As he comes to a stop, he sees Jimmy DiMarco carrying a huge chrome-plated Magnum .357. Hunter puts up the canopy and then raises his arms. “I’m sorry, Jimmy—”
“I don’t believe it,” Jimmy says. “I never in my life saw anything like that. God, makes me wish I could have been up there to see it first-hand.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You must have shot down eighteen of those fuckers all by yourself. Amazing.”
“You think you could put the gun down?”
“Huh? Oh, right.” Jimmy jams the Magnum into a shoulder holster. He offers Hunter a hand to help him down. “Don’t worry about this place. We can fix her up. The runways are the most important thing and they’re still here.”
“What about your people?”
“We got them out thanks to your friend at the Hub. Should be landing in El Paso about now along with just about everyone here.” Jimmy claps Hunter on the shoulder. “Your friends from the infirmary went with them. Might be a little rough until we can find a place for them—”
“I know a place. It’s where I came from. There’s plenty of room for everyone. Decent medical facilities too.” Hunter looks around at the remains of the hangars. It’s good to know Val, Nation, and the rest got out in time. He just has to hope no one living or undead catches up to them in El Paso until they can be transported to Devils Tower. “There any fuel left?”
“There are still a couple of tanks. Getting the pumps to work might be the problem.”
“Great. Better get to work then.” As Hunter starts towards the remains of the hangars, he stops to look back at Jimmy. “How are you planning to get out of here?”
“I’m not. Don’t want no zeebs moving in.” He pats the holster below his armpit. “Come on, let’s see about that fuel. Then you can get something to eat. You’re probably hungry after all that work, right?”
“I hadn’t thought about it, but you’re probably right.”
***
The wounded from Davis-Monthan are in the intensive care wing of a hospital in El Paso. Someone has gotten a generator to work to provide power for the monitors. Hunter still isn’t sure what all the numbers and lines mean, but Nation’s readings seem strong enough. The man himself is still a little pale, but otherwise looking not too bad.
“Watch this,” he says. Hunter stares down at Nation until he notices the sheet at the foot of the bed waggling slightly.
“That’s great,” Hunter says. He pats Nation on the shoulder. “Does that mean—?”
“The doc says I can probably get full movement back in six months with therapy. That’s if I don’t have to be moved around too much more.”
“I’m sorry about that—”
“It’s not your fault. It’s those assholes in Utopia. I hear you really took it to them.”
“How’d you hear that?”
“One of the nurses. They’re saying you took down two whole squadrons by yourself.”
“It’s probably closer to eighteen and a third of those were cargo planes.”
“Still pretty fucking impressive. Those jerk-offs will think twice before messing with you again.”
Hunter decides to change the subject, not wanting to dwell on what happened over the skies of Tucson. “I know what you said about moving you, but we’re going to move you one more time. Up to Wyoming.”
“Oh, good. You going to feed me to the bears at Yellowstone?”
“No. There’s a government bunker there. It’s got a lot better facilities. And you shouldn’t have to worry about it getting strafed.”
“That will make recovery a lot more fun.”
“Phil—”
“Hey, come on. Stop worrying about me. It wasn’t your fault. If I hadn’t gone to San Diego in the first place nothing would have happened. And I’d probably be gnawing on someone’s leg if you hadn’t come along.”
“I don’t think this is an improvement.”
“The important thing is I’m alive. Plenty of people can’t say that these days.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“You seen Val yet?”
“She’s next on my list.”
“Get ready to duck. She almost knocked out a nurse with a bedpan earlier.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks.”
He takes Nation’s hand to shake it. Then he trudges next door to Val’s room. Before he opens the door, he braces himself in case she does throw something at him. She just might when she sees it’s him.
He opens the door a crack to poke his head inside. Val is lying on the bed, arms crossed over her chest. “About time the conquering hero turned up,” she growls.
