As Semion opened his door Berluti watched the tips of her rotors brush the trees. She said, “You may want to cover up out there, sir. Those flying thorns can take an eye out.”
Semion hiked up his windbreaker and jumped from the stealth helo. He ran to the bush chopper, and as he shook the men’s hands he boomed, “Semion Mogevich. You’ve done a fine job out here, gentlemen.”
Christa upped the power on the scope and watched as the big man shook the hands of the bush pilot and the poacher. “Come on, turn a little bit more so I can get a look at you, big man,” she whispered.
Semion pulled down his windbreaker collar as he ducked behind the clear plastic door of the little chopper. He looked closely at the thin dark poacher and asked, “You are sure you saw a black dog that was much stronger than it should have been?”
Up on the ridge Christa’s mouth hung open.
She clicked her radio and said, “Hamish, be advised we have two additional choppers, medium size, outfitted with stealth and heavily armed, and I have eyes on Semion Mogevich, repeat Semion fucking Mogevich, can I take the shot?” Christa waited for a reply, and watched the second black chopper hovering a dozen meters above the others, spinning slowly in a circle.
“Roger that,” Hamish said in her ear, “Kill that fucker for me, Christa, and then put another hole in him for Kels and Smudge. We’re coming as fast as we can.”
Ayo nodded at Semion. “Yebo,” he yelled above the noise of the choppers, “No question. It was full moonlight and the crazy dog was three meters from me. The animal had more muscles than a hyena, and moved like a leopard. It also looked to be controlling a pack of wild dogs.”
“How is it you’re still alive?” Semion asked.
“The black beast heard its bru barking and ran off after it,” Ayo said.
“You didn’t mention that before,” Semion said as his face turned red and his brow furrowed, “Did you see this other dog?”
The scruffy pilot took a swig from his plastic jug of shake shake, and used it to hide his raised eyebrows. He thought the big Russian and the Angolan poacher were totally bohlanya. Mogevich had paid twice his going rate in advance so the pilot was willing to suppress his skepticism for a few more minutes. Still, the man and his gunship choppers gave him the willies and he couldn’t wait to be away from them, and this dangerous reserve. It was pretty clear they were not just hunting dogs and Uncle Theo’s family of zealots weren’t ones to mess with. The pilot also wasn’t liking the look on Ayo’s face. He’d known the ruthless poacher for many years and although the man was an asshole, he sure didn’t scare easily. The pilot thought Ayo looked terrified.
“Rangers, take out the hovering bird after my first shot,” Christa said.
“Copy that, good luck,” one of the rangers replied.
As Christa tweaked a setting on her scope she thought, Eleven hundred meters, ten knot crosswind, at least two temperature changes, and rotor wash from three choppers. Well at least he’s a big target. Her shooting mantra played in her head as she slowly let out her breath, and squeezed the trigger.
Ayo said, “I saw the second black dog only for a second but I’m su—”
The plastic chopper door shattered just below Semion’s hand. He touched his cheek and drew away red fingers.
After whizzing past Semion’s face Christa’s fifty cal bullet punched a large hole right next to the bush pilot’s head, and a few centimeters below one of the chopper’s gas tanks. The pilot dropped his drink, checked his pedals, and looked around to verify his controls were working. He opened up the throttle all the way without checking to see if Semion or Ayo were clear. The engine shot out a plume of black smoke as the little chopper jumped into the air.
Semion dove away and ran low for his helicopter, still holding his bleeding cheek.
Ayo had been hit by the skid as the bush chopper took off. He was sent tumbling into the acacia thorns.
As Christa cursed and rammed home another shell the rangers on the opposite ridge opened up. They were closer to the clearing and she could see the flashes from their rifles. Their shots pinged off the hovering helicopter as it veered drastically to make way for the belching bush chopper shooting up towards it.
Christa saw the hovering stealth chopper quickly level out and turn towards the rangers hide. She cursed, and abandoned her second shot at Semion’s chopper.
