by W. J. Lundy
He tuned the radio dial, trying again. “Bravo Two Six, Bravo Two Six. This is Bravo Two One, over… Any station. This is Bravo Two One.” Rogers tuned the dial again. “Any station, this is Bravo Two One. Dammit, somebody answer me!” he shouted and backed away from the microphone.
Eve paced slowly across the room. “You just got it working; it might take a little while.”
Rogers looked up at her then turned away, walking to an open window.
“Bravo Two One, this is aerial recon flight Alpha Zulu, send your traffic, over.” The radio buzzed, coming alive through loud speakers mounted on the wall behind them.
Rogers froze in place before his brain registered the contact. He lunged forward and ran back to the microphone, nearly tripping. He grabbed it in his hand and pressed the transmit button. “Alpha Zulu, this is Bravo Two One, requesting assistance.”
“Understood, wait one, over.”
“Who are they?” Jacob asked, rushing to stand near the console.
Rogers looked up from the microphone, reaching for his bag. He pulled out a pen, paper, and a small binder with laminated pages before looking up at Jacob. “At this point, does it matter? It’s anyone and they have an aircraft.”
Jacob started to speak again, but before he got a chance, the radio squawked and Rogers put up a hand.
“Bravo Two One, this is Alpha Zulu. I’m going to set up to relay your traffic to command, prepare to receive instructions, over.”
“Thank you for your help, Alpha Zulu.”
“Bravo Two One, this is Meaford Control; can you authenticate, over.”
Rogers flipped to the back of his notebook, looking for date time codes. He ran his finger down the page, stopped, and jumped back on the radio. “Meaford Control. We are Bravo Two One, I authenticate… break… echo whiskey two two one niner… Over.”
There was long pause on the radio before the signal returned. “Welcome back to the net, Bravo Two One; Bravo Two Six is on the dial.” Another long pause and a less formal voice broke onto the network. From the expression on Rogers’ and James’ faces, they knew the operator’s voice.
“Hell, boys, we thought you were all lost.”
“No way; we are definitely here, Bravo Two Six. We are Mike Charlie and request extraction, over.”
“You have the package?”
“Roger that, we used some and it has proven highly effective. We’ve taken losses, request immediate extraction.”
“You used it? What is your current SITREP, enemy activity?”
“We are in the clear, the package chased them all off. Haven’t seen one since the sun came up. I have one WIA, two KIA.”
“Get me your location, boys, and I’ll have a bird in the air. We need to secure that site.”
Rogers looked up from the radio and at a large county map on the wall behind him. “Eve, quick, where can we put in a helicopter?”
Eve ran to the map and pointed to a large golf course. It was between the lake and the cabin, still close enough that they hoped it would be in the effective area of the dioxin.
“Sir, we are at: Sixteen, Tango, Fox, Quebec, eight, six, five, four, four, one, over.”
“Good copy, Bravo Two One. So it really works. Your call couldn’t have come at a better time.”
“Yeah, it works; it put the Deltas on their backs just as advertised.”
“Stay safe and keep your ears on, boys. We are spinning up QRF and will be at your location in… One twenty mikes; be ready to receive a ground team and be ready for extraction. Bravo Two Six, out.”
Eve looked at them. “What does that mean?” she asked.
James picked her up and spun her around, causing Duke to bark excitedly. “It means we are out of here!”
***
An hour later, they were standing at the green of the ninth hole of the Lake View Country Club. The fairways were overgrown, but the putting green remained flat. Rogers moved to the center, removed the pin from the hole, and tossed it off to the side. He had the handheld radio in his hand with the long-range antenna fully extended; he watched the eastern sky, searching for an incoming aircraft. James and Duke were near the end of the course. James had a pry bar in his hand, molesting a soda machine and bashing at the metal cabinet.
“Will they have room for all of us?” Eve asked.
