Cruel Country: Refuge

[x-snowflake.livejournal.com]

Amanda finds Wanda, and they make their escape...

The airstrip was small, not much more than a dirt track surrounded by dusty fields, with a ramshackle building to one side. Amanda plodded wearily towards that one oasis of shelter, weaving a little on her feet. Her face and bare arms were an alarming shade of red, and her mouth felt like she'd been eating sandpaper, and if the people from the lab turned up again, she'd probably turn herself in willingly, if only to get a drink and a rest.

Still, she was nearly there. And hopefully so was Wanda.

On one side of the building, there was a small porch area complete with overhang to protect against the harsh sun. No decoration adorned the porch, just a simple table and a set of chairs, one of them already occupied. There, asleep with head tucked into her chest and feet on the table in front of her, was Wanda. Next to her feet on the table glistened a pitcher of water with two glasses sitting next to it.

If there had been any moisture left in Amanda's body, she would have cried with relief. As it was, her eyes prickled and she stumbled the last few steps, collapsing into the other chair. "Been here long, then?" she croaked.

"Not too terribly long," came the reply as Wanda's eyes snapped open. The tension in her drained a little as she quickly looked Amanda over. "You alright?" she asked in turn, nudging the pitcher of water closer with her foot to the younger woman. "Drink, you look like you need it, but not too fast or you will be sick."

Amanda seized the pitcher and restrained herself from drinking straight out of it, making herself use one of the glasses. The first mouthful was like being irrigated, but she heeded Wanda's warning and made herself sip it slowly. "Fuck, that's better," she managed, her voice sounding a bit closer to normal. "Been trying to dodge those bastards all day." The reminder made her look at Wanda anxiously. "Please tell me we've got a way out of here."

"We do," Wanda reassured her, swinging her feet off the table and sitting up straighter in the chair. Her neck cracked with the movement but she paid it no attention. "We are going to fly out to Ethiopia and then fly home from there. I have seen no sign of anyone following me once I reached here so hopefully, we are in the clear." Though she knew she wouldn't relax until they were out of the country--off the continent entirely.

"Doesn't seen to matter if they follow us or not - they've got some way of tracking us," Amanda sighed, finishing the water and pouring herself another. "Might be an idea to get our arses out of here asap. Who's the pilot? This Walkerton-Smythe bloke?"

A faint smile played across her face. "Yes, the Colonel. An old...friend of my mentor, Agatha Harkness. She's who I called before we split up and she directed us here." She turned her head towards the sound of booted feet walking up behind her. "Speaking of the Colonel..."

The door to the building banged open, and out came a rather short, bandy-legged man with an enormous, snowy-white walrus mustache. He was wearing a pair of khaki shorts and a similar shirt, and reminded Amanda of nothing so much as the old Biggles books. Boys Own Adventures indeed. He peered at the two of them over the top of his half-moon glasses.

"So, the gel got here then? Sorry looking sight she is too. Well, can't wait about all day - I'm a very busy man and I'm doing this as a favour to Aggie, nothing more." His accent was so stereotypically English, Amanda found herself wincing. "Come on then, stir a leg."

Wanda had a slightly pained expression on her face as she got up out of the chair. "Colonel Walkerton-Smythe meet Amanda Sefton," she introduced, turning around, the former expression having melted away. "And once again, thank you, we really do appreciate all the help you are giving us."

'Where does Wanda dig these people up from?' Amanda wondered to herself, but wisely kept her mouth shut. She hauled herself up out of the chair, still holding onto the glass of water for grim death. "Anyone who saves my arse is a friend of a friend of mine," she responded with a nod. "And it's really appreciate, squire." His accent was having the perverse effect of bringing out the worst of hers.

And it was just as painful for him to hear as it was for her to listen to him - Walkerton-Smythe grimaced, then covered it with an impatient gesture. "Tish and tosh, little enough time for the niceties. My plane's all prepped and raring to go." He gestured at what had been an elderly light plane ten years ago. "Isn't she a beauty? I'd ask if you had luggage, but considering the circumstances, that'd be foolish, what?"

The plane at least looked flight-worthy though Wanda wasn't normally one with an eye for that sort of thing. But it was in better condition than the rest of the place which was a relief. "Beautiful," she agreed. She gave Amanda an amused glance. "There are water bottles on board so I think you can let go of the glass now..."

Movement behind Amanda, on the horizon, caught her eye and her voice trailed off as she squinted. It was too far away to make out whatever it was but something was kicking up a lot of dust and they were approaching quickly. Too quickly, actually and they looked to be heading straight towards the airstrip. "We're leaving now," Wanda announced suddenly, the tone of her voice brooking no argument.

Incredibly, the Colonel did argue. There was definitely something to the strange old bird. "That's what I've been saying all along, my gel, so don't take that tone with me," he huffed, but led the way to the plane with surprising speed. "All aboard, make sure you strap in!" he ordered briskly, hauling himself up into the cockpit by means of the side door.