She swung the large rifle barrel up, aiming for the power plant just below the helo’s rotors. Smoke came from its side pods and empty casings fell in sheets as the twin miniguns spat bullets at the rangers’ position. The ridge in front of the men erupted in sparks and flying dirt as Christa pulled the trigger.
The big gun chugged and punched back into her shoulder.
An instant later a small fireball bloomed just below the helo’s rotors and it pitched to the side. Its miniguns stopped spitting bullets and the entire turbine engine flew apart. The rotor spun away from the top of the chopper as it started to barrel roll. Two rockets streaked from the helo’s side pods and raced away out of the valley, leaving curling smoke trails to nowhere. The rear prop was still spinning, pushing the helo around in looping arcs as it dropped.
Christa swung the rifle back to Semion’s chopper, and just as she sighted on its engine the helo leapt from the valley floor. Christa had trouble keeping it in her sights as it blasted into the sky. She got off two rounds but didn’t see evidence of any hits as the helo rose at an insane rate, flipping onto its back and twisting level again as it screamed away in the opposite direction. As it disappeared over the far ridge Christa nodded to the pilot. It had been one hell of an evasive maneuver.
Christa turned back just in time to see the smoking, spiraling chopper crash into the valley floor and get swallowed up by the thick forest. She swung the rifle towards the bush copter. It had climbed to the top of the ridge at the rear of the valley and was just about to disappear over the rim. She chambered the last round from the fifty cal’s box magazine.
The bush pilot rocked in his seat, trying to twist the worn throttle past its stop as he willed the chopper to go faster. The little engine was sputtering, and the hammering pistons were complaining loudly. He cleared the ridgeline and could see over the crest and into the safety of the next valley. “C’mon boyo,” he said as he smiled, “keep it hard for Daddy.” He rocked faster and started to sing his team’s anthem under his breath, “Sho-sho-loza, sho-sho-loza, stimela sphuma…” which translated as, “Move faster, move faster, steam train...”
Christa didn’t have time to properly change her sight’s settings. Allowing for bullet drop and windage at that distance meant the chopper wasn’t even in her scope when she pulled the trigger.
His singing didn’t work. The bullet shredded one of the gas tanks behind his head almost two seconds after Christa pulled the trigger. The pilot didn’t hear the shot. He only felt the heat for an instant as the bush helicopter exploded around him.
Chapter 87
Ayo was on his feet and running after being tossed into the brush. He abandoned his rifle as he’d have to leave the cover of the canopy to get to it. His normal exit route would take him too close to the rangers so he was following the game trails down into the valley. He came to the shallow river and danced over the rocks, kicking up water. On the far bank he searched for another trail that would lead him through the knot of bushes. It was taking precious time but the ten centimeter long thorns would strip off his hide if he tried to just push through them. He didn’t want to follow the open riverbed but heading back into the thickets would be a mixed blessing. He could avoid being seen, but it would slow his progress and it was oppressively close in the brush by the water. He also knew Fisho had been right. He’d witnessed how effective these new dogs were in the dense bush, and it felt like they were waiting to leap out at him from every thorny shadow. He just had to keep his wits about him. He still had his satphone so if he could make it out of the valley without getting shot he should live to hunt another day. Theo’s ranger b
ase was almost an hour away so he had time to escape as long as he stayed calm and picked the right paths.
Christa checked with the rangers. They were alright, and heading for the crash site with the dogs. She could see a small trail of smoke rising up from the thick carpet of brush in the valley. There hadn’t been an explosion when the helo went down, but she thought falling from that height was probably enough to kill anyone onboard. She stashed the sniper rifle in her hide and picked her way carefully down the slope.
She had considered staying on the ridge with the sniper rifle in case Semion came back with his gunship, but she really wanted to get a look at that downed helo and Ayo was still in the woods somewhere. It would be some time before Hamish and Musa would arrive with backup and she really wanted to circle up with the dogs and catch that asshole before he escaped.
