by J. Thorn
Anderson stopped and started backing up, turning and running when a woman detached herself and with a blood chilling scream started running in his direction. Her face was smeared with bright red blood, stains down the front of her once pristine lab coat. Anderson dodged out of Blake’s sight line and the Tech Sergeant chopped her down with a brief press of the trigger.
Back at the helicopter, Helm was frantically pointing at Mayo as Anderson ran up. Mayo had stepped away from the helicopter to fire at the hostiles and had inadvertently unplugged from the intercom. Helm had no way to tell him the mission was a bust and to get his ass back inside the Pave Hawk. Anderson ran to him, grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him with him as he ran back to the side door.
Helm had throttled up the engines and the rotor was spinning just below take off speed. Blake was still pouring controlled fire into the approaching crowd and Anderson was shocked to see Alpha leader, throat gashed open, stand up and stumble forward with the rest of the hostiles. He dove through the side door a split second behind Mayo and slapped Helm on the shoulder.
The Pave Hawk leapt into the air, gaining fifty feet of altitude in seconds before Helm settled it into a stable hover. Mayo strapped himself into the door gunner support position and Anderson climbed forward and resumed his seat, clicking the flight harness into place. With his crew safely on board Helm pointed the nose towards their home base and fed power to the engines.
37
I had kept a vigilant watch on the tree line, frequently checking on the young Airman I’d sent to the cabin cruiser while the Lieutenant had told his story. Rachel had returned quickly with the small zippered package, disappeared inside for a few minutes then joined us in the open air to hear the story. She had placed herself on the rail next to me, so close that her shoulder and hip were touching mine. This was the first and only ‘intimate’ contact we’d had and I knew she was sending a subtle message to these men that she was not available. I noticed both of them noticing, their eyes quickly sliding off of Rachel and focusing on me. Choosing to use me in her deception didn’t bother me at all.
“So how did you wind up here?” Rachel asked.
“We were on our way back to our base. Captain Helm got on the radio to let our CO know that the SF team and our passenger hadn’t made it and that we were returning. We were told that our base was under attack by rioters, a fence had already fallen and the administrative and support staff were all that was left on the base and were being evacuated. We were told to continue on to Fort Campbell in Kentucky, even though we didn’t have our passenger.
“We changed to the new heading, and just a few minutes later we started getting an over temp warning from the rotor shaft. Sometimes those warning are false alarms so we continued on when the temp didn’t climb any more. We made it out over this lake when the temp suddenly shot up. Captain Helm aimed for the shore but before he could set us down the shaft seized up and we spun in where you see the helicopter now. Captain Helm was trapped and it took us hours to bend and pry enough of the metal away from him to get him out.”
“Where did the houseboat and ski boat come from?” I asked, enjoying my cigarette and checking on Mayo. He stood with his back to me, binoculars raised to his eyes as he scanned the open water.
“They were here just like you see them now. There was no one here when we crashed, and no one has returned. We’ve got no idea where they went or what happened to them.”
I had a pretty good idea what happened to them. “So you’ve been here since you crashed? We saw you yesterday coming back from the south in the ski boat. Did you do something to stir up our friends, or were they just dropping in to say hello?”
“We were running low on supplies and hadn’t heard much in the way of news, so we headed across the lake. There was a big marina and a bunch of stores we saw the night we flew over.”
Lieutenant Anderson talked for another fifteen minutes, telling us about finding an armed camp at the marina, huddled behind hastily erected barricades. They had traded one of their M4 rifles for food and were making their way back to their boat when they were jumped by two men who wanted their packs full of food and their other rifle. They had fought back, killing one of the men but losing their rifle and half the food in the scramble to get away as more men started chasing them. They had made it to the boat and thought they’d made it back across the lake without anyone knowing where they had gone.