Rogers took his eye from the sky and looked at her just as James approached with his arms crossed. He stopped at the edge of the green and dropped several cans of soda. He smiled, showing his teeth through the matted beard, and tossed Cokes to his friends. Rogers caught a can two handed and popped the top, the brown liquid exploding over the top of the can. Rogers grinned and brought it to his lips, slurping madly, trying to catch the escaping liquid.
When he lowered the can, he looked back at Eve. “I think you should reconsider. If the dioxin holds them back, you have it better here than you will in the refugee camps.”
“Are they really that bad?” Eve asked with determination on her face.
James double fisted cans of soda and swaggered to the center of the green, plopping on his rear, leaning back against this pack. He retrieved a small plastic bowl from his pocket and poured a can of soda into it, laughing as Duke lapped it up.
“Bro, I don’t think that’s good for him,” Jacob said, walking closer.
James laughed again. “Relax, it’s diet.” He leaned back, taking a sip from his own can. He turned and looked at Eve. “The camps? They are that bad, sweetheart. I would take living underground any day over what you’ll find in those lawless places. Hell, look at Jacob over there. He picked living with us over the camps.”
Eve turned back at Jacob. “Really?”
Jacob shrugged before moving away and finding his own place to sit on the green.
“I’ve only been to one, and I hope I never have to go back,” James continued. “Early last month on a recruiting drive, looking for able-bodied men. I had low expectations on the bus ride over. Thinking who would voluntarily sign up for this shit? We go outside the wire every day, and most of the people in the camps fought hard just to reach them. When we rolled through those gates and the bus doors opened, my mind was blown. It’s the kind of squalor that would make a third-world country proud.
“Prostitution, drugs, booze, everything and anything that can be bought is for sale. The gangs run everything inside. Yes, they have peace officers, but for the most part, they stay out of the way. The bus was there for under an hour, and we had sixty volunteers. The ones left in line started rioting after we filled the bus. We had to start a fight just to get away. Yeah, one time was enough for me. Take my friend’s advice; you’re better off here.”
Eve looked down at the ground and turned away. The air suddenly echoed with the noise of an approaching helicopter. Rogers’s radio squawked. He nodded and pulled a flare from his vest, popping a tab, then threw the device off to the side of the green. Soon after, a small Kiowa scout helicopter swooped by at high speed. Painted in a non-reflective glass, the bird flew so close that they could see a sniper hanging from the side. It cut a wide arc and circled several times before leaving the area.
James pointed at the horizon. Two small dots slowly built in size and eventually materialized into a pair of large, twin-rotor Chinook helicopters. “We got a pair of Shit Hooks in bound,” James said without getting up.
They approached from the east, flying in column with one slightly back and to the right of the other. They lined up on the fairway of the ninth green, the lead helicopter’s nose rising slightly before it touched down on its wheels. Ramps dropped and rows of soldiers in full battle dress poured out, creating a perimeter.
Jacob jumped to his feet and tossed his empty can in a pile near the others. He slung his rifle and moved closer to Rogers as two officers approached from the lead helicopter. The first was tall and wore a clean uniform. His body armor looked new, out of the box, with no attachments. His only visible weapon was in a green, nylon drop holster over his right thigh.
The men, who had their heads down to avoid the blast from the rotors, marched directly toward them. Jacob turned and saw Eve still standing at the back edge of the green. James was still sprawled on his rucksack, holding Duke next to him.
The man in front stuck a hand out to Rogers. He made a point of pointing to the rank tab on the front of Rogers’s uniform. “Staff Sergeant, I’m Captain Cole, this is Captain Emmitt. Are you in charge?”
Rogers looked back at James, who nodded his unspoken agreement. Rogers turned back to the captain. “Sir, I’ve taken lead.”
Emmitt interjected. “I was hoping to find Lieutenant Jeffrey Marks; is he here?”
Rogers looked down and shook his head slowly. “I’m sorry, sir. Our C.O. didn’t make it.”
Emmitt pursed his lips. “I’m sorry to hear that. Marks was a good man.”
