W.A.R.S. Tournament Ch. 04

No siren! There was no siren sounding! Max jumped to his feet and took off; bullets started ricocheting all around him. He danced through the hail of shells and flew behind a pile of tail sections. He raced down the next roadway firing back over his shoulder as he ran. He was panicked. He had to settle down and think. A piece of metal bounced on the next pile over. Max squeezed off half a dozen rounds before he realized he was firing at nothing. He ran down between the piles zigzagging down the roadways. He stopped to think. Something moved above him to his right. He pulled his Ultra up and let loose. A camera fell to the ground in pieces. He had to quit wasting ammo and giving away his position. He looked at the two Ultras. He didn't have much ammo left. Now he was wishing he had brought the plasma pistol. He looked back toward his hideout. He would have to back track right into this guy to get there. Or circle back around to it. He had the grenade launcher but didn't put much stock in it for a hand to hand weapon. It was too bulky. He saw the guy pass across an opening in a pile back behind him. He was heading in Max's direction.

Max raised the launcher and decided to go for broke right here and now. When he saw the guy enter the roadway he pulled the trigger...and again...and again...until all four grenades were fired. They exploded and sent shrapnel flying. It was raining hot lead. Max loaded the last grenade and let it fly as he approached the blast sight. He threw the launcher away and took an Ultra in each hand. There was no sign of any damage except the impact holes where the grenades landed. He saw movement two roadways ahead. He ran toward the guy. At the intersection he ran to the next roadway. He was running parallel to the guy two roadways apart. Max took the next turn to get closer. He made the next right and almost ran headfirst into the barrier! He slid to a stop just before he hit it. There was barely enough room to walk along the pile of wreckage next to the barrier. Gunshots went off behind Max. A slug glanced off the back of his vest. It knocked him toward the barrier. He jumped onto the pile of junk. He scrambled down the edge to the barrier firing behind him. He was in a tight spot. He turned to look behind him as the guy got to the barrier. Max fired his Ultra at him...nothing...he fired the other one! He was out of ammo. He took off!

He looked every where for a place to hide. He was headed to his hideout but this guy was right on his tail. He had to duck him first. Then Max noticed a plane with no glass in the window. He made a quick left turn, dove through window and landed in the cockpit. He crawled through the door and closed it behind him. There was a hole near the middle of the plane big enough to crawl out of. He sat down against the side of the plane to catch his breath. He sucked air as quietly as possible. Then he heard...?

..."I know he went this way but which way did he turn. Left or right from where I'm at? Left or right?" Max was confused for a second. Who was talking and to who?

There was a crack in the side of the plane. Max eased up to it and looked out. The guy was slowly inching down the fuselage just outside. If Max only had one bullet this thing would be over. Wait a minute Max thought. That guy's wearing a headset. Who the hell is this guy? Then it sunk in! Someone on the other end of one of those damn cameras, or maybe all those cameras, was telling this guy Max's every move! Max's blood ran cold. What did he do now? Had the camera seen him jump into the plane? Well, hell yes it did! Max was freaking out. Then he heard the guy say 'right' and he turned right toward the pile beside the one Max was hiding in.

Max had gone left. He dove into the plane to the left. The pile to the right was full of detached wings. Max tried to make sense of this whole thing. If the camera saw him go left but told this asshole to go right...? Maybe Max had a friend in high places. Now that the guy was off his trail Max headed out the hole in the side of the plane and back to his hideout. If he could just make it to that pistol...

Max was scurrying up the pile to his fuselage. He was just climbing in when bullets riddled the plane's side. A bullet hit Max in the calf. It burned like hell but nothing Max couldn't stand. He pulled himself into the plane. He grabbed his leg but kept crawling toward the cockpit. He heard the guy coming up behind him. He saw a plasma rifle in the guy's hand as he shut the cockpit door. Max grabbed the pistol and turned it on. He turned on the rifle too but left it lying on the floor. Maybe he could set the timer and toss it into the back with the guy. Then the plane rolled! The weight of two men was too much. The plane began to slide off the pile. The ready light on the pistol blinked. Max fired at the windshield and covered his eyes. The glass shattered. The plane was falling. Max was looking out the window at blue sky. He grabbed the edge of the window and pulled himself up as the plane fell. He heard a scream in the plane below him. Just as he pulled out of the window the cockpit door blew open and a blast of flame shot through it. The concussion of the explosion sent Max flying. The plane had begun to slide horizontally so Max was thrown parallel to the ground. He landed about thirty feet from the nose of the plane with a thud. He looked back. The fuselage of the plane was a fireball.

The siren sounded...

Max tried to get up but there was a sharp pain in his left shoulder blade. The blast had propelled a piece of the windshield up Max's vest. It embedded in his back. He pulled himself to his knees and pulled his vest off. The inside was blood soaked. He tried to get his shirt off but it was too painful. He looked up to see a jeep racing toward him. Then he looked up to see four cameras hovering over him. Max always wanted to be a TV star...NOT! He grabbed his leg and huddled over.