“OK, so now you know our story. How about telling us how you wound up here?” I agreed in exchange for another smoke. Blake handed me the pack and lighter with a smirk and Rachel stole a cigarette from me as I lit up and started telling an abbreviated version of our story. As I spoke, their expressions went from cautious optimism to depression. They knew a lot of the shit that had happened to the US; knew about the nukes and had seen the infected firsthand, but they didn’t realize the infection was so widespread. When I was finished both men were wide eyed.
“It’s amazing you’ve survived,” Blake spoke up. I had glossed over several details, especially where Rachel’s abduction was concerned. “You had to be Army or Corps, am I right?”
“Army,” I answered with a grin. “A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.” I got blank looks from everyone, Rachel included. None of these people had ever seen Star Wars? Really?
“So, Lieutenant, you’re a pilot?” I asked.
“Rotor wing qualified, yes sir.” He answered, a puzzled look on his face.
“Well, the map I have says there’s an amphibious plane facility to the south of us. If we can find a plane do you think you could fly us out of here?”
Anderson stood up, the first sign of a smile on his dirty face, “I sure as hell can. I was flying single and twin engine light planes when I was still in high school. Never done a take-off or landing on water, but I’ve read about it and it shouldn’t be a problem, just need more room to get into the air than a normal runway.” His excitement was infectious and Blake got to his feet also.
“Don’t get too excited,” I warned. I haven’t seen a plane, just a reference on a map.
“It’s worth checking out,” Blake said.
“I agree,” Anderson chimed in. “But where would we go?”
I told them about Max, and the report I’d heard that Nashville was safe, at least for the moment.
“Hell, yeah!” Anderson was excited. “Nashville is maybe an hour away in a light plane, and it’s only another half hour to Fort Campbell.”
“OK,” I said. “Tell me about everything you saw on your excursion south.”
They filled me in and we pulled out the maps and identified that the seaplane facility was far enough away from the marina that they might not have seen it if they weren’t looking for it. They were pretty sure it was outside the barricades the survivors had erected, so we would likely have to deal with hordes of infected to get a plane.
We talked over the maps for most of an hour then started working on a plan to get a plane. Rachel checked in on Captain Helm who was out cold with a weak dose of heroin in his veins to relieve the pain of his injuries, then took Mayo’s place on watch aboard the cabin cruiser. Mayo and Blake went swimming, recovering the M240 door gun from the crashed Pave Hawk and three OD green cans of ammo belts. We were pleased to see the cans had remained dry inside when Blake opened them on the deck of the houseboat.
Blake sent Mayo back into the water to scavenge tools and parts while he stripped the machine gun down for a thorough cleaning and oiling. While we didn’t have any gun oil we did have a can of WD-40 that I had found in the cruiser. Not perfect, but you make do with what you have. At least it would provide enough lubrication to keep the gun from seizing up at the wrong time. I hoped.
Mayo kept surfacing next to us, bringing back tools, a large assortment of thin walled aluminum tubing and a good length of flex hose. Blake would stop cleaning the gun every time Mayo made a delivery, checking the items and giving him instructions on what else to look for. I had to give the young Airman
credit. He never once complained or argued, just kept going back under and finding what Blake asked for.
Machine gun cleaned and reassembled, Blake set it aside and started working on the speedboat that Rachel and I had ridden over to them. First he used the flex hosing to extend the exhaust pipes down over the stern of the boat and into the water, securing them to the hull of the boat with metal straps and screws. He accomplished this with a lot of splashing and cursing, but when he had me start the engine after his modifications I was amazed at how quiet it was.
Next he set to work with several lengths of the aluminum tubing and a large steel plate. First he mounted the plate to the deck of the speedboat in the bow, between two thickly padded benches that lined each side all the way to the pointed nose of the boat. Plate firmly bolted to the deck, he and Mayo started attaching the tubing, tubes spread out at the bottom but meeting about four feet up from the deck and forming a crude teepee shape. They punched holes through the tubing with a hand drill and gallons of sweat in the hot Georgia sun, then bolted the whole assembly together and to the plate.
