“Here we go,” he says.
He brings the V-22 up a little at a time, not wanting to tax its engines too much after who knows how many months in that hangar. Once they’re about five hundred feet up, Hunter transitions into horizontal flight. The Osprey drops for a moment during the switch, but everything works the way it should.
Beside him, Wayne lets out a breath. “I can’t believe that worked.”
“Maybe your luck is changing.”
“Looks like it.”
The Osprey flies smoothly enough on the trip back to San Diego. It could maybe use a tune-up, but there should be time for that later. For now it should be fine to land on the Washington and take off again.
As they near the aircraft carrier, Hunter sees Nation and the others huddled near the wreckage of the helicopters. There doesn’t seem to be any zeebs or scavengers up there to bother them. Hunter changes over to VTOL mode to bring the Osprey down for a soft landing about where the Harrier had been.
He lowers the ramp at the rear of the plane to let Nation and the others on board. There’s more than enough room for everyone. Nation is the last one up the ramp, having been covering the others with a scavenged AK-47. As soon as he’s up, Hunter starts to lift the ramp.
With that, they’re on their way back to the air station. Along the way, Nation enters the cockpit to take over the co-pilot’s chair while Wayne goes back to check on his people. “My planes still there?” Nation asks.
“They look fine.”
“Great. That’s one load off my mind.” Nation shakes his head. “I can’t believe you’re saving my bacon again. It’s like you’re my guardian angel.”
“I’ll try not to take that personally.”
“After we left Mile High, things weren’t really the same. Val was pretty bad off for a couple of weeks. She acts tough, but she’s still human, you know?”
“I know.”
“If she makes it, it’ll be rough on her. But if you’re around—”
“I can’t be there for her, not like that,” Hunter says.
“Why? You got another girl in the sack?”
“You could say that.” Hunter explains about Casey and Polly—and Misuko frozen underneath Utopia.
“Jesus Christ. That’s a hell of a love life you got. No wonder I can’t get a woman—they’re all falling over you.”
“Maybe there’s one closer than you think.”
“What, me and Val? That would never work.”
“It’s worth a try, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“If not her, there are about two hundred more of them waiting around Davis-Monthan. I’m sure one of them could be convinced to go out with you. With a little bribery.”
“Now you’re just adding insult to injury.”
***
They needed a half-dozen trips with the Osprey to get all the crates off the Washington. First Carl got a forklift working at the air station so they could put it aboard the Osprey and then use that to transport the crates up the elevator to the V-22. They transferred the crates to Nation’s C-130s, which had greater cargo capacity.
Once the crates were all aboard the cargo planes, Hunter gave Wayne and another pilot a brief tutorial on flying the Osprey. They shouldn’t have to use its VTOL mode to take off from the air station or to land at Davis-Monthan, but they might need to in an emergency.
With Wayne flying the Osprey, Hunter could fly the Harrier to give them air cover. The last thing he wanted was for one or all of the cargo planes to get jumped by pirates like Val’s Warhawk and have their precious cargo either destroyed or captured. That still might happen if there are too many pirates for Hunter to deal with, but he hopes it will be an uneventful flight.
He keeps the Harrier above the three cargo planes to help watch for any threats. The weather is almost crystal clear, giving him maximum visibility to look for trouble. He tries not to let his thoughts turn to what will happen once he gets back to Davis-Monthan. For all he knows, Utopia could have tracked down the women and children and either killed or recaptured them. Maybe he shouldn’t have left them so soon, but what else could he do? He couldn’t just sit there and let Nation linger in San Diego.
He sees streaks of black smoke up ahead. A couple of fighters moving in fast, almost Mach 2. “We’ve got bogies incoming,” he calls to Wayne and Nation. “You guys throttle back. Let me handle it.”
“Will do,” Nation says.
Hunter increases his speed while the cargo planes slow. That should give him a chance to intercept the incoming fighters before they can reach the convoy. As the fighters close in, Hunter recognizes them as F-104s like he fought up in Spokane what seems like a lifetime ago.
