Destiny's Daughter - Alien Mysteries Investigations PT9

I've just noticed something else while researching book blurbs this morning.
I'm going to have to change most of the book covers I've just done.
C'est La Vie.

© A Sunderland 2011

Chapter Three
The Rescue
“I’m not leaving him,” Dawn said stubbornly.
O’Malley stormed over from his command vehicle and pointed at Dawn. “You’re putting my crew in grave danger, lady.”
“Stay back then,” Dawn said. “I can handle this.” She turned and squished through the mud towards the craft.
O’Malley and Gould floundered after her, their heavy boots sinking deeper with each stride.
To the front, slightly above the wing, Dawn could just discern the outline of a small rectangular door. She turned to Gould, pointed to the wing, and demanded, “Give me a leg up.”
“You’ll skate on your ass with all that mud on your feet,” Gould noted.
Dawn pulled her jacket off. “Okay,” she agreed tersely. “I will wipe them.” She placed her hands on the front of the wing and lifted her right foot.
Gould shook her head, knelt down, hands locked together. Dawn put her foot in Gould’s hands, and braced herself.
Gould took Dawn’s weight. “3-2-1.” She said, hoisting her up.
Dawn leapt onto the wing, spun into a sitting position and swung her back against the fuselage in one fluid movement. She lifted her feet, wiped them with her jacket, and then turned to stand up.
A ladder clunked against the front of the fuselage and Gould scrambled up it, axe in hand. “Thought I’d do it the easy way.”
Dawn pointed up to a small flap to the top right of the door. “It looks like the access lever cover,” she shouted.
“The what?”
“External handle or something like that.” Dawn grabbed the axe, motioned to Gould to keep her head down then swung an almighty blow against the flap. The effort made her lose her balance on the soaked metal. She slipped on the treacherous surface, landed heavily on her back, and slid sideways off the wing. She hit one of the crew on the way down before landing face down in the mud.
Furious with herself, she spat out mud with a mouthful of expletives and cursed the bruises to her limbs and ego.
Tennyson, the man she’d fallen on was kneeling in a pool of green and blue liquids.
Dawn struggled to her feet, impatiently brushing aside a helping hand.
Warner bent down to Tennyson. “Hey let’s get a medic to look at your neck.
“I’ve had worse knocks.” Tennyson shook his head warily. He scooped up some of the liquid. “Hey what’s this stuff?” he asked.
Dawn turned, distracted. “It’s the fuel mixture.”
Tennyson leapt to his feet, groaned, and clasped his head.
“Don’t worry. It is totally safe,” she told him.
Warner pointed to the starboard engine. “What about those flames?”
“Great idea!” Dawn said. That mixture will extinguish them far better than water.” She turned away.
“Man, that’s a crock of bull!” Warner exclaimed, shaking his head in disbelief.
Dawn ignored him, and trudged to the front of the wing.
Gould forced open the flap as Dawn scurried up the ladder. Gould shone her flashlight inside the aperture, and said, “that must be the door release lever.”
Her gloved hand was far too large for the opening so she frantically tore the glove off. Even twisted at forty-five degrees across the corners, her hand was still too large to fit into the hole. Her thumb joint caught against the upper corner.
“I should do this,” Dawn said.
Gould shook her head, used her left hand to squeeze the right one even smaller, and grimaced as it scraped against the metalwork. She hooked two fingers around the handle and tried to tug the lever but she had no room to pull. There were only two ways to get her hand out again: Let go of the lever, or risk scraping the flesh off.
Bang! Bang! Pop! Dawn looked up in horror. Bang! The third of the four flares hadn’t fully ignited. “Phosphor! You idiots!” she screamed.
“Tell your people to get out now!” Dawn shouted.
“What’s the sudden panic?”
Dawn pointed up at the dud flare, and yelled, “Clear the area immediately,”
Gould clicked her radio button. “Chief, looks like the flares will ignite the spilled fuel. Get out! Repeat. Get everyone out!”
“What’s that?” O’Malley replied.
“Clear the whole area now!” Gould shouted. She turned to Dawn, and said, “are you sure there’s a boy trapped in here?”
“Absolutely certain,” Dawn replied evenly.
“Well I can’t activate the door like this,” Gould said, “you’re going to have to pull me,”
Dawn hooked her arms under Gould’s shoulders and braced her right foot against the hull. She had one eye on the fizzling flare.
Both women braced themselves and took a deep breath. “Ready?” asked Dawn.
“On three.”
Dawn looked in horror as sparks burst from the dud flare. She locked her arms around Gould, pressed her right foot hard against the bulkhead, and threw herself back.