An enlisted soldier ran to Cole, delivering a white sheet of paper. Cole read the note enthusiastically and looked back to Rogers. “The Kiowa just reported in. It’s amazing. He says the Deltas are grouped but maintaining a nearly perfect one-mile standoff from the lake. You’ll have to brief me on how long it’s been like this, and exactly how you deployed the MX4.”
The helicopters engines shut down, the blades beginning to slow. Jacob watched the soldiers return to the ramp of the Chinook; they were unloading containers of gear. Large green boxes and canvas bags. Rogers stepped closer to Cole. “Sir, I can give you a full brief. I see that you have deployed men and equipment; will you be staying in the area?”
The officer nodded excitedly. “Oh yes, Sergeant, if our results are as promising as the German Army says, we’ll be staying here for a long time. The Bundeswehr reports once a pond is killed, the Delta will not return to it. Our Kiowa flew over the lake and surrounding areas. He reported positively that there are definite signs that the water-borne contamination is broken and dispersing.
“We have two teams here. I’ll need you and your men to refit as soon as possible and break off with Captain Emmitt and his recovery platoon. You will be escorting them to the chemical plant to secure the remaining MX4,” Captain Cole said.
The same young soldier from before returned from the cluster of equipment and handed Cole a black clipboard. The officer turned to walk away. Rogers reached out and grabbed his elbow. “But, sir… I thought we would be returning to Meaford,” Rogers said. “We’re beat up here and could use some downtime.”
Captain Emmitt, short and broad shouldered, shook his head. “Sergeant Rogers, Meaford is under direct assault. We can’t—we won’t—return empty-handed. The only reason we were able to get here so fast is we were already on standby to assault the chemical plant without intelligence.”
“Then sir, I need to report to you that we have civilian survivors in the vicinity. They are also caring for my wounded and have wounded of their own. And I have KIA that need to be attended to. Can you ensure that this is seen to?”
Captain Cole’s eyes went wide with a surprised expression. “Yes, of course. These civilians, they know the area well? Do they have details on the MX4’s deployment? They could be a valuable resource for us; where can I find them?”
Rogers turned and pointed to Eve.
Chapter 29
Captain Merritt moved fast, gathering the remaining Assassins to an assembly area south of the Chinooks. A large green locker box was opened with new weapons and ammo. Another pair of marmite containers held hot chow, fresh from Meaford. While the men ate, others moved around helping them, refitting their equipment for the next mission.
“I’m really sorry to do this to you. You damn well deserve a break. But with recent events, we need your ground experience at the plant,” Merritt said. “I asked for the hot meal. Thought maybe I could earn back some friendship with it.”
Jacob scooped a mouthful of mashed potatoes and gravy from a plastic tray. “Sir, what exactly is happening at Meaford?”
Merritt advanced close to them and sat on an ammo case. “As you all know, we started getting probed last week. Yesterday, they broke through the lines. By midnight, they were at the main gates.”
“How bad is it?” Jacob asked. “Are the people inside safe?”
“We’ve held, but we can’t keep throwing our forces at them like this. We really need this MX4 to work.”
James took a bite from his tray and tossed a chunk of sliced turkey to Duke who quickly lapped it up. Merritt took notice and looked at the dog curiously.
“Strange, I don’t recall your squad having a working dog.”
“Oh yeah, this guy’s an Assassin through and through. One of the best on the team,” James said with Rogers and Jacob nodding in agreement. James reached down and patted Duke on the ribs before setting the remains of his tray on the ground for him to finish.
“What’s his duty type? Explosives? Force security?” asked Merritt, looking at the dog’s matted fur.
James stroked Duke’s neck and smiled. “This guy? Nah… he is a dedicated Delta detector. Best in the business, too.”
Merritt grinned, knowing he was being bullshitted. “Well, it’s good enough for me, but you should probably get a leash on him; don’t want him getting away from you in the Chinook.”
“Duke can’t be leashed; he’s recon like me. Needs to have his space to work.”
