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Saturday, August 30, 2008

An excerpt from "If I wrote Hawkman"


... With a wing shot to hell, the PC-21 was going down faster than a Bangkok whore, and it was all I could do to keep from slipping into a flat spin. Betty, of course, was being her usual bitchy self:

"Pull up."

WHOOP WHOOP.


"Pull up."

Von Hammer's Su-25 came about for another shot at me, its 30mm cannon shredding my engine. Betty shut up mid-bitch in a shower of sparks. Then he was past me, jetwash slapping me around like Ike Turner on a Saturday night.


"Fuck me!" I shouted to no one in particular. Then, to the backseat: "Time to ditch, princess."

"I... cannot." Her words were strained, thick with pain. I risked a look into the instructor's seat behind me.

Blood. Way too much blood. Shit! She must've been hit by spall during Von Hammer's first pass, but was too caught up in that warrior heritage of hers to say anything. If I didn't tend to her wounds immediately, then Milovessa, Princess of the Pterodactyl People would die under my care, and not only would her cannibal followers literally chew me a new one but there'd be no one left to unite the tribes of Dinosaur Island against the Sons of Set.

I had exactly one shot at making this work, and frankly? I didn't like the odds.

"Princess, do you trust me?" I asked in my best Don't worry, I'm a professional tone.

"Explictly."

"Good. Then hang on, because I will be back for you." And with that, I ejected... straight up into Von Hammer's flight path.

That's the problem with jet planes: they have to keep banking and returning to strafe whatever they overshoot. The look on Von Hammer's face as I came up in front of his Sukhoi's nose was priceless.

Then I emptied my HK UMP into his canopy and he didn't have much of a face at all, any more.


I dropped the spent HK as the ejection seat reached apogee, clawing at the five-point restraint system. No silk for me; I'd lost sight of the PC-21 and I needed wings if I was going to make good on my promise.

"HAWKA!" I screamed, the ushabti around my neck disappearing and reforming as black Hawk wings upon my back, and I was diving, diving, searching the sky with Horus-enhanced vision for my plane, hoping that the trainer still had enough in her to hang together for the few seconds I needed to get there, smash the canopy, unstrap Milovessa, and fly her to safety.

Then the Pterodactyl riders showed up, and wouldn't you know it but they weren't Milovessa's. No, they belonged to Durgeeon, her murderous half-brother....

1 comment:

  1. YES. masterfully done. Perfect pulp feel.

    ReplyDelete