GI Joe: The Rise of Cobra

Chapter Sixteen

Gung-Ho spread his arms to hold onto each side of the wall in the narrow entrance as he walked up to the cockpit of the cargo plane. He squinted at the bright sunlight coming through the plane’s front windows, and caught a glimpse of the airport coming into view in the distance. Both the pilot and the copilot wore large black sunglasses to shield their eyes from the glare.

“How long till we land?” he asked gruffly.

“About two minutes,” the pilot said, glancing back at him. “You better go tell the others to get ready back there.”

“Sure thing,” Gung-Ho said, and walked back out of the cockpit as the plane began to tilt forward as it descended. He held onto the wall and went back into the cargo area, where the MPAV jeep was secured in place. Clutch was already in the driver’s seat, tapping away on a small computer display on the dashboard.

“Let’s get ready to roll,” Gung-Ho announced, grabbing his M-16 from its attachment on the wall of the plane. He tugged down on the collar of his black set of body armor and went to the MPAV, getting into the driver’s seat.

Heavy Duty came from around the other side, carrying a box of ammunition for the .50 caliber machine gun and setting it inside. Like Gung-Ho, he wore a set of black body armor on his chest, and his muscular arms were bare. He wore camouflage pants and had a green baseball cap turned backwards on his head.

“We’re landing right now,” Clutch said into the microphone headset around his ear. “ETA is about five minutes. Where are Hawk and the others?”

“Perfect timing,” came a voice coming through the radio. It was Breaker, back at the Pit. Clutch had hooked up the radio so that everyone could hear what Breaker was saying. “They’re two miles away, heading west. Their GPS location should be coming up on your computer right now.”

“I’ve got it,” Clutch said, tapping at the screen. “Okay, it looks like we’re ready to go.”

Gung-Ho put on a microphone headset as well and fiddled with it so the microphone wasn’t rubbing against his cheek. Heavy Duty lowered his head and climbed into the back seat of the MPAV. He was so tall that he had to duck down to keep his head from rubbing against the roof. Gung-Ho handed him a headset and he donned it as well.

“Okay, we’re loaded up,” he said. “You good with that M-16 there, Gung-Ho?”

“Good enough, but I’d rather be carrying my old-fashioned M1 Carbine.”

“You need more gun power than that, man.”

“More bullets don’t always mean more gun power,” Gung-Ho said. “One well-aimed bullet is always better than ten badly-aimed ones.”

The plane dipped downwards and then shuddered as it touched down on the runway. Clutch kept his gaze right on the computer screen, which showed a map overlay with the location of the truck Duke was driving. The plane slowed down and rolled to a heavy stop, the rear cargo door beginning to open before it had even come to a complete stop.

“You are clear to exit,” the pilot’s voice announced over the plane’s intercom. “Good luck, gentlemen.”

Clutch deactivated the lock that held the vehicle secure and then slammed his foot on the accelerator. Gung-Ho and Heavy Duty lurched back into their seats as Clutch launched the MPAV out of the back of the plane. It skidded onto the pavement, almost clearing the entire cargo ramp, and sped off toward one of the maintenance gates at the side of the runway. The engine roared as Clutch leaned forward, gripping the steering wheel with an excited look in his eyes. They approached the maintenance gate and didn’t even slow down. Breaker had already called ahead and gotten the gates opened for them. Security guards standing at each side of the gate watched as the MPAV zoomed past.

“Patch me through to Hawk,” Clutch said.

“Alright, I’m switching over,” Breaker said through the radio. “I’m still eavesdropping on Hawk’s phone, but I won’t be able to talk to you.”

There was a click and then they heard Hawk’s voice coming through the speaker. “Clutch, are you there?”

“Yes, sir,” Clutch said. He turned the wheel and they skidded onto a road leading back around toward the airport parking lots, leaving a pair of black skid marks on the pavement behind them. Gung-Ho involuntarily grabbed the door handle and gripped it tightly.

“Where are you right now?” Hawk asked.

“Leaving the airport. They gave us a free pass through the gate but it will take a couple minutes to get to the highway. I have your location on the computer.”

“How long will it take for you to reach us?”

“Depends on the traffic, but not too long. Are they still following you?”

“Yes. We drove right through the city and they stayed behind us the whole time, although I can’t believe it. They must think we haven’t noticed them following us.”

