by Mark Goodwin
“Hey!” She forced a smile in an effort to keep his spirits up.
His reply was weak and labored. “Hey, yourself.”
“It’s good to see you.” She clenched her jaw to keep her lip from quivering.
“It’s good to be seen.” He grimaced in pain as Ulysses and Ava hoisted him out of the truck bed and onto the ground.
Once he’d managed to squirm under the truck, she gave his hand a squeeze. “I’ll be right back.”
“Got an extra rifle?” he asked.
“Let us take this one.”
“I can still pull a trigger. Trust me, I’m not going to try and play hero, but a little cover fire might come in handy.”
Ava nodded and removed the strap of her AR-15 from her shoulder. “Here.”
He reached up and took the rifle. “What are you going to shoot?”
“I’ve got an AK in the back seat of the truck. Dad thinks it’ll have a better chance of taking down a chopper anyway.” She pulled the spare AR magazines from her vest and placed them on the ground beside Foley.
Foley nodded and closed his eyes, as if he were saving his strength for an engagement with the enemy.
Ulysses called over the radio, “Get under the bridge! It’s the best cover we have.”
Several of the Oklahoma militia members emerged from the surrounding bushes and charged toward the bridge.
“Ava, look alive. They’re coming around for another pass!” Ulysses took aim at the helicopters coming toward them.
Ava quickly retrieved the AK-47 and the extra magazines. She hurried to stuff the mags into the pouches on her vest and took up a position behind one of the concrete pillars under the bridge. Rifle fire rang out from behind her. She heard bullets buzzing by her ear from the direction of the river. “We still have to worry about the hostiles on the ground!”
“Roger that! Keep your sights on the choppers. Wait till you can see the pilot’s face to fire.” POW, POW, POW! Ulysses spun around to engage the Social Justice Legion fighters on the opposite bank.
Ava fought the urge to tuck down behind the concrete support and hide until the chopper had passed by. When she could make out the pilot, she opened fire. Ta, Ta, Ta, Ta, Ta! She aimed toward the windshield and the top engine cover.
Ulysses looked up at two large spider-web cracks on the front windshield of the chopper. “Good job. You at least made it hard for them to see.”
The next chopper flew by and the machine gunner unleashed a barrage of fifty-caliber gunfire toward Ava and Ulysses.
“Get down! Get down!” Ulysses ran toward her and pushed her to the ground. Bullets struck inches from her face.
Ava watched the dust being kicked up by the giant lead projectiles striking the ground by her head. As soon as the chopper had passed by, she jumped back up and emptied her magazine on the rear of the aircraft. Several of her rounds struck the tail of the helicopter and the rear rotor ceased from spinning. “I think I hit it!”
Ulysses joined several of the other nearby militia members in a gunfight with the remaining Social Justice Legion fighters. He picked up his radio. “Byers Militia, looks like that chopper is going to have to set down over by you. Why don’t y’all send a welcoming committee to meet them?”
“Roger,” a man replied over the radio.
“The other two choppers are coming back!” yelled a militia member kneeling behind a concrete support several yards away from Ava.
She changed magazines and took aim. The first helicopter came in low. The fifty-cal ripped through several of the militia members. Their screams of agony were muffled by the roar of the helicopter’s engine.
Ava directed her fire at the massive war machine as long as she could, but when the bullets came too close, she was forced to jump behind the cover of the pickup truck. She looked beneath the Sierra to see Foley crawling toward the edge of the truck and leveling his AR-15. Bang, Bang, Bang! He fired at the chopper. Soon after, Ava witnessed the chopper’s nose dive down toward the ground. Evidently, Foley had struck the pilot. She watched the copilot try to bring the chopper back up, but the craft was too near the ground. The rotor blades cut into the soft earth of the river bank and the chopper smashed into the ground, exploding on impact.
She turned to him and smiled. “Nice work, cowboy.”
“Never been a very good spectator.” His voice was very frail.
“Watch out!” Ulysses screamed as he ran toward Ava.
