The Living Hunger

by Dennis F. Larsen

  “Hey Poncho, jou lookin’ good back dere, mon?” he said, over exaggerating the accent.

  Clayton laughed and punched Cory in the arm, looking over his shoulder at the gunner, who had a not-so-amused look on his face. “I don’t think he’s feeling it, brother.”

  “How ‘bout you two knot-heads just focus on not getting me killed today,” Dallas said, taking his cowboy hat off and swinging it at the heads of his younger friends. The three made a good team. Dallas as the anchor, providing a sense of maturity to the unit but the younger men providing the eyes, agility, and speed they might need. “Listen up you two, if it gets ugly out there, and I’m betting it will, I want you ta know that I got yer backs.”

  The two could tell the cowboy was dead serious and as much as Cory wanted to think of something funny to say, he could not, but rather raised his fist into the center of the jeep and shouted, “All for one!” Dallas and Clayton wrapped their hands around Cory’s and in unison, the three added, “And one for all!” “Yeah baby, we’re the friggin’ three musketeers!” Cory exclaimed, giving Clayton a high-five in the process.

  “I don’t care if we’re Huey, Dewey and Louie, but watch what yer doin’ and don’t end up shootin’ each other, or me,” Dallas yammered, from the back of the jeep.

  The atmosphere in Rod’s vehicle was much quieter. He and his wife looked through the windshield and into the darkness of the morning, a hint of the sun just starting to crest over the mountain peaks to the east. Rod struggled with his feelings, realizing the greatest day of his life, less than 24 hours ago and now looking a deadly situation squarely in the face: his mortality reaching into his chest, tempting to pull the happiness from his soul.

  “I wish . . . ” Rod began to say; Allison squeezed his hand hard enough that he knew to curtail the sentence.

  “Don’t say it, again. We’ve been over this how many times in the past hour? I’m coming along! No one deserves to be here more than me.”

  Rod looked at his sweetheart, knowing what she said was true but it didn’t make it any easier for him to see her enter, what could be, a very dangerous situation. The look in his eyes told it all and he conveyed the tender feelings of his heart, without having to say a word.

  “I know what you’re feeling, and I am too. I carried my baby for nine months, only to have him die in my arms.” The words barely made it from her lips, which trembled, as Allison remembered the loss of her firstborn. “If I can help, in any way, to prevent that same thing from happening to another woman, I will. I wish you could understand. You have to know that I love you more than anything but I feel compelled to do this. Something deep inside of me is almost pushing me to be here, right now, with you,” she said, leaning across the short distance between them and planting a tender kiss upon Rod’s lips.

  “I love you too and I’m trying to put myself in your place. Really I am, and that’s why I’m not insisting that you stay, although I wish you would reconsider, but I . . . can see by the look in your eye that you’re coming. So promise me this?” he requested. “Stay in my back pocket, regardless of what happens out there, you stay close to me. You got that?”

  “Yes sir,” she said, giving him a mock salute, before kissing him again.

  The assault teams, positioned around the school, waited anxiously for word from Allan or others who were watching for the aircraft. Farrell sat alone in his pickup, one of the two that had recently been reinforced, his hand wrapped around the walkie-talkie and thumb on the control. He looked at his watch. It had been four hours since the chaotic transmission from the lab. Having been in somewhat similar circumstances, the Sergeant knew Godfrey’s arrival was a long shot. If they had been severely outnumbered and outgunned, the likelihood of a safe escape would be minimal, and a safe escape with a supply of antidotes was even slimmer. In the quiet solitude of the cab he thought of the past few hours, the happiness he’d felt and the hope that his little Elva had restored. He longed to be in her arms rather than sitting alone in the dark facing an unknown threat and the possibility of never seeing her again.

  He keyed the button on the communication device, “Elva, you there?”

  “You know I am,” she said.

  “I know we’ve got about 20 people listening in but I just needed to let you know, one more time, that I love you.” There was silence for a couple of minutes. Farrell thought he could make out the faint sounds of Elva choking back tears before he heard the squelch on the unit and someone speaking.

