The engines on the Black Hawk began to spool up, whining to life. Over their heads, the big rotors started to move lethargically. Captain Alston turned around to face Chad. There was a grim resolve on his face that the civilian did not like.
“Where is it, sir?” When Chad only shook his head, the Captain spoke again, firm, but not unkind: “Mr. Huntley. Chad. I have already lost a good man because of that chip. Our lives are in danger at this very moment. I will ask you one last time,” he said, raising his voice to be heard over the helicopter. “Where…is…it?”
Garza smiled. “We do it here, esse, or we do it in there,” he said pointing toward the open door to the Black Hawk. “Trust me, when it’s buckin’ and rockin’, this here knife could get real shaky. Might cut off something you want to keep. Mmmm?”
Chad slumped and sighed. “My right shoulder, there’s a little scar.” He winced as he felt his jacket and shirt hastily ripped from his body by the big Ranger behind him.
Captain Alston pulled out a piece of leather from a pouch on his vest. “Here, bite down. It helps.”
Chad opened his mouth and bit down hard on the rolled up leather. The taste was salty and sour, but he concentrated on grinding his teeth through the tough material. Behind him, he heard Garza whistle.
“They did a pretty good job covering up the scar, my man. But I can see it. Right there. Shouldn’t be too bad!” he hollered. The wind from the spinning rotors was starting to make Chad a little wobbly, despite being held by two Rangers.
“Okay! On three, ready?” said Garza. “One!”
Chad felt a searing pain in his shoulder and tensed, screaming into the leather in his mouth. It felt like Garza had speared him with the knife. The pain intensified—he could feel the tip of the knife probing into the meat just below his deltoid muscle, seeking the little HD-GPS beacon that was causing them all so much grief. Red hot pokers seemed to be stabbing the insides of his eyes.
Chad spit the leather out with a groan. “Just get it out of me! Dammit!” he screamed.
Suddenly the pain was gone and there was a cold, empty feeling where the hot sensation had just been. He could feel Garza slap a field dressing on the wound and pull his shirt back down.
“Let’s get on board!” he yelled into the wind.
Captain Alston pumped his fist at the pilot who nodded, then they all climbed into the helicopter. Chad could feel the queer sensation of rapid, vertical acceleration even before he found his jump-seat. His shoulder ached like something out of a nightmare.
He leaned over toward Garza. “Did you get it? Tell me you got it!” he yelled.
The swarthy Ranger flashed a white smile and held up a bloody hand, cradling a Lima bean-sized piece of plastic and metal covered in gore.
“Got it.” He handed it to Captain Alston, who promptly threw it out the open door into the forest below. Chad saw there was a swift moving little creek down there in the trees—he hoped that’s where the damn thing landed.
“Sir!” hollered the gunner. He tapped his helmet and yelled. “Pilot says the Apaches didn’t get fully fueled. We won’t get very far. NKors are right on our on asses, sir!”
Captain Alston nodded and looked at the map that he held in his hands. Chad watched him trace his fingers over the mountains and roads of the local area of Idaho, looking for a refuge and fuel. He stopped, finger pointing at a small dot on the map. Chad couldn’t be sure, but it looked a little south of where they were. Fairly close.
“Here!” He showed the gunner the map. “Looks like there’s a Park Ranger heli-pad here. They may have fuel. And if not, at least it’s a safe place to land!”
“Where is it?” asked the gunner. He tapped his helmet again, indicating it was the pilot asking the question.
“Salmon Falls!” yelled Captain Alston.
CHAPTER 20
El Segundo, California.
Los Angeles Air Force Base.
I DON'T LIKE THIS, man…” said Charlie as their charter bus slowly roamed through the obliterated Air Force Base. “This place is deserted. It’s spooky.” He adjusted the grip on his rifle and cleared his throat.
“You scared of ghosts, now?” grunted Cooper. He kept his eyes moving. The buildings that weren’t outright piles of smoldering rubble were deserted. He had to admit to himself that the small base had a certain creepiness about it, lit only as it was by the buildings on fire. “I thought you were a SEAL, not one of those Delta weenies.”
