he thought angrily, and dragged her further back into the cabin while Josiah pulled down the SIG SG 550 assault rifle that was clipped into a makeshift rack beside Buck's jump seat.
The three of them barely fit into the cabin and Buck had to reach between Josiah's feet to drag the first aid kit to him as the big man started to toss bundles of illicit drugs into the cockpit to make more room.
"Be careful none of those split open. The dust'll make it pretty volatile in here," Buck warned him. "It's probably the only reason they haven't shot up the fuselage yet.
Josiah stopped what he was doing and smiled, "I hear you brother but if we don't get blown sky high sitting on all these drugs, it'll only be a matter of time before we'll be sky high and won't give a shit what happens."
Carrie groaned and Buck saw the dark stain spreading out over her pant leg. He stuck his fingers into the bullet hole in the fabric and pulled with all his might and her jeans split open like a ripe blood filled melon. He wiped away the copious amount of blood with his hand and could see the entrance wound right above her kneecap for a split second before a jet of blood covered it and her leg again. She moaned again as he stuck his hand under her rear end and felt around for an exit wound. His hand came back relatively unbloodied and he knew the bullet was still in her.
"I remember the first time you grabbed my ass?" Carrie said through gritted teeth, "You got me drunk on Tequila."
As he opened the med kit and started to pull out various items, Buck smiled at the recollection, "Indeed I do...and you loved it."
Carrie inhaled deeply, let her breath out through clenched teeth to try and keep the pain at bay and said, "I wish I had a bottle of Patron right now."
"So do I, darlin'," Buck told her, "but this is the next best thing." He held up a morphine syrette and jabbed it into her thigh and hoped to hell it would take effect before she went into shock.
"How does it look?" she asked seconds before her eyes started to roll.
"You gonna be just fine, Sims" he told her as he watched blood spurt again from the bullet hole and thought to himself, "as soon as I clamp down that artery," and pushed the scene in Blackhawk Down, where Cpl. Jamie Smith bled out from a severed femoral artery, from his mind.
Judging from the amount of blood and the force of the discharge, Buck felt the bullet had only nicked Carrie's and a tourniquet would do until help finally came -if it was even on the way.
Cell phone reception was nil but the Lear's emergency locator transmitter, which Josiah had activated before crawling over the center consol instruments, was busily sending out a distress signal for the entire world to hear. The three of them just needed to sit tight until the cavalry arrived but, looking down at Carrie Sim's face, her features drawn and her skin pale, Josiah wondered if she wound make it until then.
"We need to get her outta here, man," Buck said stating the obvious.
Carrie grabbed his pant leg and he squatted and brushed her sweat damp hair from her forehead. She released her hold on his pants and took his hand in hers instead and started, "If this doesn't end well..."
"You're gonna..." He tried to interrupt her and cursed at him.
"Goddamn it, Buck! I'm pretty shot up and I'm pretty fucked up but I want you to promise me one thing. That you'll go to the cemetery." Buck opened his mouth to placate her again and she jumped his shit again. "Bucklin, promise me!" she practically shouted.
He cupped her cheeks in his big hands and she closed her eyes for a moment and felt the soft kiss of his tears as he bent low over her, his face just above hers.
"I promise, Carrie," he whispered, "But can you ever forgive me?"
"There's nothing to forgive, my love," she whispered back.
Josiah moved enough product to get to one of the windows and spotted a large delivery truck, a Mercedes Benz, and four men, three dressed in jeans and one dressed in a business suit. All of them carried AK 47s and wore flack jackets.
"There's four of 'em all heavily armed and presumably waiting for us to make the next move," he told Buck who dashed the tears from his eyes and stood up.
"Then let's give 'em what they want," he suggested and unzipped his coveralls to reveal a bulletproof vest with a white tee shirt beneath it.
Stripping the rest of the way down to just his jeans, he removed the Kevlar and pulled the tee shirt over his head. He put the vest back on but not before pulling a M84 stun grenade from the pocket.
Walking over to the door, he lowered it and waved his "white flag". When no one shot it out of his hand, he stepped out to find four guns trained directly at him. When he made no threatening move, the men circled around the car and started forward until one spotted the grenade Buck held in one hand and the kilo of heroin he had split open in the other. Little wisps of brown powder wafted on the wind to make his point and they came to a complete stop.
"This is the DEA and you're under arrest," Buck said purely as a formality and heard Josiah snort behind him.
When the man in the suit translated, the others simply stared at Buck as if he were mad then burst out laughing.
Buck smiled in return and, to cut out the middleman, continued in Spanish.
"You're right, this is purely comical because my friend inside has a SG 550 assault rifle pointed directly at all of you so what we have here is what I like to call a DEA standoff. Also, thanks to the hard landing this plane is chock full of powder and, no matter who shoots first, this contraband will be off the streets."
"You'd blow yourselves up just for the job?" the man in the suit asked with a sneer.
"That's right, amigo. My people will all get medals, posthumously of course, but medals none the less and, if the blast doesn't kill you, your boss Torres will."
The man in the suit knew the DEA agent was right. If the plane were destroyed, all of them, and their families as well, would be under a death sentence. Sweat began to gather over his top lip, more from fear than from a sweltering day in the swamps.
Buck heard Carrie moan again. Her breathing had sped up and he figured that toxins were building up in her leg even as he spoke, "I've got a wounded agent in here so I'm prepared to let you have what you came for."
"What do you want in return?"
"She and my partner leave here right now in that fancy car of yours. I stay behind in the plane, my hand wrapped around this M84 with its magnesium-based pyrotechnic charge, until I'm sure they're safe. Then you can have it all, including me."
"And when you surrender, why wouldn't I just shoot you?"
"Oh, I have no doubt that you will," Buck said with a smile.
Ten minutes later, Josiah and Carrie were well on their way to the hospital and safety. His partner and friend had balked hard until Buck had turned Ezra's gun on Josiah and ordered him from the plane, an act that was sure to bring swift and sure retribution should he see the profiler again. But Buck Wilmington had made his deal with the devil and it was time to pay up.
Sweat poured from under his vest and slid down the crack of his ass but he didn't dare so much as move to scratch himself. All guns were now trained on him as the four men moved forward and he walked down the steps of the jet to stoop to place the pistol, the heroin and the grenade gently on the ground in front of him. The M84 rolled once, and then twice, then went off with a flash and a bang - just as advertised.