Heavier Than Air

by T. E. Vario (t_e_vario@yahoo. com)

  Just pass a clump of redwoods growing close together, Eric got a open view of the a clearing. There before him was the horse tethered to a branch. Beyond the horse he could see the man who had taken Anne-Marie tending the fire. It looked like he had several iron rods heating in the fire. Anne-Marie was not in sight. Eric moved further to the right, and switched off the safety on his machinegun.

  Six steps further he could make out Anne-Marie on the ground. She was naked and face up, although she looked unharmed. The bastard had tied her arms and legs to hold her spread on the ground. Eric felt a wave of nausea as he realized what the man was intending to do. He was going to torture Anne-Marie with hot iron rods.

  Eric reacted on instinct. He ran straight at the man with his machinegun aimed. “Freeze you bastard.”

  The man looked up, his bearded face showing both hatred and surprise. His hands were still near the fire. In one quick motion he grabbed one of the iron rods and hurled it straight at Eric. Eric instinctually ducked which gave the man the chance to spring up and attack. Before Eric had a chance to recover the man had knocked him over and was on top of him.

  Eric was pinned. He used all of his strength to try to knock the man off, but the bearded man weighted much more and was incredibly strong. Eric felt the smashing blow of the man’s fist against the side of his head, and then a second blow. Eric was already stunned, and unable to fight back effectively.

  Suddenly the pounding stopped, and the brute collapsed on top of Eric. Standing above both of them was Claude, with the butt of his rifle pointing down. Claude had smashed the back of the man’s skull with the butt of his rifle. Eric pushed the huge body off of him and tried to stagger to his feet. Eric could not yet stand, but the feeling of relief from having just escaped death washed over him.

  “Can you use your gun to cover him while I untie my sister?”

  “I think so Claude. I’m OK.”

  Claude went over to his sister and removed the gag in her mouth and then untied her. Claude found her clothes nearby and helped her get dressed. Eric kept his eyes on the inert mass in front of him, with his finger on the trigger. Eric did not want to see Anne-Marie like that.

  Only after she had dressed herself did Anne-Marie cry out. She hugged her brother and shuddered as she gasped for air. Claude held her tightly and whispered to her in French. She eventually stopped crying and moved over to tree trunk at sat down, her head in her hands.

  Claude came over to Eric. “We need to get him tied up before he wakes. Let’s use the ropes he tied Anne-Marie with.”

  Eric dragged the hulk next to the fire and used the four ropes to tie the man in roughly the same position Anne-Marie had been. The thought went through Eric’s mind to use the hot steel rods on the bastard. No. He had a better idea.

  “Claude. This is the first of the men we have captured alive. There are some things I would like to know, such as where they get their orders, and the relationship between the soldiers in green uniforms and these dregs. I suggest that we convince him to talk before we kill him.”

  “OK, but I don’t think Anne-Marie should watch.” Claude was looking at his sister.

  Anne-Marie stood up and walked to them. “I will do more than watch. I will make him talk after what he did to me.”

  Eric and Claude looked at each other and shrugged. Anne-Marie had the right. Claude handed her his rifle and splashed some water from his canteen into the bearded face of the bound man. His choking reflex kicked in, reviving him. The man’s eyes opened, and then he strained on the ropes, gradually realizing what had happened. He then spotted Anne-Marie and gave a grotesque grin, exposing several missing teeth.

  Anne-Marie placed the barrel of the rife against the man’s ankle. “Tell us your name.”

  The grin continued, but no words were uttered.

  Anne-Marie waited two seconds, and then fired. The small caliber bullet shot straight into the small bones of the man’s ankle, and logged itself between two of the bones. He convulsed in main, pulling hundreds of pounds of force on the ropes. The ropes held.

  Anne-Marie put the rifle against the man’s right knee-cap. “Tell us your name.”

