“You won’t be able to run, not that you’re going anywhere,” he said, tightening the grip against his neck.
“You’re choking me,” gasped McCulver, struggling to breathe.
“Not even close. We’re moving forward now,” he said, manhandling him out of the container.
Once clear of the makeshift prison, he marched them behind the container, out of sight from any observers on the airfield. The soldier shoved him against the hangar wall, knocking him to the ground. Glancing around, McCulver noted the hangar looked empty.
Not a good sign.
“This isn’t an officially sanctioned visit, if that’s what you’re wondering,” said the soldier.
McCulver lifted his trembling left hand, examining the damage. A deep gash ran from the bottom of his hand to the knuckle under his middle finger, bleeding profusely into his lap.
“What do you want?”
“I want Eli.”
“I already told them where to look,” McCulver whispered.
“Let me see your other hand,” said the soldier.
McCulver kept the previously bandaged hand pressed against his spasming right thigh. He’d momentarily forgotten about the throbbing pain of his mangled fingers.
“They already know everything.”
When the soldier squatted a few feet in front of him, he immediately recognized the digital camouflage pattern.
Now I’m really fucked.
The marine’s uniform looked filthy, like he had spent the past week crawling through the forest. Patches of frayed, blackened material covered his arms, and his face was smeared with a gritty black film. A faint, charred rubber smell filled the air between them.
“The place was abandoned,” said the marine, staring at him impassively.
“That’s because we threw everything we had at the airport. There’s nobody left,” said McCulver.
The Marine checked his watch, fiddling with the buttons. “One minute before I start slicing and dicing, and there’s no going back from that.”
McCulver swallowed hard, not doubting for a second that he meant it. He didn’t see any other option. Maybe he’d be willing to trade information.
“What do I get in return…if I knew where you might find him?”
The Marine glanced at his watch. “For saving me a little time? I won’t cut the rest of that Deliverance crew loose and toss you back in the container with them. I need an answer in the next five seconds.”
“What happened to the minute?”
“I’m on a tight schedule,” he said, standing up and drawing a black serrated knife from a scabbard on his belt.
“I know where to find him,” said McCulver. “We secured a place on Rangeley Lake.”
The Marine leaned over and grabbed his collar, pulling him to his feet. The knife bristled against his neck.
“You and I are going on a field trip,” he said, dragging McCulver to the front of the hangar.
The marine’s radio chirped when they reached the left side of the open hangar door.
“Captain Fletcher,” the Marine answered.
Fletcher? This can’t get any worse.
“Just in case you’re curious, sir. I saw you walk the prisoner to the side of the hangar. At least make some kind of an effort to conceal yourself until the helicopter arrives. I’m not the only one keeping an eye on the situation.”
They don’t know he’s taking me? It’s worse.
“Does that mean you found me a helicopter?” Fletcher inquired.
“Medical bird from the 126th Aviation Medevac unit based out of Bangor. They just returned from a trip ferrying two of the RRZ casualties to Central Maine Medical Center. I didn’t see any follow-on tasking, so I took the initiative.”
“What’s my cover?”
“Vehicle injury sustained during routine patrol in the vicinity of Belgrade Lakes. Transport to Central Maine Medical Center and RTB.”
“I need to stop in Limerick on the way up. Any way you can help with that?”
“I’m staying clear of the control tower for a while, sir. Any add-on services are your responsibility. Good luck out there.”
“Thanks for taking a chance on me. Sorry I won’t be around to return the favor.”
“It’s all about building good karma, sir. Remember that when you’re thinking about pushing your guest out of the helicopter.”
“I’ll try,” said Fletcher, pushing McCulver’s face into the hangar wall.
His cheekbone ground into the corrugated metal, the cheaply fabricated sheets of steel scraping his skin.
“I think I see our ride spinning up right now,” said Fletcher, turning him around.
“Here’s the way this works. You’re an injured sheriff’s deputy who will accompany the injured Marine to Central Maine Medical Center.”
“How was I injured?” asked McCulver.
“Car accident, from what you can remember. You hit your head pretty hard on the door,” said Fletcher before yanking his head back by the hair and slamming it against the hangar—twice.
Cheers echoed from the shipping container as he spat bloody tooth fragments onto the concrete floor.
“One more for the crowd?” said Fletcher, pulling his head back.
“No. No. Please,” he begged. “Please.”
His head raced forward, abruptly stopping less than an inch from impact.
“Take a seat. I need to make a few calls,” said Fletcher, releasing his grip.
McCulver quickly lowered himself to the ground, wincing at the pain caused by using his hands. He looked up at Fletcher, who held the olive-drab tactical phone to his ear.
“Don’t think I’m not watching you,” said Fletcher, never looking down at him.
“Staff Sergeant Taylor, I need a twelve-marine assault team assembled in five minutes. This is not an authorized mission, so volunteers only. I guarantee this will be a career killer.”
“Can I assume this has something to do with Eli Russell?”
“This has everything to do with Russell.”
“I don’t think career progression is on the front burner at the moment. I shouldn’t have much trouble rounding up a few eager Marines for some payback, sir.”