Four tournaments down...one to go!

The guards loaded Max into the jeep and took off. Max looked up to get one last look of this place. Why he would want to do that he couldn't figure out. Ever bump of this rough ride caused pain to shoot through Max's back. He slumped down in the floor and tried to hold on.

...Gina almost lost it when she saw Max's pained face looking directly into the camera on the replay of the 'Airplane Graveyard WAR' as it was being billed. She hadn't been assigned this one but she talked another reporter into trading stories with her when she heard the winner was some guy who had won his fourth tournament. Gina knew it had to be Max. Tears welled up in her eyes as she reran it. No one expected her to not be emotional. She had put so much emotion into her reports so far that everyone was use to her tears. They even loved them. The other reporter knew she had been following this survivor also and couldn't bear to keep this story from her.

Gina couldn't find out where this had taken place. They were being secretive about locations. They were afraid there might be protests and demonstrations if locations were announced before the tournament and they didn't want people showing up after they were over so they just didn't announce them at all. The technical crew and camera people were all flown in without knowing exactly where they were. But Gina was about to get more of a story than she wanted about the graveyard. She answered the knock at her door.

"Come in," she said sobbing. A young man entered her office. "Yes, can I help you?" she asked.

"You're Delores Atkins, right?" he asked.

"Yes that's right," Delores said wiping her tears away.

"I'm Dennis Fowler. I was a camera man at the Airplane Graveyard," he told her. "Aren't you writing that one?" he asked.

She told him she was; he had Gina's undivided attention. She invited him to sit down. She turned off the video machine and listened to his story. He had worked for IBC but had been fired when he refused to follow orders and give directions to someone on the ground in the fight. They hadn't told him what he was doing exactly but he finally figured out he was helping someone giving them a huge advantage. He was to follow a particular combatant with his camera and report on his position and movements. As he watched this deal unfold he couldn't take it any longer and gave some false directions. They were blaming him for getting one of their operatives killed. He asked what the difference was. One of the two guys had to die and Dennis wasn't going to be directly responsible for getting some guy killed. He was returned to IBC central and ordered not to say anything about this. They offered him a job so far beneath him...or the door. He chose the door. Dennis had been reading Delores' accounts of these tournaments and decided she might be the best person to talk to about it. So here he was...

...the jeep was met by a chopper about ten miles from the wrecking yard. They landed and loaded Max aboard. He was getting tired of this, lying in helicopter floors bleeding to death. The comments the guards were making didn't put Max at ease. His back must be pretty bad. They didn't even try to stop the bleeding. Max was getting to close beating the system. He was supposed to have been dead by now. Orders were passed down the channels that anyone caught aiding this guy would be busted to private so fast it would make their head spin. Max passed out. They were unloading him within the hour.

Max found himself in yet another hospital bed, face down writhing in pain. They had removed a two-inch piece of glass from his back and a bullet from his leg. The glass shard had torn a twelve-inch rip up his back; it took over forty stitches to sew it up. The pain grew as he regained consciousness. He rang the button for the nurse. She finally came five minutes later. She gave him a shot for the pain but it didn't do much good. He called her again in thirty minutes and asked for something stronger. She gave him another shot and told him she couldn't give him any more for six hours. She checked his bandage and left. His mind drifted to Gina.

Max drifted in and out of sleep during the night. If his pain didn't wake him up nightmares of the faces he had seen die lately did. He woke up in a cold sweat seeing the guy with his face lit up by the plasma pistol last night. Had it been last night or the night before? What day is this he thought as he watched the sunrise out his window? He could smell food in the hall. How long had it been since he had eaten? He couldn't remember his last meal. He tried to think it through but it wasn't worth the effort. He tried to roll onto his back and sit up for breakfast. He decided to get up and sit in the chair to eat. It was normal hospital food but Max wolfed it down ravenously. He was starving. He asked for more coffee but never got any. About ten o'clock the doctor showed up. He checked Max out and told him he would be with them a couple of months at the outside, probably longer. Max sighed a deep breath of relief on hearing this. He needed the time to heal. He could barely lift his left arm, and his leg ached like crazy now.

The doctor left but the nurse with him helped Max back to bed and replaced the bandage on his back. She was a sympathetic middle aged lady. She had compassion for Max's wounds. She handled him gently. She gave him a painkiller and left. He didn't know what this medicine was but in no time Max was feeling no pain; he even felt euphoric, like he had no cares in the world. He slept the sleep of a peaceful man. It was almost five when a nasty tempered officer burst through the door and woke Max up.

"Fallon!" he screamed as if he had been yelling for hours.

Max slowly woke up, he still felt great. He looked up at the guy and smiled.

"That's me, Max Fallon, what can I do for you General?" he asked dumbly.

"It's colonel, asshole! Colonel Devin!" he shouted.

"Whatever Colonel Asshole...Colonel Devin, whatever you want," Max answered, smiling.

