Apache Dawn - - (classic fiction .TXT) 📗

SEALs, and a bleeding man dying on the floor. Without a word, she stepped back through the door and slammed it shut.

“We’re in it now,” moaned Lopez. “Why did they have to tell me to go up topside…”

“We gotta get outta here, man,” said Jax, leaning over to Cooper’s ear. “While there’s still time.”

“Alert One: the Koreans have returned,” blared hidden loudspeakers. “All personnel, general quarters. Get to your preassigned defensive positions. Repeat, all personnel get to your preassigned defensive positions!”

The big Texan sighed. “Or not.”

Cooper stepped forward to address the rest of the guards. “Anyone here want to help President Denton?” That seemed to snap them out of their apparent momentary paralysis.

He got a few immediate shouts of “Hell yes!” and mostly nods. It was good enough.

“Then someone get us to a secure location where we can let the doctors keep him alive. Anyone know of a place where your colonel will be hard-pressed to overtake us?”

“Confess!” yelled the President. He thrashed against the cords and tubes sticking out of his arms and chest. A coughing fit ensued. He blinked and gasped for air, making a wheezing, sucking sound. He reached out a skeletal hand toward Cooper. “The nation…I need…talk to them…” Doctor Honeycutt placed a breathing mask over his face and silenced his delirious thrashing.

Cooper looked at Lopez as he led everyone down the right-hand corridor. “Is there any way,” he said gesturing toward the ailing president, “he can get some airtime?”

One of the other airmen spoke up from behind Cooper. “Uh, yessir. The old communications room.” He caught up to Lopez. “It’s on Three-C. Probably hasn’t been used since Reagan was here…”

“I know where it’s at, man,” said Lopez. He pulled Cooper aside as the rest of the group continued forward. In a lower voice, he said, “Look—that old comms room up there, maybe can get you some bandwidth—but there’s only one way in or out of that room. You go in, you’ll be trapped and the colonel will—”

The loudspeakers in the corridor erupted with ear-splitting audio again. “Attention all base personnel, we have been breached by a group of armed men. They have someone infected with them. Consider them armed and dangerous. Do not approach them—stay clear of the infected. If they resist, base guards are authorized to use deadly force. Repeat, deadly force is authorized…”

The message repeated, accompanied by flashing lights at the ends of all corridors. Cooper frowned. “Your comms room is looking better already. Let’s go everyone! Move!”

Lopez led them deeper and deeper into the bunker, always taking stairs and access hatches to lead them three floors down from the main level. They could hear shouting and footsteps all around them but never saw anyone.

After what seemed to Cooper like an hour of sneaking around the various, wide-ranging passageways in the subterranean chamber, Lopez finally held the group up at an access hatch and whispered to Cooper, “This is it, man. We go through that hatch and straight ahead. The door at the end of the corridor is the old comms room. But there’s no way out except right back this way.”

“Got it. Let’s move.” He stood guard at the access hatch as the agents and doctors and nurses filed past into the darkened communications room. As the President was carried through the hatch, he reached an arm out to grab Cooper.

The ailing president ripped off his ventilator mask and gasped, “Thank you, son.” He dropped back on the litter and was carried in by the agents.

Doctor Alston was next. She too paused at the entrance to the room and looked at Cooper. “Are you sure about this?” she asked softly. She tucked a stray lock of auburn hair over her left ear.

He nodded and felt his neck grow warm at the sight of her in the dim light of the corridor. “You heard the announcements, ma’am. We’re traitors. And from what I can gather, this colonel is some sort of hard-ass that’s going to use our blood to get a promotion. Our options are to stay in here and try and figure a way out after we’ve rested, or head up to the surface now and deal with the North Koreans.” He looked over her shoulder at the stragglers. “I don’t know, maybe we can get the President on the horn and clear things up with the base CO.”

She nodded. “Rock and a hard place, that’s for sure.”

“SSDD,” he mumbled. Gently, he put a hand on her shoulder and nudged her forward, secretly thrilled at the simple touch. “Let’s go, now, we need to get everyone in and seal this up. It won’t be long before—”

“I got movement!” echoed down the hall behind them.

“Let’s go!” Cooper grabbed the last two agents and shoved them through the hatch after Dr. Alston. “Move!” Switching his mic on, he called out, “That’s everyone. Jax, Beaver, get your asses in here!”