Christa’s legs weren’t the best at navigating rocky slopes. She skidded and slipped as she picked her way down the walls of the valley, and almost tumbled into the thorny brush when she reached the bottom. She paused to steady herself, and as she drew her pistol she suddenly regretted sending Spot and Rook ahead. Leaving Sholto to watch over the rangers had been the right call, but she really missed having her shepherd partner in the lead as she stepped into the thicket.
Rook inched forward, stopping just before the tip of his nose left the shadows of the leafy bush he was using for cover. Spot came silently to his side and they scanned the crash site. The helo was on its side and they could see the path it had torn through the forest before coming to rest in the shallow river. The rounded front windows were spider cracked and flattened. The tail section was missing but the center of the craft looked to be mostly undamaged. Smoke rose from the gaping hole where the engine had been, and the remains of one bent rotor blade sprouted straight up from the twisted stub of the main shaft.
They heard noises from inside the crumpled chopper.
Spot started to leave the bush but Rook huffed quietly to stop him. He followed the big dog’s stare and saw a door handle had popped out from the smooth top of the helo’s body. They heard a few bangs as the handle wiggled, and then the door moved up a few inches and slid open.
Ayo continued down the narrow river. He was unable to find any gaps in the thick tangle and was fighting to hold back his rising panic. He didn’t like being without his rifle, and knew the rangers and their dogs would come to check out the crash. He would be right in their path if he couldn’t get away from the riverbed. Just as he was about to turn around and risk running back to the landing site a pair of small lechwe bolted across the river in front of him. He found the small gap in the wall of thorns the antelope had used and crawled away from the river on his hands and knees.
Spot and Vuur saw a handgun poke out from the top of the helo. It was followed by an arm, and then a soldier wrestled his way onto the door. He was dressed in all black, with a matching tactical vest and helmet. Spot noticed the helmet had a tiny headset mic and night vision attachment flipped up above the rim. All of the man’s equipment had a sleek, custom-fitted look. His body armor had integrated overlapping shoulder, arm, and thigh pads that didn’t appear to restrict his movement. As the man spun in a circle Spot noticed he was injured. Blood covered the side of his face from his temple to his neck. He pulled down his mic, thumbed the talk button built into his fingerless glove, and then tapped on his headset. “Bugger,” he said as he flipped the mic back up.
Christa found a trail in the dense forest that was thick with antelope tracks and she followed it towards the river. The trail narrowed, and the thorns scraped at her as she slid carefully through the branches. As the canopy closed in above her she clicked off her sidearm’s safety.
Rook nudged Spot and turned to face upriver. They heard the rangers coming down the valley. They were still out of sight and trying to move quietly, but in the dense forest it was almost impossible. They were stealthy for humans, but to the dogs’ sensitive ears they sounded like a herd of elephants. The man on top of the chopper didn’t appear to have heard them yet, and a moment later he dropped back down into the helo.
Just as Spot and Rook were about to bolt upriver they heard a dog whine. It had come from inside the chopper, and it was the short, pained sound of a seriously hurt animal.
Spot gave Rook quick instructions and sent him towards the rangers. He watched the big police dog back away and dart off into the shadows before he hopped over the broken rivulets of the shallow riverbed and ran to the front of the helo. The sloping nose was crushed but would afford a path for him to get up onto the chopper. As the man’s head and an arm popped back out through the door with a canteen Spot flattened against the helo’s nose.
The chopper pilots’ crushed faces were pressed against the inside of the cracked windshield right in front of Spot, but he could see around the red smears enough to watch the man taking a drink.
Spot risked rising up on his hind legs so he could see further into the chopper. It was hard to pick out details through the cracked windows and the blood, but he made out what appeared to be a pile of men and dogs in the bottom of the chopper. All of them were wearing the same black tac gear and helmets, even the very big shepherds, but none of them were moving.
The man finally heard the quiet splashing of the rangers coming from upriver. He dropped into the helo and came up with an assault rifle. Spot saw the curve of the sliding door would effectively hide him and the rangers would never see him.
