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Book: DELIVERANCE: a gripping action thriller full of suspense by Jackson Cole
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Authors: Jackson Cole
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the engine and heads towards the base, whilst Sarah closes her eyes in the back, shaking noticeably.
‘What's the plan, little brother?’ Charlie asks.
Marshall winds his window down slightly to let some air in.
‘There is a military installation 500 km south of here, near a place called Ghan. We will head that direction,’ he states.
‘Think they will help us?’ Charlie asks.
‘No.’
‘Even better,’ Charlie exclaims.
They drive on in silence for ten minutes whilst Marshall wonders what the hell he is going to say when they reach the base. It’s a destination though, and that’s what they need right now. He drives on for another five kilometres in silence and is just about to turn on the radio when he realizes that he can hear the distant yet distinct sound of a helicopter.
Chapter Eleven
Charlie and Marshall exchange glances. They can now hear the distinct booming bass beat of the helicopter rotor blades.
‘Friendly?’ he asks Marshall.
‘Unlikely.’
Army rules: Assume hostility until proven otherwise , and having a semi-automatic pistol pointed at him in the last fifteen minutes has really honed that particular rule for Marshall.
‘New plan?’ Charlie asks.
‘We didn’t have an old plan,’ Marshall responds.
‘Good point.’
Sarah sits up in the back and taps Marshall on the shoulder.
‘I guess it isn’t over yet?’ she asks sadly.
‘Not quite,’ Marshall responds. ‘Just lay back down out of sight please Sarah. I’ll think of something.’
The rhythm of the rotor blades begin to sound ever louder and more distinct. Marshall figures he can now distinguish between each completed turn of the blades. It’s pretty damn close now; maybe 250ft up, and only a 100ft behind.
‘Charlie, take the wheel,’ Marshall shouts above the noise.
‘Roger,’ Charlie calls back, and immediately grabs the wheel from the passenger seat.
Marshall bends down and unties one of his boots. They are big heavy army regulation boots designed for all terrains. He jams the boot below the clutch pedal and wraps the laces around the feed pipe for the accelerator. Next, he tugs the laces until they pull tight, and then he looks up to judge the speed as he pulls the laces tighter. Once he is satisfied they are moving at a good pace again he ties the laces off around the feed pipe so as to maintain the speed.
‘Plenty of warning if we need to slow down, Charlie,’ he advises.
‘Roger,’ Charlie confirms.
‘Stop calling me Roger,’ Marshall says, grinning.
Marshall removes his night scope from his belt and cranks the window all the way down. Then he seats himself on the door ledge with his legs stabilised on the driver’s seat and looks through the lens into the darkness.
He sights the helicopter within twenty seconds, and then uses the zoom to clear the image. It’s a Puma like the one he rode in on. He can also see the side-mounted gun. It’s a 7.62-millimetre M60 machine gun, which is not a welcome sight.
At that moment the chopper lights up a halogen beam on their position.
‘Fuck!’ Marshall shouts as the light hits the lens of the night scope and a sharp pain explodes in his eye. He nearly drops his gun, and very nearly falls completely out of the four-by-four too, but manages to scrabble blindly for the door sill at the last moment.
‘Bruv?’ Charlie calls over.
‘I’m fucking blind Charlie! I can’t see shit!’ Marshall cries. He feels like his eyeball is on fire.
Stop your vehicle immediately! a voice booms out through a megaphone from the helicopter.
‘Plan?’ Charlie asks sounding a little uneasy.
‘Keep going. What else can we do?’
I repeat , the voice booms again. Stop your vehicle immediately , or you will be fired upon!
Charlie looks over at Marshall who is re-tying his boot lace and taking back control of the vehicle whilst blinking away bright yellow blotches in front of his eyes.
‘Are they armed or bluffing?’ he asks.
‘Just a fucking bit,’
‘What's the plan, little brother?’ Charlie asks.
Marshall winds his window down slightly to let some air in.
‘There is a military installation 500 km south of here, near a place called Ghan. We will head that direction,’ he states.
‘Think they will help us?’ Charlie asks.
‘No.’
‘Even better,’ Charlie exclaims.
They drive on in silence for ten minutes whilst Marshall wonders what the hell he is going to say when they reach the base. It’s a destination though, and that’s what they need right now. He drives on for another five kilometres in silence and is just about to turn on the radio when he realizes that he can hear the distant yet distinct sound of a helicopter.
Chapter Eleven
Charlie and Marshall exchange glances. They can now hear the distinct booming bass beat of the helicopter rotor blades.
‘Friendly?’ he asks Marshall.
‘Unlikely.’
Army rules: Assume hostility until proven otherwise , and having a semi-automatic pistol pointed at him in the last fifteen minutes has really honed that particular rule for Marshall.
‘New plan?’ Charlie asks.
‘We didn’t have an old plan,’ Marshall responds.
‘Good point.’
Sarah sits up in the back and taps Marshall on the shoulder.
‘I guess it isn’t over yet?’ she asks sadly.
‘Not quite,’ Marshall responds. ‘Just lay back down out of sight please Sarah. I’ll think of something.’
The rhythm of the rotor blades begin to sound ever louder and more distinct. Marshall figures he can now distinguish between each completed turn of the blades. It’s pretty damn close now; maybe 250ft up, and only a 100ft behind.
‘Charlie, take the wheel,’ Marshall shouts above the noise.
‘Roger,’ Charlie calls back, and immediately grabs the wheel from the passenger seat.
Marshall bends down and unties one of his boots. They are big heavy army regulation boots designed for all terrains. He jams the boot below the clutch pedal and wraps the laces around the feed pipe for the accelerator. Next, he tugs the laces until they pull tight, and then he looks up to judge the speed as he pulls the laces tighter. Once he is satisfied they are moving at a good pace again he ties the laces off around the feed pipe so as to maintain the speed.
‘Plenty of warning if we need to slow down, Charlie,’ he advises.
‘Roger,’ Charlie confirms.
‘Stop calling me Roger,’ Marshall says, grinning.
Marshall removes his night scope from his belt and cranks the window all the way down. Then he seats himself on the door ledge with his legs stabilised on the driver’s seat and looks through the lens into the darkness.
He sights the helicopter within twenty seconds, and then uses the zoom to clear the image. It’s a Puma like the one he rode in on. He can also see the side-mounted gun. It’s a 7.62-millimetre M60 machine gun, which is not a welcome sight.
At that moment the chopper lights up a halogen beam on their position.
‘Fuck!’ Marshall shouts as the light hits the lens of the night scope and a sharp pain explodes in his eye. He nearly drops his gun, and very nearly falls completely out of the four-by-four too, but manages to scrabble blindly for the door sill at the last moment.
‘Bruv?’ Charlie calls over.
‘I’m fucking blind Charlie! I can’t see shit!’ Marshall cries. He feels like his eyeball is on fire.
Stop your vehicle immediately! a voice booms out through a megaphone from the helicopter.
‘Plan?’ Charlie asks sounding a little uneasy.
‘Keep going. What else can we do?’
I repeat , the voice booms again. Stop your vehicle immediately , or you will be fired upon!
Charlie looks over at Marshall who is re-tying his boot lace and taking back control of the vehicle whilst blinking away bright yellow blotches in front of his eyes.
‘Are they armed or bluffing?’ he asks.
‘Just a fucking bit,’
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