  Now the man’s look was one of pure hatred. He appeared to be trying to get enough saliva in his mouth to spit at her. Anne-Marie pulled the trigger again. This time the bullet split the bone of his kneecap into three shards. The man was in agony and cried out.

  Anne-Marie waited for the writing to stop. Sweat pored from the man’s face and body. Ants had apparently found him, and were crawling over his face and arms. She put the barrel of the gun right against his groin.

  The fight went out of him. “I’ll talk. I’ll tell you anything you want.”

  Anne-Marie paused a moment and then pulled the trigger, firing right into his testicles. “I know you will.”

  * * *

  The man’s name was Bascon Neurerva. He turned out to have a wealth of information, which he was suddenly eager to share. Bascon was a member of the Geckos, a lose band of mountain men who made their living by stealing and killing civilians outside of the cities. They were gradually working their way south, looking for new spoils. The head of the Geckos was a man named Abraham Fowler, or “Bear” as he liked to be called. There were over 50 loosely organized bands of Geckos in total, with each band ranging from two to a most ten men. Bear was nominally in charge of the bands, but the chain of command stretched thin over expanse of territory they covered.

  It turned out that Abraham Fowler’s brother, Benjamin, was the leader of the Northern Council of Federated States. Usually called the “Greens” because of their green uniforms, the Council had taken over the major northern cities in a series of coups about eight years ago. The Fowler brothers were not on the best of terms, but had made a peace of sorts by having Bear terrorize the countryside while Benjamin ruled the cities. This indirectly solved a problem for Benjamin Fowler and the Northern Council by reducing the chances of the countryside aiding in a revolt of the cities.

  Still tied, and tormented by both three wounds and dozens of ants, Bascon Neurerva rambled on about strained relationships between the two brothers. Benjamin had apparently started sending his own men into the mountains to achieve strategic objectives because he did not trust Bear’s collection of outlaws. Benjamin took small steps to disguise his forward troop’s identities, such having the soldiers remove all identification and insignias. However, the simple fact that they all wore green uniforms belayed the obvious truth that Benjamin was not living up to his end of the bargain.

  * * *

  Claude, Eric, and Anne-Marie had exhausted every question they could think of asking Bascon Neurerva. The man was in incredible pain, and the ants were now plaguing him.

  “What do you want to do with him?” Claude asked.

  Anne-Marie looked up. “Do you have anything containing sugar in your packs?”

  Shrugging, Claude and Eric looked at what was left in their light packs. Claude had a ration package of grape jam, which he handed to her. Anne-Marie opened the package and rubbed the jam over Bascon’s face, neck, and hands. The ants immediately increased their activity.

  “Don’t, you can’t do this to me! Please!”

  Anne-Marie then picked up Claude’s rifle and stood over Bascon’s body. She placed the barrel just below his diaphragm and fired. The lower half of Bascon’s body went instantly limp, while his arms and head writhed in pain. The bullet had lodged itself into his spine, cutting off all control and reflexes in the lower half of his body.

  “We can go now. The ants will do the rest.”

  Eric, Claude and Dog walked back towards the streambed while Anne-Marie followed them on horseback. Bascon’s pleas to kill him gradually faded into the night.

  * * *

  Hermandez was number two to launch, following John Young. Hermandez had Menard in the back seat, crammed in with every piece of assault gear that could be crammed in around him.

  “We’ll pull about 3 Gs on takeoff, and then releas
e. I guess you heard that it could be a bit rough. Don’t hesitate to use the barf bag if you need to, I don’t want puke running down my neck.”

  “Yeah, sure.” Menard did not like the sound of this, but what choice did he have? The only boat going north was the one he was in.

  They were jerked forward and then flung into the air. Menard felt the weight of his head strain his neck muscles as Hermandez pulled back on the stick. Then he was momentarily weightless as the plane leveled out and released from the cable.

  “That wasn’t so bad” Menard thought to himself as the started level flight. Almost immediately the glider was slammed downward. Hermandez barf bag was loose and hit his canopy and stayed there. His body strained against the straps while feet flew off the floor and banged into the panel in front of him. Then everything reversed as they were thrown upward. The bag flopped right down in his lap and his body was crushed against the seat.”