  “Farrell, you there?”

  “Yup, what’s up?”

  “I know we’ve got about 20 people listening in but I just needed to let you know, one more time, that I love you,” Cory said, trying to be as serious as possible and almost succeeding, had it not been for Clayton laughing in the background.

  “Cory, if common sense was gasoline you wouldn’t have enough to power a piss-ants motorcycle around a BB,” Farrell offered, triggering a ripple of laughter throughout the close-knit group listening in.

  “Thanks Sarge, thanks a lot,” Cory replied.

  “Okay, I think I’ve got everybody’s attention. I want everyone, except Cory and Clayton, to sound off so I can make sure we’ve got decent communications.” Each of the responding units acknowledged the receipt of the request and replied in the affirmative. “Alright people . . . friends, today is probably the most important day of the rest of our lives. I don’t have to tell you how vital it is that we welcome this plane and its contents. Our futures and the future of any families that we may hope to have, depends on our actions of this day. Our very lives are at stake, and I have to tell you, I’m proud to stand with you.” The Security Chief spoke with a sense of calm assurance to his troops, his comrades, his friends.

  “Thanks Farrell, just a word from us staying behind,” Mel said. “If hostiles show up today, along with that plane, do not hesitate to fire your weapons. You’ve been trained and we have faith that you will act accordingly, but the briefest hesitation may cost you, or your friends their lives. I know it’s a great burden we’ve put on you but I can’t help feel that you’re up to the challenge. We’ll be supporting you from here, as best we can. I’ve moved the entire medical unit to the gym and we will have sentries positioned at the northeast gates to provide quick access into the gym area, and help.”

  Gary had been listening to the comments flying back and forth and took his turn once Mel completed her remarks. “I too am grateful for your willingness and eagerness to help with this patrol. It may turn out to be a walk in the park, but if not, know that we stand with you! We have no way of knowing who, if anyone, was privy to the transmission we received earlier this morning but as Farrell has indicated, we need to be ready for anything. I can’t add any more to what has already been said, other than to say, be smart and be brave. May God bless our efforts of this day!”

  Another 30 minutes passed, giving the sun a chance to lift its glowing face a bit higher into the morning sky, providing immediate warmth to the earth below. Far across the western extend of the valley; the sun’s direct rays were burning off the morning’s dew. A gray haze still hung just below a bank of clouds to the southeast of the school, shadowed by the tall ridges and peaks of the Wasatch Front. Rose Allen paced the rooftop, a pair of binoculars in her hands. She scanned the skyline to the south with her eyes, only pulling the expensive field glasses up when she thought she had seen something. The process had repeated itself, for her and others, numerous times before she did, indeed, spot something out of the ordinary. It looked to be 40 or more miles south of their location, but she was sure she had seen a small, red, blinking light.

  “Allan, Allan!” she shouted. “I see something! Over there, look, over there!” she excitedly declared, pointing in the direction of the flashing dot. “Can you see it?”

  Everyone on the school’s roof was now searching the sky in the direction that she had indicated. Finally another woman called out the same thing, “A red light just below the clouds, looks to be moving this
direction! I see it! I see it!”

  “Chief, you getting this? We’ve spotted a flashing red light quite a ways southeast of our position, but it looks like it could be the plane. Still a ways off but it has to be Godfrey,” Allan said, the enthusiasm evident in his proclamation.

  “I got ya, Allan. Rod and Cory pull over here behind me. I want to drive out a couple of miles and fire a flare so he can see where we are. You other three units be ready to roll or defend the school. If anything happens to me, Rod, you’re in charge! Got that?”

  “Got it!” Rod called back.

  Within minutes the small convoy moved out, away from the school and into the open farmland that separated the school from the next small community, located 12 miles to their south but beyond the dividing line that Bullock had established. Farrell knew in his heart that their close neighbors might not be so neighborly this morning. As that thought flashed through his head, he reassuringly reached for the machine gun sitting on the seat next to him. Without taking his eyes off the road, he watched for likely ambush positions ahead, Korea’s experience guiding his actions this morning.

