section7mfu | "Escape from the End of the World" Part 12

Napoleon gently laid the unresponsive body of April Dancer to the floor as he heard footsteps coming up the stairs. He couldn’t be sure if it was his partner or not and aimed his pistol into the darkness, just in case.

The person, upon reaching the landing called out in a low voice.

“Napoleon?”

“Here,” Solo responded immediately, breathing a sigh of relief..”April’s hurt.”

Illya appeared, bruised and scratched, his shirt stained with a crimson blossom. He was as pale as a ghost.

“What happened tovarisch?”

“I had a run in with Sylvia.”

“Is she dead?”

“No only sleeping, I used one of Bloom’s concoctions on her that served as anesthetic, though I do not know how long she will be out.”

“Illya. April seems to be in a some sort of trance. We need to get out of here now, so we’ll have to carry her. By the way, Sylvia is not Sylvia; she’s Leticia Constancis Machado, the General’s youngest daughter and crazier than he is.”

“I did not know that, her identity that is, but crazy...I found that out the hard way. When did you discover who she was?”

“When she and the General hijacked the jet; you and April were already out cold. She slipped us all a mickey in our drinks and she killed the pilots.”

“Where is Machado?”

“He’s in the Warden’s private boudoir, and unconscious as I cold cocked him. Illya he raped April...hurt her bad.” There was a sadness in Solo’s voice with a suppressed, anger just lying beneath the surface.

Illya said nothing, what could he say to assuage Napoleon’s feelings?

Kuryakin knelt down with some effort, and reaching into the canvas sack he carried, he withdrew a small ball of cloth. He opened it and put a pinch of dried leaves into Dancer’s mouth but sadly, it did nothing.

“This should have woken her up,”he shook his head.

With some difficulty, the two men lifted April between them and made their way down the steps; this at least left one of Solo’s hands free to carry the pistol in his hand. Luckily he had, as they encountered Machado’s two guards and after a brief fire fight, they were dispatched.

Illya grabbed one of the guard’s rifles as well as a machete the other had carried, knowing they’d need it as they yet again escaped into the rainforets.

Together they continued to carry April between them as they climbed through the hole they’d blown in the prison yard wall only days before.

It was hard, but Illya refused to give in to his pain. His partner’s efforts weren’t lost on Solo.

“Have a feeling of deja vú here?” Napoleon huffed as he stared out at the edge of the rainforest.

The agents continued into the jungle as they had last time and stopped when they guessed were far enough away. It was hard to tell as they were in a particularly dense spot, with little light filtering down through the canopy.

After laying April down, Illya dropped on the ground next to her, holding his side.

“I know you are going to accuse me of being dramatic Napoleon, but I think you need to leave me,” his hand came up wet with blood. “I am not sure I have the strength to continue.”

“Could you walk if you didn’t have to carry April?”

“I think I could, but for how long, I have no idea.”

Solo took the machete, and cutting down a pair of thin pliable trees, he cleaned off the branches and leaves. Chopping off a length of vine, he use it all along with the sheet from the bed to fashion a narrow makeshift travois on which he could put April and at least drag her. It wouldn’t be easy as the rainforest floor was uneven, but it would have to do.

Napoleon had no choice to do double duty of dragging April and using the machete to cut away at the plant life that blocked their way. Illya was in no condition to do anything other than keep himself erect and walking.

The insect life was relentless attacking them, and the air was filled with the sounds of the forest. The incessant singing of frogs and the screeching of birds and monkeys echoed around them. If their situation had been different, the songs of the rainforest would have been enchanting, but being tired and injured had a way of ruining such thoughts.

They had to keep moving but finally exhaustion was setting in and they were forced to stop and rest.

“Napoleon, let me try to at least cut the path for a bit. You cannot keep it up all by yourself.”

“No, I’ll not have you kill yourself doing it, you’re too weak and you’re bleeding,” Solo panted as he lowered himself to the ground next to Illya.

“Where are we going?”The Russian asked out of the blue.

Napoleon suddenly realized he didn’t know.

“Well there’s no chopper waiting for a homing device to be activated.” Even though it remained under the skin of Napoleon’s forearm; he never had it removed.

He took a deep breath, still thinking. Solo’s eyes went wide as he smiled.

“There has to be a landing strip...the jet has to be here somewhere. Do you remember seeing anything when we were up in the chopper the first time?”

Illya’s eyes turned upwards, trying to remember, though though a landing strip was something he wasn’t looking for at the time of their previous escape from the prison. He should still have been able see it in his mind’s eye, thanks to the abilities of his eidetic memory that allowed him to recall every image, sound, or object he’d looked at or heard. Yet sometimes it failed him…

Perhaps it was his physical condition, that was affecting him as he was finding it difficult to concentrate. He closed his eyes.

