Spectre Rising

by C. W. Lemoine

  Chloe fired, hitting the man to Victor’s right in the torso.

  “Let’s go! We have to get out of here!” she yelled as the guard hit the ground.

  She saw Victor bend over to pick up the man’s rifle and she turned toward the open hangar door. She ran out into the darkness at a full sprint, her adrenaline forcing her through the pain and weakness she had faced earlier. She just had to make it to cover.

  Gunfire erupted behind her as she sprinted out onto the ramp. She looked over her shoulder to see Victor running behind her. She wanted to go back and make sure he made it, but she knew she just had to trust that he would follow her. If she turned back, they would both certainly die.

  She found a drainage ditch to her right between the ramp and the taxiway and turned toward it. If she could make it into the ditch, she could get enough cover to rendezvous with Victor and get a better escape route plan.

  As she started toward it, she was startled by a guard approaching her from the left. She had missed him when she was in the cockpit. He must have been on a roving patrol outside. She raised her gun and fired in his direction, but both rounds missed wide.

  She kept running, but as the man raised his rifle to fire, he was suddenly dropped. Someone had shot him. She looked back to see if it had been Victor, but couldn’t find him.

  Chloe slowed as she neared the drainage ditch and turned to look for Victor again. Her heart sank as she considered the possibility that he had been shot or recaptured as they made their escape.

  As she swung around, she was suddenly knocked down. Her brain registered the signature pop-pop sound of an AK-47 as she hit the ground. Her lower back was suddenly in severe pain and the wind was knocked out of her. Regaining her senses, she tried to push through the pain. She had to get into the culvert for cover. She struggled to crawl forward.

  The pain was immense, unlike anything she had ever felt. She couldn’t feel her legs. Yet her biggest fear was still the fate of Victor. Why hadn’t he joined her yet? Was he dead?

  “Victor! My symbolon!” she cried out as she struggled to stay conscious.

  * * *

  Victor Alvarez stood patiently as Ling forced Chloe Moss past him. He tried his best to play the part of the beaten man as she walked by and winked at him. He still wasn’t quite sure what her plan was, but he hoped it involved giving the Chinese what they wanted so they would be out of his hair and he could get his payday.

  The whole operation had become more complicated than he had planned it to be. The original plan had been to give the F-16 to the Chinese, collect the money, and enjoy the promotion as his supervisors learned he had taken it upon himself to earn the trust of a rising superpower.

  But it was never simple. The Chinese had to up the stakes with their insistence on using her as an intelligence asset. They couldn’t just take the jet and do their reverse engineering magic at home. That would have been too easy. Instead, they wanted to work her and make her do their job for them. It was extra money, sure, but Alvarez had grown fond of the idea of using her for a few more weeks on the beach somewhere before ditching her. She had been great in bed.

  The generator they were standing by was deafening. He could barely hear himself think. Ling had told him to stand there for effect so she could see him, but Alvarez wasn’t sure why he couldn’t stand farther away where his hearing wouldn’t be permanently impaired.

  Because of the generator, Alvarez never heard the gunshot that dropped Ling. To Alvarez, it looked like he had fallen off the ladder as technicians rushed to his aid. It was only when Chloe Moss popped around the corner with gun in hand that he realized the operation had gone horribly wrong.

  Alvarez didn’t have enough time to react as Moss dropped the guard next to him. He could only grab the man’s rifle and give chase, hoping one of the guys on patrol outside could stop her.

  Alvarez ran after her as she cleared the ramp. She was fast for someone who hadn’t really eaten or slept in a few days. It was only after she dropped a second guard that Alvarez realized what he had to do before the situation got any worse.

  Moss had become a liability, and the Chinese were going to be furious. It was time to cut his losses and move on. Hopefully Zhang wouldn’t hold her recklessness against him.

  Alvarez stopped and took aim as she took a hard right. It was dark, but the lighting from the hangar was enough to make out her silhouette as she sprinted past the taxiway. He took a deep breath, switched the AK-47 select fire switch from SAFE to FIRE and squeezed the trigger twice, hitting Moss in the back as she attempted to turn around.

