Author's Note: Sorry about the delay in updating this, but I've had a lot of real-life stuff going on. Basically, to sum it up, I transferred to SWAT, spent a month at the FBI academy at Quantico, got promoted to Sergeant/Team Leader, found out my wife and I are going to have our first child in early September, and got shot in the head during a training excercise.
Aside from all that, though, things are business as usual...
Getting back on track here, I decided to go back and make one significant change to this story - Agent Pollard. If you go back over the previous chapters, you'll notice he is nowhere to be found... instead this Adam Kryker guy seems to have taken his place! I decided to remove my Sean Pollard character from that role so as not to confuse people who have previously viewed him in the positive light I developed through my other story, A Loss of Innocence. I hope that doesn't cause too much confusion.
And now, on with the story...
Chapter Eight – Death in the mountains
By: recon228
As soon as it became obvious that the Aerospatiale was coming their way, Kim and Ron both started running down the hill in the direction of the lake. As the teens reached a small cluster of lodgepole pines near the northern shore, they stopped and watched as the small red helicopter passed directly over them and slowed to a hover a quarter mile away on the other side of the lake.
"Thank you, God!" Kim cheered. "After all we've been through; I'm about ready to kiss whoever's flying that thing!"
Ron dropped the backpack and rifle on the ground next to a fallen tree and pumped his fist in the air. "Booyah! Bueno Nacho here I come, baby!"
Kim turned and gave her friend a sly grin. "Right, Bueno Nacho," she said teasingly. "And reuniting with Tara and your family is just an added bonus, huh?"
Ron blushed slightly. "Oh, yeah… well hey; if you don't tell Tara I put a Grande-sized Naco before her, then I won't tell Josh you're gonna kiss the rescue pilot."
"Deal," Kim replied with a grin. "Now give me the signal mirror and the survival blanket so I can get their attention!"
Across the lake, the helicopter touched down gently near the lakeshore and began to shut down.
Ron knelt down next to his pack and began to fish out the signal gear. He pulled the mirror out of the bag and turned to hand it to Kim when a sudden chill ran down his spine…
…something was wrong…
…something was very wrong!
Ron had long-ago come to terms with the fact that he had a lot of deep-rooted problems stemming from his colorful childhood. His unexplainable fear of random wildlife, coupled with his overactive imagination and playful immaturity had a detrimental effect on any credible paranoia and suspicion he sometimes expressed.
After a while, however, Ron had come to understand and, most importantly, differentiate the difference between his immature suspicions, and his genuine suspicions.
Drakken trying to steal Christmas – immature suspicion.
Gil seeking revenge despite being 'rehabilitated' – genuine suspicion.
That's why, when the sight of the helicopter landing across the lake from them sent a shiver down his spine, Ron knew not to ignore it. He didn't know exactly what was giving him a hinky feeling, only that the prospect of jumping up and announcing their presence seemed inappropriate until they could properly gauge the situation.
He expressed his feelings to Kim, who regarded him with a look of disbelief. "Are you serious?" she asked, staring down at her partner as if he was insane. "We spent all this time praying to be rescued, and then when rescue does come, you want to hide in the bushes?"
Ron looked up at his friend with pleading eyes. "Kim, please… this just doesn't seem right."
Her first impulse was to dismiss Ron's theory as just another over-the-top pop-culture-fueled conspiracy theory. But there was something about the level of determination in his eyes that made Kim hesitate. With a sigh, she knelt down next to her friend and pulled the binoculars from her cargo pocket.
"If you're wrong about this, you're buying me and Josh all the Bueno Nacho we can eat."
"For our sake, I hope I am wrong," Ron replied flatly.
Bringing the binoculars to her face and into focus, Kim watched as four men exited the helicopter. The pilot and another man in outdoor-type clothing met at the nose of the helicopter while two other men dressed in camouflage began unloading large black duffle bags from the rear of the craft.
"They're soldiers," Kim noted excitedly. "It's a military search and rescue team!" She turned and offered the binoculars to Ron.
"The military doesn't fly red A-Star's," Ron replied, looking through the binoculars. "That thing's civilian."
