The Lazarus Moment

by J. Robert Kennedy

  “Roger that. SAR team should be crossing any moment.”

  “Any ETA on a medivac for the First lady?”

  “It’s inbound now. Should be over your location shortly.”

  Dawson looked up, the moonlight barely making it through the thick canopy. “I’m not sure they’ll be able to get anyone down here, let alone back up.”

  “SAR team will take care of it. You and your men can take a break. Control Actual, out.”

  Dawson listened for the chopper but heard nothing. The sounds of the jungle were almost drowned out by the weary yet happy survivors, most in great spirits. He glanced over at the first family, near one edge of the clearing that had been made, Starling and his daughter lying on the ground on either side of the ailing First Lady.

  She’s not going to make it.

  The comm squawked. “Bravo Zero-One, Sierra Zero-One. We’ve got activity at the river, over.”

  Dawson stood, the others doing the same. “SAR team should be arriving, hold your fire.” The SEALs had volunteered to take first watch at the river and Dawson had readily agreed, he and his men exhausted. Red and his team were already sacked away nearby, their ordeal a little more grueling, fighting and running through the jungle for almost eight hours with no rest a bit harder than corralling fifty people.

  Though he’d remind them of the fact he and the others had fallen out of the sky, if they tried to sleep longer than the two hours agreed to.

  Dawson followed a trail hacked out earlier, Atlas, Niner and Spock behind him, the sound of the river growing as they approached.

  “Confirmed, SAR team has arrived,” came the announcement over the comm, Dawson feeling the tension in his shoulders immediately ease. The burden of command was about to be lifted. He didn’t mind it in combat, in fact, he thrived off it, but being in charge of almost fifty civilians including the President of the United States and his family? Not his cup of tea. He did it because it was necessary, and he was pretty sure the brass would privately agree he did a good job, though the public record would probably somehow blame him for what went wrong.

  Air Force One had crashed due to a terrorist act. Over forty people were dead and the First Lady may yet die.

  Somebody had to be blamed.

  About his only saving grace at the moment was that he officially didn’t exist, though that blanket of protection might be thrown to the wind if a satisfactory scapegoat couldn’t be found.

  “You hear that?” asked Niner.

  Dawson cocked an ear and nodded, the distinctive sound of several Seahawks approaching from the south echoing through the trees. Dawson arrived at the river, the SAR team using the jury-rigged cable with their own trolley to slide across.

  Skerritt glanced over at them as they emerged from the trees. “The cavalry has arrived,” he said, nodding toward the first man as two of his team unhooked the SAR team member.

  “Just after the nick of time,” replied Atlas.

  “Oh, that reminds me of an awesome movie,” said Niner, Spock and Atlas immediately groaning. “Nick of Time. Johnny Depp stars in it. His daughter is kidnapped and he’s blackmailed into assassinating a politician. Awesome movie. We should do that next movie night, you guys will love it.”

  “Does it have all four cornerstones of a good movie?” asked Atlas.

  “Only V and L unfortunately.”

  “No S and N?”

  “Nope.”

  “Then it doesn’t make the cut.”

  “Who decided these rules?”

  “You did!” echoed Atlas, Spock and Dawson, the SEAL team laughing as the SAR team lead walked over.

  “Lieutenant Commander Jacobson. I understand you’re in command?”

  Dawson wasn’t in uniform so didn’t salute, but did draw himself to attention slightly. “Agent White. I stand relieved.”

  “I bet you do,” smiled Jacobson. He held out his hand. “Lead the way.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Niner and Atlas led them through the trail blazed earlier.

  “You and your men did a hell of a job, Agent.”

  Dawson caught a slight smirk from Jacobson.

  Must have been briefed on who I might be.

  “Thank you, sir. The civilians will be relieved that you’re here.” He pointed up. “Sounds like your choppers are arriving but I’m not sure if there are any gaps for them to evac the First Lady.”

  “You leave that to us,” said Jacobson as they came out into the clearing, everyone who was still awake stopping what they were doing and turning to see the new arrival. Lt. Commander Jacobson immediately reported to the President as Dawson heard a small motor roar to life.

  “Is that what I think it is?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.

  Jacobson turned and nodded. “We brought a couple of chainsaws. We’re going to clear an LZ so we can get the wounded and the President out immediately, then have a large enough area cleared by morning so everyone can get out.” He turned to the gathering crowd, almost everyone awake now. “Rest easy, ladies and gentlemen, your ordeal is almost over!”

  Cheers, tears, hugs and kisses circulated the group, Jane beaming a smile at Dawson that would have made most men’s hearts skip a beat. Dawson merely returned it, oblivious to reality, his radar turned off long ago.

  President Starling led them away from his family. “Commander, I’ll leave as soon as the last civilian leaves, not before.”

  Jacobson shook his head. “Negative, Mr. President. President Roberts gave direct orders to physically remove you should you not leave on the first chopper.”

  Starling gave him a look, a bemused smile on his face. “Oh really.”

  Jacobson stifled a grin. “He said that as far as he was concerned he was President until he saw the whites of your eyes, and if you had a problem with that, you could take it up with the Chief Justice when you arrived in Washington.”