“Well, suit yourself. It’s a short hop to the landing zone; keep a hold of him,” Merritt said, laughing. “Oh, and I’ll get Duke, the Delta Detecting Recon Dog, added to the passenger manifest.”
The Chinooks’ turbines whined as soldiers gathered gear and loaded from the rear ramp. Rogers stood and grabbed his weapons and equipment, restocking the items laid out for him, stuffing them in his pack or filling empty pouches on his gear. Jacob followed the veteran troop’s lead and did the same. He still had the M14 and refused to give it up; he liked the iron sights. He now had an M9 on his hip and several more grenades on his chest.
James was the first to move toward the aircraft. Duke hesitated, so James bent down and carried the dog in his arms. Jacob grabbed his own pack then helped James with his. He moved forward and fell in line behind James, following him aboard the helicopter. The aircraft was nearly full, being filled from the front to the back. James moved to the next available seat, dropping into an orange webbed jump seat. Jacob piled in next to him, placing his ruck between his feet and situating James’s pack. Rogers dropped in across from him. As the turbines roared, the rotor RPM increased, washing out the fairway in swirling grass and dry snow.
Looking up the fuselage, Jacob counted twenty-four men, including his own group. The engines roared and Jacob pressed back into the seat while the Chinook quickly lifted off and spiraled up and away, avoiding ground fire as they passed over occupied areas. Jacob looked down at Duke on James’s lap. James had his gloved hands over the dog’s ears, helping to shield them from the noise. James caught Jacob’s gaze and leaned in close, yelling, “I wonder if Eve is going to miss me.”
Jacob put his head back against the headrest, laughing. The helicopter turned to the right and gained altitude then banked hard and turned sharp, diving as the helicopter banked. Merritt moved to the jump seat beside Rogers. He had the chemical compound mapped out and Rogers pointed to the tanks holding the MX4. The helicopter dropped again, already preparing for their approach to Middleville.
“Seemed a lot longer when we made the trip by foot,” Rogers said, looking across to Jacob.
Wide holes, the size of fifty-cent pieces, suddenly appeared on the sides of the helicopter then traced a line along the floor of the aircraft. Jacob looked at them curiously fo
r a second before his senses registered. He pressed back into the jump seat as he looked out of the ramp, seeing tracer fire arc up around them.
The helicopter banked hard again, shuddering as it traded altitude for speed and spiraled down, dropping so fast Jacob thought he could feel his stomach touch the roof of his mouth. A machine gunner opened up near the nose, the weapon vibrating the fuselage as it fired.
Duke clawed and scrambled in James’s lap at all of the commotion and the extreme maneuvers of the aircraft. James held him down tight, pulling the dog into his chest. The Chinook banked hard again and dropped fast, leveling out just above the treetops. This time when it flared, Jacob saw green grass below and the sides of the steel factory. The helicopter swooped hard then held position just feet from the ground. Rogers jumped up first and rushed the ramp with the other soldiers rushing out behind him.
“This is our stop,” James yelled nudging Jacob with his shoulder.
Jacob reached down and grabbed both of their packs before running to the ramp. He jumped and found the drop farther than he expected. He hit the ground hard but rolled as he impacted, avoiding injury. He dropped the bags and quickly scrambled back into his own before helping James into his. The Chinook’s pilots powered down quickly as Merritt led everyone out, shouting, “Move! We need to get away from the helo so it doesn’t remain a target.”
They moved away from a grassy enclosure, shielded on one side by the factory. Following Rogers’s directions, Merritt led them around a corner and toward the nearest tank farm. The ground was slightly banked here, forming a bowl around the yard containing the chemical tanks. Merritt moved the men out of the bowl then forced them into a hasty perimeter with rolling grass to their front. Half a football field away was a tall chain link fence running parallel to a perimeter road. Beyond that was a sparse tree line. Sporadic gunfire came at them from all directions. Some men broke from their positions and ran for the cover of the steel-sided building; they were quickly cut down by the increasing fire. “Stay put and dig in!” Merritt yelled.