“I didn’t think you would. Find a suitable location to land a Black Hawk helicopter and pass me the grid. Red smoke marks the LZ. I need to talk to my wife.”
“I’ll get her a ROTAC after we pick the LZ, sir.”
“Roger, see you in less than fifteen minutes. Out,” said Fletcher, peeking out of the hangar. “I hope you don’t get airsick.”
McCulver kept his eyes on the bloody pile of teeth and saliva on the floor in front of him. He’d finally met the one person that scared him more than Eli.
Chapter 43
EVENT +21 Days
Medevac flight over southern Maine
Three minutes out of MOB Sanford, Alex pretended to receive a call on his ROTAC, writing on a green notepad that already held the location of a baseball field in Limerick. He tore the page from the pad and held on to it tightly as it whipped around in his hand from the wind generated by their high-speed transit. The pilots were pushing the helicopter’s speed envelope, flying them north at close to one hundred eighty miles per hour. He stood up, holding onto one of the straps attached to the ceiling, and walked forward, passing the medevac litter restraining “Deputy” McCulver.
Reaching the cockpit, he thrust the paper between the seats and activated the headphones connected to the helicopter’s communication system.
“I just received information that the vehicle accident may have been caused by a local militia group. My CO wants us to set down at the FOB in Limerick to pick up a squad of Marines. They’re at this ten-digit grid. Red smoke will mark the LZ.”
The copilot reached up and took the paper, clipping it to his kneeboard.
“Copy. Inputting grid coordinates. We can take six-combat loaded Marines. Any more than that is pushing the cabin configuration,” said the copilot, pus
hing buttons underneath one of the color displays in front of him.
“We don’t mind squeezing in,” said Alex.
“Hang on back there,” said the pilot, and the helicopter banked sharply left.
“ETA five minutes. Tell them to pop smoke as soon as they hear us,” said the copilot. “We’ll try to fit as many in as possible.”
“Copy. I’ll take as many as you’ll give me,” said Alex, kneeling next to McCulver, who stared at him wide-eyed.
The helicopter descended a few minutes later, heading toward a distant swirl of red smoke past the outline of a baseball diamond.
“ETA one minute,” said the copilot.
Alex removed his headset and replaced it with his helmet. He kneeled next to McCulver, patting him on the head. “Don’t go anywhere.”
When the helicopter touched down behind second base, Alex jumped down onto the flattened grass and jogged toward Staff Sergeant Evans, who kneeled behind the pitcher’s mound at the front of a column of combat-loaded Marines. Sand from the infield pelted Alex while he yelled over the thunderous drumming of the helicopter’s rotor blades.
“Load them up, Staff Sergeant! It’s a medevac bird, so we might have to leave a few behind. Priority goes to the automatic riflemen. I want them closest to the doors!”
While Evans led the Marines toward the helicopter, Alex ran toward the third base dugout, where Kate sat out of sight behind a translucent privacy screen fixed to the chain-link fence.
“Sorry about the cloak-and-dagger stuff,” he said, kissing her quickly. “I’ll explain later.”
“How sure is this?” she asked.
“One hundred percent.”
“How will you—”
“Honey,” he interrupted. “I need you on the road within the hour.”
“Alex, we can’t be ready in an hour! We haven’t started loading the trailer!”
“You have to be on the road in an hour. This is a one-way trip for me. I can’t predict how the RRZ will respond to this stunt. I kidnapped one of the prisoners held in the detention center, and this mission isn’t exactly legitimate.”
She stared vacantly at the helicopter loading the Marines. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“We’ll be fine. It’s just happening a little faster than we expected. Everything on the list is packed and ready to move. You have plenty of able bodies to help.”
Four Marines started jogging away from the helicopter.
“I have to go. If I don’t show up by this time tomorrow, you have to leave.”
“We’re not leaving without you,” she said, her face regaining confidence.
“Twenty-four hours and you push off. If all goes well, you’ll see me this afternoon,” he said.
“Say good-bye to everyone for me,” she said, kissing him once more.
He nodded, then ran across the sand swept infield toward the helicopter.
Chapter 44
EVENT +21 Days
Rangeley, Maine
Alex glanced nervously at Staff Sergeant Evans. He’d caught a glimpse of Rangeley Lake through the compartment door, which meant their medevac mission cover story was a few seconds away from completely unraveling. They needed to move McCulver into a position next to him, where he could see the lake and guide them to Eli’s exact location. Sitting a wounded sheriff’s deputy near one of the doorways during the approach would invariably raise questions that Alex couldn’t answer. The pilot’s voice filled his headset.
“Captain, I just received orders to return to base immediately. Breaking off the approach.”
Alex felt the helicopter pitch right, exposing the entire lake through the port-side troop compartment door.
“Negative. My unit on the ground reports possible militia movement near the accident site. I need you to set us down as close as possible to their location,” he said, nodding at Evans.
Evans tapped Sergeant Copeland’s forearm, and the two Marines slid across the helicopter from their positions along the starboard hull, behind the copilot’s seat. They started loosening McCulver’s safety restraints.