A Sidewinder shot from this range has a low percentage of success, but Hunter is more interested in putting the Starfighters on the defensive. He waits until he gets a tone and then mashes the button to launch one of the missiles from under the left wing.
As he figured, the Sidewinder misses, but the Starfighters slow down and split up. That should make it easier for Hunter to take them on. He lets one painted in retro silver get closer to him. Before it can lock on to him, he drops the Harrier. The much faster Starfighter ends up streaking past him, its hot afterburner making a prime target for a Sidewinder.
The F-104 explodes, but Hunter has no time to celebrate as the other is trying to line him up. He waits until he hears a missile lock warning tone before he puts the Harrier into a tight roll away from the Starfighter. The Harrier isn’t exactly graceful, but it’s more maneuverable than the Starfighter in tight quarters like this.
Hunter gets behind the Starfighter and then lets another Sidewinder go. As the F-104 goes up in a ball of flame, Hunter hears Nation’s voice say, “Hunter, buddy, we’ve got trouble.”
While Hunter has been dealing with the F-104s, a trio of Utopia’s Russian planes have jumped the convoy. Two of the planes are the smaller Fulcrums while the leader is a Flanker. Hunter’s radio comes to life, but it’s not Nation. JP says, “Hey, Hunter, old buddy. Miss me?”
“What the hell are you doing here, JP?”
“You’ve watched Star Wars, haven’t you? The desk clerk at the Grand America said you requested it.” As he’s talking, JP gets his Flanker positioned behind one of the C-130s. “You remember how the Empire put a tracking device aboard the Millennium Falcon to find the Rebel base? We did pretty much the same thing. Put a GPS tracker on your Harrier in case anyone tried to swipe it. After we get through with you, we’re going to pay a visit to your friends in Arizona. Probably won’t even have to fight. Jimmy DiMarco will hand them over if he knows what’s good for his business.
“Now, look, you could probably shoot me down. You could probably shoot all three of us down and not even breathe heavy. But the thing is, I got your buddies in the C-130 all lined up. You try anything, I’ll put a couple of these Russian missiles in them. I don’t know what they call these things, but they work just as well as a Sidewinder or AMRAAM at making slow-ass cargo planes dead. You get my drift?”
“So, what do you want? You want me to go back to Utopia with you?”
“Yeah. This time we’ll get the execution right. No bullshit showboating.”
“And if I go with you, you’ll let the cargo planes go?”
“That’s right. But first you got to drop all those missiles under your wings. Empty out your cannons too. Then we’ll escort you back to Utopia and take you to the arena.”
“What about the others back in Arizona?”
“Oh, we’ll get them soon enough. You can count on that. Then I’m going to get me a piece of your girl. I’m going to make you watch—”
The C-130 in front of the Flanker suddenly slows down. JP has to bring the Flanker up to avoid clipping the cargo plane. That gives Hunter a chance to line JP up. He launches a Sidewinder at his former friend. While JP dives and launches flares to avoid the missile, Hunter drops on the two Fulcrums. He snaps off a burst from his cannons that rakes ac
ross the right wing of one Fulcrum. The other boots its afterburners to claw for altitude.
Hunter climbs after it, though not as quickly. His instincts tell him when the Fulcrum is going to break its climb to attempt to loop behind him. It goes into its loop only to find him waiting with his cannons at the ready. The cannon pods tear the Fulcrum into flaming wreckage.
Seeing that the tables have turned, JP is streaking back towards Utopia. Hunter is tempted to go after him, but then he sees JP left something behind: one of his air-to-air missiles. Hunter only has time to cry out before the missile smashes into the outer engine on the C-130’s right wing. The Hercules immediately begins losing altitude, flame and black smoke trailing from the wing.
“Looks like my luck finally ran out,” Nation says over the radio.
“You can put her down on the ground, Phil,” Hunter says. “It should be level enough.”
