In the back of Ghostrider sat a large grizzled looking man with a name patch designating him as Allen. With an unlit cigar protruding from his mouth, he punched some numbers and code on his keyboard and smiled at the data that flowed back to him. He loved his first AC-130 spooky he had flown in, but this Ghostrider was way more technically advanced. If he wanted any information, all he had to do was input his request and the supercomputers on board would spit out an answer to him. He had just queried the distance to their destination and the answer came back in miles, kilometers, and time.
Allen turned his head and took in the men and women under his command in the rear. They had all been trained by him and his instructor friends. Pride swelled in his chest as he knew they could do their job and do it well. This mission would not be like the last, where they got their asses almost handed to them and chased out of the valley by stinger missiles. This aircraft had defensive weapons, plus a flight of bad-ass F-35s to protect them.
Red headed step child
Dan popped up from inside the facility and climbed up on their little hill to watch the C-130 Super Hercules come in to land. Butch stood by his side with one of his men Rascal, a quiet but deadly looking Seal. A loud sound caught Dan’s attention and he turned his head to see a black speck rapidly grow larger as it got closer. He had never seen an F-35B before and didn’t know what to expect. It circled the valley quickly and then disappeared back the way it came from. Moments later a monotonous droning sound invaded Dan’s ears. Six large propeller driven aircraft appeared led by one of those F-35B jets. Dan assumed there was more out there flying around protecting their charges. The lead plane looked different than the others and Dan correctly identified it as the ground attack AC-130J that the General promised. It tilted its large wings blotting out the sun as it circled over the facility. The other planes lined up behind each other, as they took their turns landing on the improvised and hurriedly scraped out runway. A Humvee sat at the end of the runway and directed the planes toward an area marked as a parking lot. After the C-130s landed, the AC-130J Ghostrider came in low and touched down. It needed a little more room to brake and come to a stop, Dan figured that was due to their weight difference. As Ghostrider taxied toward its parking spot another C-130 came low and landed.
“That one is an air tanker Jefe. There is another one somewhere up there. I expect some of those F-35Bs will be landing next,” Butch pointed out.
As if answering him, a high-pitched whining sound caught Dan’s attention. He craned his head and was amazed at the sight that assaulted him. A jet fighter was sitting in mid-air. Its rear engine pointed down while two doors opened up on its back and belly. The plane wobbled for a moment and then corrected. The fighter slowly drifted to the ground and landed in a cloud of kicked up dust. The engine swung back up as the doors closed and the sleek fighter taxied over to its designated parking place.
“Can a lot of planes do that?” Dan asked still in amazement.
“No, the F-35B and the out dated Harrier are the only ones with that kind of technology left in our arsenal.”
Dan spun around to find that the man who had answered him was the usually quiet Rascal. “Thanks Rascal. I was starting to think you didn’t speak.”
Rascal and Butch both laughed loudly. “Oh, I speak sir. I just tend to be around Hootie too much and he does enough talking for all of us.”
“I have yet to speak to this Hootie.”
“You should be very thankful Jefe.” Butch added.
Dan cocked a questioning eyebrow at Butch and then shook his head. “I want to go down there and talk with those men in the C-130s. That is more planes then I was told were coming.”
Butch took lead, as Dan fell in behind him, with Rascal taking up the rear. These two men made Dan feel invincible. If someone could get to him through these two men, they earned the right to try to kill him. They made it to the airfield and parking places just as another F-35B landed. Two men stood in front of lowered ramps, barking orders to a large contingent of hard looking Marines filing out of the C-130. Other planes lowered their ramps as men from Dan’s Seal contingent worked at unloading the numerous crates of supplies. One C-130 even carried two tracked vehicles.
“What are those?” Dan pointed to the two tracked goliaths being unloaded.
“Those Jefe, are M1A2 SEPV3 Abrams battle tanks. They are some of the best tanks available to the Army. I have no idea why they only sent two. We could do with a whole platoon worth, but I am sure we can find something for them to do.” Butch answered.
