“I’m sorry, Gary,” said David. “What’s your status?”
“They pounded us for no reason,” said Hoenig. “A bunch of civilians. They’re still screaming.”
“Gary?” he said forcefully.
“I’ve never—I just don’t know what happened.”
“Gary! I need you to focus,” said David. “Where are the helicopters right now?”
“I—uh. Ummm. I just,” he said, taking a few rapid breaths. “All right. I’m back. Sorry.”
“Are the helicopters still there?” said David.
“No. I took out the gunner and directed the rest of my crew to fire into the troop compartment. They left in a hurry, but didn’t go far. I think they landed on the road south of here.”
“You need to move everyone as far away from the southern edge of that forest as possible,” said David. “Set up a defensive line—”
“I think we have too many wounded to move,” said Hoenig. “I don’t know yet, honestly.”
“Then focus on a skirmish line facing south,” said David. “Staggered depth. Anchored by marksmen on the ends. Then get the civilians moving. If they use those miniguns again, they’ll focus on the same location.”
“Right. Right,” said Hoenig. “Fuck. How do we get out of this?”
“We’re working on a plan to get the HUMVEEs at the hospital to your position,” said David. “Larsen is on the line with the group that parachuted in to escort Chang. They might be able to help somehow. We won’t leave you stranded.”
“I’m not sure what you can do for us,” said Hoenig. “I get the impression they don’t give a shit who shows up.”
“Just hang in there, Gary. Get the civilians moving. Get your defensive line established,” said David. “They’re probably relying on thermal gear to find you. I don’t know what you can do to foil that, but you’re going to need to get creative.”
“We have a lot of sleeping bags and blankets that might help. Not sure,” said Hoenig.
“It’s better than nothing, as long as they aren’t bright orange.”
Hoenig laughed a little, which was a good sign.
“You’re going to be all right, Gary. These people are counting on you. They’re lucky to have you,” said David. “You good to go?”
“As good as I can be given the circumstances,” said Hoenig.
“Stay in touch,” said David. “I’ll keep you posted. Larsen is giving me an enthusiastic thumbs-up right now. He has that annoying shit-eating grin on his face, too. I’ll call you in a few minutes.”
“I’ll be here,” said Hoenig, disconnecting the call.
“That didn’t sound good,” said Emma.
“No. It didn’t,” said David, pointing at Larsen and yelling, “What do you have?”
“Rich is on his way here with two more operatives,” said Larsen, arriving a few seconds later, winded from the sprint.
“They need to stop at the hospital,” said David. “Gary has wounded. If we could get a convoy of ambulances, police cars and HUMVEEs headed their way, that would send the helicopters packing.”
“I don’t think that’s what Rich has in mind,” said Larsen.
“This isn’t the right time to fuck around,” said David. “Gary thinks the helicopters landed south of his position. They’re sending trained killers, like yourself, in to finish the job.”
“I’m not a killer,” said Larsen, jabbing a finger into David’s shoulder just beyond the protective plate in his tactical vest. “If I was—you’d be dead. Along with Chang and everyone else.”
“That’s not technically true,” said David. “According to Chang, you’d still be locked in his safe room.”
Larsen grinned and shook his head. “Probably. But I’m not a killer.”
“We know. Sorry to spit that at you,” said David.
“It’s fine.”
“So—what does Rich and his merry band of psychos have planned?”
“I don’t know,” said Larsen. “But I think they’re hoping to grab intelligence or possibly a hostage.”
“That’s insane,” said David. “Call Rich right now and tell him to get the hospital mobilized.”
“It’s too late,” said Larsen.
“You just talked to them!”
“Dad, look,” said Joshua, nodding behind David.
He turned and saw a familiar white and black colored Explorer headed toward them from the direction of Rushville. It was the same type of vehicle he’d driven for the Westfield Police Department.
“I’ve never been happier to see a cop,” said Jack, glancing at David. “No offense.”
