More of the Alouette’s bullets struck the biplane. It pitched up almost vertically, dropping Eddie and Boodu toward the rear bulkhead as the other two men struggled to hold on to their seats.
The sheet metal buckled under Eddie as he crashed against it. Boodu slammed down beside him, the machete clanging against the bulkhead just inches from the Yorkshireman’s chest.
Boodu swept the weapon as Eddie rolled away. The machete’s sharp edge caught his arm—only a glancing blow, but still deep enough to draw blood. He tried to bring the gun around, but Boodu lashed out with one leg and kicked his hand, sending the pistol flying across the hold.
The plane’s nose tipped back down. Even wounded, TD was still fighting to keep control of her aircraft. Eddie thumped to the deck as the Antonov came out of its climb. Over the engine’s roar, he heard the clatter of the helicopter’s machine guns. Bullets clunked into the wings.
“Max!” he shouted. “Get into the cockpit and help her!” Maximov gave him a thumbs-up and squeezed through the cockpit entrance.
More bullet impacts, this time against the fuselage. One of the portholes blew out—then the cabin hatch burst open and fell away behind the plane. Strutter screamed in terror.
Eddie clung to a structural spar as the slipstream tried to drag him out after the hatch. The horizon tipped sharply, the Antonov now in a steepening plunge. The engine note rose in pitch.
Boodu braced his feet against another spar and swung again, Eddie ducking just in time to avoid a machete blow to his face. The blade clanged against the hull above his head. He retaliated with a punch, but only caught the Zimbabwean’s shoulder as he drew back the machete for another attack.
A churning sensation in Eddie’s stomach told him that he was in free fall. The Antonov was picking up speed in its dive.
Which gave him a new dimension in which to fight.
Boodu slashed at him—but Eddie had already kicked away and shot toward the ceiling, grabbing a flapping cargo strap and using it to somersault himself around. The plane’s occupants were now effectively in zero g, the Antonov’s power dive matching the speed at which gravity was dragging them down. From Boodu’s expression of shock—and sudden nausea—it was something he had never experienced before.
Eddie had, however. He kicked off again and propelled himself at the Zimbabwean like a missile. Before Boodu could react, the Englishman had plowed into him, sending both men tumbling weightlessly across the hold. He drove a punch into Boodu’s face, breaking his nose. Globules of blood whirled in the air. Another powerful blow, then he grabbed the African’s arm and tried to pry the machete from his grip.
The engine note changed again, the cabin spinning around them as the plane turned. They were running out of sky …
Eddie finally broke Boodu’s hold on the machete—as Maximov pulled up, hard. No longer in free fall, the two men crashed heavily to the deck. Gravity went from zero to double as the An-2 continued its roller-coaster ride. The machete slammed down with sledgehammer force, embedding its tip an inch into the floor beside the open hatch.
The ground outside was frighteningly close—
An explosion of dust whirled into the cabin as the Antonov pulled out of its headlong dive mere feet above the plain and began another steep, rolling climb. Eddie and Boodu, still grappling, slid back down the hold …
Straight at the hatch.
Eddie realized the danger and let go of Boodu, clawing at the spars. He snagged one with his fingertips, but lost his grip almost immediately and continued to slither toward the opening. Boodu, just ahead of him, screamed as he fell into nothingness—
And caught the back edge of the frame, dangling outside the ascending aircraft.
Eddie flailed his arms helplessly, sliding out into the void …
His left hand slapped against one of the wrecked hinges. He grabbed it. Torn metal cut into his palm, but he had no choice but to cling on as his free hand hunted for purchase—
Boodu’s hand clamped around his throat.
The militia leader pulled himself higher. Choking, Eddie looked down at him, seeing his face twisted into a defiant snarl. Behind the Antonov’s tail, the pursuing Alouette came into view as it climbed after the biplane. “If I die,” Boodu roared into the wind, “so do you, Chase!”
He squeezed harder, trying to force Eddie away from the hatch. The hinge’s sharp edges dug deeper into the Englishman’s hand. He tried