He’s not going to leave her in there. He can’t. Not after two long years in that lodge, thinking of her every night, blaming himself for letting her leave. Now that he has found her, he can’t just leave her here like a Popsicle.
His rational brain finally kicks back in. It tells him that even if he could find a power button or plug, he couldn’t dare use it. A sudden interruption of the power supply might cause the whole thing to malfunction. If the tube didn’t blow up or catch fire, Misuko might die or be left as a vegetable for the rest of her life.
There’s probably a whole unthawing process to go through. It could take hours or even days. And he would have to repeat it three hundred times to free every woman here. By the time he finished, Shelley would have every guard in the church banging down the door.
He places his hand against the glass. “I’m sorry, honey,” he mumbles. “I’ll come back for you. I promise.”
He bends down to kiss the glass above her lips. But this isn’t a fairy tale and he can’t wake up his sleeping beauty with a kiss. He waits a moment to be sure and then starts back for the stairs.
Chapter 23
The Vespa runs out of gas about a half-mile from the airport. Hunter shoves the scooter into a ditch and then starts to run. He can already hear the pops of gunfire indicating Max, Casey, Sylvia, and the others must be there. Do the guards have them pinned down? How long until the church scrambles some planes to strafe them from the air? Or how long until one of their patrols can return to base?
Hunter runs faster. He’s not even breathing hard as he reaches a gate. Not wanting to pause for conversation, he slugs the security guard who comes out to stop him. Hunter hops over the fallen guard to continue on towards the hangars.
He’s not going to let them get stuck here. He promised to rescue them and he’s going to make sure they get out of here even if he has to hold off every guard the church can throw at him. Maybe he can’t save Misuko and the other threes, but he can save the ones, the twos, and the children.
As he rounds a corner, he sees Max’s truck next to the bus Sylvia and the others had taken. They’re pinned down next to a hangar, the truck and bus providing cover from the airport guards. It’s only a matter of time before those guards find something stronger than assault rifles to hit the truck and bus with. Maybe they’ve got a tank or armored car like back at Temple Square.
The hairs on the back of his neck stand up when he gets near a hangar. He instinctively ducks, but his danger sense isn’t warning him of a threat. It’s sensing something else, something familiar close by.
Hunter turns to the hangar on his right. It’s padlocked shut, but he makes short work of that with the AK-47. Then he pushes one door open. Like in the basement of the LDS office building, he mumbles, “Holy shit.”
It’s his planes. Both of them, the X-29 and the Harrier. They were the ones who stole the X-29 from him in Phoenix. They must have found the Harrier in the parking lot of that weird building by the lake. The church probably doesn’t have a pilot qualified to fly either exotic aircraft, so they had locked them up to keep them out of sight.
Not anymore. “Daddy’s home,” he says. As much as he wants to be reunited with the X-29 again, it will have to wait. The Harrier will be far more useful in this situation since air support is just what his friends need right now.
He climbs up into the cockpit of the Harrier. He takes the helmet off of the seat to replace the one he stole from the guard. Then he starts to bring the systems online. Everything comes to life and checks out green. The fuel gauge is where he left it; they probably carted the Harrier into the city with a truck. He still has plenty of ammunition in the cannon pods along with a couple of Sidewinders that won’t be of any use against ground targets.
Though he hasn’t flown the Harrier in almost two weeks, it comes back to him easily enough. He taxies out of the hangar, tossing a salute to the X-29. Like Misuko, he promises himself he’ll come back for it later, but for now there’s work to do.
The Harrier lifts smoothly into the air, though not very far. Hunter only gets about two hundred feet up before he switches the nozzles into forward flight position. He keeps the throttles down to coast over the runways to survey the scene.
He can see some of his friends pointing up at the Harrier as he flies over. The guards do the same, only with their guns. He puts the Harrier into a slide to the right. As he swings the nose of the Harrier around, he holds down the trigger for the cannon pods. It doesn’t take long to silence any opposition.