One of the barking Marines craned his head and went pale when he saw the man he was ordered to report to standing in his midst with two scary looking operators. “Master Sergeant, get the men ready to move. I am going to report to Major Welko.”
“Yes Sir,” the man turned and yelled to the young men standing in ranks. “Get your asses to attention. We have the savior of the U.S. in our midst you hard charging apes. Attention!”
The men snapped to attention and waited for the Major to come closer and order them to parade rest. Dan rolled his eyes at the pomp and circumstance. A young Asian man dressed in BDUs, ran over and stopped, snapping to attention before Dan.
“Sir! I have two platoons from the 26th Marine Expeditionary Unit, consisting of 78 men and women. We have been ordered by General Richards to attach ourselves to your command.” The man’s name tape read Per.
“Captain Per?”
“Sir yes Sir!” The man barked.
“Captain relax,” Dan returned the man’s salute. “First, I am not big on ranks and all that shit. Second, welcome to the front lines. You and your men are a sight for sore eyes. Lastly, I believe I have a small Sasquatch running around here who was part of the 26th at some point. When I find him, I will assign him to you as my go between. He is not above your rank, but you will treat his orders as coming straight from me. Got it? Now what toys did you bring with you?”
The Captain relaxed his bearing and produced a big bright smile, like a kid on Christmas morning surrounded by all his wrapped presents. “Follow me sir.”
Per worked his way down to his men, as they stood in ranks at attention. Dan rolled his eyes and sighed under his breath. He marched his way up to the Master Sergeant and held his hand out to shake. The man stared at the hand for a moment and dropped his salute. His name tape read Guzman. Dan shook the man’s hand with as much strength he could put into it. He turned and closely scrutinized the hard-looking men and women standing at attention, hands up to their brows in salute. Dan turned on his heel and took them in. They looked properly motivated and prepared to give up their lives to protect his life and others at the facility.
Dan gave a formal salute showing his respect to the men and women, holding it there a moment longer than he needed to. He lowered his hand to his side and cleared his throat. He felt like he needed to say something. “I am Major Welko, but please call me Dan, and do me a big favor. Stop all the saluting to me. If your Captain requires you to render a salute to him then do so, but not at me. Thank you for volunteering to come out and help us with our little infestation.”
“You heard the Major! Now collect your gear and move out. Squad leaders you know what the Captain wants. so make it happen!” The Master Sergeant roared.
The men broke up into their assigned squads and moved out quickly. The Captain led Dan down to the pallets being removed off the C-130s. “I brought every round I could scrounge up in all calibers. I wasn’t sure if you needed spare weapons, but I raided an armory and snuck most of it on board. I brought a mix of advanced laser guided and infrared shoulder launched manpads for those pesky enemy aircraft and enough explosives to take out an entire mountain range, along with food and fuel. The tanks brought enough fuel and ammo for a limited engagement. The flyboys brought some of their own goodies in the last C-130 over there,” he pointed to the last aircraft in line.
Dan turned to Butch. “Why don’t you radio Chun, and have him and Kuppers, get their asses over here
and show these Marines what we need done. I am going to go talk to those fighter pilots.”
Butch turned to Rascal. “Take care of that. I am not leaving the Major alone.” Rascal threw a thumbs-up and got on his radio, relaying Dan’s orders.
Dan ignored the entire exchange, as he made his way down the line of parked aircraft. The two pilots from the F-35Bs huddled together talking and gesturing to the area around them. They caught sight of Dan approaching and were about to snap to attention when Dan motioned for them to stand down.
“Gentlemen, I am Dan Welko, chief bottle washer and all-around pain in the ass,” he extended his hand.
The pilot with thinning brown hair raised his hand and took Dan’s. He pumped it twice and let it go, as his partner took his turn shaking Dan’s hand. “I’m Fish, and this red headed step child is Howdy.”
Dan eyed the young red headed man as he held his hand. “Oh, “Howdy Doody”, I totally see it. Nice to meet you guys, thanks for coming out to our little spot of hell.”