  The three motor vehicles slowly moved their way south, closing the distance on the aircraft. They stopped when they reached a junction with the old highway that ran north to south, throughout the entire state. Cory rolled the jeep to the opposite side of the overpass, while Farrell took a position on top of the bridged roadway and Rod stayed on the northern slope. Each had a vantage point to the south and into the lower dips and valleys that made up the landscape. As far as they could see, there was no movement and no sign of men or vehicles. The plane, however, was growing bigger as it approached. The faint whirl of the engine was now reaching their ears, providing relief and hope to the individuals in the welcoming vanguard.

  “Farrell, what’s your situation?” Gary asked.

  “We’ve got the plane in sight just south of us. We’ve positioned at the overpass on I-15 and there’s no sign of Bullock or his men. Maybe we’ve over-reacted and he’s not aware.”

  No sooner had the Sergeant finished his hopeful thought, when a burst of gunfire could be heard and seen, as tracer rounds arced from the ground, lifting high into the air trailing the little craft. Farrell estimated the anti-aircraft fire to be coming from a small hamlet, tucked right up against the mountain and about four miles to the southeast. The men and Allison watched helplessly as the plane took evasive maneuvers, dodging the tide of gunfire that would bring them down. At 125 miles per hour, the plane was no match for the amount of lead that was being fired into the air.

  “Won’t this thing fly any faster?” Godfrey yelled at the pilot.

  “I sure wish it could, but it’s giving us everything its got! Maybe if you jumped out, it would lighten the load and speed things up,” he yelled, above the sound of the motor, only half joking.

  “Indeed, very funny, Mate. It can’t be that much further. Wait a minute. I think I can see some trucks down there. I wonder if, no, no doesn’t match any of the descriptions Allan had conveyed to me. Stay on course and veer west . . . Crikey - they’re shooting at us! Those berks are shooting at us! Did you see that, Kim?”

  “Uh, yeah,” he screamed, as he jerked the joystick quickly to the left, banking the plane away from the illuminated rounds. With the throttle already at full capacity, the experienced pilot did his best to gain some altitude, while weaving a pattern through the sky, avoiding the stream of lead. “Why would they be shooting at us? It’s like they were just sitting there waiting for us! Any ideas?”

  “I’m afraid I do have an idea. The Bear River people said a rather nasty fellow has harassed them and he controls the area to their south. This has to be his doing. Name is Bullock, Dan or Don, but I’m sure his last name is Bullock and he’s supposed to be a rather big, lardish type chap.”

  “I’m less interested in his name and pant size, but more concerned with why he’s shooting at us,” Kim yelled at the Englishman, wanting to take his hand off the stick long enough to slap some sense into Godfrey.

  “Oh, I thought that aspect was self-explanatory. They don’t want the ampoules we’re carrying to fall into anyone’s hands but their own!”

  “And how do they plan on getting it if they make us crash? Gonna be a pretty messy pile of blood and guts if we go down from this altitude.”

  “I guess that’s the risk they’re willing to take and they’d rather have it destroyed, than allow anyone else to have it. Blast, that was a close one!” Godfrey cried, watching a trail of bright tracers fly past the window, just as Kim made the plane pitch away from the rounds. However, the gunner below, now moving as he stood in the bed of the truck firing upward, anticipated the move and angled the machine gun to bring the heavy burst of projectiles across the fuselage of the plane.

  “Kim, we’re hit!” the Englishman cried out. He’d watched the bullets perforate the midsection of the plane, ripping through one of the packaged crates, surely destroying most of the precious vials. The other rounds avoided anything that was vital to the flight of the plane, but the red-hot rounds continued to dance their way around the Cessna. “Over there, a freeway! It should be just south of the school.”

  Kim followed the logic and tipped the plane to the west still dodging the cascade of unrelenting ground fire. A second after angling the plane and lining up on the freeway, Kim saw a bright, orange flash in the sky ahead of them. “A flare, Godfrey, somebody just fired a flare up the road a short ways.”

