by Vic Sandel
With no further instruction, Pete took them to the end of the runway, punched the throttles, and guided the plane right up into the sky. As they gained speed and took to the air, he had been calling out ground speeds all the way.
Bob was awed by the ease and skill with which this elderly man totally controlled this mega machine. He flew with a confidence, borne of skill and years of experience. No need to show off or prove what he could do to anyone. He just knew he could do the job, and do it well!
Back at the end of the runway, it was his turn at the controls. He thought back to another time, and another place as he eased the throttles forward. The aircraft quickly responded his commands and began its charge down the runway. He knew at what speed he should begin the lift, but he felt the plane's need, rather than watching it on the gauges. Already, the old and familiar feelings of power and freedom was coming back. At just the right moment that he pulled back on the control and felt the aircraft leave the pavement. He gave it a bit more throttle and increased the angle of ascent. The feeling was perfect and so was the takeoff.
Wheels up, retract the wing flaps, and it was done. He was flying a jet, again. At Pete's command, he began a series of slow banks and turns. Pete ordered a steep climb and a leveling, which he executed without a flaw. A rapid descent was ordered followed by a sharp right turn, and then the same maneuver, to the left. Again, he was perfect.
“A great start, said Pete, I guess it's coming back to you.”
“Even more than you think. May I?”
“It's your aircraft. Have at it.”
“Bob jammed the throttle forward and pushed the jet into a totally vertical climb. He leveled off, and began a series of rolls, and then returns to level flight. Rolls, loops, climbs and dives, all were executed and finally he put the plane into a stall and recovered nicely.
“I remember. Its all coming back. Different plane, but same maneuvers. Back to the barn, boss?”
“Well done, Mr. Eller. You certainly don't need me along for the ride any more. Later, we'll tackle the target range, but you'll be flying solo. Do you think you can land this thing?”
When they landed and taxied in, Major Marcus's F14 was ready and waiting, as well as another F-16. The trainer was to be re-fueled while Major Abbington took up the F-16 with Pete running chase in the 14. They would soon see if his vision was still too impaired to fly.
Major Marcus instructed the mechanics before he climbed aboard the F-14. “Guys, I want you to arm the trainer. Give it two rockets for vertical targets and three target bombs. Top her off and have her ready when Major Abbington and I get back.”
“Mr. Eller, when I return, we are going over to the target range to see how you shoot.”
Major Abbington climbed into the waiting F-16 and waited while Pete boarded his F-14. They taxied side-by-side, to the runway. Pete signaled Abbington to take off first. When he was halfway down the runway, Marcus began to roll. Together, they took to the sky and he radioed instructions on what maneuvers he wanted to see.
Abbington was a bit hesitant in his moves, at first, but quickly got over his apprehension and began to loosen up. Major Marcus could see that his movements were becoming more fluid and relaxed.
After a while it was time for the moment of truth. “Okay Major, this is it. I want you to land. I'm going to be right alongside in case you need a heads up on ground speed and altitude.”
“Roger that. Going in for landing.”
While the landing was not as soft as a roll of “Charmin”, It wasn't bad either. Considering the layoff, it wasn't bad and no direction was needed.
By the time they landed, the trainer was loaded and ready.
“Okay, Mr. Eller, crank her up. Lets all go shooting.”
Wright Patterson was beginning to look like the busy airbase it once was, as the three jets took to the sky. Pete led them a couple of miles to the west where three vertical targets and three horizontal targets were ready and waiting.
Major Marcus led off. Flying toward a vertical target, he released two rockets. Leaving a smoke trail, they streaked through the cloth barrier. Immediately gaining altitude, he flew about two miles toward his horizontal goal and loosed two small target bombs. With a whoosh and burst of flame the target was destroyed.
“That's how you do it people! Now, Major Abbington, if you please.”
Relaxing as he began his run, Donald Abbington approached the target and fired his rockets. The target was destroyed but one rocket had gone wide. His horizontal run was perfect. All-in-all a good showing.
Bob Eller began his turn. Considering the enhanced vision and reflexes he possessed he was pretty sure he'd score well. He wasn't disappointed as, like Major Marcus, his score was perfect.
As they lined up for a landing, Major Marcus summed it up. “Well, it looks like we've got a squadron!”
Under their helmets and visors, all three were smiling.
Somehow , he was expecting this. As his new pilots climbed out of their planes each was handed a brand new flight suit with their names embossed over the pockets. In addition, there were new helmets, also personalized. The best moment arrived when a mechanic went over to the regular F-16 and began to paint “Abbington” on the fuselage. Another fully-loaded F-16 was approaching, as the tug pulled it to the flight line. “Eller” was already embossed on its sides!
Chapter 35
Ultimate Weapons
Jessie couldn't believe it. Here he was, stuck in a military library, searching for something he could have located on the internet within about fifteen minutes. So far, the search had consumed about three hours. Rather than have Brian Sanders, Lou Harris, and all the other Coast Guard guys stuck in here with him, he sent them off to scrounge the hangars for effective additions to their rescue copters.