Fifty-caliber gunfire pulsed out of the third helicopter as it charged in Ava’s direction. She rushed to change her magazine, but it was coming in too fast. Ulysses lunged toward her, pulling her behind the concrete piling. “Awwww!”
Ava saw an explosion of blood spray out of Ulysses' leg as the bullet passed through. “Dad!”
He rolled on the ground in torment. “Keep fighting. Take out that other chopper first, then worry about me.”
She completed her magazine change and forced herself to redirect her attention to the battle at hand. Ava saw only six remaining Oklahoma militia members of the original twenty-five who’d accompanied her to the battle site. Bodies from both sides lay strewn about the river banks with many of the corpses staining the river a murky crimson. Still, sporadic enemy fire continued to assault them from the Texas side of the river. Ava kept herself hidden from the SJL ground forces and waited for the chopper to make another pass.
Ulysses ignored the gaping hole in his calf muscle and put out another call over the radio. “Byers Militia, if you folks can close in on the hostiles from your side of the river, it would be a great help. We’re getting thinned out over here.”
A voice replied over the walkie-talkie, “Our team has been slaughtered. I’m down to four guys who can walk on their own and operate a gun. I put in a call to the base up in Altus, but it could be a while. We may have to sit tight.”
“No can do. Altus is sixty miles out. Sitting tight is a guaranteed ticket to the other side. We have to keep pressing them.” Ulysses’ face showed his concern over the dire situation. “Besides, this is an unauthorized militia engagement. I’m not so sure the Alliance States will even want to get involved.”
The voice of the man in the Byers Militia replied. “Oh, they’re coming. Militia or not, regime choppers crossed the border and fired on targets in Oklahoma. That’s a violation of sovereignty that can’t go unchecked.”
Ulysses looked unsure. “I hope you’re right.”
Ava pressed the butt of her rifle against her shoulder. “Here he comes!” She lined up her sights with the helicopter’s cockpit.
Ulysses’ face contorted in anguish as he moved his injured leg to get into a fighting position. Likewise, he raised his rifle. “As soon as you see the gunner, take him out. He’s gotta go before we can worry about the aircraft.”
Ava nodded, but she knew she could at least crack the windshield while she was waiting for the side shot necessary to hit the machine gunner. She took four quick shots at the front of the chopper, all of which connected with the cockpit windshield. She crouched low behind the concrete support and opened fire at the side door where the fifty-caliber was barking out shells at her and the remaining militia members.
Ulysses also took shots at the gunner. “He’s hit! Aim for that tail rotor. We’ve got a few seconds before they can come back around and assault us from the other side.
Ava emptied her magazine but to no avail. “Missed him.”
“That’s okay, reload and get ready for the next pass.” Ulysses slapped a fresh magazine into the mag well of his rifle.
Gunfire rang out from the direction of the river. Ava turned to see three more militiamen being cut down by seven SJL fighters who were wading across the shallow river with their AK-47s held high. “Dad! We’ve got company coming!”
Ulysses let out a grunt of disappointment. “Be selective about your shots. The chopper will be back any second. Work on these guys until you hear the chopper. Then focus on the aircraft and I’ll do what I can to hold the ground t
roops back until it passes.”
Foley crawled out from beneath the truck, rifle in hand. Sweat droplets covered his forehead, drool was running down into his beard. His skin was pale, and his eyes were half shut. “I’ll help with the chopper when it comes.”
Ava knew the symptoms of septic shock and Foley looked horrible. “You need to rest.”
He replied in a feeble voice, “If we don’t survive the next few minutes, rest isn’t going to do me any good. I’ve gotta fight.”
“He’s right.” Ulysses' eyebrows were low and his jaw was clenched. “We’re in a tough spot here.”
Ava already knew that to be true, but she’d not seen her father this worried before now. If he was so distraught, the situation had to be grim. Ava quickly fired several bursts at the enemy fighters, who were coming up out of the water and onto the bank. They shot back in unison and took prone positions. Ava watched the remaining militia members fall one by one, taking two of the SJL assailants with them.
