by Dirk Patton
Looking up in the mirror I could see the helicopter’s spotlight, but the truck vibrated so much that I couldn’t tell what was happening. Sticking my head out the driver’s side window I looked back as the helo touched down on the road. They were checking the wreck. In about thirty seconds they would know I wasn’t injured or dead in the crashed Hummer. About five seconds after that someone would turn his head and look down the road in my direction. There was no other logical place for me to be.
Thirty seconds after that they’d have everyone back on board and the pilot would be lifting off and turning to pursue. So I had one minute, ninety seconds at best, before they were on my trail. Pressing the gas pedal as hard as I could I finally built up enough speed to shift into third, wincing as it sounded like I was grinding the teeth off every gear the old Dodge had.
I roared past a building on the right side of the road before I even realized it was there in the dark. Then the road made a gentle turn to the right, the truck hopping around to beat the band as I forced it through the curve at speed. To my left I could make out a couple of hangars and parked aircraft in the moonlight. An airport, and that had to mean I was close to town.
Staying on the gas I roared on, hoping there weren’t any more cows out for a midnight stroll. But then the Dodge was a beast and was probably just about as stout as a Hummer.
I had been counting the time off in my head and as I got to sixty seconds I started glancing out the right window. At seventy seconds I saw the helicopter lift back into the air, spotlight still shining brightly. It quickly transitioned into forward flight, following the ribbon of asphalt, light focused on the pavement. I had maybe twenty seconds before they caught up with me.
More and more commercial buildings were appearing as I pushed farther in to Mountain Home. The problem was they were spaced too far apart and if I hid in one of them I’d be stuck, unable to make it to another without exposing myself for too long.
Fifteen seconds left and I risked another glance at the Russian helicopter. It was fast approaching, not close enough for me to hear it over the roar of the Dodge’s motor, but it was too close. At twelve seconds I spotted a neighborhood of small homes coming up on my left. At ten seconds I saw the road that fed into the subdivision. At eight seconds I slammed on the brakes and cut the wheel for the turn at the same time I began hearing the helo.
The tires screamed in protest of the turn, the brakes feeling like mush. I fought the transmission and got it into second, finally able to feed in some throttle and roar through the turn onto the residential street. I was moving perpendicular to the path the helicopter was following, but was still too close to the main road. I needed cover and began looking but none of the houses had garages or even carports.
Ahead I could see the road I was on ended in a T intersection, a small house directly in front of me. It didn’t have a garage, but there was a short driveway that ended against its front wall and there wasn’t anything parked there. Jamming on the brakes at the last instant I squealed to a stop in the driveway and flopped sideways on the seat as the engine sputtered and died from being left in gear when the truck stopped.
The roar of the Hind was loud as it flew over the entrance to the neighborhood, then the pitch of the sound changed. I poked my head up over the back of the seat and peered out the rear window. The helo was gaining altitude and starting an orbit of the area, spotlight shining brightly.
26
The Hind searched the area for several minutes, the spotlight brightening the interior of the Dodge a couple of times as the helo orbited. I remained still, leaned over on the seat, only poking my head up for a look when I could tell by the sound that they had temporarily moved away. As they widened their search area the times they were too far away to spot me increased, and I took the opportunity to jump out of the truck.
My internal clock was still ticking as I had no doubt they’d already been on the radio and there was a whole host of Russians about to descend on the small town. Come down and try to stomp my ass into a big puddle of goo. Well, if I didn’t get my ass moving that’s probably exactly what was going to happen.
Keeping an eye on the orbiting helicopter I started jogging east along a residential street. The houses were small and well kept, very few of them with any vehicles still parked in the driveways or at the curb in front. Maybe the people had evacuated, or maybe most of them had been at work when one of the waves of infection rolled through.
The Hind was coming back in my general direction and I moved into a narrow side yard that separated two homes and tucked up tight against the trunk of a tree. They’d spot me with FLIR, no doubt, but I’d be well concealed from their light. I wasn’t terribly worried, reasonably confident that if they had FLIR they wouldn’t be using the spotlight.
It passed over about a block away and I stepped back into the street and kept moving. For the moment I was outside their search orbit, but that would change when reinforcements arrived. It wasn’t far from the air base and I knew I maybe had five minutes before additional helos were in the air, buzzing around trying to locate me.
Ground troops wouldn’t be far behind. If I was the on scene commander I’d load up every US Air Force truck I could find on the base and drive the troops up. It wouldn’t take long to get here and had the advantage of not tying up the airborne assets ferrying them up. The helicopters were much more valuable to the Russians if they were all on station, hunting.
The neighborhood wasn’t very big and I quickly reached a north-south street that was lined with commercial buildings. Fast food, automotive repair, gas stations and similar types of businesses. I reminded myself to not make the same error I’d made in Dodge City and take refuge in a business. But I was hopeful that I’d find someplace that might have some ammo.
The helo had continued its search pattern, shifting the center of its orbit a little farther east with every circuit. I was moving in the same direction it was, but was still outside the perimeter of each turn. Glancing up and down the road I decided to turn south. There appeared to be more buildings in that direction, which meant more hiding places when I needed one.