While the professors, Marco and Baldwin, were trying how to figure out how to fry the zombies in a giant microwave oven, without hurting anyone else. His task was more immediate. All he had to do was find something that could broadcast sound, on a frequency that would shatter the frozen crawlers. His first thought was to find a still living soprano and have her sing out the open door of a helicopter. That idea was quickly abandoned in favor of something you didn't have to feed.
Funny thing though, he seemed to remember hearing about some kind of sound weapon used on ships to help against pirate hijackings.
Then he found it. There were a lot of names, and at various bases, even working prototypes.
It seemed as though the military had been working with sound for years, and had success using sound in what they had called a “directed-energy weapon”, or with the usual fondness for acronyms, DEW. These machines transmited energy directly at a target at frequencies that may have lethal or non-lethal effects.
There were several functions this technology might perform, but the one most applicable to their current need was the “Active Denial System”. In essence, this gadget shoots a wave of sound that heats the water in a target's skin. The resultant pain is intense and was meant for crowd control. The level of pain and whether or not it was lethal depended on strength, frequency, and distance.
According to the article, there were actually some of these units mounted on Humvees. Supposedly, according to the article, the U.S. Air Force Research Lab had been working on the project.
What Jessie had just found, not only was an important lead that might solve their immediate need, but also more than touched on the microwave weapon.
He began looking for former manufacturers of these sonic denial systems and struck gold. The first he found was LRAD, short for Long Range Acoustic Device. It was used to send messages, but could also send pain-inducing tones over long distances. Before the zombies, they were being used by law enforcement, the military and other public entities, for crowd control and to keep animals off runways.
This was good, but he needed more power, and he was seeking longer range.
He found it a few minutes later. A company that had been scoring numerous
contracts for their devices, to be used at sea, among other things. As he began reading reports, he began to wonder why the use of these weapons was not more widespread. Even back in 2005 they had proven effective. He read on;
“On November 5, 2005, the luxury cruise ship Seabourn Spirit employed an LRAD while repelling pirates who attacked the vessel with rocket-propelled grenades, about 115km off the coast of Somalia. The effectiveness of this device during the attack is not completely clear, but the pirates did not succeed in boarding the vessel and eventually fled.”
He then found a company in nearby Indiana, who had been making an extremely powerful version of the device. It seemed that it might have an effective range of up to five-hundred yards. With the right tuning and pitch, he was sure it would shatter the ice. While the company was no longer in business, like almost all other outfits, he was hoping for a dusty warehouse full of product.
As he was getting all his papers together, he spotted one more article, he had not read. The headline grabbed his attention immediately. “UNITED STATES AIR FORCE, High-Power Microwaves”. The article went on to say, “Department of Defense research on high-power microwave technologies and their weapons potential is centered at Kirtland Air Force Base, New Mexico, within the High Power Microwave Division of the Air Force Research Laboratory's Directed Energy Directorate”.
Jessie grabbed up his research and headed up to visit the Colonel.
Chapter 36
Thinning the Heard
Brian Sanders, Lou Harris, and the pirate crew of three Coast Guard members had just finished the modifications on their birds. They had been supplied with all the mechanical help they could use and the work was done quickly.
Finding munitions at Wright Patterson was not a difficult thing. Their underground warehouses and hangars held the remains of over two-hundred aircraft of various models and ages. Many were in some stages of restoration for an air-space museum that had once been planned. Of these, several had already been stripped of useable hardware. Rocket launchers, munitions pods, machine guns and prized Gatlings were now installed on other craft. One helicopter was lying on it's side, as the entire undercarriage had been removed to restore the Apache attack helicopter that had been cannibalized just a couple of days earlier. That unit now sat on the flight line, ready to go.
Brian Sanders had just done his third walk around his old rescue helicopter. Under the supervision of his brother, an avid arms collector, the refit had been, to quote Brian, overkill. The MH65 Dolphin bristled with mounted machine guns at the doors, two rocket launchers, a machine gun pod and of course, the mass firing Gatling pod. The underside had the ability to hang two bombs, presumably napalm, but not mounted at this time.
Ensign Richards summed it all up with a question. “Are we gonna be able to lift off with all this shit?”
Looking at the two Jayhawks that had just pulled alongside, one could see that they were similarly equipped.
Colonel Dickerson, who had been waiting for the helicopters to be ready, now called the former Coast Guard Men into his office.
“Good morning, gentlemen. I see you've all managed to find what you needed in our toy store. Is everything functional?”
That was answered by a unanimous, “Yes sir!”
The Colonel was about to speak when he noticed Glen Sanders holding tight to a long gun case. “Young Mr. Sanders, might I ask what that is you seem to find so valuable?”
Embarrassed, Glen placed the case on a desk and opened it. “Sir, this is, in short a Springfield sniper rifle I happened to find. It was one of the best ever made for long shots. Inside this case is an assortment of ammo that ranges from armor piercing to explosive. You never know when a long shot might save someone's life. May I keep it?”