The black-hooded aggressors took up a position behind one of the far supports of the bridge, using it as cover.
“Checkmate.” Ava’s voice echoed the defeat in her soul. “When the chopper circles back, we’ll be forced to duck behind the barrier, which will expose us to the ground troops. I don’t see any way out of this.”
A quivering smile crept across Ulysses’ face. His voice cracked. “It ain’t over till it’s over. You just keep shooting, sweetheart. And remember that I’ll always love you.”
“The chopper is coming.” Foley’s thin voice was barely loud enough to be heard over the incoming helicopter.
“I love you, too, Dad. And you, Foley.” Ava dried her eyes with her sleeve and took aim at the approaching aircraft.
TA, TA, TA, TA, Tat! The fifty-caliber shells from the chopper plowed through the earth, throwing sand violently into the air. Each shell grew closer and closer to Ava, her father, and Foley. The three of them returned fire but continued to miss the replacement machine gunner who maintained the assault.
KABOOM! The helicopter erupted in a massive sphere of flame and debris.
Ava looked up in amazement as two F-16s appeared from behind the smoke left by the exploding chopper. “Alliance fighter jets!” Ava squealed with excitement.
Ulysses nodded with a renewed look of optimism. “Yeah, that’s great, but we’ve still got these pinheads slipping up on us.
Ava quickly looked around the concrete support. The five remaining hostiles were using the diversion as an opportunity to close in on her team and finish them off. She fired three rounds, dropping one of the SJL assailants. Then, her trigger clicked. “Empty! Rats!”
“Just reload.” Ulysses continued firing and killed two more SJL troops.
Ava’s hands shook from the adrenaline coursing through her veins. She dropped her spent magazine, replaced it with one from her vest, and racked the bolt. She took aim and began firing just as she heard Ulysses’ bolt lock open.
Ava killed two more hostiles. “The last two are holed up behind the concrete piling.”
Ulysses turned to Foley whose skin seemed to be turning grayer than pale. “Think you could put down one magazine’s worth of cover fire?”
He nodded.
Ulysses turned his attention to Ava. “And I’ll put down cover from the other side. We need you to run up toward them and flank them. Foley and I will keep them pinned down. Be slow and deliberate. Chest shots, then double tap them in the head when you get to close range. Do you think you can do that?”
Ava looked at her injured father and her dying fiancé. She had no other choice. She nodded.
“Put in a fresh magazine and tuck down on your approach. Keep your profile low.” Ulysses’ eyes showed a mix of pride and distress for his daughter. “You’ll do fine.”
Ava took several deep breaths as she mentally prepared herself to run directly into the line of fire. She imagined what the two remaining hostiles looked like crouched behind the cover of the support. She pictured her rifle firing and cutting them down. She exhaled. “I’m ready.”
“Okay. You call it. Say go and run right for them.”
She nodded, pressed the butt of the AK into her shoulder, set her feet and yelled, “Go!”
CHAPTER 3
And it came to pass, that as he was come nigh unto Jericho, a certain blind man sat by the way side begging: And hearing the multitude pass by, he asked what it meant. And they told him, that Jesus of Nazareth passeth by. And he cried, saying, Jesus, thou son of David, have mercy on me. And they which went before rebuked him, that he should hold his peace: but he cried so much the more, Thou son of David, have mercy on me.
Luke 18:35-39
Foley opened fire on the right side of the support, while Ulysses put down suppressive fire on the left. Ava sprung from cover to the left of the concrete pillar beneath the bridge, her legs pumping hard against the soft sand. She raised her AK-47, taking aim at the edge of the far support where the enemy troops were hiding. Foley and Ulysses continued to shoot steady streams of cover fire. Ava saw the shoulder of the first SJL fighter. She took up the slack in her trigger and took two more steps to the left.
BANG, BANG, BANG! Blood sprayed out from the chest and stomach of the unsuspecting hostile. The second SJL trooper raised his rifle. Ava couldn’t afford a shot to the center of mass which might have allowed the man to pull his trigger. She quickly centered the bead of her iron sight between his eyes and squeezed. POW!
