May as well help speed up the rescuing process, Y.T. figures. Rife's chopper steadily increases its altitude until it shakes loose from the Kouriers.
"Okay, Sasha. You lost 'em," the radio says. "But you still got a couple of them poon things hanging off your belly, so make sure you don't snag 'em on anything. The cables are stronger than steel."
That's all Y.T. needs. She opens the door and jumps out of the chopper. At least that's how it looks to the people inside. Actually she grabs a handhold on her way down and ends up dangling from the swinging, open door, looking inward toward the belly of the chopper. A couple of poons are stuck to it; thirty feet below, she can see the handles dangling on the ends of their lines, fluttering in the airstream. Looking into the open door she can't hear Rife but she can see him...motioning: Down, take it down! Which is what she figured. This hostage thing works two ways. She's no good to Rife unless he's got her, and she's in one piece.
She lets go of the chopper's door with one of her hands, grabs the poon cable, winds it around the outside of her glove a couple of times, then lets go with the other hand...It does hurt like hell...But she gets the poon cable wrapped around her body...and manages a controlled, burning slide down to the end.
Down to the handle, that is....she gets the handle in both hands and unhooks it from her belt so she's hanging by the arms again...She clicks another control and reels out the line all the way to the end...Now she's flying along, ten or fifteen feet above the highway, doing maybe forty-five miles an hour...She lets go of the handle and goes into free fall. At the same time, she jerks the manual release on her cervical collar and goes into full Michelin Man mode as tiny gas cartridges detonate in several strategic locations around her bod...
So the Airbag formerly known as Y.T. lands with a crash, followed by a dozen or so bounces, crashing butt first through someone's winshield and ending up sprawled across their front seat.
"The airbag deflates as soon as everything stops moving, and she claws it away from her face."
With Rife's chopper hovering a mere twenty feet above the avenue to follow Y.T.'s progress, it is an easy target for the second wave of Kouriers. A few hundred of them in all, they finally gain control of the helicopter and reel it in. Y.T.'s final touch is to fire a poon into the rotor blades, efefctively terminating Rife's flight plan.
Rife waves the second chopper (with Raven on board) on towards LAX, and then confiscates a Cosa Nostra Pizza car for his own transportation.
"But Raven isn't watching any of these things. He's looking out the window at Y.T...he grins at her and gives her the thunbs up. Y.T. bites her lower lip and flips him the bird. With that, the relationship is over, hopefully for all time.
"Y.T. borrows a plank from an awed skater and pushes herself across the street to the nearest Buy 'n' Fly and starts trying to call Mom for a ride home."
To keep trying Mom, please reach out and touch this link.
If you lose intrest in the phone because of the cute Kourier checking you out across the street, go say hello to him.
Nobody, I mean NOBODY, gives Raven the bird and gets away with it.
Hey, I hear Fido is awake!