With a harummf Dickerson answered. “If you think it will be useful. Now, we had an event during our test attack the other day. It happened to the west of here. Since the day after the Space Station warning, we have not had time to check to the north, south and east. On the desk, are the last coordinates marked on the advance of the enemy. I need your three units to check on the progress they have made and update our maps. You are not to engage, unless it is to save human life. Having said that, if you see large gatherings in open areas, with little risk of collateral damage, call Major Marcus for an air strike. If we have a chance to halt their progress let's take it.”
“Oh, one more thing, as you know, not all of you were volunteers. I wouldn't want anyone thinking we've armed your helicopter to make your business life more successful. So, one of your pilots will be flying with Lieutenant Sanders and if you don't mind, Mr. Richards, I'd like you to take the pilot spot in their Jayhawk. Also, to aid Ensign Richards, I am providing you with a baby sitter I believe you are familiar with.”
Once more, a fully-armed Tina stepped into the room!
“Good luck, everyone!”
As they left the office, Glen Sanders carefully re-packed the Springfield.
“Mr. Sanders, do you really have any idea how to use that thing?”
“Oh yeah!” He caught himself. “Er... yes, sir, I do. I've been doing long target shooting most of my life.”
“Well, good shooting then.”
Minutes later the three helicopters took to the air and peeled off into three directions.
Chapter 37
Indiana
Shortly after the flight of Coast Guard Choppers departed, the sound of a large helicopter was heard. Looking toward the sky, one could easily see the familiar form of the large Chinook landing just outside. Official markings along its fuselage identified it as being from the United States Army, Indiana National Guard. Ducking under the still spinning blades, the thirty members of CAG-23 left the craft.
They walked out of the prop wash as the chopper promptly took off for its return trip.
Bob Eller could immediately feel the presence and along with the Colonel, he dashed outside to meet the volunteers and invite them inside, and out of the direct sun.
It had been a very long time since he had seen Ronnie Mack, team leader of CAG-23. Back then he was Ronald Macklin, a prominent businessman and importer. He looked much the same as he did almost a hundred years ago when he turned him into a vampire. As his maker, he heard the mental call when his disciple put out a plea for help. They hadn't communicated in decades, but there was never a doubt that he and his team would help. That was further solidified when Ronnie discovered that Bob had become the co-leader of CAG-1.
As introductions were made all around, Jessie stepped outside. He had already reviewed his findings with Colonel Dickerson. There was no doubt that a trip to Columbia City, Indiana was a logical next step in the defense of Wright Patterson. There was little doubt that if the sound devices could be retrieved from there, they would take a giant step forward.
There was no way to know whether or not the corporate property was still secure or had been overrun, or if any of the devices were still on the premises.
To make the trip, they needed two things, manpower to neutralize any zombies that might be on or near the factory grounds, and transportation for the team and to transport anything of value they might find.
The arrival of the CAG team certainly solved one of the issues, if they were willing to go.
Ronnie Macklin realized that Jessie was a vampire as soon as he had arrived. He also knew at once that he had been made by Bob Eller.
“Are you going to introduce me to your son, Bob?”, he asked.
Colonel Dickerson was confused by the question, but there was no doubt in Bob's mind as to the reason for the question.
“Absolutely, Ronnie Macklin, meet Jessie Porter. Jessie volunteered to become one of us to help win this war. So far, he has almost single-handedly done more to achieve that than anyone I have ever met!” The pride Bob felt in Jessie was evident to all.
Shaking hands with Ronnie must have conveyed Jessie's thoughts.
“Nice to meet you. I suspect you are about to ask us to go somewhere before
we even get the chance to settle in.”
Normal people might have been surprised by the statement, but more and more, he was learning that there was among other things, some sort of special bond between vampires, especially those with “family” ties.
“Yes I am, and time is not our friend here. And you, I trust are Bob's creator. I suppose, in a way, technically, that would make you my grandfather.”
He explained what they had been attempting, and about the possibility of actually securing the sound cannons.
Without hesitation Ron turned to his waiting team.
“Okay people, gear up. We’re going to make a quick trip to Indiana.”
The next part of getting the operation under way would be one of the most difficult. It was Colonel Dickerson who would have to convince Major Marcus to leave his new “chicks” and fly the C-113 to Indiana, while they were on call to meet up with the Coast Guard choppers. Although Pete had pronounced both Bob Eller and Doug Abbington totally qualified to fly the F-16s and hit what they aimed at, he had no intention to leave them on their very first mission.
He sent a messenger to find Marcus and have him report to the operations office.
Pete had always done what had been asked of him. He never balked. Every mission had always been carried out to the letter of what had been expected of him. This time was different. He was given a title of Director of Air Operations, and yet the first time he attempted to exercise that authority he was being vetoed.
“Colonel Dickerson, with all due respect, any minute now we are going to be given the coordinates of where we will find a large mass of the creepers. It is imperative that we slow their advance to buy the time we need to protect this base and the entire area! You're telling me to send new pilots to attack this group on their own!”