“Fuck you, old man.” They both laughed weakly. It felt good to hear Charlie laugh—it went a long way toward alleviating Cooper’s concerns over Charlie being able to focus again.
Cooper sat behind the wheel of the commandeered charter bus and surveyed the land in front of them. There was smoke and rubble everywhere. Buildings that had once been an active part of a bustling Air Force Base were nothing but blasted shells. Cooper had known where the base was located—even without the GPS signals—by simply following the thick columns of black smoke that stained the sky for miles around. Cooper saw a shot-up sign that proudly named the base as the headquarters of the U.S. Space Command.
They had driven—slowly—right through the main gate, which had been smashed open by a damn big explosion. Cooper gave silent thanks that the blast had cleared a path through the debris just wide enough for them to navigate the cumbersome bus through the base grounds. There were abandoned cars, resupply trucks, HumVees, civilian vehicles of every sort scattered willy-nilly as far as could be seen through the smoke.
Cooper was glad for the darkness. There were bodies, too. They seemed to twitch and move by the firelight. It was an unsettling scene and he was happy to keep moving.
Many of the dead were clustered just outside the main gate. Some had been killed in the explosion that had torn the massive gate wide open, but others had been burned, their skin a charred-black that was all too visible from inside the bus—judging by the gasps and choked-screams coming from the passenger area.
Cooper noted many, many bodies—usually clumped together by the entrance to buildings—slumped on the ground as if sleeping.
“Most likely, those are flu victims,” said Dr. Alston, suddenly at Cooper’s shoulder. He felt a soft touch on his arm and lightning shot down his spine in tickling waves. She pointed out the large windshield. “See how they’re clustered by the doors to that building?”
“Yeah,” said Cooper, trying hard not to let his heart rate increase because of her proximity. Either he was feverish or he needed a cold shower.
“They were trying to get in when the smoke from the fires hit them and overloaded their lungs. The viscous fluid this bug produces makes it really hard for you to breathe—if you threw ash and soot in there…they probably didn’t last long.”
“Horrible way to go…” Cooper observed. When it was his turn to punch out, he wanted to be taking out some bad guys in a ball of fire. Drowning in your own snot was not high on his priority list.
Within the base, there was a disturbing lack of bodies. A few in Air Force-gray BDUs were near the destroyed guard shack. Some were slumped over in vehicles. There were not nearly as many as they expected to see for a base this size.
It made no sense.
“Where the hell is everyone?” Jax’s voice boomed over their headsets. He had been sent with Swede and Beaver on a recon run. The three SEALs went in different directions, looking for survivors, supplies, and shelter. So far, they had found none.
Charlie, riding shotgun in the stairwell, replied: “Keep looking. They gotta be here somewhere. The NKors don’t seem to be taking prisoners. They couldn’t just vanish.”
“Hooyah.”
“How’s the President?” Cooper asked over his shoulder at the auburn-haired doctor. His eyes met hers and he had to look away quickly or risk crashing the bus.
Dr. Alston sighed—even that sounded pretty. “He’s not doing too well back there. He’s in and out of a fever and keeps talking about needing to give a speech. Something about clearing hi
s conscience.”
Cooper nodded and looked out the driver’s window, hoping to see something, anything. The only thing that moved was the smoke that seemed to be all around them now. A black fog. “Does he know what’s going on?”
The cute doctor sighed again. “We tried explaining to him about the Koreans…but…I don’t know if he really gets it. He was,” she paused and a little wrinkle between her eyebrows appeared. Cooper tried not to grin as he watched her face in the rear-view mirror. “He was pretty pissed-off when we told him about Barron.”
Cooper grunted a laugh and shared a look with Charlie. “Yeah, I bet he was.” He checked his dive watch. Holding up a hand to warn the doctor he had to have silence for a moment, he spoke into the air: “Sparky, you gettin’ anything yet?”
His bone phone broke squelch in his ear: “Negative. This place is dead.”
“Coop, turn on the bus’s radio, man. We got a problem,” said Jax’s deep voice, drawling the words with his Texan twang.