Amanda chugged down the last of the water, hiccuping a bit as it threatened to come back up and then scampered after the pair. "Gunna need a boost, boss lady," she said wryly, looking up at the distance between the ground and the other door. Her tone belied the nervous glances she was shooting over her shoulder at the approaching dust cloud.

Muttering something under her breath about insane old friends of friends, Wanda paused as Amanda came up beside her. Cupping her hands together, she bent slightly so that it wouldn't be hard to step up into. Once the foot in her hands was secure, she shoved up, giving Amanda the boost she needed to be able to scramble into the plane. Before she pulled herself up as well, she sent one more look over her shoulder. There was no guarantee that the chase would end here but it was better than sitting around and doing nothing.

"Contact!" the Colonel bellowed cheerfully as he started the engines. The propellers whined slowly into life, spluttering and choking - the smoke coming out of the left one wasn't exactly reassuring. But the plane did start moving, slowly taxing along the rough ground, bouncing its occupants around.

Amanda had given Wanda a hand to yank her up, and then had strapped herself into the seat, almost rendering herself immobile with how tight she cinched the belt. Under the sunburn, her face looked a little green. "This isn't a plane it's a bloody lawnmower with wings," she muttered, but quietly enough that their saviour would hear. Her knuckles were white where she was gripping her seat.

Despite herself, Wanda laughed as she held on for dear life as well. "Nothing says adventure like near death experiences," she said, loud enough for only Amanda to hear. "And nothing says embarrassing than dieing in a plane like this, either." Despite everything, for the first time since they'd left for Africa, she felt at ease, at least a little bit. She smirked as she looked through the window, watching as the dust cloud approached the airstrip...too little, too late.


Marie-Ange does the talking, and Doug does the kicking.

The seedier part of town hadn't been all that difficult to find, and if possible, Doug and Marie-Ange stuck out even -more- than they had at the coffee shop. That was what Doug had in mind, though, because he was baiting a trap. There were sharks in this sort of place, sharks who fed off of the darker parts of the human condition. And as Doug disappeared from Marie-Ange's side, he was counting on at least one of them smelling blood in the water.

If Marie-Ange wasn't nervous, she was doing a very good job of looking the part. And in fact, she was more than a little nervous. She walked slowly down the street, head down and glancing at buildings, and then at a piece of paper in her hand, and then back at the buildings, with a small frown on her face.

It didn't take long before a man swaggered up to Marie-Ange, baring a mouthful of yellowed teeth in something that was probably meant to be a reassuring grin, to put the lost tourist at ease before he fleeced her of her money, or worse. "Can I help you, miss?" he asked.

"Oui. Ah. Yes. I am looking for..." Marie-Ange gave the man a nervous smile, and wrinkled her nose ever-so-slightly, and held out the piece of paper, which had a badly-written address on it. "I think I am lost."

The smiling man knew the story of Little Red Riding Hood, and he was feeling especially wolfish at the moment. The girl even had red hair. Young, attractive...this was looking like his lucky day. Maybe he'd have himself a taste before he turned her over to one of the local pimps. "Well, we can't have that...why don't I help you find your way?" he asked.

If they hadn't seen the man in what was nearly a textbook drug exchange half an hour before, Marie-Ange would have almost felt guilty about what she was about to do. She straightned a bit and smiled back at the man. "Oh, if you could give me directions, that would be very kind." She said, practically chirping out how naive and confused she was. Or was supposed to be, in this case.

It was almost cliche, how the 'shortcut' the man knew led them even further into the bad side of town, and then into an alleyway where the man's pasted-on smile disappeared as he turned to force Marie-Ange into the dead-end. "Now then..." he said to himself, licking his lips, only to be cut off as Doug brought him down sharply with a punch to the back of the head.

"The pig didn't even notice me tailing you, he was so concentrated on watching you," he told Marie-Ange as he kicked the man in the ribs for good measure. Leaning down, he pulled out small wads of bills from several places on the man's body. He'd carefully watched the man to see where he'd put his money as they'd observed the drug deal. "You okay?" he asked, looking up at her.

"Other than just now realizing that I am actually dating Robin, and not, perhaps, the woman in the wheelchair that you like so much?" Marie-Ange had bent to tie the man's feet together, realized that he had nothing on him that could be used that she actually wanted to touch, and resorted to simply removing his shoes and throwing them as far as she could. The broken glass on the street would slow him down enough. "I am okay, yes. Unless you tell me that you have green shorty shorts, and then we will have to talk."


However, Wanda and Amanda's ride experiences some technical difficulties.

It was the change in the plane's engine tempo that was the first indication something was wrong. Amanda lifted her head blearily from where she had rested it against Wanda's shoulder - the older woman was fast asleep, apparently defying neck strain with the angle her head made, resting against the plane's side. Glancing at their pilot, she was less than reassured to see him tapping at instruments with a gnarled finger.