“Already on the way.”

Gunfire rang out in the distance and echoed like cannon fire in the hallway.

“Sparky, get up here and man this hatch. I’m moving ahead for covering fire.”

“Hooyah.”

Cooper moved back to the closest intersection and crouched, peering low around the corner in the direction that his men were coming. Flashes of light and more gunfire signaled their imminent arrival. “Stay to the right!” he called out. Laying prone on the floor at an angle to the corner, he took aim down the hallway and shot past his men into the crowd of airmen coming into range. Two men fell, adding their screams to the maelstrom of noise.

A round impacted the wall above his head, but Cooper didn’t so much as twitch an eyelash. His men were being pursued by those he would've called ‘brother’ two weeks earlier. Cooper fired off two more bursts as he ran and another airman tumbled to the ground shrieking in pain.

What am I doing? These men are Americans…Mortified that he was shooting at his own comrades, he pulled a smoke grenade from his vest and called out, “Popping smoke!”

As the wall of smoke enveloped the end of the corridor and blocked his view of the airmen, his men arrived and dove around the corner, gasping for air. Satisfied that the pursuit had slackened for a moment, Cooper scurried back to his men. A brief sprint down the hallway under cover of the team sniper at the door and they were all safely sealed up in the dusty communications room.

Cooper leaned against the heavy steel door and pounded a fist in blind rage. “What the hell, man? Our own people shooting at us like we were the goddamned NKors.”

“I told you,” said Lopez, examining some of the old communications equipment on the far side of the large room. “The colonel’s a hard-charger. He’s the President’s man, to the bone.” A glance at President Denton’s unconscious form made the airman frown. “Not that president. No offense, sir.”

“Doc, how’s he doing?” asked Cooper, striding across the room toward the cluster of medical professionals. Dr. Honeycutt looked up, stethoscope hanging from his neck, and pulled his surgical mask down. The haggard look on his face broadcasted what news he was about to give wasn’t good.

“He doesn’t have much time. Too much movement, too much stress. I’m sorry.” He sighed. “Honestly, I don’t see how he managed to survive this long without the vaccine. He didn’t have much of a chance from the get go.”

“Strength of will,” said Dr. Alston, her voice muffled by a cloth mask. She stood at the President’s head, gently smoothing the sweat-soaked hair on his forehead with her gloved hands. Every breath he took resulted in a faint moan.

“Son,” the President said weakly. Cooper heard the room go silent. Everyone leaned in a little to hear the next words. The President shook his head feebly. “Do not…blame yourself. You did what you could.”

Cooper slung his rifle on his back and knelt at the side of his Commander in Chief. He took the offered mask from a nurse and held it to his face. It didn’t feel like much protection, but it felt better than nothing, he supposed.

The flu was destroying the man right before his eyes. The President had traces of dried blood on his earlobes, and bloody tears from the corners of his eyes. His nose was a pink-stained mess and dark dried blood stained his linens and clothes. The skin around the older man’s ears and eye-sockets was turning a blue so dark, it was borderline indigo. The sheen of sweat on the President’s forehead and pink cheeks indicated he was still suffering from a high fever.

“Sir, I’m sorry.” He looked down, truly ashamed he had failed the mission. “It wasn’t enough. If we had known…” He looked around for encouragement. Most of the doctors just looked tired and sad. A few of the nurses were crying softly. The agents were stone-faced, but it was clear that they too were trying to hide their emotions.

The President patted Cooper’s arm in a weak gesture. “Thank you, son, for what you have done. For your sacrifice. What’s…” He started coughing and gasping for breath. After a nurse reattached his oxygen mask, he took a few ragged breaths and pushed it aside. “…Name?”

“Master Chief Cooper Braaten, Mr. President.”

Tears started to roll down the President’s cheeks. “It’s all my fault, Master Chief…” he wheezed. “Everything…”

“Sir, how could you possibly have known the North Koreans were going to invade?”

“That…” The President gasped for breath again. The wet sucking sound made Cooper flinch. “…sniveling bastard. Barron.” He shook his head, with more vigor. “Never should have nominated him as my VP.” The President growled and coughed bloody phlegm on the concrete floor. “He wants to be king…”

Cooper looked around the room. Everyone watched the President. What the hell do we do now? His thought