Kim thought for a moment and shrugged. "Well then maybe–"
She was interrupted as the unmistakable crack of a gunshot echoed across the quiet basin…
---
Herb allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief as he brought the Aerospatiale into a low hover over the southern shore of the small lake. Thanks to 'Commander' Odah and his bizarre request for a low-altitude approach, the final leg of the flight had taken close to a half-hour longer than necessary. The inevitable turbulence from the pass had also given the 46-year-old pilot a splitting headache.
Glancing out the window, Herb checked the rocky shore beneath the helicopter for any hazardous objects. Satisfied that his landing zone was clear, he eased back on the control stick and lowered the collective. The Aerospatiale began to descend slowly until, with a gentle bump, its skids settled onto the granite surface and the bird came to a rest.
Once he was confident that his helicopter was settled, Herb reached forward and began to shut it down. As the massive rotor-blades began to whine to a stop above them, he turned to face his employer.
"Here we are, Mr. Odah," he announced, gesturing toward the barren valley that stretched out before them, "Dusy Basin, just like you requested."
Without any form of acknowledgment, Odah removed a handheld GPS receiver from his vest pocket and turned it on. After a minute of complete silence, the device retrieved its required satellites and displayed the pin-point latitude and longitude of their location.
Odah jotted the numbers down on a small notepad and handed it back to one of his men. While Herb waited silently, the man in the backseat compared the numbers with a set of his own and nodded, handing the notebook back to Odah.
Finally, approximately two minutes after Herb had last spoken, Odah turned to him and nodded. "It appears you have fulfilled your part of the agreement, Mr. Whittier. I shall oversee my men while they remove our equipment, then you may go. We will not be needing your services any further."
'Fine by me, Abdul.' thought Herb. "Just glad I could be of service. Since we're gonna be going our separate ways here, I assume you'll be paying now?"
For the first time since they had met, Odah smiled. "Of course, Mr. Whittier, I assume you'll not mind that I pay you in cash?"
"Cash is good," Herb replied eagerly. "Easier to keep from the IRS that way."
"If you will please give my men and I a moment of privacy while we unload, I will give you're your payment and you may be on our way."
The pilot nodded, stepped out of the helicopter, and pointed to a spot near the lakeshore approximately fifteen feet from the helicopter. "I'll go ahead and wait over there. Just come get me when you're ready."
As Herb walked off toward the water's edge, Odah dismounted the chopper, followed by his two associates. As the former commander made his way around to the port side of the helicopter, the men removed three large black duffle bags from the rear of the craft and dropped them on the ground.
Once they were sure Herb was out of eyesight, both men opened the smallest bag and removed two military vests and pistol belts. When they had donned their combat gear, they began stocking every available pocket with hand grenades, weapon magazines, and boxes of ammunition. They also removed two compact assault rifles and loaded them. Once they were fully armed, the men slung their rifles over their shoulders and looked over at Odah.
"Ne hakkinda belgili tanimlik pilot?" the closest man asked, gesturing in the direction Herb had walked off.
Odah drew a large-frame semi-automatic pistol from inside his jacket and grinned. "I -ecek dağıtmak ile onu."
Both men nodded understandingly and returned to unloading the duffle bags.
---
While Odah and his men were arming-up on the port side of the helicopter, Herbert Whittier stood at the edge of the small lake and looked out across the barren granite basin.
'It wasn't always like this,' he thought, watching the wind send small ripples across the glassy surface of the water.
He was a 46-year-old divorced bush pilot who made the bulk of his income running no-questions-asked flights into the back country to drop-off drug dealers, poachers, and who knows what else. He had once served his country with pride as an Army helicopter pilot, but now, all he did was help criminals sully the pristine image of a wilderness he had once taken pride in hiking with his son, Mark.
When he was younger, Mark had always looked up at his father with pride. Now, as a teenager, he barely even acknowledged him. Most people would attribute it to ordinary teenage rebellion, but something deep inside Herb's gut told him otherwise.
The reason Mark barely spoke to him was because he had seen the man his father had become. He was just as guilty as the men he transported into the park; he was a drug dealer, he was a poacher, he was a criminal…
…and even his own son was ashamed of him.
Herb dropped his head in shame. "I'm sorry, Mark."
"Mark?"
Herb jumped slightly as Odah's stony voice spoke-up behind him.
"Who's Mark?"
Spinning around, Herb forced a grin and shook his head. "Nobody, just talking to myself."