  “We’re in the rotor. I’ve got to climb about three thousand feet in this stuff until we get to the wave. Hang on.”

  Menard looked for something to hang on to, but the only thing was his set of controls, which he dared not touch. He could see that they would bank strongly to the left while Hemandez had the stick full right, and then briefly recover until they hit the next fragmented piece of air. It was falling under the waves at the beach, being thrown head over heals.

  Menard tried to make out what the instruments were saying. It looked like the hands on the one marked altimeter were moving up on average, although they frequently lost ground in sharp downdrafts. Looking at the instruments made Menard feel disoriented, which lead to instant nausia. He was afraid to use the barf bag, because it would be difficult to keep the barf from coming out of the bag when they hit the next downdraft. He had no choice, it was coming up, so he did his best to keep it in the bag.

  Hermandez heard Menard vomit into the sack. There was not much he could do about it. Pilots themselves got airsick in these conditions if they were just sitting passively in the plane. For some reason having your hands on the controls eliminated the problem, but only one person could fly at a time.

  Just as suddenly as it had begun, the turbulence stopped. They were in glassy smooth air, high above the ground. The slender moon eliminated the clouds above and behind them. The clouds looked like giant plates, stacked upside down. The huge curves of the clouds stood still over the terrain, silently marking the peaks of the waves that pointed to the north.

  Hermandez established an IR com. link with John Young. They waited for the third and fourth planes to work their way out of the rotor. John signaled Hermandez to use dive breaks to stay at 10,000 feet until all four planes were together. The lift was strong.

  “Better put your oxygen mask on now. We are going to get high in a hurry on our way north.”

  Menard did has he was told. He felt a lot better with his stomach empty, but had a warm bag that he did not know what to do with. He just held onto it, figuring that he could get rid of the evidence when he popped the canopy to jump.

  JP had rigged each of the fighters with a light at the back of the T tail, pointing straight aft. Otherwise it would be too easy to get separated. They did not expect to see any enemy planes, although they all realized that if they could think of night flying, so could the enemy.

  John led the silent procession north, flying along the front of the stacked clouds. The air was unbelievably still, although they were climbing steadily as they flew in the ascending side of the wave. Hermandez found that he could take his hands off the controls for as long as 30 seconds at a time. They were climbing up through 15,000 feet without any effort on his part. He knew that John Young wanted lots of altitude before they reached the drop zone, as the drop could be in the downdraft side of the wave. There was no way to tell until they got there.

  Although John Young was leading the procession, Hermandez had plenty of time to double-check their position as they flew. He turned off his flashlight, as there was enough light from the moon to provide a horizon. They were climbing through 19,000 feet, and there did not seem to be any limit to how high they could fly. The star filled sky, marked with mountains of high cloud on both sides, was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. He had to remind himself that he was on a mission, and that these men’s lives depended on him delivering them to a precise location.

  John Young transmitted instructions the planes behind him. “The drop zone should be west of us. Follow me into a circle. Signal if anyone sees the marker fire.”

  As the turned to the west, Hermandez saw that his canopy was beginning to ice up. There was no source of heat in the plane, so he had to rely on ventilation to keep the canopy clear. The freezing air was now working against him, building up a thin layer of ice. He started scraping a clear patch with his fingernails, but it was difficult to see through. He kept the taillight of John’s plane in sight trough the haze, but it was getting difficult to see.

  “Hotel Bravo has a lot of canopy ice forming. Difficult to see.”

  “Hang in there Hotel Bravo. I have the marker fire in sight. We will drop down to 11,000 feet for the drop, which should clear the ice.”

  Hermandez had lost the horizon. He turned his flashlight back on so that he could see the gyro instruments, but the reflected light made it more difficult see. He was going to lose John any second.