  Starling began to chuckle, then outright laugh as he shook his head. “Commander, you’ve got moxie obeying that order. Fine, I leave with my wife and daughter if only to save you from being court-martialed for disobeying an order.”

  “Thank you, Mr. President.”

  “Timber!” shouted somebody deeper in the jungle, the sound of a tree crashing silencing the crowd, then only serving to fuel the excitement further as the thumping of chopper blades pounded overhead.

  Commander Jacobson pointed to the First Lady as more of his team arrived. “Prep her for immediate transport.” He turned to the President. “If you’ll excuse me, Mr. President.”

  “Of course.”

  Jacobson snapped out a smart salute, Starling returning it, then disappeared into the woods. Starling turned to Dawson.

  “Looks like you’re going to get your steak after all.”

  Dawson tapped his watch. “I guess it’ll have to be steak and eggs.”

  Starling smiled. “Hopefully I’ll be able to join you.” The happiness melted away from his face as he stared at his wife, the SAR team snapping together a proper stretcher. “I have a horrible feeling my pain is only just beginning.”

  Dawson wasn’t sure what to say, or even if he should say anything, yet he felt compelled to say something. “Everyone is praying for her, Mr. President.”

  Starling smiled slightly and patted him on the back. “Thank you, son.” He looked at the other Delta operators, now gathered in a cluster. “Thank you all.”

  Air Force One Survivors’ Camp, Mozambique

  Dawson extended a hand and Niner hauled him into the Seahawk, the last boot off the ground. One of the flight crew closed the door and the chopper lifted off, the load of Delta and SEALs the final group to leave. As he stared out over the thick jungle below, the morning sun already bright in the sky, he could see nothing but trees, even the river completely obscured.

  A river that had saved their lives.

  Twice.

  Colonel Lacroix had managed to land them on it, the only reason any of them had survived, then they had used it as the great e
qualizer in their final battle with the rebels.

  And still it remained hidden away.

  How the hell did he ever see it?

  One of the flight crew slapped him on the arm, pointing to his headset. “Signal from the carrier! The President and his family are secure!”

  Dawson nodded and closed his eyes, a slight smile on his face. They had been through hell, all of them, but it was over. He opened his eyes and glanced over at Spock, talking animatedly with Niner about something, the chopper too loud for the conversation to be heard.

  Thank God we didn’t lose him.

  He would have hated to deliver the news to the family. It wasn’t his job, it the Colonel’s, though he always made it a point to see the family when a man was lost. It was devastating, every time, and it was the one duty he hated more than any other, especially the lies. The families could never know the truth about how their loved ones died, and unless it was a spouse, they usually never knew what their loved ones actually did. Every man in this chopper, Delta and SEAL, were heroes, willing to die for their country and their fellow man. They did it out of a sense of duty and honor, not for money or medals. If these men wanted money, they could leave the service tomorrow, join any number of private companies, and get paid six figures, their expertise in high demand.

  But that would be almost like abandoning your post, leaving your friends to fend for themselves.

  He’d never do it. As long as he had a fighting breath in him, and the Army would let him do what he loved, he’d remain a soldier. Eventually they’d force him out of active duty and at that point, he’d train the next generation. It was in his blood and he couldn’t imagine life outside Delta.

  He wanted to die with the Unit.

  He thought of Maggie and what she would go through if he were to die on the job. She’d be destroyed, he was sure, but she’d recover. They all did. That was life. He had no intention of dying in combat, though it didn’t scare him. He had always avoided serious relationships because he had never wanted the tortured look of a grieving widow on the face of a woman he loved.

  It was bad enough his parents and sister would be left devastated.

  But Maggie had changed that. He had finally given in, the woman pursuing him relentlessly, apparently at the urging of several of his men’s partners. She had confessed she was ready to give up on him in the beginning, but Red’s wife Shirley had been instrumental in urging her to continue her pursuit.

  His relenting was the best thing that had ever happened to him since making the Unit.

  His concerns over becoming less of a force on the battlefield had been proven unfounded, which had allowed him to throw himself fully into the relationship.

  So what’s next, Big Dog?

  “Thinking of that steak?” asked Red, leaning in beside him.

  Dawson smiled and nodded. “Yeah.” His stomach growled, leaving just his brain guilty of the lie. “I’m starving.”

  “You and me both. You gonna give Maggie a call when we get to the ship?”

  Dawson shook his head. “I’ll fire her a message. I want to talk to her in person.”

  “Sounds serious.”

  Dawson shrugged.

  “Could be.”

  “Look!” shouted Niner, pointing out the window. Dawson leaned over to see several Super Hornets race by. “Better late than never, flyboys!”

  Dawson watched as the planes banked in the distance then smiled.

  Say goodnight, Gracie.

  Below the falls, Lugenda River, Mozambique

  Domingos’ eyes were wide with greed, the payday very profitable indeed. They had found the bodies of almost forty people on board the aircraft and along the river. Piles of loot lined the shore and lay on the decks of the nearly empty boats, the vast majority of the troops they had carried only yesterday dead and gone.