"Something up?" she asked, the rush of adrenaline only making her more tired. Outside, the sun was beginning to edge towards the horizon -they must be nearly in Ethiopia, given how long they'd been traveling.

"Blamed engine's on the blink," he grumbled, glancing over at the left propeller, which was hitching irregularly. "That's the problem with the colonies, you can never get the right parts."

"Right parts? You mean there's wrong parts in there?" Amanda's voice rose slightly in panic. She hadn't survived the worst job ever to crash in a flying deathtrap.

There was some empathic cursing from Wanda as she woke up, sitting up straight in her seat as she took stock of the situation. "How bad is it, Colonel?" she asked, double checking to make sure she was still buckled in. She didn't even bother to look around for anything resembling parachutes--that was just how the last few days were going. There weren't going to be any and even if by some miracle they appeared, they probably wouldn't open...not that either she or Amanda knew how to use them properly in any case.

Discretely, she used her powers and then grimaced. Oh, it was that bad. "Never mind," Wanda said dryly, "I think I know the answer to that. Can we still keep flying?"

"I think I can limp us in for a landing - we're not far from Addis Ababa, so Aggie can't say I didn't get you to Ethopia as requested." The Colonel turned and gave Wanda a slightly manic grin. "She didn't say what kind of shape you had to be in, after all."

"Knowing her, she'd say we deserved the bumps and bruises we get," came the tired response. "And for the love of God, man, eyes out front!" Wanda ignored the laugh she got in response and turned her head to look at Amanda. "I would say something pithy about holding on tight but I doubt that is needed right now."

The witch nodded, looking younger in the harsh light coming through the bug-splattered windscreen, fear creeping into her expression despite her best efforts. One hand snaked up to the St Jude medallion tucked beneath her shirt, her hand folding around it. 'Dunno how this praying thing works, but whoever it is up there, I'd really like to survive this, if it's not too much trouble?' she thought rather desperately.

The left engine coughed and spluttered, thick black smoke streaming from it as the propeller finally gave up the ghost. "Hold on!" the Colonel yelled as the plane began to descend. He seemed to be heading for the outskirts of what was a middling size city.

The plane shuddered as it dipped suddenly and Wanda nearly bit off her own tongue as the entire thing started to shake. Reaching up, she braced a hand against the roof while her feet wedged themselves as well as they could on the floor. Her other hand snaked out to grab onto Amanda's free one, unconsciously knowing the contact would calm them both down. A little.

The Colonel was cursing under his breath as he fought with the controls, trying to straighten the plane out even a little bit. Gravity was an enemy here and the plane seemed more than willing to oblige, hurtling towards the ground at a speed that seemed almost impossible.

Wanda had a brief glimpse of the ground before they slammed into it, the noise deafening. The plane bounced and the occupants were slammed around, the only thing holding them in place was the seat belts and they were starting to give. They nearly rolled over as they skidded while bits of the plane snapped off in chunks.

"Come on, old girl, don't fail me now!" The Colonel hauled back on the stick and there was an alarming groan from the undercarriage, but it seemed to have the desired effect - slowly, the plane rolled to a shuddering halt. Silence reigned, broken only by the ticking of the engines and a metallic groan as the tail fell off.

Amanda uncurled from the ball she'd made of herself in those last alarming minutes, still holding desperately onto Wanda's hand. "Any one you can walk away from?" she managed, her voice shaking. She didn't seem to be hurt beyond bruises on her bruises, but she felt like her bones had been rattled from their sockets.

Somehow, through it all, Wanda had never let her hand drop from the ceiling. Slowly she brought it down, listening to the muscles creak from the tension. There was the faint taste of blood in her mouth but it was nothing more than her having bitten the inside of her mouth. She moved slightly, testing her body...just very bruised. "Amen to that," she responded and then turned her attention to the front. "Colonel, are you alright?"

"My poor girl, there there..." The Colonel looked up from where he was stroking the instrument panel, and there was a hint of tears in his faded blue eyes, quickly gone as he blinked. "My plane's a wreck, and that guttersnipe of yours just said that phrase. Do you think I'm all right?" He waved away Wanda's response. "Just... go away. Very far away. I've done my duty, and now I want to see the back of the pair of you." He frowned. "Aggie's going to owe me for this."

Clenching her jaw tightly, Wanda unbuckled her safety belt and stood up as best she could in the wreck. The door was jammed but a swift kick--ignoring the Colonel's grumbled protests--got it open. She moved stiffly, nearly stumbling to the ground when her legs argued with her about moving. Turning back to help Amanda out, she couldn't help a sour thought that if Agatha owed him a favor, somehow Wanda was going to end up with the short end of the stick.

This was turning out to be one hell of a week.