“Beetlejuice,” Mitch inserted.
“That’s it.”
“Well, you have the face for it now, my brother.”
“Oh thanks. You ain’t no bowl of Rice Krispies either, amigo. I can be Beetlejuice, and you can be my twin brother Tobaccojuice. We can…”
“Jack! You better have a look at this,” Steve interrupted. “I found where the helicopter survivors are, and they ain’t by the helicopter.”
Jack put the last piece of adhesive tape in place, and handed Mitch the baggy of aspirin he had brought. He put the canteen Steve had given him in Mitch’s hands too. When he reached Steve’s side, Steve handed him the binoculars.
“Follow in a line in front of the cliff-face, from the helicopter.” Steve pointed out. “I make out three of them, and they seem to have a lock on where Paul and I were. If they keep traveling at about the same clip they’re going now, they should reach our old position about the same time Paul does.”
“Shit,” Jack swore through gritted teeth, as he located the three soldiers moving through the snowy woods. He saw they were outfitted in white survival gear and snowshoes. They moved as if they knew their business. They paused every ten or so steps, and waited a full minute before going on. Jack shifted his binoculars to where he thought Paul would be traveling to get to the radio. In spite of the danger, Jack grinned in exasperation as he spotted his brother.
“There’s our boy Paul. The meatball’s clumping down the mountain, making enough noise to start an avalanche. Steve, does the boy wonder have his hand-held radio.”
“I have it Jack. I forgot all about it,” Steve answered.
“He didn’t give anyone a chance to remember anything.”
“I can fire a burst to warn him,” Steve said. “He’ll get down.”
“I have a better idea,” Jack responded. “Can you keep an eye on these pricks, while Steve and I hunt up my rifle Mitch?”
Mitch gathered his AK-47, and loaded it with a fresh clip. He focused his own binoculars, and after a moment, he nodded his head. “I got them Jack, and if they get too far along before you find the rifle, I’ll let off a burst.”
Jack gripped his brother’s shoulder lightly, and then signaled for Steve to follow him. He could barely recognize the area he and Mitch had made their stand at. The place where Mitch had fired his missile no longer existed. Jack spotted the fallen tree he had set up to fire from, and began digging through the dislodged snow and debris. Steve joined him. A few minutes later, Steve pulled the rifle gently from the snow, and handed it to Jack.
Jack took off his gloves. Using them as a wiping rag, he cleaned the snow and dirt from the body of the rifle. Steve retrieved a couple of paper towels from his own personal stash. Jack finished with the stock, and then lightly absorbed the moisture on the lens of the telescopic sight, with a paper towel. He removed the bolt, wrapped it in a towel, and stuck it in his coat pocket. Steve assembled a cleaning rod from his own field kit, and handed it to Jack with a patch soaked in solvent already attached. Jack ran the rod down the bore, and Steve took hold of the other end after Jack pulled it back out, and inserted a clean patch. Jack fed it through, and Steve attached a lightly oiled one. When they finished with the barrel, Jack reinserted the bolt, and ejected the only unfired cartridge from the internal clip. He loaded five more shells from his pocket, and worked one into the chamber. He shouldered the rifle, and led the way back to where Mitch stood.
“How are we doing,” Jack asked.
“They’re just crossing the halfway point. I make the distance to be about 1,500 yards. You have quite a shot from here, Jack, with them moving. They only stay still for about a minute before taking off again.”
Jack picked his spot, and found his targets in the scoped lens. He no longer had his pad, so he stuffed his gloves inside his coat, where the rifle would butt up against his shoulder. The boulder, he now rested the rifle stand on, was free of snow, and gave him plenty of maneuvering room. He braced himself solidly against the face of the boulder, and sighted along from the helicopter until he found his targets. He sighted on the lead soldier, and flipped off the safety. During the next pause, Jack took up the slack on the trigger, and sighted low on the man’s body. He squeezed gently, and the rifle bucked painfully into his shoulder.
“Good Lord, Jack!” Steve laughed. “A head shot from here?”
“Nice shot, brother,” Mitch added. “His playmates have hit the ground, or should I say the snow, and are still for the moment.”