Moments later the image he was searching for popped into his head; a primitive runway carved out of the jungle. Picturing where it, and the chopper had been in relation to the position of the prison; Illya opened his eyes.

“We need to head that way Napoleon,” he pointed.” I am sure it is that way.” Though it was a guess on the Russian’s part, he trusted his partner’s uncanny sense of direction.

Napoleon lifted the travois, now holding it up with both hands as he dragged it, having given in to his partner; he followed Illya as he hacked away the brush with the machete.

They lost track of time, and after a few more breaks to rest they emerged to a clearing, and not a natural one. They’d found the landing strip.

“There,” Illya panted, pointed to their far left.” The jet is there.” He was soaked with perspiration from his efforts, and wiped his brow with his sleeve.

It was much easier going with the travois on the flattened surface and once they reached the plane, Napoleon pulled open the door and flipped the stairs into place.

He lifted April from the stretcher, and carried her on board, followed by his partner who closed and secured the door after them.

Carefully laying Dancer on the sofa, Napoleon stood for a moment, staring at her.

April’s eyes had been closed but as soon as he put her down they opened again. His heart leapt, thinking she was coming out of it, but was disappointed when he found she remained glassy eyed, still in the trance-like state.

“Napoleon, she will be all right. We all will.” Illya reassured as he inspected his wound. It looked better as the bleeding had stopped and he was sure his fever had finally broken.” Come my friend, you had best fly the jet as I fear I am not up to the task; I will, however, be your co-pilot.”

“That works for me so let’s get the hell out of here.”

They slipped through the curtain, and took their places in the cockpit and after a quick pre-flight check Solo started the engines.

He checked the fuel gauges and cursed. “We’re low. I hope we can make it back to Sao Paulo.”

Napoleon taxied the jet, turning it around and giving the engines more power it quickly moved forward, gathering enough speed for take off.

The nose lifted, and they rose, barely clearing the top of the forest canopy.

At last they were escaping the nightmare of the End of the World…

Two figures appeared, walking slowly from behind the galley curtain and moving up the aisle of the plane; they headed towards the cockpit.

Solo and Kuryakin froze as they heard the sound of a gun cocking from behind them and turned slowly to see a hand holding a pistol appearing through the curtains.

“Ah Senhors, so good of you to join us,” the General announced himself.

“Shit,” Napoleon mumbled under his breath. Neither of them were armed as they’d left their weapons in the back cabin.

“Now if you will change your heading to these coordinates Mr. Solo,”he handed a piece of paper to the American.

“Mr. Kuryakin, if you will be so good as to vacate your seat. Leticia will take your place.

The Russian let his disgust show on his face as the two exchanged places.

“I will see to you later Kuryakin,” she laughed in his face.

“I look forward to it, but I am sure the results of our meeting will be the same as when last we danced together.”

“Pah! Cão Russo_Russian dog!”She practically spat.

“And nice white teeth with which to tear out your throat,” Illya flashed her a feral smile.

As soon as he entered the cabin, Illya moved to April. He tried not to grimace, but moving caused him a lot of pain. His side was bleeding again.

He glanced around the cabin, but there was no sight of the rifle and pistol he and Solo had left there. Staring at Machado’s back, he wondered if it was worth taking a dive at the man. Perhaps he could grab his weapon? No, in his physical state, weaker than he cared to admit; the General would no doubt easily overtake him and then of course there was his crazy daughter.

Napoleon would have to deal with Sylvi..no Leticia,” he corrected himself. The plan was too risky, better to wait for a more advantageous opportunity. Illya was sure there’d be one.

Kuryakin glanced at April, seeing nothing still but the blank stare. He leaned his head back, closing his eyes. Better to rest for the moment.

Illya eventually stirred, feeling movement in front of him. He opened his eyes, seeing a figure, a bloody figure dressed in white.

April was standing behind Machado, aiming Napoleon’s pistol at his back...how she’d gotten the weapon, Illya had no idea.

“You hurt my friends and me,” she called out, her voice strained and hoarse.”I warned you what would happen.”

She cocked the pistol as the startled General turned, attempting to charge her.

April fired. He staggered backwards a few steps but stretched out his hands reaching towards her, and with another lurch forward he grabbed her by the throat.

Illya pushed himself forward, knocking Machado off his feet and April fired the pistol again, shooting the man in the head before she collapsed to the floor.

Leticia moved from her seat to come to her father's aid but Napoleon grabbed her, but by doing so he let go of the controls with his hands, holding the wheel with his knee as he and the crazed woman struggled; the jet began to climb out of control. The rapid ascent made the engines stall, and as Solo karate chopped the her on the neck and into unconsciousness and scrambled to restart the engines.

“Hold on! He yelled.” We’re going down!’’

Part 13 the conclusion