  Yet as he held up a gold Rolex, the sun reflecting off the diamonds embedded around the face, he felt his heart race a little bit faster. Just the one watch would let him live like a king for a year.

  Or at least a prince.

  Watches, rings, chains, necklaces, earrings, cellphones, computers, clothing, and more were being retrieved. How much of the electronics still worked, he had no idea, though there was a lot of equipment in protective cases that he was certain were waterproof.

  But just the jewelry alone would satisfy him and his men for some time.

  And the weapons would allow them to maintain control of the area until new recruits were found.

  They had found a cache of weapons in some unlocked cabinets, enough to equip a small army. They had handguns, rifles, bullets, grenades, body armor and more.

  They were a force to be reckoned with again.

  “Commander, look at this!”

  Domingos turned toward one of his men as he waded out of the water. He had a large case in his hand, handcuffs dangling from the handle. “What’s that?”

  “I don’t know, but it must be important. It was handcuffed to a soldier.”

  “How did you get it off?”

  The man grinned, tapping his machete.

  Domingos laughed, patting the ground. “Put it here, we’ll try to open it later.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The case was placed beside him and Domingos eyed it for only a moment, not wanting to betray his excitement at the find. It was the only thing they had found so far that had been handcuffed to anyone. That meant it was important. The only thing he could think of that could possibly be important enough for it to be cuffed to a soldier was money. Surely the President travelled with a large amount of cash to pay for his visits or grease any wheels that might need silencing during negotiations. It’s not like he could walk into a bank and make a withdrawal.

  This is his bank role.

  It had to be, there could be no other explanation.

  He lifted the case and it was heavy.

  Extremely heavy.

  He covered his mouth, unable to control his elation.

  There must be millions in there!

  He had his payday, all neatly contained in a black case that no one else knew about. He stared at the man who had retrieved it as he climbed back into the wreckage, it difficult work, the falls roaring over the fuselage. The plane stood on an angle, the nose shoved into the riverbed, the tail high in the air, leaning against the falls.

  It took a brave man to go inside.

  He’ll have to die.

  That would be easy enough. He’d just tell one of his trusted men to do the deed tonight. The body would never be found.

  And then he’d be rich, with enough money to leave the country if he had to.

  He smiled then shoved his lips out, biting his cheek in an attempt to control his excitement.

  America, here I come. And you better have my Jaguar ready when I get there.

  Jet engines roared overhead and he looked up to see four planes streak across the sky, over the falls. They swept past the river then out of sight, the small opening in the canopy only around the basin created by the falls.

  He pushed himself to his feet, trying to see where they went, the sound of the engines changing then growing louder again. He heard new sounds, higher pitched, then spotted the missiles as they streaked across the sky directly toward them.

  He reached for the bag as the first missile hit, shrapnel from the downed plane ripping in all directions, the screams of the men inside quickly silenced, replaced by shouts of terror and pain from those outside. Missile after missile slammed into the area, massive fireballs consuming everything in sight as he realized he had committed yet one more error in judgment.

  He had underestimated the Americans once again, not realizing they wouldn’t be content to leave their precious aircraft to the mercies of the likes of him.

  And as a fireball ripped toward him, the oxygen sucked out of his lungs, he found himself not thinking of his lost glory or his wife and sons, but of the one thing that had worried him all morning.

  His nephew.
>
  And how having to lie to his sister was no longer a problem.

  USS George H. W. Bush, Off the coast of South Africa

  Senior Airman Jane Harrison leaned against the cool metal of the bulkhead, her eyes closed as she listened to the sounds of the aircraft carrier, its engines, crew and constant take offs and landings new to her. She had never been on a naval vessel before though she had been sailing quite a bit with her father when they lived in Maine. She had her sea legs, something that couldn’t be said for a lot of the other survivors.

  She smiled.

  Then frowned, a lump forming in her throat.

  So many dead!

  She thought of Jennifer. They had been friends since the beginning of her tour, socializing, hanging out, confessing their deepest secrets and desires to each other.

  She would be missed.

  The sound of a hatch opening nearby had her head turning lazily to the side.

  She smiled.

  Dawson stood not twenty feet from her, looking damned fine. Freshly showered and shaved in some borrowed clothes, she felt her heart shift into high gear.

  Jenn would have loved him!

  A few times they had competed for guys, but always, once a preferred choice was expressed by the man, the other would back off. And if he tried to play both of them, they’d both back off.

  He’s definitely a one-woman kind of guy.

  He hadn’t expressed any interest earlier, though he was on duty, the enemy about to descend on them at any moment, dozens dead, everyone covered in sweat and blood.

  Not exactly a romantic setting.

  But she was young, hot, and single, with adrenaline fueled hormones from the past twenty-four hours that had her hotter than she had been in months.

  And it had been months.

  She pushed off from the wall. “Hi!”

  Dawson looked toward her and smiled, turning in her direction.

  Maybe he is interested.

  “How are you?” he asked.

  She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, giving him a big hug. He didn’t return it at first, then finally did.