  Victor Alvarez sighed as Moss collapsed. It was sad to have to end it this way, but he knew it was part of the business. There would be plenty of others.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  Castro Field, Cuba

  “Has it been twenty minutes, yet?” Spectre asked impatiently. They were still lying on the rice field levee, just a few feet from the perimeter fence of the secret Cuban airfield.

  “Fifteen,” Baxter replied, checking his watch.

  “The sunrise is in another forty five minutes or so, we need to get things going if we’re going to get out of here without drawing attention to ourselves,” Marcus said, still lying prone behind the scope of his rifle.

  “She should have the pictures by now, I uploaded them before you called,” Carpenter interjected.

  “Fine, I’ll call again,” said Baxter as he picked up the satellite phone.

  Spectre returned to his binoculars. The hangar was still relatively motionless. Technicians were busy milling about near the F-16 inside the hangar. Outside, a lone guard patrolled the outer ramp. It seemed like it would be so much easier to just assault the airfield and get her himself versus waiting for the Marine FAST team to show up, but Spectre knew they had to stick to the plan. Going solo could get everyone killed, including Chloe.

  “Anything yet?” Spectre asked impatiently as he put his binoculars down.

  “She’s not answering,” Baxter replied.

  “What do you mean, ‘she’s not answering?’ You just talked to her. Call her back,” Spectre demanded.

  “I’ve tried three times,” Baxter said, staring at the phone in his hand. “Something’s not right.”

  “Maybe she’s away from her desk and faxing it,” Carpenter offered.

  “And she left the phone? No fucking way,” Spectre replied.

  “Would you three ladies shut the fuck up,” Marcus interrupted, looking up from his sniper scope. “There’s movement in the hangar. Something’s going on.”

  Spectre quickly picked up his binoculars and focused on the movement inside the hangar. He could see two men walking casually toward the nose of the F-16. One man had a rifle while the other was unarmed. They appeared to be talking.

  Spectre watched as the two men took up positions near the external power cart. The two suddenly seemed to become serious and the man with the rifle grabbed the other’s arm. Minutes later, two more people emerged into view. It was a man roughly pushing a woman forward toward the aircraft from the back of the hangar bay. She was wearing civilian clothes. Spectre’s heart skipped a beat.

  “It’s Chloe!” Spectre said, trying not to yell. He was finally vindicated. She was alive. He had felt it all along, and now there she was, being forced across the hangar floor like a prisoner. It was all the proof he needed. He had been right about her being alive and right about her being in danger after being forced to steal the jet. He made up his mind. With or without the others, or a FAST team, he would bring her home or die trying.

  Baxter picked up the camera and started taking pictures as Chloe was shuffled past the two men standing at the external power cart. When she was no longer in sight, he pulled out the SD card and handed it to Carpenter.

  “Here, send these too. It’s proof of life. This should seal the deal,” Baxter said, holding out the card for Carpenter.

  Carpenter took the card and inserted it into his Toughbook Laptop to be uploaded. Spectre watched
as Chloe went out of sight momentarily and then reappeared climbing up the F-16’s ladder. He watched as she worked her way into the seat as a man climbed up the ladder behind her and stopped near the top.

  “They’re making her access the weapons systems, we’ve gotta do something,” Spectre said, pulling the bolt cutters out of his backpack.

  “Cal, where are you going?” Baxter asked. “We need to stay put and wait for Agent Decker to get the FAST team mobilized.”

  “There’s no time for that,” Spectre replied, zipping his backpack with bolt cutters in hand. “You guys stay here, no need for all of us to get killed.”

  “That guy just fell off the ladder! Chloe is out of the jet, Cal, and she has a gun!” Marcus said, watching the events unfold from behind his rifle scope.

  “Shit! Keep trying to call. Marcus, cover me!” Spectre said as he ran up the levee toward the fence.

  “Wait! Cal, goddammit. I’m going with you,” Carpenter said, handing the Toughbook to Baxter. “You stay here. Keep trying to call the hot blonde.”

