He pulled into a climb, instinctively opting for the safety of altitude. As the misty mountains dropped away beneath them, a new round of tracers streaked past, splattering the cockpit with flak."Damn it, Kozy. You're bad luck," Maitland muttered to his copilot. "Seems like every time we go up together, I taste lead."Kozlowski went right on chomping his wad of bubble gum. "What's to worry?" he drawled, nodding at the shattered windshield. "Missed ya by at least two inches.""Try one inch.""Big difference.""One extra inch can make a hell of a lot of difference."Kozy laughed and looked out the window. "Yeah, that's what my wife tells me."The door to the cockpit swung open. Valdez, the cargo kicker, his shoulders bulky with a parachute pack, stuck his head in. "What the hell's goin' on any—" He froze as another tracer spiraled past."Got us some mighty big mosquitoes out there," Koz-lowski said and blew a huge pink bubble."What was that?" asked Valdez. "AK-47?""Looks more like .57-millimeter," said Maitland."They didn't say nothin' about no .57s.
