The car skid to the edge of the cliff. Police screeched to a halt, blocking the red sports car from escape. The man inside knew the odds were against him but acted anyway. Grabbing his pistol, he fired three shots through the door’s window. The glass shattered, and the projectiles soared towards the police cars. Exiting their vehicles, the men flinched instinctively and dove for cover.
“That’ll keep their heads down,” the criminal thought grimly. Then, the telltale noise of a helicopter sounded around him.
A loudspeaker announced, “Exit the vehicle with your hands up!” The man inside the stolen vehicle sprang into action; He threw the door open facing the cliffside and dove through.
“Please be there, please be there,” he thought.
He fell through the open air, speeding past the cliffside as he went. He let out a pent-up breath when he saw a helicopter directly below him. It turned on its side, and he fell into the open door. The helicopter righted itself, and it felt as if gravity had changed. The criminal slammed onto the hard floor of the aircraft. It hurt a lot but was better than the hard rocks further down.
“You good, Roger?” John asked.
“A little shaken, but fine.”
In truth, he had cracked two ribs and suffered several cuts and bruises. He winced as he stood.
“Where’s Thomas?”
Thomas was the leader of a small group of criminal masterminds.
“Cockpit,” John said.
Roger nodded and limped into the cockpit: Extraction complete.
Where’s the money?” Thomas demanded.
Roger reached into his inside coat pocket and produced a small bag of blackish silver metal.
“We’ll live like kings for months,” Roger smiled.
The metal was a new discovery. It was called Tracknium, a rare ore formed near the end of the earth’s crust. Once exposed to air, it melted instantly, but if polished and treated, it fetched millions on the black market. Even in a form as small as this, a man could become a millionaire overnight.
“Good,” Thomas said slowly.
A smashing noise and a strangled cry emerged from the cabin behind them. Roger turned quickly and saw John hunched on the ground with blood on his shirt.
“Go!” Roger yelled.
A large projectile, fired by the police, had punched through the exterior hull and had taken John in the chest. Thomas sprang into action. They had been hovering in place about one hundred feet down. The vehicle surged forward.
“I have an idea!” Roger yelled.
He ran to the back of the aircraft and grabbed a rifle from a small armory at the back of the helicopter. He opened the door and ducked as gunfire flew at the helicopter. He aimed the rifle at the rapidly receding red sports cat.
“Hold her steady!” Roger roared over the helicopter.
The helicopter steadied out. Roger had one shot, so it had to be perfect. He took a deep breath and closed one eye.
“Hurry up!” Thomas yelled.
Because the helicopter had stopped, they were severely exposed to gunfire. A bullet then shrieked off the hull, close to Roger. He focussed on his shot again. He squeezed the trigger. The gun recoiled and launched its projectile. It streaked across the canyon and hit the gas intake. A fireball erupted on the cliffside, and the car tore itself into pieces and destroyed the surrounding rock. Several police cars were totaled, and three officers sustained burns and bruises.
“Go!” Roger shouted.
Inky black smoke clouded the sky as the helicopter flew away with its prize. Overall, it was a pretty standard job for all the criminals.