Jack had the rifle re-sighted, and again into position with a fresh shell in the chamber. He saw the bloody mess of the first man, and quickly found the second, and then the third in his sights. The two survivors had only now begun to move their heads, slowly trying to find the source of the gunfire.
“I shot at the middle, so the sight must be off a tad,” Jack informed them. He aimed the cross hairs under where he saw the third soldier prone on the ground, and squeezed off the second round, trying not to flinch in anticipation of the pain.
“Dead center Jack,” Steve said. “The third guy’s up and moving back where he came from.”
“Dudley Doright has stopped thrashing down the mountain, and has his glasses on us,” Mitch said.
Steve flashed an okay with his flashlight. Paul returned it, and continued his descent. Mitch laughed as he watched Paul threading his way down from tree to tree, carefully pausing for noise or movement.
“You’re closing the barn door a little too late, Paul,” Mitch said, “those horses are long gone.”
“Better now than never,” Steve joined in. “He remembers we’re in a war again.”
Jack had the last man in his sights, and the next time he stopped, Jack shot him in the leg as he crouched next to a tree. Jack let go of the rifle, and stood up. Grimacing in pain, he rubbed his shoulder, and returned his gloves to his hands.
“Damn, that hurts!”
“Looks like you got him in the calf, Jack, Mitch said, as he watched the man writhe in the snow.
“I was trying for his feet area, but I’ll take a calf.” Jack kept massaging his shoulder. “I’m damn glad I hit him at all. I don’t think I can fire this fucking bazooka again today.”
Jack touched the stock momentarily. “It sure earned its way the last couple of days.”
“Do you have something in mind for that last guy Jack?” Mitch asked.
“I’m going to make my way down to Paul. He and I will go see what we can find out from the guy, and if there’s anything on the helicopter we can use. You and Steve round up anything still workable, and pack it on the sled for the trip back. There’s no use in all of us going down there.”
“Yeah… well… that guy probably has grenades, and I can see he still has a rifle,” Steve said, as he watched the soldier. “You better be awful careful coming up on him. He’s already gotten past the pain, and is bandaging up his calf from behind a tree.”
“Half his calf’s probably gone,” Jack said. “The best he can hope to do is staunch the flow of blood, and keep it still, and in the snow. If he moves, it’ll start pumping again.”
“That may be,” Mitch said as he joined the watch on the wounded soldier, “but he’s already hobbling around, probably looking for a stick he can use for a crutch.” Mitch grinned at his brother, as Jack threw down some more aspirin and water. “Do you really think you can do this?”
“No,” Jack admitted, "but if I eat stuff on the way, and go slow, I’ll make it down to Paul for sure. I can decide on the rest then. Can you throw a shot or two around that guy, and keep him pinned down Steve?”
“Sure,” Steve agreed. “Do you have any more bullets?”
Jack handed him three shell holders, with fifteen rounds altogether in them. Steve took them, and reloaded Jack’s rifle. He sighted it in, and squeezed a round off, which tore into a tree ten feet in front of the soldier’s path to the helicopter.
“This fucking thing kicks like a mule.” Steve complained. “I’ll be good
for maybe three more shots, and then you can kiss my ass.”
Jack laughed, picked up one of the AK-47’s, and an ammo belt. “I’ll signal with the flashlight when I get down there. Give me five flashes if you still have him pinned down. I have my radio, but we better keep radio silence.”
“You got it,” Mitch agreed. “Don’t get yourself blown up over this.”
Suddenly the whole mountain vibrated, and a white flash lit the horizon. Three more explosions followed closely on the heels of the first, and then a strange silence reigned, as if the mountains needed time to recover from the deafening noise.
“Well,” Steve said, looking at the glowing horizon. “I guess we won’t be seeing anymore helicopter’s today.”
Jack nodded, and started his journey. He stopped where they had stashed the sled, and fished out ten of the power bars from their supply pack. Alternately sipping from his canteen, and chewing slowly on the power bars, Jack made his way as carefully as he could. He traveled noisily, so Paul would follow his progress down, and not shoot him. Half an hour later, he came to where Paul sat, eating from a bag of dried fruit, as he scanned the wooded area around him with his binoculars. He smiled as Jack came up, and Jack knelt down beside him.
