Apache Dawn - - (classic fiction .TXT) 📗

“I got a bunch of Russians running between houses…looks like there’s a tank or something sitting in that backyard…”

“I’m keeping track of our people…there’s no movement on the south end of town. That tank you see—does it have missiles?”

Chad adjusted the focus of his scope and tried to ignore the popping sounds coming from the town as more explosions ripped into the Russian lines. “No…I don’t see anything. It’s just sitting there. I see a few guys near it, but they’re looking for cover, I think.”

“Okay, Actual, SAMs are down. Repeat, Overwatch has no visual on SAM sites,” whispered Tuck.

“Roger that, Overwatch.”

Chad could feel his heartbeat quicken when he spotted the two sleek-looking Apaches swing around the far side of the mountain to the north. “There’s the Apaches!” he hissed. “They look so small…”

“Wait a minute…” muttered Tuck. “Where’s the third one?”

Chad scanned the skies to the north. “I don’t see anything. Just those two. Boy, they’re sure givin’ the Russians hell—look at that!” Chad said, pointing at multiple little puffs of smoke that appeared in town. The Apaches were raining small missiles on the Russians. Chad was transfixed, watching as the helicopters soared through the pillars of smoke drifting up from burning Russian positions. As they passed through, destroying everything in their paths, the Apaches curled tendrils of smoke which swirled about them in the downdraft of their rotors. They looked like something out of a nightmare.

Tuck muttered a curse under his breath. “Hammer 2, Actual, Overwatch. Got negative visual on Valkyrie 3, over.”

“Copy that, Overwatch. Wait one.”

“This isn’t good. That third Apache was supposed to take out the SAM sites on the northwest part of town.”

“But I didn’t see anything over there. That tank was just sitting there without missiles. Does that mean—”

“Look!” said Tuck, pointing toward town in a sudden movement that caught Chad by surprise. It was like the brush grew an arm and came to life.

Chad peered through the scope and watched missiles drop from the stubby wings of the Apaches and streak toward targets on the ground trailing smoke and fire. Muffled explosions reached their position a mere second after they saw the Russian positions burst into a balls of fire and flying debris.

“Nice!” said Tuck. “Didn’t think we had those, did you?”

The sound from another enormous explosion near the center of town rolled over them like a clap of thunder. “Wow!” said Chad, adjusting the focus on his scope and squinting through the eyepiece. He was watching pieces of City Hall fly across streets and smash into adjacent buildings.

“I bet those pilots are having fun,” muttered Tuck, watching the action through his rifle scope.

The front of what looked like a drugstore crumpled when two cars and a truck were flung into it from the tremendous explosion at City Hall. He laughed when he saw Russian soldiers, like little ants, scurrying for cover and trying to find the source of the death raining down on them.

“Any sign of Valkyrie 3?” asked Captain Alston’s voice.

Tuck looked around and examined the sky while Chad kept watch on the battle in town. “Negative, Hammer 2, Actual. Clear skies.”

Chad glanced over his shoulder. He thought he heard a twig snap and turned around to look. There was nothing there. Another explosion rumbled in town and he turned back to watch the carnage continue. Movement on the west end of town caught his eye.

“Uh-oh,” he said, looking through the spotting scope. “Hey, remember that tank? I think they had it covered or something. I see some white things on it that look like—”

A puff of white smoke between their position and the town appeared in his eyepiece.

“SAM launch, SAM launch, SAM launch! West of town!” called out Tuck.

“Get your hands up, Huntley!” called out a female voice. Chad flinched in surprise and knocked his spotting scope over the edge of the boulder. It hit the ground on the other side and shattered against the rocks.

“You scared the shit out of me!” Chad turned and saw the female pilot that had always glared at him a few paces away. She had her service pistol drawn on him in a two-handed grip. He noticed with some alacrity that her knuckles were white.

“What the hell—” said Tuck as he turned.

Before the sniper could say anything else, the pistol barked twice and Chad ducked, ears ringing.

“Jesus!” she said. “I didn’t even see you!”

“That’s kinda the point,” Tuck groaned in pain. He fell to the ground from his perch by the tree. His rifle clattered down next to him, just out of reach.