Odah gave him a perplexed look, but otherwise let the matter drop. "I have your payment; cash, as we agreed."
As soon as Herb caught sight of the cash bundle in Odah's hand, his mood instantly brightened. The somber image of his son was quickly replaced with the image of financial stability for about half a year.
"You're a man of your word, Mr. Odah," Herb said, snatching the bundle of cash from the man in sunglasses. "I respect that in a client."
As Herb stood busily, counting his payoff, Odah casually positioned himself so that he was standing behind the pilot. Convinced that the man's attention was occupied by the cash in his hands, Odah pulled the pistol from behind his back and leveled it on the back of Herb's head.
Herb barely even had time to process the sound of the gun being cocked behind him before everything went permanently black…
---
"What are you talking about?"
BANG!
Drakken let out a surprised yelp as Agent Kryker bolted upright and slammed his chair against the edge of the table. The sharp crash of metal-on-metal reverberated around the inside of the small concrete room like a gunshot.
At that point, the villain was pretty much prepared for the agent to launch into a full-blown verbal tirade. Surprisingly, however, rather than yell, Adam simply removed his coat and strolled toward the door.
At first, Drakken thought he was leaving altogether. But just before he reached the door, the agent diverted his course slightly and flung his coat over the aged video surveillance camera mounted on the wall. With the camera's field-of-view sufficiently blocked, Kryker walked back over toward the table and casually leaned against the wall.
Drakken looked up at the man and smirked. "More scare tactics, Agent?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"You throw your jacket over the camera so I think no one will see what you do to me, right?"
"Not really," Kryker replied with an amused snort. "That camera hasn't worked since Reagan was in office. Only purpose it's served for the last decade is as a makeshift coat-rack."
Drakken chuckled and shook his head. "Faulty clock, broken camera… and I thought I had funding issues. You ever think about outsourcing, Agent Kryker? It's worked wonders for some of my past operations."
"Facilities like these are a little hard to get funding for," Adam replied with a smirk. "It seems nobody really wants their name on the utilities bill."
"That's a shame," Drakken replied snidely.
Pushing away from the wall, Adam walked back over to the table and leaned in toward Drakken. "Cut the crap, Drew. I'm still waiting for you to answer my question."
"What question?" Drakken asked smugly.
Adam leaned back slightly and glared at him.
"Oh, that's right, you said something about Kim Possible being missing."
"I never said she was missing," Adam noted.
"You asked me where she was. I assume that means she's missing."
"Well, you assumed right," said Adam. He walked back over and leaned against the wall. "Now where is she?"
"How should I know?" Drakken replied with a shrug. "You should probably ask that buffoonish sidekick of hers; they pretty much seem to be joined at the hip."
Adam chuckled and shook his head. "Yeah, well, funny thing about that; it seems Mr. Stoppable is MIA as well."
For the first time, the full realization of what the agent was saying hit the villain – Kim Possible and her side-kick were missing… there was nobody left to thwart his plans for world domination! Drakken tried to contain his glee, but it was just too much to control.
"You mean… Possible and that other one are missing? And… and you don't know where she is?" Drakken threw his head back and laughed. "Oh, this is just too good to be true!"
Drakken's celebratory laughter was cut short when Adam rushed over, grabbed the villain by his lab coat, and pulled him forward until they were eye-to-eye.
"Laugh all you want, blue-boy," the agent hissed, "but the longer I go without getting an answer to my question, the worse it's gonna be for you!"
"Oh please," Drakken scoffed, breaking free of the man's grip and sitting back in his chair. "You don't scare me, Agent Kryker. I've been in a lot of rooms like this and been drilled by men a lot scarier than you. So if you think this Vic Mackey impression of yours is going to sway me, you're going to walk away from here very disappointed."
Agent Kryker opened his mouth to speak, but a shallow knock at the door cut him off. Seething, the agent marched over to the door and threw it open. In front of him, Agent Johansson shrank back like a frightened puppy.
"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT?" he screamed at the cowering agent. "I THOUGHT YOU QUIT!"
"I-I-I–" Marcus stammered, holding up a piece of printer paper like an iron shield.
"GIMME THAT!" Adam ripped the sheet of paper from the man's hand and began to examine it. It was a teletype from the home office.
