“Hey Nick, I know that I can never repay you for what you did five years ago, but can you help them out here? Any means of catching up with the hovercrafts is fine,” the Colonel said. Tanner turned the tablet towards Park.
The former Ranger was pleased to see an old friend. “You’ve done more than you can imagine. I think we can catch them with McCain’s jet-skies.”
“Do you know the model?” Blood asked with a plan.
“Yamaha Waverunner FX Cruiser SVHO.”
“Awesome. How many are there?”
“Three that are functioning. Why’d you ask the model?”
“Look, a Czilim class hovercraft can travel at 46 miles-per-hour,” began Blood. “And what’s great is that the jet-skies that we have can go up to 70 miles-per-hour.”
While Park saw the level of intelligence in Blood’s crazy head, the Hounds made their way to the garage, expecting the others to follow. When they reached the door, Blood began to ready an HMX explosive charge to breach the security doors.
Park hurried to stop him from damaging the beautiful vehicles. Being Nate McCain’s ‘favorite’ employee on the island, he knew the security code. After keying in the ten-digit code, the doors slid open.
Blood howled at the sight of the well-maintained classic BMW convertibles. As he neared the jet-skies, everyone could feel that Blood was aroused by the exotic vehicles.
“Ah, Captain, we’re not well equipped to enter combat,” Park mentioned.
“Not a problem.” Blood turned to his team. “Hounds, toss them your MP7A1s with all their mags.”
Quill and Park handled the German Sub-machine guns with recognition and checked them out. Whereas, Morgan did not know how it worked but went along with the flow.
The sheriff climbed behind Blood. Park and Tanner teamed up while Quill and Lark formed the last team. Buck, the St. Bernard sat in front of Lark.
Together, the three Jet-skies sprang to life and burst into the channel and onto the Pacific. They were headed into certain danger and did not expect the chaos they would face.
11
Chapter 11
June 2nd
02:35a.m
Near the Gulf of Alaska
Visibility was long gone with the storm. Yet, the Yamaha jet-skies rocketed through the ripping waves. They were thrown through the air and plunged into the bitter cold ocean every few seconds. At speeds over 65 mph, they were slicing through nature’s fury.
The three Hounds from COBALT had their tactical tablets strapped onto their left forearms. It showed a live satellite feed of the region. The all-weather resistant device guided them toward their targets who were a few miles ahead.
Logan Tanner who was in the backseat of Nick Park’s vehicle kept yelling directions into the microbiologist’s ear. They could no longer spot the other three jet-skis, either visually or via the satellite feed. The tablet screen kept getting covered and scratched by the water and wind making it difficult to read.
“Do you guys have clearance to take out men who served our own country?” Park yelled.
Tanner radioed Blood. “Bloodhound, this is Red Wolf. Do we have a hunting license to go after the traitors? Red Wolf, over”
“Red Wolf, I copy. The Colonel wants to maintain deniability in case things go south. We respectfully give it to him. If it makes you feel better, he gave me carte blanche to ensure this mission’s success. Bloodhound, out!”
The sniper yelled back in Park’s ear, “Guess we are kinda cleared. I see Lark’s jet-ski some twenty yards to that side.” He pointed front, diagonally. “Keep on it. He seems to be consulting his satellite feed just fine.”
Park went up to 70mph, the max speed. By doing so, a wave sent his vehicle ten yards in the air and then slicing down into the frosty ocean. They went down in a vertical curve as deep as the height of Park’s V48 yacht and further in length. With the full power of the 1812cc, 4-stroke engine, the Yamaha sprang out of the water and flew over Will Lark’s jet-ski.
Tanner got his breath back when the vehicle landed on calmer waters and raced along the one carrying Lark, Quill and Buck. The dog seemed like the only one there not frightened by the other jet-ski going over theirs. Buck had seen it all in his one year with COBALT and was used to the craziness.
To their left, Park saw the channel ending with the last sight of New-Leaf island. If Sheriff Morgan panicked, it would be a tactical disadvantage that might cost her life. If that happened, Park would always be seen by the town folk as the crazy scientist who had wrecked their peaceful island. No, he swore that he’d see to it that the cop would return alive to her town.
