Alphon nodded, and glanced knowingly at Cinquetta. "Okay," he said quietly. "He's over the edge now."
While his men in the other airboats watched uneasily, Joe turned on the big fan long enough to beach his boat, and stepped onto the incline. Just then, there was a loud crack from offshore. The gunman in the airboat to the right muttered an oath and said his boat was sinking.
"Quit whining," Joe told him without taking his eyes off of Alphon, "and get in the other boat."
"Well, yeah," the gunman said as the other airboat drew up beside him, "but then we won't be able to take those four traitors back with us."
Joe whirled around angrily. "Fine. Then leave. All four of you. The mission's been called off anyway. But I'm not leaving here without Quince!"
The force of his assertion was so strong that it should have stifled any reaction, and yet Ferd chose that moment to start laughing.
"What's so funny, Wu?"
"They'll never make it back to wherever you jokers came from. Haven't you been paying attention? There are mutant bacteria in the water. It eats resin, like what those boats are made of. And your weapons, too, by the way."
By the time
Cinquetta shifted her camera back towards the airboats, something else
had changed. The normally placid water was visibly flowing towards the
right, and it was rising. She pulled the focus back in to pick out the
waterline as it inched towards where Joe was standing. With his support
turning to leave, that left Joe and his two gunmen against Ferd and
Alphon. Marc and their other three protectors were still minutes away
from regaining their faculties, so whatever Joe had in mind, he'd have
to do it quickly.
While she was focused on her comrades, Joe rushed
over, snatched the A/V kit off her head, and threw it over his shoulder,
where it landed with a splash. "Oh, no you don't, Mills," he said
tightly. "You're not going to record this. Now back off!"
By the time she regained her footing, the two gunmen had grabbed both Ferd and Alphon, and held them immobile, their arms wrenched tightly behind their backs. The water was continuing to rise, and the current was picking up speed as well. With her A/V kit lost to the bayou, Cinquetta vowed to preserve as much of the incident as possible. She made a conscious effort to be mindful of everything so she could recite the whole narrative on vid later on.
While the rear of his airboat was starting to bobble in the rising water, Joe strode to where Alphon was being held, and got right in his face. "You're mine, now!"
"Look around you," Alphon said. "It won't matter if we're all drowned."
"I'll still win. Without you leading it, this revolt of yours will die."
Cinquetta had begun to step closer, but something about the look in Alphon's eyes froze her mid-stride.
"An avalanche," he said, the clarity of epiphany coloring his voice, "doesn't need a leader."
He was right, of course. But there was something about the way he said it, something about the certainty or the inevitability of it that struck a chord deep in her being. The feeling it left her with was of relief, of relinquishing all pretense of control and trusting in the metaphysical reality of consequence, for he had accomplished what he had set out to do, and now he could step aside and simply allow the results of his small part in it to run to its completion.
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