Apache Dawn - - (classic fiction .TXT) 📗

Cooper gritted his teeth and held the wheel tight as the APC careened through the cascading debris from the dead helicopter, dodging chunks of flaming metal and running through what he couldn’t dodge. In a matter of seconds, they were through the debris field and still rolling west.

“Striker, you still with me? I’m swinging around for another run.”

“Roger that, Snake, thanks for the assist. Nice shooting.”

“Country boy can survive,” was the chuckled response. “Listen here, hold on to your butts, Striker—you got multiple ground vehicles closing on your position. Looks like they’re still a few clicks north of your location. Maintain course and speed and I’ll give y’all some covering fire.”

“Oh man…Coop!” cried out Mike. “I can see ‘em, in between the parked cars up ahead. We’re gonna have trouble in a minute!”

“I see ‘em!” said Cooper, spotting two vehicles approaching from side streets a few blocks ahead. The headlights turned and bounced as the vehicles crossed the divided freeway and aimed straight for them. “Can’t tell what they are…uh…anyone know what can plow through concrete barriers like that?”

“Maintain course and speed, Striker,” warned the A-10 pilot. “You got a couple T-72s in front of you.”

“Shit, shit, shit, shit,” said Cooper. “How the hell did they get tanks here so fast?”

“Dropping into the slot and coming up fast on your six. This is gonna be danger close. Wait one…”

“Come on…do something!” said Cooper through clenched teeth as he gripped the wheel with white knuckles. “They’re gonna fire…”

“Wait one…”

Cooper felt a strange vibration through the seat before he heard the roar. It sounded like a dragon or something—right on top them—as flames shot over the roof of the APC in the direction of the tanks.

One of the T-72s in front of them disappeared into a fireball; then its partner died in an even brighter flare of light. Other North Korean vehicles entering the westbound lanes through the holes the tanks had made in the dividers were likewise transformed by the awesome firepower of the A-10 Thunderbolt into flaming, scrap-metal heaps. The smoldering hulks looked like so much charred Swiss cheese as the APC rumbled past.

Cooper only exhaled when they swerved through the last wreck and pulled onto a clear stretch of freeway. He had to hold his tongue until the overpowering noise of the A-10’s turbines pulled away. Cooper figured the pilot must’ve been flying only 30 feet off the deck for it to have sounded that loud. The APC actually shook as the tank-killer soared overhead.

“The Vulcan, she’s a mean bitch,” the pilot said.

“Hey Flyboy,” Cooper called out. “Much obliged.”

The pilot chuckled over the intercom. “You bet, Squid. Looks like the road is clear a good ways. I’ll be in the area while my fuel lasts. Dogfighting in this ol’ girl eats up the gas. We’re holding our own, though.”

“Keep on ‘em. We surely appreciate the assist. Striker 2, out.” Cooper glanced over his shoulder.

“Mike, see anything else?”

“Negative. We’re clear as far as I can see. Looks like we made it. We’re trailing smoke, though. I think the helo got a lucky shot.”

Cooper looked at the array of lights and dials in front of him. “Yeah, there’s a few of these indicators up here telling me something is wrong, but I’ll be damned if I know what.”

Another light blinked from green to amber. “Whoa…hey…I think we’re getting low on fuel. Sparky, you still getting a lot of chatter?”

The sniper shook his head, one hand on the headset held to his ear. “Nah, it’s dying down. Or we’re getting out of range. I don’t know, man—maybe they think that A-10 took us out?”

Cooper thought while he scanned the road ahead of them, weaving the wounded APC through the maze of abandoned cars on the freeway. More than a few were on fire. As they moved forward, the lights on the front of the APC illuminated empty streets.

“Man…that’s just creepy out there,” said Mike from the turret. “It’s like everyone is gone…”

“Look at all the bullet holes and burned-out cars,” said Sparky. “Damn NKor fast-movers must’ve strafed ‘em on their way downtown.”

“Poor bastards never had a chance,” muttered Cooper.

“Like fish in a barrel,” added Jax.

Cooper had to slow the shuddering APC down to a crawl. “This is no bueno, guys.” He winced at the noise of the armored vehicle’s dying engine. “We’re gonna be trapped if we don’t get out of this thing.”

“Got the San Diego Freeway coming up—everything looks pretty clear, man,” said Mike.