He steps through the doorway, deeming it safe enough now. The stump of her left leg is clearly visible; it’s still wrapped in gauze almost to her waist. The rest of her cuts and bruises have mostly faded, though there are a couple of angry red scars on her cheeks that are probably permanent.
He sits on a chair beside the bed; she pulls her hand back before he can take it. “You’re looking better,” he says.
“Yeah, right.” She gestures to her leg. “How does that look to you?”
“It’s pretty bad. I’m sorry, Val—”
“For what? You didn’t tell me to go to San Diego. You didn’t try to shoot me down.”
“I know, but—”
“But you’re sorry anyway. Phil’s the one you should be sorry about. And the other guys on that plane.”
“I am sorry about them.”
“So what do you want? To see how miserable I am?”
“It’s not the end of the world. They can find you a prosthetic—”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll have a fucking peg leg the rest of my days. How much good you think I’ll be flying a plane? Or running from zeebs? I’ll just hold everyone back.”
“You can still fly, at least once you have the peg leg.”
“Gee, thanks. You’re really boosting my confidence.”
“Val—”
“You paid your visit. You can go now.” She turns her face from him. Her voice is choked as she says, “I’m tired. I need to rest.”
“OK. I’ll see you later.”
“Whatever.”
He pats her good leg and then gets to his feet. It’s disappointing to see her so down, but he can’t really blame her. He knew guys who had lost limbs in Iraq, Afghanistan, and Vietnam. Some of them were able to cope and live relatively normal lives while others gave in to the despair and took up drinking or drugs to drown their sorrows. Val seems like the latter type, at least if no one helps her. When everything with Utopia is over, maybe he can find someone to counsel her, if it won’t be too late by then.
***
The F/A-18 Hornets are sitting in a line; Hunter counts nineteen of them in all. Carl Sherwood walks beside him and explains, “We lost a few in the crash, though we pulled what we could to use for spare parts. That’s going to be a problem. Not many parts for F-18s floating around these days. Might end up having to cannibalize a few of them.”
“We can worry about that later. They’re all combat-ready?”
“Should be. They flew here, but we haven’t got a chance to check the weapons systems yet.”
“We’ll get a chance soon enough,” Hunter says. Along with the Hornets, there’s an F-16 and the Eurofighter Typhoon from Jimmy’s defense force. The other four high-tech planes were lost before Hunter could enter the fray. That still leaves them with almost two squadrons of top-of-the-line aircraft. After what happened over Tucson, that should give them an advantage over Utopia.
Along with the fighters is the other C-130 from Nation’s crew, the V-22 Osprey, and a motley collection of helicopters that ferried Davis-Monthan’s personnel to El Paso. Hunter has looked around for Tammy, but most of the civilians found their own transport to take their chances on the road. If she’s smart, Tammy will go to Mile High, where she’ll fit right in.
“How soon before we can get everything moved to Colorado S
prings?”
“The fighters just need fueling. The real problem will be moving the wounded from the hospital,” Carl says.
Hunter nods, agreeing with that assessment. He doesn’t like the idea of moving Val and Nation again so soon, but they’ll be a lot safer at Facility X than in the El Paso hospital. Everyone able-bodied enough can go to Colorado Springs, their forward base for an attack on Utopia. The logistics of it are not going to be fun, especially when it’s time to get Briggs’s Marines out of the facility. The Osprey and helicopters will definitely be helpful with that so they don’t have to drive through Mile High with all its roadblocks.
“Can I ask you a question, sir?” Carl asks.
“Sure.”
“Did you really shoot down twenty planes?”
“It was something like that.” Hunter sighs and then runs a hand through his hair. “It’s all a blur, really. I just wish I could have got there sooner.”
“It’s amazing. Really.”
“That’s what they keep telling me.”
“I wish I could go with you when you hit Utopia. It’d be nice to pay them back for this.”
Hunter pats the nose of one of the Hornets. “You’ve already done more than enough to pay them back. And then some.”
“Thanks, sir.”