“Roger that. Find anything?” he said while flipping the switch to activate the charter bus’s radio.
“Parking garage on the northwest corner is only partially destroyed. There’s a lot of HumVees out front, like they were circling the wagons here, or something. Lot of bodies, man.”
Cooper’s follow-up reply was cut off as the EAS message on the radio kicked in: “…unsubstantiated. Spreading rumors can be dangerous. Remember, see something, say something. Report any suspicious activity. Anyone could be an enemy sympathizer.” The obnoxious, spine-tingling beeps that interrupted the message made Cooper grip the wheel tighter.
“This is an emergency alert message. In this time of crisis, President Barron asks all citizens to remain loyal. Rumors of President Denton surviving in Los Angeles with doctors and Secret Service agents are just that: rumors. Likely spread by the North Koreans in an effort to distract efforts to fight this war.
“If you see anyone that claims to have seen the President or know of his whereabouts, alert your local or federal authorities immediately. Anyone talking about President Denton could be a Korean agent and should be considered extremely dangerous. Reports of Korean sympathizers along the West Coast are increasing. Stay in your homes. We are coming to rescue you. Care for your families. Pray. Remember, President Denton’s survival is completely unsubstantiated. Spreading rumors can be dangerous…”
Cooper slowed the bus to a stop and switched off the radio in disgust. He threw the gear shift into park and stood up in order to turn around and face the passengers. The hushed busy-sounds from the doctors, nurses and agents vanished. Everyone had heard the EAS message.
“Someone mind telling me who the hell talked?” he said in a dangerous tone.
Two of the nurses in the back looked at a third who shrank down and tried to hide behind a scowling Secret Service agent. Cooper sighed and leaned against a seat.
“Ma’am, who did you tell and what did you say?”
“I…I-I just called my husband…” she stammered, glancing at the people around her. From the doctors and nurses, she received sympathetic looks. From the agents, nothing but glares. “I…there was no signal for so long…I just—I thought we were going to d-d-die…” She broke down in sobs, hiding her face in a cloud of curly black hair that had come undone from her headband.
Cooper made his way to her and knelt in the aisle. Gently he took one of her hands away from her face and waited for her to stop shaking. “Ma’am. I need you to tell me what you said. We’re not going to do anything to you, but I have to know, in order to make sure we all survive this mess. Okay?”
She nodded, sniffing loudly. “I told him…told him that I was alive and that I was—” she looked around nervously. “I was with—with Dr. Honeycutt and…the President—“
“Oh, Jesus Christ,” muttered Charlie from the stairs. Cooper glanced over his shoulder to silence his XO.
The nurse’s words spilled out in a torrent: “And that he was alive. That there were Secret Service agents here and…and…soldiers.”
“Soldiers? Really?” scoffed Charlie from the front of the bus. “You think we’re just soldiers?”
“Stow it,” growled Cooper. He turned back to the woman and patted her hand as gently as he could. He was just as mad as Charlie. “Go on, ma’am.”
“He…my husband…he told me that on the news, they had said President Denton was dead. That anyone who was spreading rumors about him being alive was a traitor or something. He said they were going to offer rewards…for information…” her voice trailed off. A look of despair settled on her otherwise not un-pretty face.
“So you told him where we were…” prompted Cooper.
“What have I done?” she whispered. “I’m so sorry…”
Cooper stood, glancing at the agents. “Well, what’s done is done. They—and that means our government, which for some reason doesn’t want President Denton alive, and the North Koreans—now know he’s alive and maybe where here is.” He took a moment to let that sink in.
“A harmless call to a loved one.” Cooper put his hands on his hips and looked at the other nurses and doctors. “Do we know if her husband told anyone else? Who knows? They’re probably listening to all cell phone calls anyway. Either way—it’s out and now we have a big, fat target on our backs. All of us. You think about that the next time you get the urge to call home.” His expression dared anyone to argue. He was met with hang-dog looks and silence.
“I trust you all understand the gravity of the situation now?” After he saw enough head nodding, Cooper turned to Agent Sheffield.