The three rangers came out of the bush and stepped into the river upstream from behind the downed chopper. Spot couldn’t see them, but he heard their feet splashing in the water and he closed his eyes to get a better fix on their position.
Come on team, where the hell are you? Spot thought as he rocked back and forth nervously, Why is there never a dog cop around when you need one? He could hear the rangers getting closer, and he heard the man in the chopper click off the safety of his rifle and slowly let out his breath.
Spot barked, and the man spun to scan the front of the helo and the downstream river bed.
Rook, Sholto, and Seamus darted from the bushes on the opposite bank of the river and knocked the rangers into the safety of the brush.
The man heard the bushes snapping behind him and spun back around but the rangers had disappeared. He scrambled onto the door the chopper, swinging his rifle back and forth, trying to cover both directions of the river.
Spot pressed further into the shallow water, hiding under the nose of the chopper and trying to stay under the man’s field of view.
The police dogs started to bark, taking turns from several hidden positions in the dark jungle behind the helo. The man socked the rifle tight to his shoulder and tried to follow them. He let a few bursts fly and Spot’s shoulders drooped when he heard the rifle’s familiar quiet burping and crazy fire rate. As its suppressed report echoed back from the valley walls as hushed whispers Spot risked a look over the windshield, and confirmed the bad news his ears had picked up. The weapon was a larger version of the heavily modified QBZ assault rifle Ben had taken from the dead Tzeng woman. There’s lots of those rifles in the world, right? he thought, It’s just a coincidence. He looked at the pile of soldiers and dogs inside the helo and thought, Yeah, sure, gotta be a coincidence. He shook his head, and really wished his sister was by his side.
Spot didn’t see it happen, but he heard the aftermath of one of the rangers stepping out from the thick brush. The ranger shot at the man, and it had been a good shot. He got set fast and picked his center-mass target just as Christa had shown him. He hit the man in the chest but his thick vest stopped the round and he barely flinched before drawing a line of carnage up the ranger’s body. The ranger’s bulletproof vest protected him from a few of the rounds, but everything below and above it was torn to pieces.
As his body splashed down into the river the police dogs let out a stream of barks, and in response the man laid down a barrage of fire. He moved the gun back and forth across the river bed behind the helo as the
trees snapped and splintered. The muzzle flashed, and the gun softly burped as his empty shell casings bounced down the side of the chopper.
Spot leapt onto the windshield and was halfway to the man when he spun around.
The man looked down at Spot’s spread paws. They were wet and searching for purchase on the smooth seams of the pilot’s door. Spot looked up at the man, shook his snout, and clearly defined alternating black and white strips formed on his muzzle, and then appeared down the sides of his body. He had changed his coat into zebra stripes.
Rook and Seamus bolted from the shadows and tore across the rocky river bed towards the helo. Sholto blasted from the opposite bank a second later.
The man blinked and wiped the blood from his eye. He stared at Spot for a moment, and then realization washed over his face. He raised the rifle.
The police dogs closing on the chopper barked.
The man spun again, and hesitated for a second before he picked the closest running dog as his first target.
Two quick shots rang out in the valley, and two holes opened up on the man’s neck and cheek. His head cocked at a strange angle, and then he tumbled into the chopper with a thump.
Spot looked to the woods where a scratched up Christa was standing with her pistol sticking out of a thick, thorny wall of vegetation.
Spot waved and turned himself back to all black as Christa smiled and nodded back at him.
Sholto slid to a stop in the river bed behind the chopper. She wagged at Christa, but then her ears flattened to her head and she crouched, and let out a low growl.
As Christa carefully retrieved her cut-up arm she noticed her dog’s posture.
A tall dark man in a filthy striped hat appeared from the shadows right behind her, and as she spun to face him he slashed across Christa’s neck with a short knife.
Let Slip the Pups of War: Spot and Smudge - Book Three Page 40