“Change of plan, huh,” Paul asked. “Hey, give me a couple of those power bars. I’m sick of this fruit.”
Jack handed over half of the bars, and took the bag of dried fruit. He explained the shots, and what he had in mind as they ate.
“Sounds good,” Paul agreed. “I guess the other shot was to keep him where…”
Another shot rang out from the mountain, making both brothers flinch. Jack signaled with his flashlight, and received five answering flashes.
“You sure you’re up to this, Paul asked.
“I’ll make it. We’ll have to signal, so we can find out if we’re close to this guy. I don’t want him lobbing a grenade at us.”
“Let’s give him a wide berth, and get between him and the helicopter. We’ll let him walk right to us. Steve and Mitch will figure what we’re up to, and let him go.”
Jack nodded. “I like it. That’s a hell of a lot safer than walking in on him.”
Using his compass, Paul led the way in an angular semicircle around the struggling soldier. Jack signaled upwards about every hundred yards. He received three flashes each time, and no more shots, so he figured they anticipated what he and Paul were up to. Even with the wide berth they gave the soldier, they heard an occasional involuntary scream of pain. It made it easier to know when to head for a spot in front of him. Jack had to halt more than he liked, but they still made good time. The power bars and dried fruit made him feel he would have no trouble with energy. The next time Jack signaled up, he got a steady beam waved in a circular motion. He figured they were letting them know they should now get in front of the soldier. When they angled to where Jack thought they were close, he kept an eye out for a signal. An up and down motion told him they were near. When they had reached a point directly in front of the soldier, the beam of light stayed still for a time, and then blinked out.
“I don’t want to shoot this gun unless I have to, Paul. Can you tag him in both shoulders, or come close, just something to keep him from getting hold of any grenades? I’ll get right on him as soon as you nail him,” Jack whispered.
Paul nodded, and went quickly to one knee with his AK-47 braced against a tree. Jack crept forward towards the soldier, and found a tree large enough to hide him entirely. Jack heard the soldier noisily moving towards him. He looked up, and saw a steady beam again, and again it blinked out. The man limped into sight five minutes later. He leaned heavily on a tree branch he used for a crutch, and his AK-47 was slung crosswise on his back. There were no grenades in sight, and both the man’s hands were busy keeping his makeshift crutch from disappearing in the snow. His right calf was a bloody mess. Jack looked back at Paul, and gave him a hold sign. Paul signaled he understood. They waited until the soldier passed Jack a few feet to his right. Jack moved quickly over, and banged the butt of his rifle to the side of the man’s head. The soldier collapsed with a scream of pain, and much to Jack’s surprise, a string of curses in Chinese. The soldier reached inside of his coat, and Jack stepped on his injured leg. The man screamed in agony, grabbing for his leg with both hands. Paul moved up to place the barrel of his rifle against the man’s head. Jack drew his knife and sliced the strap holding the soldier’s AK-47 to his back. Jack slid the rifle out from under the man, and threw it to the side. He then opened the man’s coat as he howled in pain, and stripped it off of him. Jack and Paul worked quickly, and soon the man was stripped of his boots and outer clothes. The man watched them with pain filled eyes. When the brothers were finished, Jack straightened and put his snow-shoed foot over the man’s injured leg. The man held up his hands to Jack in supplication.
“Do not do this,” the soldier whispered in English.
Jack moved his foot away from the now shivering form, and knelt down next to him. “I’m glad you speak English. You saved yourself a lot of pain. I would have had to make sure.”
“What do you want of me,” the man asked, as he clutched his arms and legs to his body, to fight off the cold.
“First off, what’s a Chinese doing this far in the mountains? Do you guys run the base they just nuked?”
“Yes, we had Chinese pilots and soldiers. We shared the base with some Cubans, but we were in charge. They needed money for their regime, and we needed infiltrators, who were also professional soldiers.” The soldier paused for a second. “You paid for it.”