  “I need your help,” he shouted to Menard. “I’m going to crack the canopy so that I can see through the space in front of us. I need you to hang onto it so that it does not fly open at this speed.”

  “OK, I’ve got both hands on the canopy frame, it’s not going anywhere.”

  “Thanks. Here goes.” Harmandez pulled the left release and cracked the canopy open two inches. This gave him a narrow opening straight ahead to see through. Sub-freezing air blasted straight at them through the opening, but it could not be helped. Better frozen than blind and out of control.

  Hermandez followed John Young’s taillight as they spiraled down in sinking air. Hermandez thought about the other pilots, and transmitted a message to them as to how he had gotten around the icing. They were descending through 15,000 feet now, so it should be getting warmer, but the air still felt incredibly cold.

  “I’m glad I have gloves on, cause otherwise I’d be frozen to your canopy.”

  “The glass is starting to clear, we should be able to shut it soon, but you may be jumping first. Can you see the marker fire off our left wing?”

  Menard spotted a tiny dot of orange that they seemed to be circling around.

  “Yes, I see it. Not much of a target.”

  “We are having to fly ovals to stay over this spot, so the wind is pretty strong. I’d guess that it is at least 30 knots, maybe 40. Be sure you release to the west so that your drift takes you back to the landing spot.”

  “I’ll do my best, but it is damn difficult to judge distances in the dark. This might get interesting.”

  The planes leveled out at 11,000 feet, but were in sinking air. John Young sent another message behind him. “Slow to forty-five knots and open canopies. Have your man jump at the same point as the plane in front of you. Then turn 180 right and join me in lift.”

  Menard was still in the number two position, just 1000 yards behind John Young.

  “Go ahead and open the canopy wide and release your straps. Get your butt and your equipment as far out of the plane as you can before you jump. I’ll tell you when. One more thing Menard. Best of luck to you.”

  “Thanks.” With the canopy open Menard was able to pry himself out of the seat. He got the supply pack out from behind and got this ready to hurl to the left. He would be tied to the pack and would follow it to the ground. The fire marker was now well behind them, and looking slightly bigger.

  The soldier in the lead plane jumped, barely visible in the moonlight and then vanishing below. Young’s plane banked right. Menard flew straight to the same position in the air.

  “Get ready. Three, Two, One, JUMP!” In a second
Menard was gone. Hermandez grabbed the canopy and locked it securely. The ice had melted into the warmer air. He banked hard right and spotted the lead tail light. They hit smooth lift a few seconds later. Nice not to have to work their way back up in rotor a second time. It would be a glassy ride all the way home.

  * * *

  Henry Silva was tending the wood fire on the plateau. He had carefully selected a location in the notch of several huge boulders, so that the flames could only be seen from a above. There was one opening to the south in the rocks, which he filled with several layers of small pine trees which had felled nearby. There was plenty of dead wood to burn, so he did not have far to walk to keep the flames going.

  Henry kept looking upwards into the night sky, but could not see any sign of the aircraft. He did not see the first jumper until the man was almost on top of him. The man dove his chute at the ground to counteract the strong headwind, and only pulled up at the last second to land on his feet. Immediately the wind tugged the chute behind him, knocking the solder off his feet. Henry ran to his side and grabbed one of the parachute lines long enough for the man to get up and collapse the chute.

  “Thanks. I’m Corporal Mark Kauf from Camp Williams. The other three men are right behind me.”

  Mark was still securing his chute when Menard showed up. Menard managed to stay on his feet and get the chute down during a short lull in the wind. Hirotomi and Clawson were not so lucky. They were dragged along the rocky surface for over thirty feet until they were able to stop themselves.

  “Any broken bones?” Mark was checking on the other three.

  “Just some scrapes. That was one hell of a scary jump.” Hirotomi was smiling from ear to ear.

  “Best Goddamn jump I’ve ever even heard of, at night and in this wind.” The men were feeling justifiably proud of themselves. Not many men could pull that jump off.