  Carpenter grabbed his rifle and gave chase to Spectre who was already nearing the fence. As Spectre reached the fence, he started feverishly cutting the chain-links to give them enough room to pass through. Spectre could hear the sound of AK-47s coming from the hangar. A firefight had erupted. He was running out of time.

  “She just cleared the hangar, running this direction,” Marcus announced over their tactical radio.

  “Elvis, do you copy? Get the chopper moving, we’ve got the package in sight. Be ready for a hot extraction,” Carpenter said over his throat mike radio.

  As Spectre cleared the last link and pushed the fence down, he heard the register of Marcus’s rifle behind him.

  “Tango down, she’s still on the move, northwest taxiway,” Marcus announced over the radio. He had just taken down a guard from the roving patrol that was approaching Chloe as she ran toward the runway.

  “Keep her safe, Marcus,” Spectre replied as he ran in a full sprint. The gear was weighing him down. He thought about ditching the body armor and backpack, but knew that if they had to dig in and protect Chloe, he’d need all of it. Carpenter was easily keeping pace with his rifle up, sweeping for nearby threats as they neared the western edge of the two hundred foot wide runway.

  “There’s someone chasing her, but I don’t have a shot yet, Cal,” Marcus replied.

  Spectre willed himself to run faster. His legs were burning from the weight of the additional gear. He could see what looked to be Chloe running toward him through his Night Vision Goggles as they reached the middle of the runway. They were out in the open, completely exposed if anyone noticed them in the pitch-black runway, but Spectre didn’t care. He had to get to her before it was too late.

  As they reached the far edge of the runway, Spectre saw Chloe getting closer. She was running toward the drainage ditch between the taxiway and the runway. If she could just hold out a few more seconds, he could get to her.

  Spectre finally found the man chasing her. He stopped to take aim. Spectre raised his rifle and tried getting a shot, but there was a parked vehicle between him and the man. He had no clean shot.

  “Marcus, do you have a-" he stopped in horror as he heard the shots and watched Chloe drop face first. Carpenter returned fire while running, but only hit the side of the truck.

  “She’s down!” Marcus said over the radio. “Another tango approaching from the north side.” Marcus took aim and fired again, dropping the second guard.

  “Chloe! No!” Spectre screamed as he reached the edge of the drainage ditch. He heard Chloe yell out something, but he couldn’t make out what she said. He could see her crawling into the ditch. She was still alive. Spectre prayed she could stay alive long enough for him to get her out.

  Spectre dropped his rifle, letting it hang against its single point sling and jumped straight across the drainage ditch in stride. Carpenter followed suit, keeping his rifle up and shooting at the fleeing man who had just taken down Chloe.

  “Chloe! Chloe!” Spectre screamed as he dropped to his knees next to her. She was on her back. Her face was badly bruised and swollen. She wasn’t moving.

  Spectre took off his backpack and dug for his first aid kit. Carpenter set up in a prone position next to them and covered Spectre while he started first aid.

  Spectre checked Chloe’s airway and breathing. She wasn’t coughing up blood, and her breathing seemed labored, but she was at least breathing. Her pulse was weak. Spectre pulled up her blood soaked shirt. He could see an exit wound through her abdomen. She had been shot in the lower back.

  “Chloe, can you hear me?” he said, trying to shake her awake.

  “Elvis, what’s your ETA? She’s critical,” Carpenter said over his radio as he looked over and saw Chloe’s abdomen.

  “We’ll be there in five mikes, which LZ?” Elvis replied, indicating they would be on station in five minutes.

  “Ditch between the main runway and taxiway,” Spectre said as he tried to clean her wound.

  “Main runway. I’ll pop smoke, expect a hot extract,” Carpenter added.

  Chloe groaned in pain as Spectre tended to her wound. She started speaking, but Spectre couldn’t make out what she was saying. It was mostly incoherent gibberish to Spectre.

  “We’re going to get you out of here, baby, don’t worry,” Spectre said.

  “Baxter, any luck with the reinforcements?” Carpenter asked over

  “Still trying, no answer,” Baxter replied.