Clutch spun the wheel and the jeep screeched through a turn, heading down the street to the airport’s main entrance. Cars going in the other direction zipped by in a blur, and car horns blared. Some of the ammo boxes in the vehicle tipped over, and Heavy Duty grabbed the back of Gung-Ho’s seat to avoid falling over himself. Clutch sped down the street and spun the wheel again, deftly sliding the jeep across the entrance and out into traffic.

“Jeeeeeeeesus,” Gung-Ho breathed, holding onto the door handle for dear life. “Where in the hell did you learn to drive, boy? A race track?”

“Actually, yeah,” Clutch chuckled. “My dad was on the pit crew for a Nascar team back in the day. I grew up racing cars.”

“Well, this ain’t the Indy 500,” Heavy Duty reminded him.

Clutch zipped through traffic, weaving in and out between other cars. More car horns blared in their wake as they blew through traffic. He turned right and sped down the next street, looking down at the computer screen.

Gung-Ho grabbed the computer and turned it so it faced the other way. He jabbed his finger at the windshield. “Keep your eyes on the road, boy!”

“Sorry,” Clutch muttered.

Hawk’s voice came over the radio. “How far away are you?”

Gung-Ho checked the map. “We are two miles away and closing. We’re headed east about two streets down from you. Keep going straight and we can meet up with you soon. I think Clutch can manage to catch up.”

The MPAV roared down the street, jumping past a line of cars waiting at an intersection, swinging out into the lanes of opposing traffic. Gung-Ho pressed back into his seat, clenched his teeth, and closed his eyes.

“Oh, no you don’t ...” Heavy Duty started to say.

“Yes, I do!” Clutch shouted as he sped the jeep right through a red light. A car coming the other way slammed on its brakes and screeched to a halt right in the middle of the street, and Clutch steered the jeep back into their own lane, laughing nervously.

“Can I open my eyes yet?” Gung-Ho asked.

Heavy Duty shook his head. “No, man. You better keep them closed.”

“Copy that.”

Clutch flipped the computer back towards him and glanced at the map. “Hawk,” he said, “It looks like there’s an empty lot about five blocks ahead of you, underneath the freeway overpass. Pull in there and I’ll be right behind you.”

“See if you can box them in,” Hawk said. “I don’t want them getting away. And I don’t want to start a gunfight in the middle of New York either, so do not engage unless you are fired upon.”

“Yes, sir,” Clutch said. “See you in about a minute.”

“Right.”

Heavy Duty unlatched the door in the roof right above his head and pushed it open. He got into position and stood up, taking hold of the handles of the .50 caliber gun mounted on the roof. Wind buffeted his face, and he squinted against it, pressing his back into the padded edge of the opening in the roof. A bullet belt hung down from the gun into the vehicle, and he snapped back the lever, loading the first bullet into the chamber.

Clutch turned down a narrow side street and pulled out into a line of traffic, weaving and swerving around slower cars and trucks. Up ahead of them, Heavy Duty could see the freeway overpass lifting up above a line of old apartment buildings, and farther ahead he could see some empty lots directly underneath the freeway, surrounded by rusty chain link fences.

“There they are!” he boomed.

A dark blue SUV was pulling into one of the lots, and right behind it was a pair of larger black SUVs that followed it through the opening in the fence. The MPAV roared down the street and came up right behind them.

Immediately, the black SUVs spun out, kicking gravel behind spinning tires, and tried to speed away. The first one sped right across the lot and smashed through the chain link fence on the other side, and the second followed it right out, down across a concrete ridge and under the next overpass. Clutch stepped on the gas, and the MPAV zoomed right after them. Heavy Duty rocked back and forth in the gunner’s position, but held the gun steady as the jeep lurched across the concrete bump.

The back window of the black SUV in front of them suddenly opened up and a man stuck his arm out, wielding an Uzi. With a loud popping noise, he opened fire, a bright orange muzzle flash bursting from the gun. Bullets clanged off the MPAV’s front armor and made black streak marks on the bulletproof glass.

Heavy Duty squeezed the trigger, and the .50 caliber gun boomed deafeningly. The back window of the SUV shattered with a burst of glass, and the man shooting at them was thrown forward, the Uzi flying from his hands. The .50 caliber bullets tore baseball-sized holes in the back of the SUV and ripped down the side of the vehicle, blowing apart one of the rear tires.