I was moving fast, keeping an eye on the Hind as well as routinely scanning the sky in the direction of the air base, expecting to see the anti-collision lights on several approaching aircraft at any moment. Distracted by the Russians, and not maintaining proper situational awareness, I was caught completely unprepared when a female slammed into my side and tackled me to the ground.
She had been quiet. Very quiet. I hadn’t even heard a footstep as she charged in, just got blindsided like a wet behind the ears rookie. Her momentum carried both of us off the sidewalk and onto the asphalt in the street. About the only good news was that there wasn’t traffic that would run over me while I fought with the bitch.
Her hands were around my neck, squeezing as she bit down on my forearm. When we’d landed I’d been able to get my arms in front of me. Instead of trying to push her face and snapping teeth past them and tear out my throat she was content to clamp down a few inches above my wrist. The heavy fabric my clothing’s sleeves were made of was all that kept my flesh from being torn open.
I was thankful for that but the pressure from the bite hurt like hell and her grip was strong enough to cut off my air. Realizing I’d been momentarily stunned by the suddenness of her attack and the impact with the street, I finally started fighting.
My left arm was free and I hit her on the side of the head three times, fast and hard. She released her bite on the third blow and I put both hands on her shoulders and pushed. My arms were longer than hers and I was stronger than she was, so her grip on my neck was broken as I forced her away from me. She tried to hold on to my throat, her ragged nails tearing furrows in my skin as her hands were dragged away from my flesh.
When I felt her grip break I twisted, intending to get an arm around her neck and snap it, but she shifted, slashed at my face and leapt away from me. Scrambling to my knees I yanked my Kukri free of its scab
bard as she stood there watching me. Her eyes followed the blade, then she turned and sprinted away into the darkness between two buildings.
“Fuck,” I mumbled to myself, reaching up and wiping the blood away where she’d torn open my neck.
I was starting to get used to the infected females doing the unexpected, but they just seemed to be getting smarter. Or maybe smarter wasn’t the right way to think about it. More instinctual? She’d had the drop on me when she attacked. The advantage of surprise. But she’d been overpowered, then had somehow recognized the danger poised by the sharp steel blade and had withdrawn.
Kicking myself for still kneeling there and thinking about it, I stood, sheathed the Kukri and started moving again after checking on the helicopter. It was slightly farther away and I checked the immediate area for any infected then the sky to the south. No imminent attack and still no reinforcements on the way.
Passing two more buildings I cursed when I saw several sets of blinking red and green lights appear in the southern sky. More Hinds on the way. I scanned for infected as well as a good place to take cover. No infected and nothing but small commercial businesses that would be easy to isolate and search. I needed to get back into a residential area. Running across the street I spared another glance, unhappy to note that the approaching helicopters were dramatically closer. They were coming fast.
On the opposite sidewalk I turned and began running south, aiming for a cross street that would take me east and deeper into the small town. I was running hard, needing to be hunkered down before the additional aircraft arrived and joined the search. Also watching for infected, I wasn’t paying any attention to the buildings I was running past. I turned the corner to head east, coming to a stop when my brain finally processed what I’d just seen. Mountain Home Sporting Goods.
Short of a dedicated gun shop this was probably the most likely type of place to have ammunition. If there was any that hadn’t been snatched up by the civilian population. But I was down to less than two magazines and didn’t have a lot of choice.
Running back to the front entrance I cursed to find a steel security shutter protecting the door. The rest of that side of the building was a blank wall made of stone blocks. Dashing around the side there was just more of the same. Entering the rear parking lot, I noted the Russians were now close enough for me to hear their rotors. I either got in now or had to run for the closest house.
The back lot didn’t have any vehicles parked in it. There was a steel security door set flush with the smooth exterior wall, no knob or handle visible from the outside. Shit! No way to gain access in the short time I had.
Sparing a glance at the helicopters, which were starting to spread out to go into search orbits, I turned to run into the neighborhood behind the store. The sound of a lock clicking caused me to whirl and aim my rifle at the back door I’d just been checking. It came open halfway and a man stuck his head out and looked at me.
“What are you waiting for? Get your ass in here!” He hissed, waving me to him as he turned to look at an approaching helicopter.
27
Martinez was pushing the Hind to its maximum speed, which was quite a bit higher than the published specs she had read. The helicopter was an absolute beast, easily matching the top speed of a Black Hawk and powering on past it. After picking up Katie, Rachel and Dog she had flown them directly to the small airport in Nampa, staying low to hopefully avoid detection by the Russian AWACS. She had previously found and disabled the aircraft’s transponder, so if they didn’t pop up high enough above the ground clutter to be spotted on radar the chances of being detected were slim at best.
She had set down near the hangar they’d been hiding in, everyone jumping out immediately when the landing gear touched the tarmac. Igor would assist with the refueling while Colonel Crawford, Scott and Irina pulled security duty. They would also give their prisoner, Johnnie Ray, a brief break without ever letting him out of their sight.