Now Hunter can put the original plan he conceived with Sylvia into action. He keeps the Harrier close by for support as the women and children scurry across the runway, towards one of the Il-76 cargo planes. It won’t be a very comfortable ride, but it should be more than big enough for everyone inside.
Max has never flown a Candid, but the Israeli pilot should be able to handle it. That is so long as he has time to get it cranked up. Hunter can see more guards starting to gather near the terminal. He fires a couple of warning bursts to scare them off. That ought to buy some time, but they no doubt have a call in for armor and air support.
When he sees a Corvette tearing across the runway, Hunter thinks at first that it’s one of the church officers come to organize the troops. Then the Corvette screeches to a stop and a tall black man climbs out. It’s Trip, General George’s son. What’s he doing here?
The answer comes a few minutes later when his radio crackles to life. “Hunter, what’s up?” Trip says. “Heard you guys were breaking out and thought I’d lend a hand.”
“Thanks. You’re right on time. How’s Max doing?”
“He’s got her started up. Shouldn’t be much longer.”
Hunter looks across the runway, to the open hangar where he had found his planes. “Trip, you think you can fly an X-29?”
“What? You crazy?”
“I don’t want to leave it with these bastards. You fly it or I’ll blow it up.”
“Hey, now, don’t do anything stupid. I’ll give it a shot. Where is it?”
“It’s down the runway. The open hangar. I just hope they put some fuel in her.”
“I’m on my way, man. Sit tight.”
“Roger.”
Hunter watches Trip run across the runway, towards the hangar. It’s a risk letting the kid fly the X-29, but it should be easier than trying to fly the Harrier. Trip disappears inside the hangar; Hunter will just have to hope he can figure out how to get the plane started. In the meantime, he has other problems; his radar indicates a couple of fighters inbound, probably one of the church’s patrols returning to base.
He brings the Harrier up higher in the air. He can see them coming in from the east, a pair of Flankers. That should give him the advantage in size and maneuverability at least. “Max? How you doing in there?”
“We’re all closed up and ready to taxi into position.”
“Good. I’ve got a couple of incoming to deal with. If things start to get hot down there, you let me know.”
“Sure thing. Good hunting.”
“Thanks.”
Hunter puts the Harrier back into forward flight. The Flankers are still coming in, but there’s no tone to indicate they have a missile lock on him yet. They might not realize he’s not on their side. It’s better then to wait and let them get closer. The Sidewinders under his wings might be able to hit the Flankers from the front, but they work a lot better from behind, when they can lock onto the hot tailpipes of the fighters.
He coasts towards the Flankers to not appear too aggressive. They aren’t putting their landing gear down, but he’s still not getting a missile lock. Has someone in the tower radioed them that the Harrier isn’t a friendly? He’s content to let them get closer if that’s what they want.
They’re about two hundred yards out when they veer off in different directions. They must have finally gotten the message. Hunter swings the Harrier’s nose around to the right. He hears the tone in his helmet to indicate he has a
lock. He presses down on the button to launch one of his Sidewinders. The missile rockets off its pylon to chase after the Flanker.
Hunter doesn’t watch the missile; he instead chases after the other Flanker. It’s looping back around to try to lock him up. The Sidewinders might not work as well to hit the front of an enemy plane, but he doesn’t have much choice about it at the moment. He waits until he gets the tone and then fires. The Flanker’s pilot brings the plane up in a steep climb. It leaves a trail of winking red lights behind it, flares to try to confuse the missile.
Hunter puts the Harrier’s jets back into takeoff mode to climb after the Flanker. The flares do the job of confusing the Sidewinder enough that it explodes harmlessly with a puff of smoke. Hunter ignores the disappointment of this to concentrate on getting the Flanker back into his sights. Now that the missile is gone, the Flanker loops around to head back towards him. Hunter angles the nose of the Harrier up and then watches the Flanker grow larger in his windscreen.