"I-I'm sorry to interrupt you, but t-there's been an incident," Marcus finally managed to force out. He glanced past his boss and motioned toward Drakken, who was sitting behind the table with a look of smug satisfaction on his face. "It looks like his friend... that green-skinned woman… she managed to overpower her escorts and the flight crew. She… uh… she's taken control of the plane. NAADC (North American Aerospace Defense Command) has been tracking its path for the past fifty minutes. She, uh, re-routed the plane just outside of Denver and is currently heading south over the Colorado Rockies."
Kryker nodded and turned back to face Drakken, whose smirk was now a full-blown grin. The grin, however, faded instantly when the villain saw the look of sadistic pleasure on Adam's face.
"You hear that, Drew?" the senior agent asked mockingly. "It looks like your girlfriend has managed to murder six federal agents and hijack a US Government aircraft." He turned back toward Marcus and handed the bulletin back to him. "Intercept?"
"Uh, sir, w-we don't actually know for sure that those agents are dead." Marcus paused and glanced over at Drakken, who was nodding in agreement. "In fact, from what I've seen of her past actions–"
"I don't give a shit about your personal opinion," Adam interrupted. "I asked you a question!"
Marcus gulped and nodded. "Y-yes, sir. Two Air National Guard F-16s took off from Colorado Springs for the intercept. They're reporting the plane appears to be under manual control, but it's not acknowledging radio contact."
"Then we're going to assume the FBI agents on-board are all dead," Adam announced casually. "Order the F-16s to engage the target while it's still over an uninhabited area." He turned toward Drakken and smirked. "Shoot it down."
Hearing that, Drakken jumped up and sent his chair sliding back against the wall behind him. "You can't do that!"
"I just did," Adam replied, turning back toward Marcus.
Stepping around the table, Drakken began to advance toward the agent, whose back was turned. "You can't just shoot down a plane! We have rights, we have the Constitution of the-"
Before he could finish his sentence, Agent Kryker spun around, drew his sidearm, and fired one round at the advancing super-villain. The bullet tore through Drakken's left ear and sent him stumbling back against the wall.
"Your Constitutional rights have just been revoked," replied Adam.
---
Danny decided to stop for an early lunch at the crest of Granite Pass. In the years prior, it had always taken the ranger until the mid-afternoon to reach the pass. Recently, though, Danny had been making an effort to go for a run every morning before work, and his increased physical endurance was more than noticeable in the distance covered, and his lack of fatigue.
Taking a seat on a large granite boulder near the trail, Danny pulled a bottle of water and a Power Bar from his pack. As he removed the wrapper and took a bite out of the bar, Danny caught a glimpse of something small and blue lying near a cluster of Manzanita bushes a short distance from the trail. Shoving the rest of the bar into his mouth, and taking a swig of water, Danny hopped off of the boulder and walked over to the brush where the object lay.
Picking up the object, Danny took a moment to examine it up close. It was an electronic device, about the size of a small paperback novel, and had a small video screen in the center of it which had been cracked.
At first Danny thought it was some sort of portable GPS receiver, but the fact that the entire device was made out of bright blue plastic seemed to hint that whatever it was, it was geared more toward a child or teenager than an adult.
"Must be one of those new PSP things all the kids are going nuts over," Danny said aloud.
Based on the cracked screen, and scraped case, Danny doubted the toy was usable. Out of pure curiosity, however, the ranger turned it back over and pressed one of the large rubber buttons just below the broken screen.
As he stared down at the screen, the device made a small humming noise and the screen flickered to life. For a brief moment, Danny thought he caught a glimpse of a young African American boy staring back at him, but the screen popped and went black before he could be sure.
Danny was about to give up and shove the device into his pack when he heard static coming out of the speaker. After a loud squelch, he began to hear what sounded like a kid's voice emanating from the device amidst heavy static.
"…im? Oh m…od! Kim…alive! …you hear me? Try to…this connect… open, I'm…run…search…locate…Kim? …im! …"
Finally, with one last pop, the device went dead and began to smoke. Worried about the possible fire danger it presented, Danny buried it next to the boulder and started off along the trail.
Just as he began the descent from Granite Pass, the park ranger thought he heard the distant report of a gunshot, but it was too far away to tell for sure…
To be continued...