Blake spent another two hours working on a piece of metal that he finally attached to the top of the teepee, then hoisted the M240 onto the makeshift pintle he had created, securing it with two nuts threaded onto a thick bolt and tightened against each other. This arrangement would allow the machine gun to move freely, but not come off the pintle without the nuts first being removed. Work completed he dove into the water to wash off the sweat.
“Outstanding work, Tech Sergeant.” I stuck out a hand and helped him climb back aboard the speedboat.
“Thank you, sir.” He grinned and wiped water out of his eyes.
“One thing guys,” I said. “Please stop siring me. I was a Master Sergeant, not an officer.”
Anderson looked as surprised as a virgin on his wedding night and Blake let out a short bark of laughter. I had not bothered to correct their assumption earlier that I had been an officer when I was in the Army, but I just couldn’t take all the “Sirs” any more.
Anderson had shown himself to be one of those rare officers that actually listened to his more experienced men, so I didn’t think I was going to have a problem with him trying to assume command. If I did I’d deal with it. We were about to try and penetrate a hostile facility and make off with an airplane. This was my world, and I’d done something very similar before, minus hordes of infected that wanted to eat me.
“All right, let’s get something to eat and then get some rest.” I said, watching Anderson out of the corner of my eye to see if he was going to have a problem with me still giving orders. When he didn’t make a peep I continued. “We’ll take two hour watches and I’ll take first watch. We’ll review the plan at 0100 hours and launch at 0130. Everyone good with that?”
Heads nodded all the way around and Blake gave me a nod and a wink to let me know he was happy to have me in command.
An hour later I sat on the flying bridge of the cruiser, halfway through my watch, eating the Spartan meal that Rachel had brought up to me. She sat next to me, sipping from a bottle of water.
“Think we can pull this off?” She asked, stretching her long legs out and propping her feet up on the bridge railing.
“I think we’ve got a good shot at it.” I answered around a mouthful of pork and beans. “However, we don’t know how many infected are going to be waiting for us. The planes might not be fueled with no way to fuel them. There might not even be any planes there. We’re going in with no intelligence, which is never a good thing, but it’s the best we can do.
“Ideally I’d take a quiet ride down there tonight to scope things out and delay the operation until tomorrow night, but with the herd moving north that Max talked about I don’t think we have time. It’s probably tonight or never.”
Rachel finished her bottle of water and looked up at me, “Well, you’d better not fuck it up then.” She said, grinning to let me know she was just yanking my chain, then stood up to go check on Captain Helm before her watch started. The newly quieted speedboat started and before it reached the houseboat only a hundred feet away I could no longer hear the exhaust.
38
I woke up at midnight, still tired and groggy, for a moment not remembering where I was. Looking over at the woman sleeping next to me it took a moment for my mind to remember why I was seeing someone other than Katie, then everything clicked back into place. I let out a quiet sigh and carefully climbed out of the bed so as not to disturb Rachel who had taken to sleeping with me ever since I had rescued her. There wasn’t any cuddling or spooning, in fact we never touched, but every time I woke up she was there on the far side of the bed.
Standing up I stretched and Dog jumped off the foot of the bed where he’d been curled into a surprisingly small ball for a dog his size. I made my way out of the salon and to the stern rail where I pissed over the side into the lake while Dog watched. Zipped up, I checked the flying bridge, glad to see Mayo on watch. He wore one of the sets of night vision goggles from the Pave Hawk and looked like an alien out of a low budget Sci-Fi flick from the 60s.
Climbing the short ladder I joined him, wanting a cigarette but resisting. The flame from a lighter would destroy my night vision and could be seen for miles, standing out like a beacon to any hostiles. Mayo nodded when I slipped into the seat next to his, but didn’t seem to feel the need to talk.