Cooper glanced at the dial that had turned amber. It was now red. “Okay, we need to ditch this thing, anyway. I think we’re leaking fuel.” He pushed an abandoned Prius out of the way as if it were a piece of paper. “Mike!”

“Yeah, Coop.”

“Keep on the lookout for another vehicle we can use. If that radio silence is any indication, I think the Koreans are going to come looking for their toy soon. This thing’s gotta have a GPS tracker or something on it, like ours would.”

“You want multiples or something big?”

Cooper hit the brakes and the APC squealed to a halt, the big engine gurgling and sputtering. He pointed out the window. “Something like that bus at the intersection right there. Got any movement?”

“Negative on IR…I’m getting no movement, no heat signatures,” said Mike, swiveling the turret all around.

Cooper unstrapped and turned in his seat to face the main cabin. The pretty auburn-haired doctor watched him with wide eyes. “Okay—Brenda, right? Get back there and get the President ready to move. We’ll go secure that bus and then we can make it to the air base—it’s just on the other side of that freeway…”

It was all over in a minute. The SEALs rushed from the APC wraith-like, secured the area, and stormed the bus. Like all the other shot-up vehicles, only the dead remained. Holding their breath, the SEALs pulled the few dead passengers off and, at the behest of the doctors, quickly sprayed some disinfectant around the cavernous interior.

“It’s mainly for the smell,” said the old doctor. He rubbed a hand through his ring of white hair. “By now, we’ve all been exposed to the mystery flu—either we catch it or we don’t. I just don’t know.”

Dr. Alston pulled Cooper aside. “Did any of your men catch the Blue Flu ten years ago?”

He nodded. “Me, Charlie, and Jax, I think. Pretty sure the others were deployed out in the middle of the Pacific…they weren’t allowed into port until…after.”

“Then you three have the best chance of fighting this round off.” She lowered her voice as Charlie walked past, helping a wounded Secret Service agent board the bus. “Keep an eye on the others. Once they start presenting with symptoms, you won’t have long.”

“Well, it ain’t perfect, but it sure as hell beats walking,” said Charlie with a half-smile from the bus’ door.

Cooper took the driver’s seat and grinned as he spun the bus’ big steering wheel and backed up toward the dying APC. He was thankful to be back in a vehicle where he could understand the dash and focus on something besides the spine-tingling fear of catching the mystery flu and dodging North Korean aircraft.

The armored vehicle had black scorch marks all up and down the sides where he had smashed through flaming wreckage. There were hundreds of dents and dings from bullets and more than one reaction-armor panel had been blown off, sacrificing itself to save the vehicle. Thick, black smoke bellowed from the engine compartment on the right side, sending a column of darkness into the sky where the dawn was spreading rosy fingers into the cloak of night.

He urged the Secret Service agents to get the President onboard as quickly as possible. “Let’s go, guys…that smoke signal is going to attract a lot of the wrong kind of attention.”

Dr. Honeycutt was the last of the civilians to climb onboard, carrying a load of disposable gloves and masks. “That’s it, we’re all aboard. If the President sees the dawn tomorrow, it’ll be a miracle. Let’s try to drive a little more careful this time, eh?”

“Roger that, sir,” said Cooper with a grin. “Don’t worry, ‘careful’ is my middle name. And we’ve only got a couple miles to go.”

Charlie laughed.

The smile on Cooper’s face vanished. “Mike, Sparky.”

“Yeah,” replied the sniper’s relaxed voice over his bone phone. “Comin’ up on your six.”

Charlie did the final check around the perimeter of the bus and climbed up the steps, his rifle pointing out. “Lock n’ load, Coop. We’re ready.”

A small red car pulled up next to the bus, its garish little racing stripes injecting a sense of triviality to the surreal scene around them. Cooper shook his head and grinned.

“Are you kidding me?” asked Charlie. He stood on the steps in the open door and called out, “A fuckin’ Mini?”

The tinted driver’s window rolled down and Mike’s gap-toothed grin greeted the SEALs on the bus. “Hell yeah. This here’s the souped-up model. Small and quick, baby.”

“Hey, isn’t that what your wife calls you?” said Charlie.

“Just try and keep up, asshole,” replied Mike with another flash of his characteristic grin. “We’ll lead the way.” The little car’s tires squealed and it shot down the long ramp toward Venice Blvd. like a scalded cat.

“One