“All right, thanks to our friend here, all phones and communication devices need to be turned in.” He gestured to a few other weary agents who stood and started collecting the phones.
“But—” someone said.
“Now,” Agent Sheffield replied. “The President’s life is in jeopardy and I will not allow him to be injured on my watch. Hand ‘em over or we will take them.”
Cooper returned to the front of the bus and accepted Dr. Alston’s phone. “Battery’s dead anyway,” she mumbled.
The radio in his ears broke squelch as he reached out to take the phone: “Yo, Coop, I got a survivor here at the garage. He’s with base security. Says the rest of ‘em retreated underground. Some sort of secret bunker. He was sent up to bring us down there before the Koreans come back.”
Cooper looked at Charlie. Charlie shrugged. “Sounds reasonable. What else we gonna do? Try to scrounge gas and make it back to Coronado—if it’s still there?”
Cooper stared thoughtfully out the window at the smoke and destruction outside. If they made a break for Coronado—for home—there was a good chance they’d be picked off from the air. If they stayed here…
Suddenly the bus trembled under their feet. Someone gasped in the back and a woman screamed. “Earthquake!”
Cooper shook his head and pointed out the bus’s doorway. A cloud of smoke was growing into a mushroom shape in the distance to the east. “Bomb. Over there. I’d say about a mile.” A jet streaked overhead, rattling windows. That settled it.
“All right, everyone hold on, we’re moving.” He keyed his throat mic: “Jax, stay with your airman. We’re on the way.” He jumped into the driver’s seat and kicked the charter bus into gear.
The bus raced across the base and lurched to a shaky stop in front of a large, block-like hangar building. Cooper noticed the six-level parking garage was caved-in but was glad to see Jax sitting with the Air Force security guard on a substantial pile of rubble. He grinned to see the two men sharing an MRE, despite the fact that bodies littered the ground all around them. Jax had his respirator on and looked rather gruesome in the dim light. Jax was suspicious by nature, however, so if he was at ease, Cooper was at ease. They jumped up and waved him over to the side of the building in the reflected light from a nearby burning structure.
“What took you so long?” asked Jax, leaning in the doorway of the bus.
“Too
k the scenic route. That him?” Cooper asked. He shined a flashlight on the airman’s face.
“Yep. Sergeant Lopez. He’s five-by-five, boss.”
“I hope so,” Cooper said, watching the airman put a radio to his ear. His tanned face suddenly went pale.
“Hey, hurry it up! I got word radar picked up a group of targets heading in from the northeast. Could be ground transports as well!”
“Shit,” muttered Cooper. He stood up and addressed the people in the rear of the bus. “Everyone listen up! It’s a good bet the Koreans know we’re here,” he said with a glance at the nurse who had called her husband. She buried her face in her hands again. “We only have a few minutes to get the President off this bus and down their emergency bunker. Let’s be careful, but move fast. Got it?”
“We understand,” said Dr. Honeycutt, adjusting his glasses.
“We’ll carry the litter,” said Agent Sheffield. “You get the gear. Thompson, Sanders, Bailey, on me.”
The beehive sufficiently stirred, Cooper grabbed his rifle and exited the bus into the warm, late afternoon sun. The garage structure was a mess. Great slabs of reinforced concrete had crushed a dozens of cars that had been parked inside. The smell of gas and oil stung his nose. Smoke was pouring out of the other half of the building, obscuring the view to the northeast.
“You guys really built an underground bunker here—in Los Angeles? Over the San Andreas Fault and all that?” asked Swede cynically.
The airman looked the big SEAL up and down. “We went to the moon—what, sixty years ago? This place—Space Command—tracks over 200,000 objects in orbit above the Earth, every second of every day—some as small as your fingernail. And you find it hard to believe we couldn’t build a box underground and protect it from an earthquake?”
“Well…” said Swede, looking at the ground. “When you put it that way…”
“Come on, the entrance is over here behind that pile,” the security guard said. “We gotta move, man!”
Apache Dawn: Book I of the Wildfire Saga Page 29