“Start getting these birds fueled. We got a lot of work left to do.”
Chapter 33
If there’s one good thing about losing some of the Hornets when Nation’s plane crashed, it’s that it means they have enough pilots for all the fighters. Hunter can’t help thinking of Star Wars as all the pilots assemble in the makeshift briefing room that is actually half of one hangar. Everyone is suited up and ready to take the fight to Utopia.
“They wrecked Davis-Monthan, but it was at a pretty big cost,” Hunter says. “Their airpower is seriously diminished while we still have most of ours. That means we have the advantage.
“And it means we need to move quickly to press that advantage. That’s what we’re going to do today. We’re going to take the fight to them. Since we don’t have a bunch of tame zeebs to drop on them, we’re going to use conventional ordinance.”
This gets a laugh from the pilots. Hunter taps the Salt Lake airport on the map with a pointer. “Any planes they have left will be here, so that’s our first target. I’m not sure how many zeebs they still have in the pens, but they keep them in this stadium. That’s another high-priority target.”
He taps Temple Square with the pointer. “This is the center of their government. We cut off the head of the snake and the body might wither.”
Hunter motions to where Briggs is standing. The last of his troops came in via helicopter last night. As Briggs predicted, they’re spoiling for a fight after two years of being cooped up in Facility X. “Once we’ve got their airpower neutralized, Colonel Briggs and his guys will come in. They’re going to secure the airport first, so we can use that for landing and refueling. Once the airport is secure, they’ll head into the city. They’ll probably need some support, so anyone with spare fuel and bombs can help on that front.
“We already got the children and most of the women out, but there are still a bunch of them under the office building in Temple Square. For that reason, we have to be careful not to damage that building too badly. We’ll have to wait until everything is settled before we can find a way to unthaw those women, but in the meantime we don’t want them buried. So be careful where you’re laying your bombs.”
There are murmurs of assent to this. As far as rules of engagement go it’s pretty loose. With the children and all the conscious women already gone, there’s not much worry about civilian casualties. Anyone left in Utopia is an enemy and should be treated accordingly.
As far as plans go it’s not extremely complicated. Hunter knows too well that adage about no plan surviving the first test of combat, so keeping things loose will give them some flexibility. A lot of it they’ll probably end up playing by ear. He just hopes Misuko doesn’t end up on the list of people he has failed.
“Any questions?”
***
The X-29 is the first plane off the runway. Over the last three days, while all the pieces were being put into place, Hunter asked Carl Sherwood to help him with a little project to upgrade the X-29. They took apart the cannon pod and then stowed it in the nose of the plane. That leaves the belly free to carry a drop tank of fuel that will in turn give him more time over the target.
There is a slight difference in the X-29’s balance thanks to the change, but it’s not enough to be major. The real question will be whether the cannon will operate without misfiring or jamming, either of which could leave him in big trouble. With only time for basic testing, he’ll have to hope for the best.
Another of Carl Sherwood’s projects lifts off after the fighters. Among the ordinance salvaged from Davis-Monthan and Facility X were some 30mm Gatling guns and even a couple of artillery pieces. Carl decided to carve some holes in the right side of the Il-76 to turn it into a larger version of an AC-130 gunship that should be able to help provide Briggs with some ground support. Like the gun mounted in the X-29, Hunter has to hope it actually works in the field or the Candid will be a big, juicy target.
Hunter does a slow circle to make sure all of the planes are accounted for. Just to make sure, each pilot checks off on the radio by clicking his microphone twice. The Eurofighter Typhoon and the Harrier are escorting the Candid while the Hornets and the F-16 are paired off.
Amongst his other projects, Hunter gave Trip a basic tutorial on flying the Harrier. They practiced a couple of vertical landings and takeoffs, but this morning Trip took off in the normal fashion to make it easier. Since the Harrier is slower than the other fighters it’ll mostly protect the Candid and—now that the cannons are fixed—provide ground support to anyone who needs it.