“None taken.”
“That’s not a cop,” said Larsen.
A second vehicle materialized several hundred yards behind the Interceptor, passing over a small hill that had previously hidden both cars. A Jeep Wrangler from what he could tell. Shit.
“This is their big plan?” said David, peering through the windshield of the approaching Interceptor. “I can tell from here that isn’t a cop.”
“I don’t know what to say,” said Larsen, shrugging his shoulders. “I really don’t.”
“A quick burst from one of those miniguns will put that Interceptor out of business,” said David. “And kill everyone inside. Are you really thinking about joining them?”
“I told them I’d help,” said Larsen. “If there’s a shot at getting these people off my back, I have to take it. They’re obviously still looking for me. It’s the only way they could have found this place.”
“I can’t see how you’re going to make a difference with six people in two unarmored vehicles,” said David. “But that’s your call.”
“I’m told this group has pulled off some serious miracles in the past,” said Larsen.
“Who told you that?” said David.
“Scott.”
“He’s one of them.”
The police vehicle pulled up next to them; Rich’s stern face appeared through the open passenger window. A Hispanic man with a scar running across his right jawline just stared forward through the windshield.
“Please tell me you didn’t hurt the officer relieved of this vehicle.”
“I’m pretty sure he didn’t enjoy the experience, but he’s fine. Tied up and stashed where he won’t be found for a while, but unharmed,” said Rich. “You joining us?”
“Black Hawk helicopters with miniguns against a police car and a Jeep Wrangler?” said David. “I’ll take a pass. They just fired a six-second burst into the civilians we left in the forest.”
“Take a look in the backseat,” said Rich.
He leaned over and looked through the rear passenger window. A six-barrel MK32 grenade launcher lay across the seats, next to a duffel bag he assumed contained spare 40mm grenades. David was familiar with the weapon system. He’d seen it from a distance during his time in the Marine Corps, when it was mostly an experimental weapon given to a few select Marine units for field-testing. Indianapolis PD had acquired several from the military for riot-control purposes. The launcher could fire six tear gas canisters in as many seconds. From what he remembered, Hoenig had one of these—but he only had smoke and flash-bang grenades. Still might be effective. What was he thinking?
“Nice toy,” said David. “But good luck hitting a helicopter. It’s not like they’re going to park them in a neat line for you.”
“That’s exactly what they’re going to do,” said Rich. “Listen.”
Except for the sound of the approaching Jeep, the air was still. Hoenig was right. The helicopters had landed.
“They could be airborne any second,” said David.
“We have a few more toys,” said Rich. “Stuff that packs a little more punch—and flies a little farther and straighter. You won’t want to miss this.”
David looked at his son. He wasn’t taking any further risks. Joshua was all that mattered. Rich read his mind.
“You’re staying behind. Head to the hospital,” said Rich. “In
case this doesn’t go the way I hope.”
“You sure?” said David, suddenly feeling guilty about not coming to Hoenig’s aid.
“We can’t put all of our eggs in one basket,” said Rich.
The Wrangler pulled up behind the SUV; its driver immediately got out and headed for the back of the Jeep.
“Eric, we need to get moving,” said Rich. “Get the rest of your team over here while we transfer some goodies.”
Larsen signaled for Ragan and McDermott to join them. The two agents rose from their positions along the road and started jogging toward the vehicles.
“I’ll get moving,” said David, turning to his son and the Harpers. “Our plan is the same. Get to the hospital as fast as possible.”
“They’re not going to drive us back?” said Jack.
“No. They’re going to try to break up the helicopter attack,” said David. “We’re the backup plan.”
“Then we better move it,” said Emma. “It’s at least two miles.”
“Two point three,” said Rich. “Do me a favor, and don’t alert the authorities until the dust settles on this. You’ll know pretty quickly. If the helicopters are up, we won’t last long.”
“That’s encouraging,” said Larsen.
