Extinction Level Event

by Jose Pino Johansson

  When the chatter of gunfire is heard through glass inside a helicopter with its blades at full power, it doesn't take a rocket scientist to realize that it is a powerful weapon at work. And close. And deadly. The familiar and terrifying traaat-traat of fully automatic weapon fire is unmistakable to anyone who has watched action movies, or for that matter, anyone that has any live experience with them. "Team 1 is under fire, they're requesting back-up!", calls out the Sergeant to Ramirez. "Order Teams 2,3, and 4 to cover them!" The helicopter makes a sharp right turn, banking over a neighborhood of convenience stores, small retail outfits, and similar row-houses. Traffic has entirely ceased on East Alondra drive, as police cruisers have blocked over a mile in radius around the last reported zone of Convoy 6A. As one of the other police helicopters flies in a hundred meters off the port side, Manjak notices a black-clad sniper take position in the aircrafts' open side door.

  "Eagle's Eye. . .taking position overhead" comes across the radio. The portside helicopter climbs higher, while Manjak shudders in his seat as more power is applied by the pilot. "What's going on down there? Lieutenant, fall back to back up positions now!", yells Ramirez over the radio to his officer, his voice barely audible over the low roar of the helicopters' spinning blades.

  Manjak observes a swarm of police officers run quickly behind a building. He quickly counts seven of them as another burst of gunfire erupts. The last officer falls to the ground in the middle of the street. His comrade in front of him notices him fall, and runs back to get him, throwing all caution to the wind. In seconds he falls down hard as well, a pool of blood gathering by his head on the ground. The remaining five officers, hiding behind the compound, open fire with their service pistols. Shots ring out, clanging loudly against metal, cars, and concrete as they spray wildly.

  This is crazy; thinks Manjak to himself. Just then the concrete barrier in front of the cops explodes in a shower of heavy automatic fire- and the solid concrete is pulverized in front of Manjak's eyes. The officers dive behind several old wooden slabs left over from construction. Manjak looks up, to see the sniper on the adjacent helicopter squeeze the trigger. He squeezes again, pauses for a second; squeezes it again. Jesus. This is a full-scale war. The helicopter shudders violently as the pilot banks sharply to the left. On the urban grid of streets below, Manjak sees a group of over thirty police dug in between their cruisers, buildings, and other obstacles, exchanging small arms fire with unseen attackers presumably hidden throughout the neighborhood. several hundred feet in front of the dug in police cadre lie the trucks of convoy 6A. Manjak counts three trucks. What? three, there were four in the convoy!? Where's the fourth truck?

  The scene is grisly. The first truck is on fire, blocked from any possible means of escape by the trucks behind and a large vans blocking it in front. Three bloodied bodies are strewn around the trucks in various twisted unnatural positions, two of them with FEMA uniforms. No police are near the trucks, but as Manjak observes the scene from the air two men race to the third and last truck, opening the doors. They drag a seemingly unconscious or possibly dead driver out, before piling into the vehicle. They start the engine, and start backing away quickly. They're taking our trucks! "Hey, Ramirez, they're taking our trucks! They're taking the food aid!", shouts Manjak. Ramirez noticed that already. "Team 3, take the truck out. The truck is being taken!" The helicopter swerves around, Manjak sees men in ski masks and bandanas behind barriers and cars on the ground turn fire at their helicopter. "Sir, we're taking fire", reports the pilot. "Get us back!", shouts back Ramirez. "Enemy snipers!", exclaims the Sergeant. "They've got snipers on the ground!" "Take them out! SWAT! Where is SWAT?"

  The escorting gunship comes around as the onboard SWAT sniper takes aim at the attackers below. Suddenly an object impacts his chest, and he falls dead 200 feet to the ground out of the helicopter. "We have a sniper down!"yells the radio in shock "Who the fuck cares, we're still taking fire!", replies Ramirez. Bullets ping off the helicopter's port side as numerous small arms and automatic rifles are aimed at the flying cruiser. The aircraft picks up speed as the pilot flies banks right and flies away from the mass of ground based attackers. "Sir, they've got heavy machine guns!", yells the sergeant over the din. "What the shit!? How?", shouts Ramirez. The helicopter lurches forward as a small air bubble is formed behind in its wake. Manjak grabs a hold of his seat belt and holds on for safety as the pilot navigates them out of the battle zone.