“What do you mean we paid for it,” Paul asked.
“We did all of this with the money you gave us for all the trinkets we sold to you. One more plague, and we would have owned America, and you would be making trinkets for us.”
Jack smiled and knelt down beside the man. “I know what you’re trying to do. Do you think we just fell off the vegetable truck? Look, we know where the money trail went, and how we screwed ourselves. Old news will not keep you alive and pain free. The war’s over. We need you to confirm whether or not anymore of the virus was stored at your base, and if any of it got out. We intercepted a whole lot of the antidote. No use in having a lot of your people die, when the fight has already ended.”
“You will kill me anyway. Why should I tell you anything mo…” He screamed again in pain, as Paul bore down on his injured leg with the butt of his rifle.
“Interesting dilemma buddy,” Jack continued. “I think telling us what we want to know, as quickly as possible, would be a very good idea.”
“I…I am not sure how much of the virus we had, but we never received enough of the antidote to chance releasing it. We have information on board the helicopter. Can I buy my life with it?”
Jack traded glances with his brother, and received a shrug in return. “I like the idea of not having to kill you, if you can produce. In what form does this information take, and how do we get it?”
“If you take me to the helicopter, I will show you everything you will need. We have an on-board computer, which I can access for your superiors. I will be of no use to you dead, and I will not show…”
Jack stopped Paul from replying with his rifle butt. “Hold on Paul. This could get interesting.”
“You don’t think this clown really knows anything, do you? Let me find out if we need to cart him anywhere. A little more persuasion on that leg and…”
Jack stood up and motioned for Paul to follow him a few feet away. “I have an idea we can negotiate this into a helicopter ride back to the base. I bet the kids reached base with Peter already. How would you like to not have to walk back?”
“Oh baby, now you’re speaking my language,” Paul replied. “We had better get our helicopter ticket patched up, and warm, for the trip. I don’t care anymore what he knows, but I like him already. I’ll carry him on my back to the helicopter site, if it will mean a ride in.”
“I think we can signal for Mitch and Steve
to join us at the helicopter site. I want to know if he actually can deliver on the information. If they have a computer with anything at all interesting, those guys at the base should want to give us a limo ride out of here.”
“Let’s get to work on him, and then get him to the helicopter. Maybe they have a working radio we can use to call in, and a medical kit we can keep him alive with. Did you spot a place we might be able to use as an LZ for the good guys to land?”
“I thought of that. About a 100 yards south of where the helicopter crashed, I saw a pretty good-sized rocky area, with very little foliage. I think they could set down there. We can signal Mitch and Steve to join us in the same spot.”
“This sounds real good, Jack. I wonder if Peter and the kids are already at base.”
“With any luck, I’ll locate a radio on the helicopter, and we can find out. Let’s patch up our flight ticket, and get to the helicopter.” Jack turned and walked to the wounded soldier, with Paul following.
“If you can produce, you live,” Jack told him. “Paul will help you get your clothes on, and I’ll have this rifle pointed at your head the entire time. If you even sneeze, you will do it for the last time. I want you to understand we know you’re a professional soldier; and even wounded, you’re also dangerous. Make no mistake about your life expectancy, if you make a wrong move. Do you understand?”
“I will do as you ask. Will you keep your promise?”
“Let’s put it this way. With you cooperating, we may get a helicopter ride out to where our kids are. We don’t wish to walk out of here, so we’re motivated to keep you alive. Have you been around in the country long?”
“I have been here since I infiltrated your border in 1998. I lived and worked in Los Angeles.”
“Did you ever see an American TV show called La Femme Nikita?”
“Yes, I saw that show a few times,” the soldier replied. Paul handed him his clothes one item at a time, and the soldier put them on, grimacing in pain.
“Very good, because the guys who run things around at the base in intelligence, make Section One look like the little sisters of the poor. Unfortunately or fortunately, Americans are no longer the trusting, compassionate dupes we used to be. If they find you less than cooperative, they won’t just kill you, they will drain and drink your blood in a manner of speaking.”
American Survival (DeLeo's Action Thriller Singles Book 5) Page 11