False Horizon. Alex Archer
back to claim its birthright. Annja groaned and twisted in her seat. She was wet from the snow and ice that had surrounded her and melted from her body heat. She fought to release the harness around her, scrabbling to dig through the snow to reach the release.
As she shifted, she felt a sharp punch of pain in her side and took a gasping breath.
She felt her ribs gingerly. One, maybe two, on her left side felt badly bruised or broken. She ignored the pain and struggled to release the harness.
She looked at Mike. His head was thrown back against the pilot’s seat. His eyes were closed. Annja reached out for his neck and put her fingers against his throat. She felt a thready pulse there and exhaled in a rush.
They were alive.
But they both needed help in a bad way. Annja reached for the microphone, but as soon as she tried to key it, she heard nothing. The plane had lost communications in the impact.
Annja took stock. She could move her legs and arms. Aside from the ribs, she seemed okay. Her head had a lump near her temple. She’d probably bashed it on the cockpit as the plane hit and that’s what caused her to black out.
But otherwise, she was fine.
She brushed some of the snow away from her window and peered out. From what she could see, the plane had hit the side of Dhaulagiri and then slid across and came to rest on a fairly level piece of ground. The right wing, which had been shot off by the second missile, no longer smoked and she saw why. It lay covered in snow and that had helped extinguish any remaining smoldering wires.
Annja frowned. That also meant that there’d be no smoke trail to help rescuers find them.
I need to get out of here, she thought. It was the only way she could get an accurate perspective on their situation.
Annja braced herself for the pain and then grunted as she clambered out of her seat. The pain in her side was tremendous, but she steeled herself and then clawed her way outside of the plane.
As she took her first step, she fell into waist-deep snow. Instantly, she felt the cold smack her hard. Wind whipped around her and bits of snow and ice stung her skin.
She remembered that Mike had seemingly put some more altitude on even as the plane sank toward the earth. Annja looked around and reasoned that if Dhaulagiri was eight thousand meters high, then they were at least halfway up the mountain.
The air was thin and Annja’s lungs struggled to fill themselves with oxygen. Each gasping breath brought more pain in Annja’s side.
Then her ears caught a sound.
It was coming from the plane.
She frowned and started back toward it. Maybe Mike had regained consciousness.
But as she neared the cockpit, she could see that Mike was still out. She’d need to get a fire going soon if they had any hope of lasting the night.
She heard another sound. It was a moan. But it didn’t come from Mike.
Annja steeled herself. Was the person who had shot them out of the sky coming back to finish the job he’d started?
If so, they were going to meet with a very unpleasant Annja Creed. She summoned the mystical sword she’d inherited from Joan of Arc. The sword gleamed in her hands.
“Who’s there?” she demanded. “Show yourself!”
The wind whipped up around her. Annja fought off the icy sting and glared toward the plane.
She heard another moan. She struggled to get closer to the plane. As she did, the plane seemed to rock. Again, Annja glanced at Mike to make sure it wasn’t him causing the motion.
It wasn’t.
Someone else was inside the plane.
Annja’s vision swam as she drew closer to the plane. How in the world had someone else gotten on it? How was that possible? Did Tsing hide someone in there?
She swung her sword and cleaved an opening in the back of the wreckage. Like a piñata splitting open under the assault, the metal sheared under the power of the sword and spilled its contents into the snow.
Annja saw bags tumble out.
And then she saw a tiny man come falling out, as well. He was bloody and he looked terrified.
But he was alive.
Annja took a step toward him, felt another wave of pain wash through her and toppled over.
Back into darkness.
9
The simple fact of his predicament was that Tuk had never ridden on an airplane before. He’d seen plenty of them and he knew what they were and even the basic scientific principles behind them.
But he had never stepped onto one until he’d had the idea to stow away on the plane with Annja Creed and her friend Mike. Any fear he’d felt at the idea was quickly squelched by the promise of reward from the man on the phone. Tuk would again prove himself to the man and hopefully reap an even better reward.
He’d made himself as comfortable as possible after he’d crawled into the plane. His first order of business was to make sure that Annja and Mike were, in fact, still alive. He felt for their pulses and then settled down among the bags, cushioning himself and making sure that the cooler of beverages was closer to the pilot and copilot seats. The last thing he needed was one of them rummaging through the bags and discovering him hidden away.
Once he’d done that, he called the man on the cell phone.
“You’re with them now?”
Tuk nodded. “I am in the airplane. They are still unconscious it would appear, but alive.”
“Your plan is to go with them?”
Tuk smiled. “You requested I remain with them to make sure the woman stays safe. I intend to fulfill my end of the arrangement as best I am able.”
“You’re a marvel, my friend. Without a doubt the best I’ve ever worked with. Are you certain they won’t know you’re there?”
“They will not. I am secreted in the back with more of the baggage that Tsing’s men left for them. I went through the bags. There is a lot of cold weather gear useful for trekking in the mountains. An assortment of other supplies are in the bags, as well.”
“Mountain trekking? Interesting.”
“The man known as Mike had a map on him.”
The man paused. “The logical assumption would be that the map shows the location of Shangri-La on it.”
“I have examined the map. It does not show anything but rather a series of routes that seem to focus on the middle of the country. Particularly, there are several routes through the Mustang region.”
“Mustang?”
“Yes.”
“What do you know of that area?”
“Not much. I know there are temples far to the north in Lo Monthang. But otherwise, very little is known about the region. Parts of it are even off-limits to many foreigners.”
“Do you know why?”
“I’ve heard tell that the government is very sensitive to the fact that the Tibetan border is close. They don’t want to risk offending the Chinese who occupy that region.”
“That makes sense,” the man said. “Still, I wonder…” His voice trailed off. Tuk left him to this thoughts and waited.
Finally, the man seemed to come to a decision. “You will stay with them when they fly up to the region?”
“I will.”
“Excellent. I will be in touch. Let me know the moment you have any more information to share. You’ve done