The nurse came in and instructed the colonel that this patient needed his rest and could he please quit screaming in her hospital. Devin looked at her like he was going to kick her out the door. She looked at him like she wished he would try.

"The...patient has a date. I have orders to get him out of here ASAP," he told her.

"I don't care if you have orders to get him out of here or not, you're not going to come into my hospital and shout at anyone like that," she was stubborn.

"Captain Lee, I will come in here and scream at anyone I want to, you got that?" he said, he was an inch from her face, reading her nameplate.

"Colonel, respectfully, get the hell out of this room," she wasn't budging.

Colonel Devin huffed up and gritted his teeth and left. Max and Captain Lee smiled at each other as they listened to his footsteps pound down the hall and fade.

"Sorry about that Max. Not much I can do about those jerks coming in here. I really don't have the authority to boot them out like that but they think I do. Hell, I'm retiring next month, I don't care what they do to me anyway," she told him while checking his bandages.

Max was glad to find a friend. It seemed that everyone in the world was out to kill him. A friendly face was refreshing. Max read her nameplate. Captain Carolyn Lee. She must be close to sixty. A nice enough looking lady but Max had seen her in action. She could be hard to handle if she needed to be. He liked her instantly. Anyone that would stand up for him right now he would like instantly.

"You missed lunch and dinner, are you hungry Max?" she asked.

"Yes I am, I haven't eaten enough the past week to keep a bird alive," he told her.

She left the room and returned soon with a brown paper bag and a small carton of milk. She opened the bag and lay the contents out on the tray table and pushed it to Max's bed. He was lying on his right side. There were two roast beef sandwiches, a bag of potato chips and an apple.

"This is yours isn't it?" he asked.

"You just never mind where it came from. Eat it and I don't want to hear another word," she was tucking in the sheets and puttering around the room doing busy work.

Max started to protest but Lee cut him off fast. She insisted. Max gave in thankfully. He ate lying on his side. He hadn't tasted anything this good in a long time. He finished it settled back down to rest. They talked for about thirty minutes before Lee had to make her rounds. She gave Max another painkiller and left. He wondered if she was supposed to be giving him these pills or not as he sank into a stupor. He decided he needed a month or two of her tender loving care. He slept like a baby.

The next morning about time for Captain Lee to be getting off she noticed a group of men enter Max's room. She headed that way. When she got there, Max was struggling to get dressed in the normal W.A.R.S. combat uniform. There was a General there this time with a civilian and four guards.

"What do you think you are doing?" she asked sternly. "Get that man back to bed, he can't be moved in his condition!" Max loved her effort.

"Captain Lee you are dismissed, leave this room immediately," the general instructed.

Carolyn left. She ran to the nurse's station, called the doctor on duty and took a bottle of pills from the medicine cabinet. She hurried back to Max's room. The general and the civilian were on their way down the hall. The guards stayed with Max. As Carolyn entered the room one of the guards stopped her. They had orders to keep everyone out.

"Everyone does not include medical staff private," she bluffed. The guards looked at each other and let her in reluctantly.

She walked to Max and began to examine his wounds. She shoved the bottle down his pants...way down his pants. She looked at Max embarrassed and mouthed the words 'I'm sorry.'

"Take one of these when you need to but be careful they are extremely powerful. You will be out for several hours after you take one." she whispered quietly.

"Thank you and no apologies necessary, after all you're a nurse, you've seen these things before, right?" Max managed a smile.

When he was dressed the guards led him away. They went up in the elevator. Max was ushered to the roof where a helicopter was waiting to take him. He could barely move and they were taking him to his next tournament? They had given him one day to heal when the doctor said it would take at least two months? He knew he didn't stand a chance now. They were going to win no matter what. If the combatants in this next one were all skinny third graders Max stood a chance if not he was finished. The guard pushed on Max's back to get him into the chopper. Max writhed in pain and fell in. He got into the seat and leaned on his right side to try and get comfortable. The doctor got there just as they were about to take off.

"General what are you doing? That patient is not supposed to be moved!" he shouted over the noise of the motor's roar.

The General motioned to one of the guards. The guard pulled his gun and brought it to bear on the doctor. The doctor froze in his tracks.

"Doctor if you don't cease this second I will have you shot on the spot. Do you understand sir?" the General commanded.

The doctor started to protest but looked at the guard and then at Max. He must have decided defending Max wasn't worth dying for. Max agreed with him; W.A.R.S. was going to get Max Fallon at all costs, even going so far as to kill an army doctor to get what they wanted. They wanted Max and they wanted him six feet under. The doctor stood and watched as they took off.

Max was airlifted to another 'dome city.' He was shown his dome and locked in. He asked how much time he had before they took him but they didn't answer. He couldn't take a chance on taking a painkiller. If they came for him in an hour or so he would be so drugged that he wouldn't even get off the chopper and inside the barrier. He sucked it up and endured the pain. He heard the sound of distant choppers coming.