Jake heard the jet engines on their flank—felt them.
The exchange of gunfire ceased. Drug lords and bodyguards alike were looking out the small windows, through the dense rain. Silence among the residents of the fuselage pervaded as the mammoth plane came into view, into detail. Only rain, only lightning and thunder, only the engines beside them.
Breath was evaporated.
The men knew what was happening.
And then they went berserk.
Pulling out parachutes from the overhead bins, stumbling over themselves, engrossed in this new revelation, knowing their demise was near.
Jake stood, raised his gun.
Shot three of the bodyguards in the center aisle.
The others ducked behind seats.
"What's going on?" Jake yelled, though he had an idea.
"Jake," Virginia yelled, coming up behind him. "Parachutes!"
That's when an RPG launcher sounded off from the plane across from them. A hole bored into the side of the plane. Immediately following, the tail end of the plane—the last thirty feet of it, tore away.
Surreal.
Jake and Virginia stood here, as an entire section of the plane ripped away, clean. Gone. Lightning flashed as the airship's wreckage disappeared into the void of the dark night.