  “Get to it man, that has to be our guys!”

  Bullock’s men continued their hot pursuit of the small aircraft. The drivers bounced and jostled the men firing from the rear of the trucks, but kept moving forward in an effort to damage the plane, forcing it to land. “Don’t let them get away!” Don could be heard, yelling out orders in his high pitched, nasal tone. “You bunch of losers! Have I got to do everything myself?” he shouted, without anyone really paying attention to him, the action so exhilarating and fun that the pack of assailants had forgotten who was in command. The matchbox jeep carrying the oversized Bullock reached the highway first, giving him an opportunity to bring his own gun to bear on the plane. He struggled to lift the AK-47 to his shoulder, but once there, he pulled back the trigger, emptying the 30-round clip of large shells into the tail section of the aircraft, pitching it into a nose dive and bringing a smile to the fat villain’s lips.

  “Sarge, you got the plane in sight? Looks like they’re coming right for ya!” Allan said, as he watched the events from the safety of the school’s rooftop.

  “Farrell, do you want to scramble the other security teams?” Gary asked, listening intently to the action unfolding over the walkie-talkies.

  “Yeah Gary. Trucks four and five leave now and get in position half a mile northwest of our location. There’s an access road that runs right up to the highway but does not cross over. Get to it and flank Bullock’s trucks that are shooting at the plane. They’ve been hit but the pilot’s doing his best to get to us. We’ll establish a perimeter and try to hold off the bad guys until you flank ‘em. Watch yourselves, they’ve got a heavy machine gun mounted in the back of that pickup. If you get a clean shot with one of those shoulder propelled rockets, take it.”

  Elva’s voice, breathy and urgent, suddenly sounded over the device, “Farrell, trucks are rolling. I can see a trail of dust so they’re on the way. How serious are things out there? Is there going to be fighting?” she asked, really not wanting to hear the answer.

  “I’m afraid there might, but we’ll be okay. Didn’t Rod promise you he’d look after me?” Farrell asked, trying to portray a sense of confidence that all would be well, regardless of what trouble should come their way.

  “He did, and he better, but that goes for you too,” Elva said, doing her best to remain brave and steadfast.

  Farrell watched the small aircraft fight to stay in the sky, recognizing that the plane must have taken a direct hit from the onslaught of machine gun fire. “Okay, they’re hit but it
looks like the pilot might be able to make it this far.” Farrell alerted the men and women listening in over the open band. “Rod and Cory, I’m going to get down onto the highway and use my truck as a blocker. We need to slow down Bullock’s men. I want both of you to get to the plane as quick as yer able, secure the occupants and cargo, then get out of here and back to the school. I’ll hold as long as I can before I join you. You guys in flanking position yet?”

  “Yes sir,” came the reply from both trucks, now racing down a gravel-covered county road, pushing to provide assistance to Farrell’s crew.

  “Good, hold back about a quarter of a mile, somewhere in a low spot where you’ll be out of sight. When I give you the word, you get to me with lead flying. Hopefully, you’ll push these crazy mothers back into their holes.”

  “Got it Chief, we’ll be ready when you give us the word.”

  Farrell had slowly rolled his vehicle across the bridge, still watching the troubled airplane, as it dipped and climbed in a tremendous effort to stay airborne. Luckily, they had covered enough ground to put them beyond the anti-aircraft fire; however, Farrell knew the pack of vicious attackers would not be far behind. The Chief’s truck carefully rolled past Cory and company, the men saluting each other, as Farrell stomped the accelerator, pushing his truck through the burrow pit and up onto the blacktop. The truck shot forward, closing the distance on the plane, which was weaving erratically. The wingtips were pitching right, then suddenly left, as the pilot fought with the stick in an attempt to bring the plane in level. By the time Farrell’s truck was in position, the Cessna was 25 feet off the ground, but appeared to be bouncing through the sky, as the elevator in the tail section flapped somewhat out of control.