“I’m going to give it a try,” Nation says. “If I don’t make it, at least I was able to pay you back for a change.”
“We’re all even now, buddy.”
Hunter lets the other two cargo planes go on while he watches Nation’s C-130 drop towards the ground. The missile hit did more than damage the one engine on the right wing; the whole wing is starting to break apart. If Nation doesn’t get it down on the ground soon, he isn’t going to have a chance to do so.
“Come on, Phil,” Hunter mumbles. As with Val’s landing at Davis-Monthan, there’s that helpless feeling in his gut as he watches Nation bring the Hercules down towards the desert floor. At least they aren’t over the mountains or a forest. If the C-130 holds together a little bit longer—
The right wing shears off at the midway point. The C-130 jerks violently to the left. There isn’t time for Nation to recover as the left wing of the Hercules smashes into the ground, tearing off nearly at the root. With only the stubs of both wings left, the C-130 slams down hard onto the desert floor.
“Oh no,” Hunter whispers as the Hercules flips onto its side and then starts to roll. Its momentum gradually slows until it comes to a final resting place on the desert plain.
Hunter is already bringing the Harrier down about a hundred feet from the wreckage, not wanting to get too close in case the C-130 blows up. The C-130 is on its side, so Hunter runs over to the nose of the plane. He uses the butt of his sidearm to smash the cockpit glass. He clears it away with the barrel of the gun so he can crawl through the opening.
Nation and his co-pilot are still strapped into their seats. Nation groans and then smiles at Hunter the same way Val did. “Hey there. A hell of a landing, huh?”
“You know what they say: any landing you can walk away from.”
“Not so sure I’ll be walking from this one. I can’t feel my legs.”
“Just relax, Phil. I’m going to get you out of here.”
“Get the others first.”
Hunter nods, but the co-pilot is dead, the right side of his head caved in when the cargo plane came down on that side. Hunter scrambles to the back of the plane to find the other two men crushed when the crates in the back came loose. He shakes his head and then returns to the cockpit.
“How are they?” Nation asks.
“They’re gone.”
“Shit,” Nation mutters. Tears come to his eyes. “It’s my fault—”
“It’s not. You did the best you could. Not even the Sky Ghost could have made a better landing.”
Nation grins slightly at that. Then he closes his eyes. For a moment Hunter worries he’s dead, but his chest goes up and down to indicate he’s still breathing.
Hunter hears a loud whirring that he soon realizes is the Osprey coming down for a wobbly vertical landing. While he waits for help to arrive, Hunter unfastens Nation from the seat. They need a backboard right now to help prevent any permanent paralysis, but there isn’t anything like that on the C-130 or the Osprey.
The closest Hunter can find is the lid from one of the crates that smashed open during the landing. He stretches Nation out on the crate’s lid and then hacks off some tattered remains of cargo netting to strap Nation down onto the board. It’s primitive, but it should work well enough, though Hunter suspects the damage has already been done.
Chapter 27
The moment Hunter shuts down the Harrier’s engines, he pops the canopy and then springs out. A team of paramedics is already carrying Nation down from the Osprey. He’s still alive, but unconscious. The paramedics transfer Nation to a real gurney to get him into an ambulance. Hunter’s fists clench as he watches the ambulance drive off.
“It’s not your fault,” Wayne says.
“The hell it isn’t. I shouldn’t have gone after those Starfighters. I should have known it was too easy.”
“You’re a damned good pilot, but you’re not clairvoyant.”
“Phil did it for me. He risked his life and those of his crew so I could escape.”
“Then he must think you’re pretty important.”
“Then he’s a damned fool,” Hunter grumbles. He stomps off to find the base hospital. While he’s there, he can find out what happened to Val. First she nearly died and now Nation could be crippled while the three other men on his C-130 are dead.
Wayne falls into step behind Hunter, putting a hand on his shoulder to slow him down. “I’m going to get the tank topped off and then head back to the crash site. We’ll salvage what we can. Look after my guys while I’m gone, will you?”