“Hey Park, Captain Blood radioed in. Two minutes to target! The hovercrafts have separated in the storm. But they all are heading to a group of abandoned islands. Nothing else in place for miles. We’ll take them by surprise,” Tanner yelled as he looked around the ocean that was continually pounded by lightning. Being fried by a bolt of lightning was preferable to being eaten by sharks, he thought.
Lark and Park cruised next to each other, sometimes touching the two jet-skies. It sent ripples of force-waves, like an earthquake, that almost crashed the vehicles.
All of them were now in the open ocean, at an edge of the Alaskan Gulf. Since the vehicles couldn’t be spotted on the satellite feed due to the storm clouds, the men with the tablet devices had switched to thermal imaging through the live satellite feed.
* * *
A few hundred meters to the west, Captain Damian Blood shot through the storm with the beautiful sheriff. For their surprise attack plan, he had decided to ambush the first batch of traitors from another direction. The enemy’s first hovercraft would be attacked from three different sides. It was a good plan only if there weren’t any new surprises for the Hounds.
The Captain could barely maintain his visibility as the rain pounded on his red tinted aviators. Even his hearing betrayed him due to the howling gale. He found no opportunity to switch from his sunglasses to the protective goggles while besting the storm. It was a furious struggle within him and he tried to not curse in the presence of a woman.
Sheriff Edna Morgan was in a hell of her own. With the haunting fear of being thrown from the Yamaha and wasted in the stormy ocean, she clung tightly to Blood’s hulking body. His determined attitude to conquer the storm and curse at it, without showing even a sliver of fear only made her respect him.
In the limited visibility, they both noticed an object dancing with the waves, thirty yards away. They could not make out exactly what it was but knew for sure that it was not a hovercraft.
“Any ships in the area?” asked Blood. “Our intelligence reports said that all vessels in the area were docked safely in New-Leaf. Is it the Coast Guard?”
“Your data is right. And I don’t know of any Coast Guard vessels active during the storm.” Morgan confirmed. “But that doesn’t mean they mean us harm.”
They turned sharply and aimed towards the vessel. It was a Zodiac Rigid-Inflatable-Boat. The cockpit seemed to have a large tubular device mounted on it that sprouted a thick curved belt from the back. There seemed to be nobody on it.
The Zodiac RIB was out of control. It bounced with the chop of the waves. Marine lifeforms fell onto its hull.
Just when Blood’s Yamaha was nearing it, a man in dark green fatigues sprang up, manned the tubular Gatling gun and sent a line of tracer rounds toward Blood and Morgan.
Out of sheer instinct, Damian Blood lifted the face of the Yamaha with all his strength, doing a wheelie in the ocean and turned 180 degrees backwards. With a loud splash, he settled the Jet-ski and was now heading in the opposite direction of the boat.
His stunt had produced a twenty-meter-long chop towards the Zodiac and sent it turning in the other direction as well. When the gunner turned the cannon, there was no sign of the Jet-ski.
Captain Blood tilted and curved the Yamaha in a long arc that almost went a full circle, covering a circumference of a half mile. The tracer bullets lit up the dark ocea
n and sent controlled bursts of fire in random directions, barely missing everyone in play. Blood was now heading straight towards the Zodiac in a zig-zag pattern through the chops. He kept to a random pattern to avoid being torn apart by the four-feet long Gatling gun.
By estimating rate of fire, max firing range and other variables, Blood decided that the version of this cannon was a GShG 7.62mm mini-gun. This was a Soviet-era weapon that could fire at 6000rpm at beyond a distance of 1000 meters. Its four barrels rotated to fire and were gas operated.
When the Captain came within a couple of hundred yards of the Zodiac, a line of rocket fire erupted from a soldier in the boat and shot towards Blood in less than a second. It was a PG-30, a 105mm round fired from a Russian RPG-30. This long tubular Rocket Propelled Grenade system was created recently to take out tanks at a close range.