  Klang! Suddenly the front window of the helicopter breaks apart in a terrifying explosion, sending glass fragments scattering themselves at terrific speeds across the cockpit. A violent hailstorm of bullets ricochets over the aircrafts interior, destroying electronics, metal, wall covering, and leather seating. The Sergeant in front is hit three times to the face and central body cavity, showering the area in blood and human flesh. The pilot ducks down under the shattered cockpit, screaming in pain, "I'm hit!" Seeing him move down away from the controls, Manjak yells, "Shit! Don't let go of the controls!" The chopper goes into a wild swirl. "I've already lost control, what the fuck do you think!", yells the man. "Fuck, we're going down!" The aircraft starts to enter a nauseating headspin as Manjak clings to his seat for dear life. oh Shit. We're going down.

  More small arms fire ricochets off the slowly falling aircraft, prompting Manjak to keep his head low and away from the windows. The spin is uncontrollable. The feeling in Manjak's gut turns into an unbearable gravity well of decaying lead as the ground moves ever closer to the window. "I'm trying to get back control!",shouts the pilot as he wrestles violently with the control stick. "Come on baby, here we go!" He wrenches the stick back, pulling the vehicle's nose up slightly, "more power, baby, more power!". Even with one arm injured and his left shoulder covered in blood, the pilot manages to get the helicopter to level out horizontally. "Land land land!!", shouts Ramirez "I'm trying sir!" The aircraft lurches forward and then starts going on a straight path. The ground seems within an arms' length away from through Manjak's window, and approaching rapidly. Ramirez curls himself up into a crash posture. "Brace for impact!" Manjak closes his eyes.

  The aircraft hits the ground tail first with a massive thud causing a an equally massive sonic shock that deafens all aboard for a second. Then windows cracks, electronic equipment flies around like paper airplanes. The sides groan in punishment and cave in slightly due to the enormous pressure exerted upon the steel by the impact. Manjak is throw wildly left and right, impacting his shoulders and head on the hard metal panel. Ramirez is throw sideways, headbutting Manjak's abdomen in a bone-crunching blow. Then the seeming quake stops, leaving pieces of paper in the air, strewn wires, radio equipment, and broken glass all over Manjak, Ramirez, and the pilot in the front seat. Manjak's first though comes out as relief for still being alive. We are still in one piece. Get up Manjak.

  Unstrapping himself from the seatbelt that barely held him together, he shakes Ramirez's shoulder to bring the man back into reality. Ramirez's eyes open immediately from the quick rock. "What?! We dead, we up?", he shouts before getting a grip and looking around. "We're down on the ground! Quick, we have to move out of here. We're surrounded by the bandits". Completely agreeing with the sentiment, Manjak turns in his seat and kicks open the jammed door. The door flies open after the second attempt. Manjak jumps of the chopper as Ramirez follows. The pilot crawls through the fuselage and several seconds later comes out of the same exit.

  The area is a down-trodden alley of ill-maintained two story homes, retailing strip malls and several other nondescript buildings. Gunfire erupts nearby. "Stay low, move fast", whispers Ramirez, ducking down. "I'll lead". He grabs the radio in his breastpocket and turns it on. "Ramirez here, we're down in Block D. Over. Need backup." Over the radio the receiver picks up, "Sir. We have units converging on your position." "Roger." To Manjak: "Stay low, follow me. No hero stunts, no rash action". Ramirez pulls out his service pistol out of its holster and walks in a slightly crouched position amongst the debris. Manjak trails h
im closely crouched as well, followed by the pilot.

  All of a sudden two men in military khakis and chains race up the perpendicular street a 50 meters in front of the trio. Both sport kalashnikovs in their arms. One notices the trio, yelling to his companion. Ramirez runs forward, shoots off three shots from his pistol, and throws himself behind a large dumpster. The first gangster falls to the pavement, while the second lets go a shower of lead upon the alleyway where the helicopter's entourage are, now trapping them. Manjak hears the air next to his head sizzle as rounds electrify the atmosphere less than ten centimeters from his brain. He turns to a huge pile of wood and jumps towards it. As he crashes down, however, an unexpected and overwhelming pain wells up in his lower abdomen. He slams into the wood pile with his hands, receiving cuts and bruises all along his right arm. Then he looks down at his abdomen, to see a large dark red stain spreading across his stomach area. Oh damn. Intense pain clouds his judgement and consciousness as an unrelenting darkness settles upon his vision. "Manjak!", he hears Ramirez call out. The sound of the commissioner's voice seems very far off.

  Two more gunshots. Manjak sees the blurry outline of the Commissioner coming towards him as the world around him is consumed by blackness. . .