The SUV skidded sideways and fishtailed out of control, dirt and gravel kicking up as the shredded back tire gouged into the ground. The vehicle slammed against a concrete barrier along the edge of the empty lot, sparks spraying up beside it. Clutch swerved out of the way as the SUV pitched forward and smashed over the barrier, flipping up and sailing into the air, a puff of smoke and smashed concrete trailing behind it. It spun sideways in mid-air and smashed right into one of the huge concrete pillars holding up the overpass above them. The entire roof caved in and the SUV crumpled to the ground, bent almost in half. Dirt, glass, chunks of shattered concrete, and bits of twisted metal rained to the ground, covering the area in debris.

“Woah!” Clutch cried out.

The other SUV smashed through another chain link fence and bounced up across the sidewalk, careening onto the street on the other side. Nearby pedestrians dove for cover. The MPAV caught air as it drove up the slight incline and landed hard on the pavement, skidding to the side. Heavy Duty held onto the machine gun and held himself in place as the jeep tilted to the side, almost throwing him from the vehicle.

Cars swerved out of the way as the SUV sped down the crowded street. Clutch pressed on the gas and pursued them, speeding down the avenue as more cars veered to the side, giving them plenty of room. Bystanders on the sidewalk stared in surprise as the two vehicles raced down the busy street.

One of the men in the SUV leaned out of the side window, armed with an Uzi, and opened fire. Bullets ricocheted harmlessly off the MPAV as Heavy Duty ducked down behind his gun. People on the sidewalk ducked down and ran for safety.

Gung-Ho called up to Heavy Duty. “Take them out!” he shouted.

Heavy Duty nodded and aimed the machine gun, pulling the trigger. The gun blew apart the back of the SUV, shattering the windows and blowing the rear bumper right off. As it sped towards the next intersection, the vehicle swerved out of control and plowed into a parked car along the sidewalk.

It smashed through the car in a burst of twisted metal and lifted up into the air, spinning sideways and crashing down onto the street in a hail of shattered glass. The SUV slid into the middle of the intersection as cars slammed on their brakes all around them. It rocked back and forth and tipped over onto its roof, and then finally came to a complete stop, surrounded in bits of wreckage.

Clutch stopped the MPAV and Gung-Ho quickly got out, running toward the SUV with his M-16 held tight against his shoulder. Pedestrians ran screaming, and Gung-Ho bellowed at anyone standing nearby to get away.

One of the SUV’s doors flopped open and a man crawled from the wrecked truck on his hands and knees. His forehead was smeared with blood, and he glared up at Gung-Ho, breathing heavily.

“Don’t you move!” Gung-Ho bellowed, putting the man in his sights. “Put your hands where I can see them!”

The man managed to get to his feet, halfway concealed behind the door, wavering unsteadily. He grimaced and then swung his arm up, opening fire with an Uzi.

Gung-Ho squeezed the trigger and opened up with a burst of three loud shots. The door window shattered and the man jerked backwards, staggering back and slumping against the side of the truck. He fell to his side and the gun slipped from his hand.

Gung-Ho remained in position for a moment and then lowered his gun. He looked down to see a tiny indentation in the front of his body armor, along his ribs, just underneath his heart. He took a deep breath, wincing in pain a bit, and touched the little hole, feeling the mangled bullet embedded there.

“Little bugger got me,” he said to himself.

“You okay?” Heavy Duty called out.

“Yeah,” Gung-Ho called back.

He walked forward and raised his gun again, keeping it aimed at the vehicle in case someone else tried to get out. His booted feet crunched on the bits of broken glass scattered everywhere as he approached the vehicle. He kicked the Uzi away from the man’s body and looked down at him, then glanced into the front seat of the truck. The driver was hanging upside down from his seatbelt, unconscious. The passenger in the front seat was lying in a heap on the inside of the roof, having not worn his seatbelt.

Gung-Ho kneeled down at the man he’d shot and carefully pulled back his sleeve. There was a large red Cobra symbol tattooed on the man’s bicep.

Police sirens could be heard in the distance as Gung-Ho stood up slowly, his gun hanging at his side. He looked around at the wreckage surrounding him and shook his head. All around him he could see people peeking out of storefront windows and from behind cars, excitedly babbling into cell phones. The entire intersection was now stuck in gridlock, with cars backed up for over a block.

“I don’t think Hawk is gonna like this,” Gung-Ho muttered.

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