“Just being realistic,” said Rich, pointing at McDermott and Ragan. “Those two ride with Rico. You’re with me. Three in a car.”
David patted Larsen on the shoulder. “Good luck. I think you’re crazy.”
“Me too,” said Larsen, looking over his shoulder and nodding. “Then again—that might help.”
“Holy shit,” said his son. “That’s crazy.”
The Jeep’s driver hustled between the vehicles, cradling two AT-4 rocket launchers. Jesus. Where the hell did they get this stuff? He glanced at Rich, who grinned.
“They’re not guided, which limits their value,” said Rich. “But they’ll make those pilots think twice about messing with us.”
“I almost wish I could see it,” said David, grabbing his son by the arm. “We’re out of here.”
David led the Harpers and his son past the Wrangler, pausing long enough to watch them load up and drive off. The distant thumping sound of helicopter rotors competed with the fading sound of the vehicle motors, dashing any hope of seeing Eric again. He didn’t see how they could outgun three heavily armed helicopters.
Chapter 10
Gary Hoenig kneeled next to Sean Fitzgerald and pointed toward the cornfield visible beyond the southern edge of the forest. It had to be a few hundred yards away. The green stalks were barely visible through the trees.
“They’ll probably come through the cornfield,” said Hoenig. “Assemble at two or three points and move simultaneously into the forest. Low crawling. We probably won’t see them until they’re in the trees.”
“What about the flanks?”
“I can’t see them coming from the road.”
“I wouldn’t discount it,” said Fitzgerald. “It’s an easy approach, and they’ll want to put at least one team on our flank.”
“If they were smart, they’d forget the road and put a team on the other side. We’re surrounded by fucking cornfields.”
“I think they’ll take the most direct approach,” said Fitzgerald. “They weren’t exactly subtle with their initial contact.”
“Either way, we can shift our forces to meet whatever they throw at us,” said Hoenig. “As long as we keep our shit together, we should be able to hold them off long enough for the cavalry to arrive.”
“If it arrives,” said Fitzgerald.
“David promised me they were working on something,” said Hoenig.
“We’re going to need a large-scale medevac when this is over,” said Fitzgerald. “We have a lot of wounded.”
“They’re headed to the hospital back in Rushville. He’s well aware of our situation,” said Hoenig. “All right. I’m going to leave you in charge here. I need to get these people moving. If the helicopters return, they’ll strafe the shit out of the same area—from above the trees. They won’t be able to see a damn thing, but the angle will be far more lethal than before.”
“I got this,” said Fitzgerald, lifting a pair of binoculars to scan the threat axis.
“I’ll be back,” said Hoenig, pushing onto his knees.
He was about to stand up when the sound of the helicopter rotors changed from a constant rumble to a deep-pitched, intensifying rumble.
“Shit,” said Fitzgerald.
Hoenig lowered himself back to the moist forest floor. “Shit is right. They’re airborne again.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about,” said Fitzgerald, lowering his binoculars and replacing them with his rifle. “They’re in the cornfield. I can barely see them, but they’re there.”
“Damn it. They’re going to hit us simultaneously. From the air and ground,” said Hoenig, jumping to his feet. “Open fire as soon as you have targets. I need to get our people moving. We have to buy some time.”
Fitzgerald nodded and went to work right away over the radio net, coordinating the security team’s response to the approaching threat. Hoenig got about thirty feet before the shooting started along the line. A few bullets cracked past him in response. The situation would get ugly fast.
“Gary, looks like we got three—check that—four teams in the cornfields,” said Fitzgerald over the radio. “They were a little careless on their approach, but they got smart quick.”
“Keep them busy, and watch the western flank,” said Hoenig, pausing behind a tree.
“Copy.”
He took off to help expedite the movement of the civilians toward the northern side of the forest, where they’d be mostly out of ground-fire range. The helicopter miniguns were a different story. Their fire had been disturbingly accurate, no doubt guided by the thermal sensor housed in the avionics ball mounted to the front of the helicopter. He should have fired his second and third shots at the sensor, but he’d been so enraged by Roscoe’s death, he couldn’t stop shooting into the troop compartment.