“I’m not sure I’m the one you want doing that.”
“Listen, if it weren’t for you, we’d still be in that engine room, drawing lots to see who gets eaten first. You saved us. So try not to be too hard on yourself.”
“That’s hard when three people are dead.”
“I’m sorry about that, son. I really am. It’s hard to lose someone. It happened to me in the war and before that over Iraq. I’d like to tell you there’s some great secret to coping, but you just have to go on. Make their deaths mean something.”
“Yeah, right.”
Hunter leaves Wayne behind, breaking into a run to cover the rest of the way to the hospital in record time. He’s out of breath by the time he gets to the reception desk. He takes a moment to recover and then asks for Val’s room. A nurse gives him directions to the intensive care room where they put her after successful surgery to remove what remained of her left leg below the knee and to fix the rest of her injuries.
She’s asleep on a hospital bed, machines beeping and hissing around her. He’s no doctor, but everything seems to be fine. At least until he sees the stump of her left leg beneath the blankets. Has she seen it yet? Does she know?
He sits beside her bed for a while, his head hanging. He’s barely aware of it when someone takes his hand. “They told me you were here,” Casey says. She leans against him, her head on his shoulder. “I ought to slap you for leaving like that.”
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles. “I had to go.”
“Yeah, I know. You had to go save those Navy guys. They brought them into the hospital. Most of them look like skeletons.”
“They haven’t been eating much since the outbreak.”
“I can imagine.” Casey runs a hand along his arm until she takes his hand in hers. “She’s going to be fine. Your friend Mr. DiMarco is already looking for a prosthetic to fit her with. They should be able to rig something up by the time she’s recovered.”
“I hope so.”
“Then what’s eating you?” He tells her about JP’s sneak attack and the C-130 crashing. She kisses him lightly on the neck and then says, “I’m sorry, Hunter. But it sounds like you did everything you could—”
“That’s what people say. It doesn’t make it better.”
“In this case I think it’s true. That jackass played you, plain and simple. Even the great Sky Ghost can get fooled once in a while.”
Hunter snorts at this. “Some good the Sky Ghost is then.”
“Look, I know three people are dead, but you saved those other
s. You rescued all of us—”
“I had plenty of help. It’s not like I did it all by myself.”
“OK, fine, but you got the ball rolling. Getting out of Utopia was just wishful thinking until you came along.”
“Lot of good it did. They’re going to be coming back here to round you up.”
“Shit. Then we’d better go.”
“Where? There’s nowhere you can hide that would be any safer. If the zeebs didn’t get you, there’s pirates or scavengers or random lunatics. We might as well start digging graves—”
Hunter stops his moping, something clicking in his brain. He gets to his feet, nearly knocking Casey off hers in the process. He starts to run for the door. “Hunter, where are you going?”
“To find Wayne before he leaves.”
***
Hunter has the maps spread out across the table. With the cargo planes they have more than enough fuel to make Colorado Springs. There should also be plenty of room to land at the airport. From there they would have to find ground transport to take them to Cheyenne Mountain, the Doomsday bunker made during the Cold War to house the American government and anyone else they thought important enough to save.
As far as anyone knew, the president, vice-president, and their staffs were killed in the outbreak. It is possible that some of them made their way to Cheyenne Mountain when everything began going to Hell. If not the president or vice-president then maybe a couple of department secretaries or members of Congress. Someone who could help to rebuild a legitimate government.
There are a couple of problems with going to Colorado. First, it’s dangerously close to Utah and Utopia. One of Utopia’s patrols might pick them up on radar when they come in. If so, it would be a quick flight for Utopia’s air force to wipe them out. The other problem is he has no idea what the situation is at Cheyenne Mountain. It could be empty or it could be filled with zeebs or paranoid people who would shoot first and never ask questions. They could waltz right in or the entrance could be sealed shut. It’s a lot of risk.
Army of the Damned (Sky Ghost #1) Page 25