“We brought many more with us. At the moment, Commander Henkins is leading a hit on a priority target. Before we left the ground, we learned of some track vehicles Ridder has rigged up with speakers, that are broadcasting some kind of signal that allows them to herd the zombie horde and push them against anyone they want, like a bullet fired from a gun.”
Dan cocked his head sideways, as he pondered on the words Fish laid on him. “How many of these vehicles are needed to move a horde the size that is coming our way?”
“Satellite reconnaissance counted four such vehicles. One on each side of the horde and two behind it. One of the F-35Bs in Henkins’ flight has an electronics package on it. Before they hit the targets, its job is to record any transmissions coming from the vehicles.” Howdy briefed Dan.
“Outstanding, what can I do to help you guys?”
The two pilots hunched their shoulders. “We brought extra fuel and our own weapon replacements, along with a couple of mechanics. I think I heard that the General is flying in some God honest Navy Seabees, who will be scraping us together some hardened shelters and a proper runway. We have been instructed to sleep on our C-130 and be at round the clock preparedness to protect this facility.”
“Sounds like the General is a step ahead of me.” Dan muttered under his breath.
“They are paid to do that Dan.” Butch growled behind him.
“Ok, I will leave the air wing under your supervision gentlemen. I will send up one of my aides to be a liaison with you. Her name is Apache, and do not get any ideas, she can rip your balls off and feed them to you.”
“Or her Delta Warrior fiancée will.” Butch added.
The two pilots swallowed the lumps they found blocking their throats. “Wouldn’t dream of messing with her sir. When you need us, just call.” Fish added.
Dan waved goodbye, as the two men fought deep inside not to salute him. He climbed his favorite little hill on the side of the facility and enjoyed the last of the sun’s rays heat him, as he watched the men down below set up defenses and prepare to dig trenches and move the two tanks around. Dan felt like they were finally going to be able to stop being reactionary to Ridder and take the fight directly to them. His thoughts had lately surrounded the dark side of revenge, and the intense need to deliver a knockout blow to Ridder.
Butch stayed close to his charge and studied him. He could see what made this man special, he could see the spark that Dan didn’t even see. He felt that if this man stayed in control, he could definitely be the savior of the human race. His radio squawked in his ear and he reached over and pushed down on the PTT button.
“Go for Aces two. Over.” He grumbled into his throat mic.
“Is the boss with you Aces two? Over.” the voice over the radio asked.
“Roger that, the Jefe is with me on the small hill just outside the facility. Over.”
“Aces two can you please bring him back inside? We have a call coming in from the General asking for him. Over.”
Butch reached over and squeezed Dan’s shoulder bringing him out of his trance. “The General is on the bitch box looking for you Jefe,” Butch spoke loud enough for only Dan to hear him.
“I guess I shouldn’t keep the General waiting then. Lead the way Butch.”
Butch winked at him and pushed down on the PTT button. “Roger, we are RTB. Over.”
Dan gave Butch a confused look. “What does RTB mean Butch?”
“Return to base,” Butch spit out a long brown stream of dip out onto the ground.
“That is the first time I saw you spit that stuff out. You been saving it up?”
“Swallowing it.”
“You know that shit ain’t good for you, right Butch?”
Butch stopped walking and turned back to eye Dan. “You do realize I could be eaten by fucking rotting meat bags, or shot by some mind controlled rabid Ridder asshole, right? I think swallowing my dip juices is low on the spectrum of my give a fucks Jefe.”
Dan busted into laughter and shook his head. “I get that Butch. I apologize, lead on.”
Butch spit again on the ground and turned around a big smile plastered on his face. They worked their way past the new guards at the entrance to the facility and through the Seals and Marines clogging the hallway. None moved till they heard Butch growl out loudly. “Make a God damn hole for the Jefe before I make a big God damn hole!”