With everyone airborne and accounted for, Hunter takes the lead again. It’s only five in the morning, just light enough to see the Rocky Mountains around them, but dark enough to make them hard to see from the ground. Traditional strategy often calls for attacking at dawn, when the enemy is groggy and disorganized. Hunter hopes that element of surprise will pay off for them, allowing them to catch Utopia with its collective black pants around its ankles.
He knows it’s not going to be that easy when his radar picks up dozens of targets coming up from the southwest. He loses count of the blips at fifty. They’re arranged in loose groups, not crisp military formations, so he doubts they’re Utopia’s air force. Has someone decided to launch their own attack on Utopia? Maybe Jimmy or Alice or some third party recruited some help for them.
He lets himself think that until he can actually see the first grouping of planes. The loud, mismatched paint schemes give these planes away as pirates. Maybe they’re launching an attack on Utopia, thinking it’s weak, or maybe someone paid them to help Hunter, but he doubts it. More likely Utopia reached out to various pirate groups after most of their air force was destroyed. From what he has seen, Utopia should have enough money to pay off a lot of pirates.
He boosts his speed to approach the other group of aircraft. He keys in his radio to say, “Unidentified aircraft, this is the Sky Ghost. State your intentions?”
A gravelly voice comes back with, “We were going to work for those Utopia assholes, but now I think we’ll collect us the reward on your head instead.”
“You might want to reconsider that. Those Utopia assholes were flying a lot better crates than what you’ve got.”
“We’ll see about that.”
The group of pirate aircraft is like a museum display on the history of aviation. At the front are the 1960s era F-4s and F-5s. Behind those are the 50s planes like F-104s, F-101s, and F-100s. Then there are the early Jet Age F-86s and F-80s. Bringing up the rear are the World War II planes. All they need are a couple of biplanes to complete the display.
Hunter turns to the frequency for his planes. “All right, guys, let’s show these prehistoric
birds who’s boss. Trip, hang back and watch the Candid’s tail.”
“You never let me have no fun,” Trip says.
Hunter really doesn’t want to waste his Sidewinders on this, but he doesn’t see any other choice at the moment. He lines up a Phantom painted bright orange and then launches a Sidewinder. The F-4 banks away, but the Sidewinder follows it until the Phantom is crashing towards the ground in fiery bits of wreckage.
He doesn’t have any time to celebrate as he swoops in on an F-106 Delta Dart. He decides to give the now-internal cannon its first real test. He squeezes the trigger and then watches as a trail of orange shells shreds the right delta wing of the fighter.
Hunter is already snapping the X-29 hard to the left before an F-5 can get a bead on him. He’s going to attempt to loop around behind it, but a second later the F-5 explodes. An F/A-18 streaks past him, Wayne tossing a salute.
“Thanks, Commander,” Hunter says.
“Anytime.”
The engagement doesn’t last much longer. About a third of the pirate aircraft—mostly the older ones that hadn’t entered the fray yet—turn tail to run. Hunter doesn’t order the Hornets to give chase; that’s not what they came here for.
They form up again and then check back in. “Everyone check your wingman for damage,” Hunter says, though he doesn’t need to tell them that. One of the Hornets has some damage to its right wing, fuel leaking from it. Hunter tells the pilot to return to base to get patched up. So long as Carl can fix the Hornet fast enough, it can escort Briggs’s men in the cargo planes.
While the pirates didn’t manage to do any serious damage, they did force Hunter’s group to waste fuel and ammunition. That will limit how much time they’ll have over Utopia before they’ll need to refuel. Hunter wishes they had a tanker for midair refueling, but no one has a line on one of those.
The other problem is Utopia will probably be alerted now, giving away the element of surprise. He thinks again of that adage about a plan not surviving first contact with the enemy. If they still wrote textbooks, this would be another example to go in it.
Army of the Damned (Sky Ghost #1) Page 30