The helicopter was getting closer. Hoenig hoped that his team had done enough to dissuade them from flying low along the road. The thermal sensor wouldn’t be as useful flying above the tree canopy. If they flew below the dense layer of leaves, the sensor operators would spot them immediately. Racing by at half of their maximum speed would make it impossible for his security crew to hit the helicopters with effective fire.
The same couldn’t be said for the helicopter gunners. Accuracy wasn’t really an issue when you were spraying up to a hundred bullets per second. Just pointing those guns in the general direction of the survivors and pressing the trigger would prove devastating. Half of them were clearly visible in the forest, trudging in a disorganized gaggle to their new position deeper in the trees. With the helicopter bearing down on them, Hoenig picked up the pace, yelling as he ran.
“Get down! Everyone down. Get behind a tree!”
The people reacted slowly at first, but as Hoenig got closer and the sound of the helicopter grew louder, they started to respond en masse. Most of them crouched behind thick trees. A few lay flat on the ground behind downed trunks. At least a dozen remained in the open, unsure what to do.
“Get behind a tree!” screamed Hoenig, taking his own advice and nestling against a three-foot-diameter monster he’d spotted on his way.
The minigun roared, its bullets already hammering the trees and forest floor by the time the sound reached him. The barrage struck short of the survivors, mostly peppering the compact area they had previously occupied, but dozens of bullets ricocheted and skipped into the few people still exposed. Hoenig helplessly watched them fall, their bodies dropping out of sight below small clouds of aerosolized blood.
He stuck his head as far as he dared past the edge of the tree, catching the last of the helicopter’s rotor wash as it throttled the leaves and branches along the road. From what he could tell, the other helicopters had not lined up for follow-on gun r
uns. That probably wouldn’t last for long once the enemy ground element reported resistance on the southern front.
Hoenig sprinted toward the wounded survivors, hoping to get them to the fallback point before the next burst of gunfire. He found most of them pressed against the ground behind the trees. The rest were dead or dying in the open.
“We have to go! There’s not much time!” said Hoenig. “Get the wounded up and moving!”
They moved hesitantly.
“We have time to move, but it has to be now!” pleaded Hoenig. “Once they get all three helicopters up, we won’t be able to move. It’s safer farther north. Much denser forest.”
A bullet struck the tree next to his head, reminding him that the helicopters were only one facet of the multidimensional threat they faced.
“Fitz, what’s happening on your end?”
“Same old shit,” said Fitzgerald. “They’re in the forest now. Still nothing from the west.”
“Any casualties?”
“Negative. But it’s only a matter of time,” said Fitzgerald. “Too many bullets flying around. What happened with the flyby?”
“Same as the last one, but on a smaller scale,” said Hoenig. “I’ll be back at your position in a minute or so.”
“I’ll be here. Hopefully.”
“Who has the grenade launcher?” said Hoenig.
“Mitch has it.”
“Tell him to start using it,” said Hoenig. “Flash-bangs only. Focus on one group at a time. Concentrate the line’s gunfire on the group he hits. Those noisemakers might flush a few of them into the open.”
“Damn good idea,” said Fitzgerald.
“Roscoe came up with it. See you in a few,” said Hoenig before ditching the cover of a thick tree to help the stragglers get moving.
Chapter 11
Ecker snapped off a shot at one of the men directly in front of him, unsure if his bullet had connected. The incoming gunfire was too accurate to risk spending any time on battle-damage assessment. He was taking quick shots and ducking behind his tree, unmotivated to push his luck any further. They’d lost four already, three in the cornfields on the approach to the forest. Whoever was running the show in there knew what they were doing. The bullets had started flying before they’d cleared the cornstalks.
The Zulu Virus Chronicles Boxset (Books 1-3) Page 65