The sea of men parted before Butch and Dan. They walked through the men, and Dan overheard them speaking of rumors they heard about him. One said he had heard Dan was much taller. Another said he had heard Dan had long hair and looked like a clone of Jesus himself. Another man said he had heard a rumor Dan had been a CIA spook and had killed loads of live men and zombies. Another one even said he heard Dan had fought the hordes in San Francisco by himself, armed with nothing but a Ka-Bar. Dan shook his head over that last one and couldn’t stop himself from smiling.
Within minutes, Dan was deep in the underground facility, and coming up to the radio room. Butch leaned against the wall in the hallway, stretching his back and adjusting his rig. Dan sidled up to the radio and stuck the headset on.
“Go for Dan. Over.”
“No need to say over Dan, this is an encrypted radio channel between just you and me. We have something we need to discuss.”
“General Richards so good to hear from you.”
“Dan, I am going to get down to brass tacks. I need you on a plane and out of there. I have been informed that Ridder is on a rip and specifically out to get your scalp. The Culling has deemed you their number one enemy. It just so happens that I have the perfect place to hide you.”
Dan rubbed his face. “Who the hell is going to protect Joseph and his work?”
“Got that handled Dan. I have pulled together a shit load of resources and are sending them out there to that base. I need you out of there though, so Ridder can take the heat off that place. They have no idea what Joseph is doing there, or how close he is. Yet they seem to know where you are, and they are holding nothing back.”
“So, the gist is, if you get me out of here, Ridder will spread itself thin looking for me and leave this base alone?”
“That is the long and skinny of it.”
Dan took time out to think over the predicament. So long in fact, that Richards asked if he was still on the line. Dan shook himself out of his train of thought. “Yeah, I am here. Ok, pull me out of here, but I want my people including Aces to come with me.”
“That is going to take way more resources, but I tell you what. I will pull you and your pet Sasquatch out first, then bring the rest out and send them to your location once you are secure.”
“I guess I can agree with that. Who will be left behind to command this base?”
“Kuppers and Vic. I have already spoken to them and they have agreed on all.”
“Good choices. So, when are you pulling me out of here?”
“As soon as Brian comes back from his mission.”
&nbs
p; Enjoy almost getting to third base
Brian laid next to Hashkeh on a small ledge, and looked down on their people, as they busily worked at setting explosive charges into the loose walls of the mountain pass. Each sniper was molded into his .50 cal Barrett rifle eye against scope. They spotted the dust coming from Ridder’s faster moving Humvees and knew the clock was winding down fast on their mission.
Apache and a couple of Chun’s Seals and native friends worked through the hillsides, laying down and burying their charges at a frantic pace. Apache stopped for a moment and wiped her arm across her forehead mopping up the sweat beading up there. She wished she had a bandana to stop the sweat from breaking free and running down her face and blurring her vision. Apache reached into her messenger bag and removed her last block of Symtex plastic explosive. It resembled a bar of off-white clay. Apache dropped it into the deep hole she had hastily dug and then pushed a stubby pencil sized detonator into the block. She quickly and methodically connected some wire leads to it, covered and pushed the mound of dirt she had dug back on top of it, packing it down tightly. Just as she finished, she heard a loud shrill whistle. She whipped her head around and found she could barely make out Brian waving one hand in the air to get her attention. Apache knew what the sign meant, Brian was alerting her that the enemy convoy was arriving, and she had only a couple of minutes to clear her people out of the area.
Apache cupped her hands around her mouth and made a sound like a crow. All movement halted as every head turned in her direction. She showed three fingers and pointed in the direction of the enemy’s movement. Her team knew that they had little time left to finish what they were doing and get out of the pass or be prepared to be buried in it. Apache looked back up toward Brian and gave him a wave back. She slung her bag behind her and took off running up the hill, digging the toes of her boots into the soft dirt and pushing off with her well-muscled legs. She risked a last look back to her people to find all had vacated and moved to the top of the pass as they were instructed. All that is, except for Henry, he was lying on his side halfway down the hillside by some rocks, holding his knee.
Zombie Theorem: Dark Times Book Five Page 3