  “But... V... Vic... Victor,” she said weakly.

  “He can’t hurt you anymore. We’re going to get you out of here,” Spectre reassured her as he finished dressing the wound.

  “Victor,” she repeated, “he’s...”

  “Save your energy,” Spectre said, grabbing her hand. He noticed the bandage around her right finger as he pulled her hand close to him.

  “He’s my symbolon,” she said finally.

  The words hit Spectre like a two thousand pound bomb. Spectre fell back and sat on his heels. He wasn’t sure what he had just heard. Was she delirious? Had he been wrong all along? The clarity he thought he had finally achieved just moments before was gone.

  “One minute,” Elvis said over the radio.

  Carpenter pulled out a smoke grenade from his backpack and pulled the pin, tossing it onto the grassy area between the ditch and the runway. The orange glow of the looming sunrise gave just enough light to make the green smoke visible.

  “Cal, one of us will have to fireman’s carry her on board so the other can cover,” Carpenter said.

  Spectre said nothing, staring aimlessly at the ground next to Chloe who was drifting in and out of consciousness.

  “Cal?” Carpenter said, grabbing his arm and shaking him. “Do you want to do it or do you want me to carry her?”

  Spectre shook off the confusion and turned to Carpenter. “I’ll carry her.”

  Spectre could hear the distinct sound of the Blackhawk’s rotors approaching. Despite the light from the slowly rising sun, it was still too dark to make out the blacked out helicopter as it neared.

  Carpenter began firing as more armed men emerged from the hangar. One fell as the others took cover.

  “Tango down,” Marcus announced. “I count two more that just showed up.”

  “Ten seconds,” Elvis announced as the sound of the Blackhawk grew closer. Spectre could see it nearing the fence line near the northern edge of the runway. He reached over and grabbed Chloe, hoisting her over his shoulder.

  Spectre trudged through the muddy ditch as Carpenter laid down covering fire behind them. Spectre could hear the bullets zipping by him, but most were landing short of the ditch. She was heavy, but the adrenaline was more than enough to propel him across the mud and up the slope toward the smoke.

  The Blackhawk came in low and fast, blowing up grass and dust as it landed in the thick grass next to the runway. As he hit the flat terrain, he picked up the pace, struggling to
keep Chloe on his shoulders.

  As he hit the Blackhawk’s open side door, Spectre carefully laid Chloe down on the floor of the Blackhawk. He had no stretcher or gurney for her, so he could only lay her flat on the helicopter’s floor and restrain her using cargo straps. Spectre climbed into the helicopter and squatted next to her.

  “Joe, are you coming? The package is secure.” Spectre asked over the radio. He could see Carpenter still lying prone in the ditch while laying down covering fire.

  “I’ll meet you at the secondary LZ, I’m going to secure the aircraft,” Carpenter replied over the radio.

  “When were you going to tell me about this plan?” Spectre asked, jumping out of the running Blackhawk.

  “I’ve got this. You get Chloe out of here and pick up Marcus and Baxter. It will only take a few minutes to blow it with C4,” Carpenter replied.

  Spectre gave Elvis a thumbs up and swung his rifle around from behind his back.

  “Bullshit. You’re not doing this alone,” Spectre said as he ran back toward Carpenter.

  CHAPTER FORTY FIVE

  “What the fuck are you two doing now?” Marcus barked over the tactical radio as he watched the Blackhawk climb away while Spectre ran back to Carpenter near the drainage ditch.

  “We’re going to blow the jet and its secrets,” Carpenter responded. His voice was slightly subdued by the sound of gunfire in the background.

  Marcus returned to his scope, picking up two new targets coming from the south end of the hangar. He adjusted his aim, exhaled slowly, and pulled the trigger, hitting the first man in the temple.

  “She’s still not answering,” Baxter announced. “It looks like we’re on our own.”

  “Fucking Democrats,” Marcus grumbled. “I’ll bet they’re figuring out how to surrender right now.”

  Marcus inserted a fresh magazine and looked for another target. Carpenter and Spectre had hit the second man as they ran toward the vehicle outside the hangar door.