Agent Out of Time

Deshavi wasn't safe!

That must've occurred to Trent as well, because glancing back I saw him roaring away on a snowmobile, as the burning wreckage of the dugout stained the clear sky with black smoke. I had to leave Deshavi's safety to Trent. I raced downhill half tripping in the snow to another snowmobile.

I shot the other snowmobiles up before mounting mine, which I fired up and gunned in a spew churned spray of snow away from the clearing. I had to secure that chopper!

I followed the tracks through the forest at high speed. It was my speed or perhaps Divine favor, which caused the bullets off to my left to zing wide of me. I lifted the rifle up one-handed and began to spray away with it using up my last ammo clip, as I swerved in and around tree trunks and boulders. The native tracker now visibly firing at me stood up higher and pitched over as my gun clicked empty. Not a bad one armed gesture for an old man I grimly acknowledged to myself with pride.

The chopper was up ahead and as far as I could tell it was guarded by only one man, who was likely the pilot. At first he seemed to sense nothing wrong with my approach, but then something changed and he was reaching for a pistol at his waist. I swirled back and forth in an attempt to miss the wild shots that he directed at me. In a panicked scream he gave up, as the pistol clicked empty and he turned to run for the old troop transport chopper. He didn't make it though, before I ran the snowmobile right over top of him pressing him down into the snow.

I stopped and got off the snowmobile and quickly armed myself with weapons still left in the chopper. I put the man suffering in the snow out of his misery with one well-placed shot. I then rifled through the chopper in search of supplies and anything that might prove useful. I loaded up what I found onto the snowmobile.

I looked up to see another snowmobile approaching. It was Trent and Deshavi. Deshavi had a few scrapes on her face, from what I presumed had been a tussle with a tracker, but she looked good otherwise. She gripped a pistol in one fist and looked ready to use it if need be.

"Can you fly a chopper?" I asked Trent.

Trent nodded, but said, "Don't you think they'll pick up on us taking a chopper out of here? One of these trackers still running around has likely radioed in what's going on here to someone!"