“Captain, my orders are to bring everyone back to MOB Sanford. This is straight from the top,” the pilot said, looking over his shoulder at the Marines huddled over McCulver. “Why are your Marines releasing our patient?”
“He needs some fresh air,” said Alex, putting his hand out to stop the helicopter’s crew chief from standing up. “We have this under control, Sergeant.”
The crew chief looked around the helicopter at the scene unfolding, then glanced sharply at Alex.
“Is this a hijack situation?” he yelled over the wind buffeting the back of the cabin.
Alex withdrew his arm. “Not yet!”
Evans and Copeland manhandled McCulver into position next to Alex.
“Who is he?” yelled the crew chief.
“He’s one of the prisoners captured at the airfield! Killed two rangers while impersonating a cop! Give me two more minutes of flight time!” said Alex. “It’s important.”
“Everything all right back there, Sergeant?” he heard over the headphones.
“Good to go, sir,” the Air National Guard sergeant said, glaring at Alex. “I strongly suggest we give these devil dogs a quick aerial tour of the southeastern shore. Looks like they brought a guide to point out the more important features.”
“Fuck, I knew something was off here. When we land, I want your team off my helicopter. This is bullshit,” said the pilot.
“Fair enough. Just get us close to our target,” said Alex, feeling the helicopter bank right.
“This better be a valid target, Captain, or we’re out of here.”
“We’re hitting the suspected location of Eli Russell, the militia leader responsible for this morning’s attack.”
“4th Brigade’s air cavalry already hit that target,” said the pilot.
“They hit an abandoned site. Deputy Dog here provided a more current location.”
“That’s not a sheriff’s deputy?”
“He’s Eli Russell’s second in command. Captured in the raid on the airfield. I’m borrowing him for a few hours, along with these Marines.”
“No wonder the RRZ is frantic,” said the pilot, starting their descent. “What are we up against on the ground? In case you haven’t noticed, we’re not armed for a combat mission.”
“Unknown number of hostiles armed with semiautomatic rifles. We’ll keep them busy during the approach and departure. Set us down as close to the objective as you feel comfortable.”
“I see a nice flat spot right below us,” said the pilot.
“Just a little further. Sorry to drag you and your crew into this,” said Alex. “I’m going to transfer my headset to Deputy Dog, so he can guide you to the objective.”
“Roger. I’ll do what I can to get you close. Feet wet in one minute.”
Alex removed his headset, leaning close to McCulver’s face. “This better be fucking real, or you’re going skydiving. Understand?”
McCulver nodded, and Alex slipped the headphone-equipped aircrew helmet over his bleeding head.
“Press this button to transmit,” he said, placing McCulver’s hand on the remote trigger hanging from the headset below his right shoulder.
“Staff Sergeant Evans! Get the gunners ready!”
Alex readied his own gear. The helicopter dropped toward the trees, banking left along Rangeley Lake’s southeastern shoreline. A hand forcefully tapped his shoulder.
“Sir, the pilot thinks your target is that point jutting out into the lake! We’ll make a two-hundred-foot, high-speed pass down the port side and look for an LZ!” yelled the crew chief.
Alex gave him a thumbs-up, then transmitted over his intrasquad radio, “Target coming up on the port side! Weapons hold until I give the order.”
The two Marines next to McCulver nodded, shouldering their M27 Infantry Automatic Weapons. Alex leaned his head forward and located the spot where the gently curving shore p
rotruded into the dark blue water. From this altitude, he couldn’t see a break in the trees indicating the presence of a house or field, but that also meant Eli’s people would have the same issue scanning the horizon to locate the helicopter.
The helicopter turned a few degrees to port, lining up for a pass directly over the point. As the trees approached, the outline of an open area appeared, starting at the neck of the landmass and extending to the roof of a massive cedar shingle, craftsman house situated on the water’s edge. Alex leveled his rifle at the house as they passed, seeing nothing on the expansive deck facing the lake. A steep wooden staircase led from the deck to a dock and covered boathouse that contained a bow rider powerboat and three yellow kayaks. The house and dock disappeared when the helicopter banked left. The two Marines stationed in the doorway lowered their rifles slightly, each of them looking at Alex and shaking their heads.
“I didn’t see anything through binoculars,” said the crew chief. “We’ll make a second run across the field in front of the house. Looks like plenty of room to set down.”
The helicopter eased out of the turn, settling on a low-level run that would bring the front of the house down their port side.
“Six vehicles parked in front of the house. People in camouflage running toward the vehicles!” yelled the crew chief. “The pilot is widening his approach to open the distance.”
Alex passed the information to the Marines and steadied his rifle. The helicopter swayed right and slowed as it crossed the field. Through his ACOG scope, he spotted four men headed for the vehicles parked fifty feet from the house, all of them carrying military-style rifles. The helicopter rapidly drifted toward the far end of the clearing, seconds away from reaching the water.
“Weapons identified. Request permission to engage,” said one of the gunners.
Point of Crisis (The Perseid Collapse Post Apocalyptic Series) Page 32
