He turned around. His respiration had slowed. His eyes were the normal blue rather than the dangerous gold. Earl turned, in control again, dragged a shard of glass out from between his knuckles, and tossed it on the carpet. “Will be, as soon as I snap Stricken’s neck. Let’s get to the airport.”

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Our Mi-24 Hind screamed over the Nevada desert, the ground a dark brown blur beneath us. The pilot’s area was separated from the passenger compartment, so I had no way of looking at Skippy’s instrumentation to guess just how stupidly fast we were flying, but I could tell you this: we were going really fast. All orcs were supernaturally good at something. Skippy’s particular gift was breaking the laws of physics with a helicopter.

Those of us on Harbinger’s team had spent a lot of hours in the Hind, but none of us had ever been aboard with Skippy pushing it like this before. Earl had told Skippy that there was a race, and it was very important that we win this particular race, so Skippy had cranked the stereo to eleven, put on some heavy metal, and kicked our chopper in the butt, dedicated to not bring dishonor to MHI.

“Is it supposed to rattle like that?” Trip asked through clenched teeth.

“Washing machines don’t rattle this much. What do you think?”

Milo was sitting across from me and must have caught the look of distress on my face. “Impressive, huh? There’s no way this baby is supposed to go like this. Maximum speed is only around two hundred. We’re beating that by a good bit. Not too shabby, considering she’s older than some of you guys.” Milo patted the bulkhead tenderly. “And to think, it wasn’t that long ago that she was in two pieces!”

Skippy had put a lot of hours into fixing up his beloved steed after the Arbmunep had knocked it out of the sky. He’d tested it around Cazador and assured us that everything was fine, or as he put it, the engine spirits were pleased. Though we’d all been nervous riding in it, the helicopter had seemed to run okay on our most recent case, but we hadn’t been racing with it, either.

“Not helping, Milo. Not helping at all.” Holly’s voice didn’t sound happy over the headset. Since the gunner’s seat was rather cramped, she was the thinnest one here, and had expressed interest in learning how to fly, Holly was riding forward. She had the best view, but I imagined that it was a lot like having the front seat of a roller coaster.