Katie and Rachel hopped down, Crawford lifting Dog so he didn’t have to stress his injured legs by jumping down. He headed for the side of the hangar, Rachel tagging along to make sure he was OK. Katie stood back and watched as Irina unlocked Johnnie Ray’s handcuffs. He rubbed his wrists where the steel had chaffed before reaching up and peeling the strip of duct tape off his mouth.
“This is fucking bullshit,” he mumbled to Crawford as he stiffly jumped to the ground. “No reason to be treating me like this.”
“Shut up unless you want to get locked back up without a break,” the Colonel said, glaring at the man.
Johnnie Ray had been unable to keep his mouth shut. He had constantly complained about everything. The cuffs were too tight. The helicopter was too rough and noisy. He didn’t want to cooperate and go see the doctor. And when he wasn’t bitching he was making some thinly veiled sexual innuendo about Irina or Martinez. Reaching his limit, Crawford had finally borrowed Scott’s roll of duct tape, peeled off a strip and slapped it across the prisoner’s mouth.
“You can lock me back up with that red head,” he said, leering at Katie who was standing a few yards away, watching Rachel and Dog.
Crawford stepped closer, Johnnie Ray shrinking back and holding his hands up in surrender.
“Sorry, General. Just saying she’s a good looking woman. That’s all. I’ll behave.” He said.
“Go take a piss,” Crawford tilted his head out towards the open tarmac. “Remember the deal. You try to run; I’ll shoot you in the ass.”
Johnnie Ray started to open his mouth to say something, but after evaluating the look on Crawford’s face he changed his mind. Nodding, he walked a few yards away before relieving himself on the pavement.
“We’ve got a problem, Colonel.” Martinez called from the far side of the helicopter.
“Go. I’ve got him,” Irina said, raising her rifle and pointing it at Johnnie Ray. Katie moved to stand next to her, also raising her rifle to guard the prisoner.
Crawford nodded and headed to where Martinez and Igor were standing over a fueling point.
“What’s wrong?” He asked as he walked up.
“Pump isn’t working.” Martinez gestured to the blocky piece of equipment that was attached to the fueling point hard pipe, a flexible hose coming out of the other side and running into the Hind’s tank. Electrical cables from the helo snaked to the pump to provide power.
“It worked earlier, didn’t it?” Crawford asked.
“Yes, sir. But it’s dead as a doornail and there’s not another one at this little puddle jumper airport. We’re going to have to pump by hand and it’s going to take a while,” Martinez answered, disconnecting the power cables from the faulty piece of equipment.
“How long?”
“Both external tanks are empty and they’re 500 liters each,” Martinez said. “And the internal auxiliary tank is half gone and it holds about 1,200 liters. The main tank is dry and that’s 1,800 liters. So we’ve got to pump over 3,000 liters and the hand pump can move maybe 1,500 liters an hour if the operator doesn’t get tired.”
“OK, get started,” Crawford said. “We’ll take turns. Frequent changes so there’s always a fresh arm turning the crank. You make sure we’re getting it done as fast as we can.”
“Yes, sir.” Martinez turned to Igor and started giving instructions in slow, patient English. Crawford had been working with him and he was starting to learn, but wasn’t grasping what she was telling him.
Grumbling, she grabbed his arm and began leading him towards the hangar to get the manual pump.
“Captain,” Crawford called before she was too far away. “Why don’t we get this thing in the hangar since we’re going to be sitting here for a while. Don’t want the CAP or a patrol to spot us.”
“Yes, sir. Right away.”
She turned back to Igor and mimed driving. He grinned before turning and running into the hangar. A couple of moments later a small tractor started up and the Spetsnaz trooper drove out through the open doors. While he and Mar
tinez got it hooked up to drag the Hind out of sight, Crawford turned to go fill in the rest of the group on what was happening.
When he rounded the tail of the helicopter he paused a step before continuing. Johnnie Ray was seated on the tarmac, legs splayed out in front of him. His hands were raised to his face, blood running down his chin and dripping onto his lap.
“What did he do?” Crawford didn’t have to ask which of the women had hit the prisoner. Irina was trying to suppress a grin and Katie looked like she was ready to continue the beating.
“He asked Mrs. Chase what she would charge for a blow job,” Irina finally couldn’t hold it in any longer, dissolving into laughter.
“Real fucking funny, bitch.” Johnnie Ray said with hatred in his eyes.
Katie stepped over him, raising the butt of her rifle in the air. He shrank away and held his hands up.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Don’t hit me again.”
“No more chances, asshole. Next time I’ll beat you unconscious. Like the Colonel’s told you; we don’t need you healthy, just alive. Last warning!”
Katie hovered over the cowering man, rifle still raised. He shot a glance at Irina and Crawford, but they just stood and glared back at him, not a glimmer of sympathy on either of their faces.
“Alright. Get your ass up.” Crawford fished the handcuffs out of a cargo pocket.
Once Johnnie Ray was restrained he was led into the hangar and put back inside the helicopter. Prisoner secure, Crawford took a minute to explain about the delay in departing for Seattle.
“But we don’t have two hours,” Katie protested when he finished telling her. “They’ve already got a head start on us and they’ll have John on the way to Russia.”
“We don’t have a choice,” Crawford said patiently. “We have to refuel before we can make the flight.”