The warhead came right at Blood but he jerked around by instinct and did a rapid short circle. The PG-30 gave chase but soon lost power and crashed near the propellers of the Jet-ski. It did not explode but Blood could feel the extra weight of the vehicle. The warhead had hooked itself to the propeller shaft.
He braked, turned sharply to get back to his team but was caught between two crossing streaks of tracer fire. There were a few more Zodiacs around. Blood could not determine exactly how many and didn’t want to let his team know just yet. Somehow, he was determined to gain the upper hand here.
But Sheriff Morgan was yelling and getting flung around from Blood’s wild maneuvering. Whenever the vehicle stabilized, she held onto the Captain with the rest of her rapidly draining hope and faith.
While the waves lurched and plunged the Jet-ski, Blood could feel the pounding of the anti-tank warhead against the propeller shaft. There were at least three lines of tracer fire at a time. These mysterious men with Russian weapons had not yet found the other Hounds. And Blood swore that the Hounds would be safe and free to carry out their objective.
Though he could not see all the Zodiacs, Blood found one struggling to handle rogue waves that sent it flying high. The RIB splashed hard and found itself mostly filled with water. On board the RIB, around half a dozen men were struggling to stand ground. Their bodies were thrashing around and they switched hold of one fixed object to another, unable to find stability.
The two mini-guns from the other boats shot short but well aimed bursts that stitched a few rounds to the propeller shaft of Yamaha. But that only helped Blood’s plan. The warhead, stuck below the Jet-ski, leaked explosive material and caught fire from the sparks of the tracer rounds. This only increased the vehicle’s speed by lighting up a furious flame that pushed the Jet-ski forward by the propeller fan’s urging.
Damian Blood yelled for Morgan to not let go no matter what. Using all his strength, he pulled the handles and lifted the vehicle’s face through a high-flying wave. This shot the Yamaha through the air, high enough to fly like a rocket and land with a crashing - Thud! - on the re-stabilizing Zodiac. It sent a force wave through the water, air and the bodies of everyone on board.
In that crashing motion, Blood and Morgan were lurched out of the Yamaha and towards the front of the RIB. He held hard onto the curve of the hull. The sheriff did not let go of the Captain through all this.
A soldier in green fatigues tried to man the mini-gun but the weapon turned with the wind and the muzzles of the four barrels slammed into his face, crunching his nose and forehead. Another man flew overboard from the high bounces of the RIB.
Blood’s arms felt like they were torn from their shoulder sockets while he held onto the hull’s edge. It appeared that this storm was prepared to leave no survivors behind to tell the tale.
The boat flew high with a wave and Blood immediately let loose. He lurched forward, towards the back of the RIB. In the air, he quickly drew his Desert Eagle .50 and fired a few shots at the men below who were readying their Kalashnikov AK-12 assault rifle.
Once Blood and Morgan landed hard behind the control panel, a Russian soldier unsheathed a mean blade and swiped it at the Captain’s face. From the wild swings of the boat, the blade missed by millimeters. Blood realized that his pistol’s magazine was empty and sent a roundhouse blow to the enemy’s temple with the Desert Eagle’s butt. The blade came returning for a strike at Blood’s gut but the soldier suddenly fell backwards, into the storm.
Blood looked up to realize that Morgan had fired the MP7A1. He yelled, “Man the boat. Keep it as wild as possible. We got two more Zodiacs to take out.”
While Sheriff Morgan familiarized herself with the controls, Blood stepped to front, shot the last live soldier on the boat before he could aim the AK-12. The Captain then took control of the Gatling gun cursing, “What the fuck are Russians doing here?”
12
Chapter 12
June 2nd
02:45a.m
Gulf of Alaska
A crazy storm, a platoon of deranged traitors, waves of mysterious Russian forces and no proper support or backup. Just the right kind of clusterfuck of chaos that I need to recover from a month away from the field.
Captain Damian Blood laughed maniacally at his fate. Manning the Gatling gun could seem like an easy job. But as the Zodiac kept leaping and crashing with the chops, his legs banged the small deck. It felt like a 40 mm grenade blasting between his knees. Yet, with a firm balance, his hands never left the trigger and the handle.