It’s like a game of chicken as the Flanker screams towards him. The pilot must be trying to line up a cannon shot of his own. Hunter forces himself to relax and not give in to the impulse to move out of the Flanker’s path.
An instant before the gunsight turns red, Hunter has his finger on the trigger. He lets go a stream of shells and then moves the Harrier to the left. The flaming remains of the Flanker streak past him to smash down on the ground.
Before he can celebrate this victory, he hears a warning tone in his helmet. That first Flanker he hoped he had shot down apparently had survived. It has gotten a lock on him while he was dealing with its wingman.
Hunter brings the Harrier around in a tight loop to face the Flanker. It’s streaking towards him, ready to avenge its partner. Before it can fire one of the missiles under its wings, the Flanker explodes in a burst of flame.
Hunter’s X-29 roars through the black smoke, scattering it. Trip whoops into the radio. “This is one sweet ride you’ve got here. I ain’t gonna want to give it up.”
“Thanks for the assist. I owe you one.”
“Yeah, well, we’ll settle up later. Right now we should be getting our asses out of here.”
“Roger that,” Hunter says. He sees the Il-76 carrying Max, Casey, Polly, and the others rising into the air. Hunter falls in beside the cockpit and then motions to get Max’s attention. He points towards the east, signaling they should head that way. Max rocks the Candid’s wings slightly. That should throw off anyone on the ground watching them leave; they’ll probably think Hunter and company are going to Mile High, not Davis-Monthan. Still, it won’t be too long until the church can figure it out; there aren’t that many places left to hide.
Hunter takes a look back over his shoulder. He thinks again of Misuko, his Snow White in her glass coffin. The next time he comes back here, he’s going to free her and the others. Then he’ll make Shelley and that traitor JP pay.
Part 3
Chapter 24
The fuel gauge warning light has been on for the last five minutes. Every few seconds a computerized voice reminded Hunter that he was nearly out of gas, until he finally had to shut it off for the sake of his sanity. If he doesn’t find a place to set down in the next ten minutes, he’ll have to leave the Harrier and walk.
That shouldn’t be necessary with Tucson in view now. He turns his radio to the proper channel and then says, “Davis-Monthan Control, this is Hunter Hawking. Can you connect me with Mr. DiMarco?”
“Mr. DiMarco is busy—”
“I’m a friend of his. Hunter Hawking. I worked for him on the base for a couple of months. I’m running low on fuel. I need permission to land. Please, get him on the line.”
“Hunter?” Jimmy’s voice says. “Decided to come crawling back, eh?”
“Actually, I brought some friends with me. They’re in the Candid behind me. We’re going to need to land—”
“Hunter, you know you’re always welcome. These others—”
“They’re women and children, Jimmy. You don’t let them land, you might as well put a gun to their heads and pull the trigger.”
“No need to be so dramatic. They’re welcome to land and use our services, but I’m going to expect payment. This isn’t a charity.”
“We’ll work something out,” Hunter says, though he isn’t sure what he can do. He could offer one of the planes or maybe agree to work off any debt again.
“I’ve got an escort on the way. Don’t make any sudden moves.”
“I don’t have the fuel for sudden moves.”
“When you get in, come to my office. I’m sure we have a lot to discuss.”
“Thanks, Jimmy.”
The radio goes dead. Hunter sees two shapes approaching from the south. The F-16 he’s more than familiar with. It takes him an extra moment to recognize the Eurofighter Typhoon with its delta wings, canards, and twin engines. He had only seen them at air shows, never in action like this. The Eurofighter Typhoon has four Sparrow medium-range missiles and four Sidewinders under its wings to indicate it means business. The F-16 is similarly armed. It seems a bit unnecessary, but Hunter supposes Jimmy can’t take chances, even with a friend. Thinking of JP’s betrayal, that’s a good idea.
Hunter tunes the radio to contact Trip in the X-29. “These guys are going to give us an escort down. Try not to give them any reason to open fire.”
“I don’t even know how to arm the weapons on this thing.”
