Ebony Scales

Chapter 7

When Longwei had said fast, Joy had no idea what he meant. As she held on, her legs on his shoulders while her left hand held onto a rope around his neck, she got a clue. They had to be going at least a hundred and fifty kilometers an hour, cross-country, and Joy was glad for the goggles Longwei had given her.

The Kalashnikov was in her right hand, the strap wrapped around her forearm to prevent dropping, while the radio was clipped to the shoulder straps of her harness, Billy’s voice calling out updates as they sped over the hills and towards the attack. The chase had devolved from an ambush to a gun battle pursuit, with the Triad using motorcycles to pursue the convoy. Already, one truck had been destroyed, although Billy wasn’t sure who it had been. Joy’s heart ached at the idea, knowing that most likely whoever had been inside was already dead.

“Faster!” Joy screamed into the wind, hoping Longwei could hear her. Thankfully, her mental connection to Longwei was stronger than ever. Billy’s reporting one vehicle down, and six motorcycles attacking the rest of the convoy, she thought. He’s worried, because nobody in the convoy is trained for this sort of stuff.

Neither are we, Longwei replied. But, I doubt the Triads are ready for us.

You better be right. Although this is pretty damn cool. Forget bear cavalry, we’ve got dragon cavalry!

Joy was surprised at the feeling she had. While she was understandably angry and frightened, there was a passionate high running through her veins, a mental connection to the old warriors of her bloodline, who knew the joy of battle. A lustful cry ripped from her throat, and she could feel Longwei reciprocate, his dragon roar echoing through the hills. When the radio squawked again, Billy asked them just what the hell that sound was, and that two of the Triad cycles had started to fall back at the sound, causing Joy to laugh.

Coming over the last ridge separating them from the road, Joy could see the lights of the caravan, with the motorcycles darting among them, two kilometers distant. Longwei had brought them out in front of the group, to sweep in from the front, hoping to catch the enemy by surprise. “Hold on Billy!” Joy screamed into her radio, hoping the words were legible. “Sh*t’s about to get real!”

Longwei leapt the last few meters from the ridge line to the roadway, landing with only a mild thump, and Joy was hardly jostled at all. Clamping her thighs as tight as she could on his shoulders, she pulled the rifle to her shoulder, using her left hand as best she could to support and steady the barrel. The first cycle, almost parallel to Billy’s front truck, had two riders, the rear rider holding what looked like an Uzi pistol.

Longwei and Joy’s simultaneous war cry ripped through the night, and in a flash, Longwei caught the cycle flush with his chest, the cycle and both riders bouncing off his body to fly into the night. Joy was jostled but held on, her eyes searching for the next attacker.

This one was on the other side of the road, with both riders trying to slide behind one of the convoy trucks, the minibus Longwei had driven back to the village, packed with thirty of the village’s children. The driver, a former trucker from Hong Kong, held the steering wheel in a white knuckled grip, his eyes seeing Longwei and Joy. He edged to his left, narrowing the gap and forcing the motorcycle in front. As soon as there was a clear shot, Joy squeezed the trigger, aiming for the cycle’s front wheel since she didn’t know anything about leading a target. The narrow distance helped, and the bullets caught the rider in the leg before blasting into the engine. The driver spun out, both of them disappearing under the bus in a screeching crunch of metal, and Joy could only hope the children didn’t see the carnage.

With only four cycles left, the Triad attackers grew more cautious, ignoring the caravan for a chance to attack Longwei directly. The next two worked together, one on a normal cycle, while the other attacked on a cycle with a sidecar, the gunner more stable and using a shotgun. Longwei was able to avoid the shots, emerging from the far side of the caravan to catch one of the trailing cycles broadside before whirling. While the whole thing had taken less than ten seconds, to Joy it felt like everything was moving in slow motion as Longwei turned and took off, coming up on the back of the caravan.

The first cyclist’s gunner fired wildly over his shoulder, his Uzi spraying shots all over the road. Most of them flew off into the night harmlessly, but one lucky shot tore creased Joy’s right cheek, catching the bottom of her ear. Joy screamed, and only held onto her Kalashnikov due to the strap being wrapped around her arm.

Joy! Longwei thought, slowing slightly. Joy shook her head, gritting her teeth against the pain.

Go! Go! I’m all right! she called back, pulling the rifle back up to her shoulder. We’ll treat the wound later!

Longwei bore down on the cyclist again, and Joy felt a sense of icy calm drop over her. She didn’t know if it was shock or instinct, but all her fear and rage dropped away, leaving a cold center that sighted carefully down the barrel. From this position, there was no problem of lateral deflection, no problems of hitting a bus load of children. The rearmost truck of the caravan only held farming tools and seed. The motorcycle had shut off its lights in an attempt to hide, but the running lights of the truck gave Joy enough of an outline to center on the gunman’s back. Releasing half a breath, she caressed the Kalashnikov’s trigger, the burst catching the gunman in the back and neck. The sudden shift in weight caused the driver to lose control, tumbling to the pavement only to be run over by Longwei’s body. Joy could feel Longwei hiss in pain as his scales went over the red hot engine, and hoped the burn wasn’t too bad.

Drifting back in the darkness was two more cycles. One of them was the cycle with a sidecar, while the other had only a single rider. The single rider took his machine pistol and emptied it into the truck next to him, spraying the cabin with bullets and shrapnel. Whoever was the passenger was dead within an instant, although by some miracle the driver kept control and kept the truck on the road. Empty, the driver paused to reload.