He could only thank his wild luck for making sure the attractive Sheriff Morgan knew how to manage her way through a storm. She had not yet capsized the boat. But Blood feared that it would be sooner or later. He was not a man of faith. Everywhere, he had boasted that all his decisions were influenced by logic. Now all he did was put his faith in his instincts that had never failed him even when logic had.
The other two Zodiacs were circling the one Blood and Morgan were on. By now the Russians would know that their men on this Rigid Inflatable Boat were taken out and the vehicle commandeered. Even through the dark thick storm, the flaming wreck of the Yamaha Jet-ski stuck on the RIB by its weight could be seen from a distance.
For a brief moment, Blood locked onto a Zodiac a couple of hundred meters directly to his front and fired short controlled bursts. The same were returned. Both lines of fire missed due to the waves and the Russian boat continued circling. They kept firing at random.
He heard a burst of rocket fire, turned back and spotted an RPG projectile flaming towards him. Edna Morgan spotted it first. She barely heard Blood yell - “Turn!” - over the thunders echoing all around her. Fortunately, she had already acted.
Their Zodiac rose left in a curve of the ocean-water and turned right at a high speed onto another chop. The boat flipped right, rode a wave and was sent many meters into the air - upside down.
The rocket-propelled-grenade came right under the Zodiac. Blood barely held on, but his aim was on the trigger and he squeezed a burst.
Boom!
The explosive thundered just above the water surface, spraying a force of water and heat towards the deck of the Zodiac.
Splash!
The boat plunged upside down into the icy water in contrast to the heat of the RPG. Blood kept holding onto the Gatling gun. He turned underwater to see how Morgan was doing. Her arms clung to a bar running along the controls.
Somehow, the Zodiac did not stop turning. Though a dozen meters underwater, the boat was completing its spin.
Great. When this fun ends, I’m asking the sheriff out. These shorts thoughts helped get him back to a tactical mindset after trauma and were a defense mechanism. They helped him stay away from stress and panic.
Now, upright after the spin, the Zodiac lurched out of the water rising with the chop like a small version of the Flying Dutchman. The newly reborn boat had lost its load of the Yamaha and the Russian bodies while spinning underwater. Blood and Morgan spat out sea-water and found footing on the unstable craft. They exchanged glances and let out devilish laughs. Two people crazy enough to enter hell only to laugh at the face of the d
evil brought shivers into the Russian soldiers.
“Woman, you sure have read my mind. You’re handling this little Zodiac just how I would’ve! I’m taking you out, anywhere you want, after things have calmed down.” Blood grinned with pride as he hollered.
“What did you just say?” Morgan called back, glee from the chaos.
“Never mind.” Blood muttered, then yelled. “Enough with handling it wild. Keep the boat very steady. Things should settle down soon.” Blood had not realized the truth of his words. The storm created too many variables for any plan to work. He wanted to wing it.
“Sure Captain!” Moran struggled to control the helm, almost managing it.
Their RIB was flanked by the other boats on both sides. They were close and weren’t firing. Blood knew what would follow.
He ordered Morgan to accelerate on his command.
From his left, two RPG projectiles flamed their way towards him.
From his right only one warhead rocketed on a collision course.
“Now!” he yelled.
The Zodiac’s engines revved and it raced forward. Blood pressed the Gatling gun’s trigger and sent tracer rounds to his left. With highly trained skill, his rounds connected with one RPG.
Boom!
It exploded in the air, leaving behind a cloud of flame and pushed aside the secondary projectile.
The RPG that came from the right had a new heat signature to track now. It diverted course, only slightly. Both warheads missed Blood’s boat, went further and struck an RIB filled with a dozen Russians. At the same moment, a loud - BOOM! - thundered through the storm. All temporary hostiles were shredded and burned to a crisp. None had expected it till the last second.
Blood and Morgan blew a sigh of relief and shared a hearty laugh. They knew there was more ahead.
Alaskan Storm (Part 1 of Blood Stone Impact): A Taskforce COBALT Action-Adventure Technothriller Page 8