“You shot him!” Chad screamed, still crouched over, hands up next to his ears. “Whose side are you on?”

“That’s—that was an accident!” she screamed back. The gun wavered between Tuck and Chad. “I’m sorry,” she said in a not-unkind voice toward Tuck. She wiped at her eyes. “I really am…I’ve never shot—shot anyone before! I just wanted to get you,” she said, swinging the pistol in an unsteady grip back toward Chad.

“Let me help him!” Chad pleaded.

She shook her head. “Get on your knees with your hands above your head. Hands together—do it now!” she said taking a step closer. Chad hesitated and looked at Tuck writhing on the ground, his face a mask of pain. Tuck suffered in near silence as he clawed at his stomach. He opened his mouth and closed it, looking for all the world like a fish out of water.

“Now!” she shrieked. The pistol went off and a chunk of the pine tree to the right of Chad’s head exploded into splinters. “Sorry!” she called out.

“Okay, okay,” said Chad. He scrambled too quickly getting to his knees and put his hands up. The pilot crashed through the underbrush the last few paces and quickly secured Chad’s wrists together with a cable-tie.

Chad remembered some of the rudimentary training drilled into his head when he had been a “guest” of the CDC ten years earlier. They had been concerned that because of the unique properties of his blood, someone or some organization would try and kidnap him. Of course, keeping him confined under lock and key was the same damn thing to Chad.

Regardless, he remembered what they’d told him, “First, don’t fight. You’re not trained. Just go meekly and make your captors overconfident. They’ll be less likely to pick up on your next trick. Keep your wrists parallel to the ground and clench your fists as they put restraints on you. When you are secured, relax, and you’ll have room enough to maneuver yourself into a position to escape.”

Chad did just that and held his breath as the female pilot hastily slapped the cable-tie around his wrists. She never noticed how he held his wrists and clenched his fists.

“On your feet, let’s go.”

“What about him?” Chad asked, ignoring the demand.

She looked down at Tuck, who glared back at her with a face of pure rage. Chad could almost imagine that Tuck would somehow manage get up and strangle the pilot. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “Where’s your radio? Hand over your sidearm, too.”

Tuck grunted and used a blood-slick hand to fumble in a pouch on the chest of his ghillie suit. He pulled out the radio and jerked the throat mic and earbud cords free before feebly tossing it on the ground. He flipped up the holster cover on his hip and pulled out a pistol that also went into the loose gravel at her feet. The pilot bent down, picked up the bloody radio with a look of disgust and flung it away. The gun she slipped into a pocket on her flight suit and secured with a zipper.

Despite two bullet wounds in the stomach and chest, the Ranger was actually smiling at the pilot, like he was thinking of some inside joke.

“What’s so funny?” she asked, her eyes darting toward the continuing battle over Salmon Falls.

“You throw like a girl,” Tuck hissed through clenched teeth. “You better shoot me in the head,” said Tuck in low growl, completely at odds with the smile on his face. His blood-slick hands fumbled with what looked to Chad like a tampon. “When I get patched up, I’m gonna hunt your ass down.” He grimaced and shoved the feminine product right into the bullet wound in his gut, then lay back against the boulder and closed his eyes.

The pilot pointed the wavering pistol at Tuck’s head but didn’t pull the trigger. Her eyes were locked on the town. Chad followed her gaze and saw with horror that one of the Apaches had just become tumbling bits of flaming metal falling out of the sky onto the burning town below.

Chad found it hard not to grin at the look on her face. “Someone you knew?” he asked.

She shook her head and wiped at her eyes with the back of one hand but kept the pistol on Tuck. “Start walking.” The firearm swung around toward Chad. Up close, the muzzle of the pistol looked enormous. “Move.”

Chad reluctantly got up and stumbled through the underbrush after a brief glance at Tuck. The Ranger nodded at Chad and pointed to his ear. He started to tear open a second tampon.

“I’m gonna find you…” Tuck warned the pilot.

What the hell does that mean? Chad struggled on the sloping ground with his hands tied together. Then it came to him. Oh! I still have my radio! She doesn’t know I have one…

“You hear me?” called out Tuck in a hoarse voice. “I will find you, bitch!”