HENTY'S FIST 1: GAUNTLET RUN by Andre Jute, Dakota Franklin, Andrew McCoy

24 HENTY'S FIST 1: GAUNTLET RUN by Andre Jute, Dakota Franklin, Andrew McCoy

HENTY'S FIST 1: GAUNTLET RUN: birth of a superhero by Andre Jute, Dakota Franklin and Andrew McCoy. 60,000 words in 76 chapters.

CHAPTER 24

Henty ducked instinctively but the man with the shotgun was also acting: he swung the shotgun towards the man from the Chaser. The young banker deflected his aim marginally and zapped the hardhat, then turned back to Henty, the slight sneering smile still on his face.

“She’s ours!” the man with the chainsaw shouted but, stupidly, instead of attacking the man with the zipgun, lunged at Henty with the saw.

Henty stepped back but the slow heavy bodies were still behind her. Desperately, she grabbed in front of her with her hands and the Fist dosed on the brutally whirring teeth. There was the sound of machinery in extreme pain, then the saw stopped. The hardhat, surprised into immobility, let go. Henty stood, holding the chainsaw by the chain.

Henty stared dumbly at her hand, expecting the palm and fingers to fall one way, the chainsaw to drop straight down, and her truncated arm to start spouting blood at the wrist. For several long seconds nothing happened.

“Show’s over,” said the banker. He raised his weapon. If he had not spoken gloatingly just then, he might have bagged Henty immediately. But the words unfroze her and she flung the chainsaw from her as if it were a red-hot iron. In midair the chain started whirring again as the superior restraint was taken off the motor.

By accident rather than design, Henty threw the chainsaw in the direction of the man from the Chaser. The screaming, biting chain went straight for his knees and, as he dived clear, the open door of the chopper behind him beckoned.

Henty was too desperately frightened to need two invitations. While the hardhats still stood like the wife of Lot in their wonder at how she stopped the chainsaw and then flung the heavy machine as if were a softball, Henty was away and running, jumping over the hurdle of the banker, rolling through the helicopter door.

Inside the helicopter, Henty kicked the door shut on its runners and turned to—

“Hey!” said the pilot. “You can’t come in here. My contract is only to carry you once he’s zapped you.” He looked in vain behind Henty for the young banker. Then he saw his boss rolling over and up right underneath his perspex bubble. “What've you done to him?” he accused Henty.

Henty was less interested in the pilot’s sense of the fitness and proper arrangement of Runner-hunting than in the zipgun the banker was even now pointing at her past the pilot. The perspex would not stop it.

“Up!” Henty shouted at the pilot. “Up!”

The pilot saw the muzzle of the zipgun; it appeared to be pointed directly at him. He took them straight up and then away in a hurry. His urgency was much enhanced by the holes that appeared in the bubble, so much so that he pulled the throttle/pitch lever so far back that it broke clear of its mountings. He looked distractedly at the lever in his hand, then threw it on the floor.

“This chopper belongs to the Chaser Bank,” he told Henty severely. “The Chaser Bank is a registered Organ Bank and therefore a part of The Caring Society. Hijacking it is an act of piracy and punishable by Eternal Sleep.”

Henty was lying against the rear bulkhead, where she had been flung by the pilot’s sudden, violent evasive maneuvers.

“I should care,” she said bitterly. “The Caring Society is trying to kill me.”

“You sold your organs to the Chaser Bank, didn’t you?” the pilot demanded, twisting round in his seat to stare incredulously at her. “You can’t welsh on the deal now.”

“I said they could get my organs when I’m dead. They didn’t bother to tell me until I signed that they were going to kill me for my organs.”

“Caveat emptor.”

“Huh?”

“Latin for Let the buyer beware.”

“Well, Mr Smartypants, I hope that piece of the chopper you threw on the floor isn’t necessary for landing this thing again.”

The pilot looked at the console between the seats from which the lever had been torn, then scrambled frantically on the floor for the lever and foolishly tried to press it back. It fell back to the floor. “I— I— Oh my god, what are we going to do!”

“Pray?” Henty suggested tentatively.

“You stupid woman, you got me into this.” The pilot pulled his safety belt loose and walked over to the door and jerked it open to look out. “Better to squash than to burn,” he said to Henty and stepped into the void.

Henty rushed over to the door with her hands outstretched and nearly fell out herself in her hurry to save the pilot. But he was gone. At the very last moment Henty grabbed the doorpost and pulled herself back from that awful never ending hole through the sky all the way to the hard earth. She held on for a moment until she caught her breath, then slammed the door firmly and turned to sit in the pilot’s seat.

The first thing Henty saw was the fuel gauge, which read three-quarters full. Next she saw the rev counters, which both had needles in the red. There were other dials, several with needles in the red, including one that was labeled “Oil Pressure”.

“Tch!” said Henty. “I've had my share of crashes for today.” She looked around the instrument panel but the route finder was a lot more complicated than the one in the truck. All the same, she punched up the query mark.

“What do you want to know?” a voice asked her.

“How do I get this thing to slow down?”

“You mean the chopper.”

“What else?”

“Just answer yes or no.”

“Yes, this chopper.”

“You close the throttles slowly and with the same control alter the pitch and—”

“Which is the throttle and pitch control?” Henty asked with a sinking heart.

“It is situated between the seats.”

“It is broken off.”

“It that’s true, it’s malfunctioning severely.”

“How can I repair it?”

“Take it back to base and send it for service complete with the required number of copies of Form 318SV.”

“ Thanks!” Henty said bitterly. “Is there anything else I can do to save my life?”

MORE SOON! A NEW CHAPTER ALMOST EVERY DAY!  Add GAUNTLET RUN to your Reading List (click “Manage” in the right hand column, then tick “Reading List” and “Done”). 

• MORE ABOUT THE AUTHORS AT: 

Andre Jute http://coolmainpress.com/andrejute.html  Andre’s latest book is DREAMS Book 1 of COLD WAR, HOT PASSIONS http://www.amazon.com/DREAMS-COLD-WAR-PASSIONS-ebook/dp/B00A3BSJM2  Dakota Franklin http://coolmainpress.com/Dakota%20Franklin.html  Dakota’s latest book is NASCAR FIRST http://www.amazon.com/NASCAR-FIRST-RUTHLESS-WIN-ebook/dp/B00A72A556  Andrew McCoy http://coolmainpress.com/andrewmccoy.html  Andrew’s latest book is STIEG LARSSON Man, Myth & Mistress http://www.amazon.com/STIEG-LARSSON-Myth-Mistress-ebook/dp/B004GXAZAM 

Copyright © 2012 André Jute, Dakota Franklin, Andrew McCoy. The authors have asserted their moral right. Published by CoolMain Press 2012 www.coolmainpress.com. Editor: Lisa Penington. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or performed by any means without the written permission of the publisher.