Tim started to scream, then. He had no intention of flying the plane—he planned on taking it right through the fence. He’d had no idea what the fence would look like. It was fifteen feet high, with nasty-looking barbed wire strung along its top. At its bottom stood a concrete wall three feet high.

There was no time to turn the plane, no time to do anything. Tim threw his arms across his face as every thought was torn bleeding out of his head.

The plane continued on its course, the only thing it could do. The laws of physics determined what happened next. The nose of the plane hit the fence and crumpled, ruining hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of electronics. The fence bowed out, then snapped open like a cut cable, lashing out at the trees that lay just beyond. Then the front landing gear hit the concrete wall and snapped off.

The plane flew forward like a javelin, smashing through the branches of the trees. The windshield cracked with the impact and then popped out of its frame, flying backward to crash against Tim’s arms and bash his forehead. The left wing sheared off all in one piece and the plane spun to one side, still sliding forward through the trees and across a stretch of overgrown grass. It spun as it careened across the grass and started to roll over. The remains of the right wing, battered and torn, dug deep brown furrows in the earth and slowed down the plane’s headlong rush but couldn’t stop it.

Then the grass ran out and the plane jumped over a curb and came screeching down on a feeder road full of abandoned cars. The fuselage smacked an SUV with its nose, then hit a Cooper Mini like a golf club hitting a ball. The Mini absorbed much of the plane’s remaining momentum and went spinning and bouncing end over end.

The plane stopped there, though it continued rocking back and forth for a while. Parts of it collapsed in on themselves while others just fell off.

Tim had lost consciousness for much of the crash. When his eyes opened again they were full of blood. He couldn’t breathe—something was pressed against his face. With arms that felt like they’d been shredded he pushed away a piece of the windshield and then he sank back in his chair and just tried not to die.

He heard a groaning noise behind him.

“Sasha? Tony?” he asked. “Are you alive?”

“Oh, shit,” Sasha said.

Tim clawed at his seat and shoulder belts and tried to get up. The control console was tilted down across his legs and he panicked, thinking he was trapped. With some furious wriggling, though, he was able to get free. “Sasha? What’s wrong?” he demanded.

“Tony threw up all over the place. Bill Gates is going to be pissed.”

Tim laughed hysterically and then forced his way back to the cabin. The mess was unbelievable and the plane was totaled. All three flatscreens had snapped off their mountings and lay shattered in the back. The carpet was torn up where the bottom of the fuselage had torn open in several places and one of the massage chairs had been crushed where the side of the plane had caved in. There were tiny bags of peanuts everywhere, some of them having burst open and thrown nuts all over the cabin.

Sasha looked fine. Tony looked like death warmed over.

“Thank God we lived through that,” Tim said. “It was the best plan I could think of.”

“You did fine, Kempfer. Help me with this idiot.”

Tim knelt down by Tony’s side and unfastened his seat belt. The looter was minimally conscious, barely able to open his eyes and groan. His arm, previously broken, now hung limp from his shoulder. Blood slicked the arm from his elbow down to his wrist and Tim thought he saw shivers of bone poking out through the skin.

“He needs medical attention, and soon,” Tim said.

“Yeah. Well, the soldiers will take care of that.” She checked her pistols and shoved them back in their holsters. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Tim stared up at her. “We can’t just leave him.”

“Sure we can. If we stay here the soldiers will catch up with us and they will shoot us. Do you feel me? They will shoot us. Hopefully they won’t shoot him, just arrest him. That’s the only way he’s going to get medical help now.”

Tim bit his lip. He knew she was right. “Okay. Let’s get out of here.”

“Glad to see we’re on the same page.” Sasha hurried forward to the hatch but found it crumpled shut. She lead Tim forward to the cockpit and they crawled out through the empty viewport, then slid down the blunted nose of the plane and onto the asphalt. Tim looked back at the fence—or where the fence had been—but there was no sign of any military presence there. The soldiers had been on foot, and he figured it would take them a minute or two to catch up.

He turned around and saw that Sasha had started walking away. He rushed to her side and saw where she was headed. “Our only real option now,” she said, “is to requisition one of these vehicles and hightail it, right? Now, a car couldn’t get through this mess.” She pointed at the endless traffic jam. “This might do.”

She had found a motorcycle, a sleek narrow thing with one headlight standing alone, propped up on its kickstand. The keys were still in the ignition. She started up the machine and watched the fuel gauge needle kick up. “Come on,” she said, and then, “Yes!” when it showed half a tank of gas remained.

“I’m driving,” she said.

That was fine with Tim.