The night was warm with a slight breeze blowing, pushing small wavelets across the lake’s surface which softly slapped against the cruiser’s hull, the sound almost mesmerizing. Clouds obscured the moon and it was nice and dark. Another reason to move tonight. We had two more set of NVGs from the Pave Hawk and the darker the night the more of an advantage we would have.
Less than a minute later I heard the speedboat engine start and settle to an almost inaudible rumble. I turned and peered through the darkness to where the speedboat was tied up to the houseboat, but couldn’t see anything. Mayo had turned as well to look and reported that Blake and the LT were on their way over before resuming his scan of the open lake.
It only took a moment for them to cross the short amount of open water and I felt a slight bump as they nosed up to the cruiser’s stern and tied off. The engine cut off and first Anderson then Blake climbed over the stern rail. Slapping Mayo on the back I went below to greet them.
We met on the deck and Rachel stepped into the doorway, yawning and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. It was too early to think about launching, so we made some coffee and sat out in the darkness and talked. Anderson talked about his family, glad that his parents were already gone and weren’t having to live through the hell of the attacks. He had a sister who had moved to France the previous year to pursue her dream of becoming a painter and he assumed she was OK since there was no word that Europe had been attacked.
We had already learned that Mayo was from Atlanta, having joined the Air Force to escape abject poverty with no opportunities. His mother was his only family and he was sure she was either one of the infected or had died when Atlanta had burned. When asked by Rachel, Blake told us he was from a big family in Brooklyn. That killed the conversation and we sat sipping bitter coffee in silence for a bit. Tired of waiting, I decided that there was no reason we couldn’t jump off a little earlier than planned. It was after 0030, 12:30 AM civilian time, and I called Mayo down to the deck so we could go over the rough and simple plan I had made.
We would all be on the cruiser at first, heading south towards the marina with a slight bearing to the west to hopefully bring us close to the amphibious air service noted on the map. When we were about three miles from the shore the cruiser would cut engines and go silent. Anderson, Blake and I would move to the speedboat, Mayo and Rachel turning the cruiser around and returning to where we were currently anchored. I had originally wanted to take the speedboat the whole way, but Blake warned that the jury rigged exhaust suppressors would only hold up for so long at any speed over about ten knots.
For the trip south h
e would loosen the retaining straps that were attached to the hull and pull the ends of the flex hose out of the water so the cruiser could tow the speedboat at a faster pace. The cruiser was a luxury boat, and the people that could afford it didn’t want to listen to a loud engine so it was well muffled and relatively quiet at any speed under full throttle.
Once on the speedboat the three of us would make a low speed run into the shore to look for a plane that could fly all of us out of there. Each of us would have NVGs, Blake manning the machine gun, me piloting the boat and Anderson along for the ride until we acquired a plane for him to fly. I didn’t like leaving Rachel and Mayo without NVGs, but didn’t see a viable alternative. We needed them for combat, or hopefully to avoid combat, and all they had to do was pilot the big cruiser back across the lake and drop anchor.
With everyone acknowledging they were ready, I suited up in my tactical gear while Blake leaned over the stern of the speedboat and worked the flex house exhaust tubes up out of the water. Climbing back aboard he gave a thumbs up, stepped into the salon for a moment and returned with two lit cigarettes cupped in the palm of his hand. Handing one to me he met my eyes and gave me a nod, letting me know he was ready to go into battle with me. I glanced around the deck to make sure we were ready to go then climbed the ladder to the flying bridge, started the engine and hit the switch to raise the anchor.
The instrument panel gauges were covered with duct tape again and the night was dark as I spun the wheel to point us to the south and slowly fed in throttle. The big boat started moving, the speedboat in tow at the end of its tether and I kept advancing the throttle until a peek under the duct tape at the gauge showed we were making about 18 knots. Rachel stood next to me on the bridge using a set of borrowed NVGs to scan the horizon for any threats. She hadn’t said much since we woke up and was still uncharacteristically quiet.