“How are you on fuel?”
“I’m burning fumes.”
“You go in first. You know where the landing gear controls are?”
“I found them already,” Trip growls. “Smartass.”
“Sorry. When you get down, just wait in the cockpit until I smooth things over.”
“I hope they don’t have itchy trigger fingers.”
“Me too.”
The two escort fighters give the whole convoy a once-over and then fall into position behind Hunter and the X-29 since they’re the most dangerous threats. One of the planes gives them landing instructions, not that Hunter really needs them.
He watches as Trip brings down the X-29’s landing gear and then coasts into position. For his first flight in the exotic plane, Trip has done well so far; Hunter hopes that trend continues as he doesn’t want to have to spend months getting the X-29 back into shape. There’s a nervous flutter in his stomach like a parent sitting next to a teenager learning to drive. He’s tempted to call Trip to tell him to ease up on the throttle and to adjust the flaps, but he reminds himself Trip is General George’s son and more than capable of landing a plane on his own.
The back wheels of the X-29 touch the pavement first, followed by the front landing gear coming down harder than Hunter would prefer. Still, everything seems to hold together. He watches with relief as the X-29 slows gradually, until it’s down to a crawl. Trip starts to taxi over to where some armed guards are waiting to surround the plane.
Despite his low fuel reserves, Hunter remains airborne to watch Max bring the Il-76 in for a landing. The runways here were built to accommodate bombers like the B-52, so there should be plenty of room for the enormous cargo plane. Thinking of Casey and Polly on board, Hunter again feels that nervous flutter in his stomach. For a pilot it’s always a helpless feeling to let someone else do the flying.
The Candid bounces a little as it comes down on the runway. The landing gear hold up, keeping the cargo plane upright as it starts to slow. Hunter can feel Max’s struggle to reverse the throttles and stomp on the brakes to get the Il-76 to stop before it runs out of runway. It’s a good thing Trip already has the X-29 pulled off the runway or he’d end up like a bug on the windshield.
The cargo plane is slowing, though not quickly enough for Hunter’s tastes. If he didn’t need them on the control stick, he would cross the fingers on both his hands to help will the Candid to a stop. It’s still slowing, but the runway is rapidly running out. He does the calculations in his head; it’s going to be damned close.<
br />
The Il-76 finally stops with maybe ten feet of runway left for the front landing gear. Hunter heaves a sigh of relief. The fuel warning light flashes at him again, reminding him that he needs to get on the ground. The Harrier needs far less room to drop vertically onto a spot of tarmac. The two escort planes screech overhead as Hunter begins to shut down the Harrier.
They’ve made it, but for how long?
***
Hunter is glad Jimmy offers him a glass of Scotch. He downs it in one gulp and then motions for another. Only then does he get to work telling Jimmy about Utopia and rescuing the women and children. Jimmy takes a couple of hits of Scotch as he listens.
Once Hunter is done, Jimmy shakes his head. “I don’t want to turn them out, but there’s no way we can keep two hundred women and children, almost all of them noncombatants.”
“If you’re afraid of the church—”
“It’s not just that, though God knows that is part of it. We’d have to feed them and shelter and protect them. We don’t have the resources. We’re stretched thin enough as it is already. I’m sorry.”
“Then we’ll find somewhere else. There has to be a place that’s relatively clear.”
“If there is, I don’t know about it. No offense, but that Utopia place sounds about as good a deal as you’re going to get.”
Hunter leans back in his chair and nods. He’s not surprised to hear this, though he hoped he wouldn’t. If he had been able to spend more time in Utopia, he would have plotted a better escape. At least he would have found a way to bring more provisions. Instead they have to play it by ear. The good thing is that the Candid has plenty of range.
“What about Mexico? Or South America?”
“Christ, you know how things were that way before the outbreak. You might as well make camp out in the desert.”
“Why not? If we can scavenge some building materials from the city, we could make a camp somewhere.”
Army of the Damned (Sky Ghost #1) Page 22