The man dropped to the ground. She rushed toward the first downed hostile and placed two more rounds in his head. Next, she shot the second hostile in the face once more for good measure.
Smoke slipped serenely from the barrel of her gun, dissipating in the light breeze. Ava took a breath, looked around, then seeing no other immediate threats, collapsed on the ground from exhaustion. She simply wanted to sit in the sand for a few minutes, to breathe, and give her mind a chance to catch up with what just happened. But that was not to be. Instantly, the momentary silence was disrupted by the sound of more helicopters.
Ava shook her head. “No, no, no. It can’t be! God, please help us! We can’t fight off another wave. Dad is shot, Foley is at the end of his rope, and I’m utterly wiped out. Please, God!” she begged.
Despite her condition, she reloaded and scanned the skyline for the helicopters. The Alliance fighter jets were nowhere to be seen. Had they abandoned them so soon? Suddenly, she realized the sound of the helicopters were coming from behind. First, she saw four green helicopters, Black Hawks, perhaps. Behind them were two more choppers, bigger than the first four, with two top rotors each. “Chinooks. Please let them be Alliance helicopters!”
Soldiers repelled from the sides of the Black Hawks. Ava was able to recognize the new Alliance States insignia on the side of the aircraft when it turned sideways.
“Thank you, Jesus!” She sighed and fell back into the sand.
Ulysses called out. “Over here! We need a medic for this man!”
Ava could not rest. Not yet. She needed to make sure Foley would get the attention he needed. She forced herself to stand, hand up and weapon dangling from the single-point sling as she returned to her father and Foley. She watched as the Chinooks landed and more soldiers poured out.
The first wave of Alliance soldiers reached their position. One of them quickly unzipped a pouch on his vest. “Let’s see what we can do for that leg.” He bent down next to Ulysses.
“Don’t mind me, this man is going into shock,” Ulysses said.
The soldier called on his radio. “I need a stretcher to the bridge, and I need an antibiotic IV. Hurry!”
“Can you fly him back to base?” Ava pleaded.
The soldier nodded. “We’ll have him good as gold in no time, ma’am.”
“Thank you, can I ride along?” she asked.
The soldier looked at the carnage surrounding him. “Are you responsible for this mess?”
“Some of it.”
“You look familiar.
You wouldn’t happen to be the girl who caused all that ruckus at the firearm collection points in Austin, would you?”
“That’s her. She’s the troublemaker in chief,” Ulysses winced as another soldier wrapped his leg to get him ready for transport.
The first soldier smiled at Ava and nodded. “Then we’ll make room for you, even if I have to give up my seat and walk back.”
She took Foley’s limp hand. “Thank you, thank you so much.”
Late Christmas night, Ava sat up on the waiting area couch after a short and fitful nap. The make-shift military hospital was located in a hangar at Altus Air Force Base where the Oklahoma National Guard had assumed control. The field-expedient medical center appeared to be well-supplied and adequately staffed, but it had no permanent walls. Temporary partitions allowed sound to travel easily from one section of the hospital to the next.
Ulysses rolled out from behind one of the thin partitions in a wheelchair with his leg elevated.
“Dad!” She stood up to help him. “You’re out of surgery?”
“Please don’t make a fuss over me. I didn’t even want a wheelchair. Crutches would have been sufficient.” He rolled the chair to the couch where she’d been sitting.
She hesitated before returning to her seat. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”
“Flesh wound. I’ll be fine. What did the doctor say about Foley?”
She sighed and reached out to take her father's hand. “I’m still waiting to hear.”
“Did they feed you?”
“They offered, but I’m not going to eat until I hear about Foley.”
“You need to eat. You’ve been through a lot.”
She shook her head. “I had some water and a Gatorade, but I’m fasting—for Foley. I’m begging God to heal him.”
Ulysses conceded. “If that’s your conviction, then you should go with it.”
A doctor came from behind the petition followed by a soldier in dress uniform. “Ms.Wilson?”