ESCAPE FROM
THE DEAD
JOSHUA A. BROWN
Copyright © 2017 Joshua A. Brown
All rights reserved.
ISBN:
ISBN-13: 978-1542547741
DEDICATION
This book is dedicated to every one of the
Brave and kind hearted souls who came out
Time and again, often donating their time for
Free, to make “Escape from the Dead” into
A movie…
And for James, whose never-ending enthusiasm for my
films, my writing, and our shared interest in model
airplanes was an inspiration to me, and kept me going
right up to the end. I will miss you very much my friend…
CONTENTS
1
Death in the Desert
1
2
The Ace and the Diamond
13
3
War (On the Ground) is Hell
26
4
Ash’s Woes
37
5
A Visitor From Space
54
6
The Jake Escape
70
7
The Best Laid Plans
87
8
It hits a Very Large Fan
107
9
The Trials of the Road
126
10
Nightfall
150
11
Homecoming
161
12
Unions and Reunions
179
13
The Morning After
199
14
The Encounter
222
15
Underground, Safe and Sound
241
16
The Long First Night
257
17
A Grim Day
279
18
A Good News, Bad News, Worse News Thing
307
19
One Disenchanted Evening
327
20
A Dark Day, a Light Ray
345
21
Sidestep
367
22
Escape from the Dead
395
23
Trouble at Home
416
Epilogue
Welcome Aboard
435
CHAPTER ONE- DEATH IN THE DESERT
The enormous gray jet roared and banked sharply to the right as a series of white hot magnesium flares shot from its underside. It peeled away moments before there was a great rushing sound, and a missile nearly as large as a telephone pole raced skyward, leaving a smoke trail behind it as it went. The jet continued to circle away, and another series of flares burst from it.
Inside the cockpit, two sets of eyes were trained on the path of the missile, but the man in the front turned his attention back to the skies before him, and the ground below him. In the back, the other man’s wide eyes continued to watch the missile as a number of alarms and warnings filled both their ears.
“What are you doing?” the man in the rear asked, steadying himself as the jet leveled out, and he felt the surge as the afterburners were engaged.
“Got a flight plan to finish, Fish,” the pilot growled through the com.
“FLIGHT PLAN!?” Fish howled. “We’re made! It’s like a god damn fireworks factory down there!”
“Sort of the point, huh?” the pilot, Captain Mick Scott said, and lifted the dark visor on his helmet to glare ahead. “Now… where are you, you son of a bitch?”
“Dozer two, are you able to clear the target area?” a voice came.
“Negative,” Mick answered before Fish could. “Just give me two minutes, and we’ll be on the way home.”
“Clear the target area, two!” came the voice again.
“Hang on,” Mick replied. “Fish, get ready to drop that JDAM.”
“You will clear that target area now!” the voice barked.
“Dozer one,” Mick heard another voice. “Get your people out of there, sounds like you’ve got bandits moving your way.”
“Two from one, Mick… you heard that! Pull off!”
“Fish, DROP IT!” Mick yelled. Fish blinked, having been working on targeting what he knew Mick wanted. It was a spot between a large truck and a metal building, and Fish slammed his thumb down on the button.
“Weapon away,” he reported.
“Contact- four bandits, two-seven miles, angels seven,” came a voice from the AWACS jet monitoring the action. Mick shook his head, but had already pulled back on the stick to ascend as the satellite-guided bomb plummeted toward the ground. Explosions began to fill the air as the anti-aircraft armor began to unleash its weaponry. Fish checked over his shoulder, his wide eyes scanning the ground as the assault on them continued. The plinks of shrapnel began striking the aircraft.
“Haul ass,” Fish urged. “We’re takin’ heat!”
Mick pressed the throttles, climbing away from the chemical weapons plant but still feeling and hearing the abuse the plane was taking. He regarded the fact that the crew chief back at the air base in Israel would be more than aggravated when the jet returned, littered with holes and dings. A smile crossed his lips.
“Contact, four bandits, two-two miles, angels six.”
Still climbing, Mick angled the jet to the left, joining up with two more jets of the same design, just as Fish looked back once more. An enormous flash burst where the bomb had struck, and the building caved in immediately. The truck keeled over, erupting into flames as the building did. Fish howled triumphantly while Mick eased on the throttles and joined up with the other two jets.
“Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re in?” one asked him. “God damn show off.”
“Boss wanted a chem plant to go poof,” Mick answered. “Looks like it just did. You want my wings for that in the middle of a war? I’ll pin ‘em on you myself, Kowalski.”
“Blow me, hot dog,” Kowalski, the flight lead, growled.
“You two can duke it out later, when we’re home,” the pilot of the third jet snapped. “For now, why don’t we get the fuck out of here?”
“Contact- four bandits, one-five miles, angels six. Heading two-eight-two.”
“Two-eight-two,” Kowalski said. “They’re on us.”
The three F-15 eagles continued to streak west, with the updates from the AWACS updating them on the position of the intercepting aircraft. Mick checked his fuel gauges, and then the radar screen, and lowered his brow.
“Fulcrums,” he uttered, referring to the enemy planes, which he had guessed were a quartet of MiG-29s, code named “Fulcrums”.
“Mick?” Fish asked.
Another electronic voice sounded in their ears. “Bingo fuel”.
“All right, let’s find us a tanker and get some go juice,” Kowalski said.
“Roger,” the pilot of the third jet acknowledged.
“And lead four bandits right up to it?” Mick asked. “You guys get a vector on the nearest tanker, I’ll draw them away from you.”
Bingo fuel.
“Contact- nine miles, angels six,” the AWACS reported.
“Mick, just forget it,” Kowalski warned.
Another tone began to sound in Mick’s cockpit, and he regarded the radar. He shook his head as Fish began to cry out from behind.
“One of ‘em is trying to get us locked up!”
“Out of burners,” Kowalski commanded. “Split up! Dozer one, dozer one! Do you have CAP in m
y area?”
“Negative.”
Mick regarded his radar once more, and thumbed his control stick’s weapon selector before dropping his dark visor down in the bright sun.
“Ski!” Mick called. “Take a heading of Three-five-five. I’m going to break hard left and go nose-on with these turds.”
“What?!”
“TURN!” Mick roared, and then pulled his control stick hard to the left, also beginning to descend. An alarm sounded, and after blinking, and taking a moment to realize the gravity of the moment, Kowalski broke right in his jet, with the third just following him as numerous alarms began to sound.
“Contact- six miles- angels five!” the AWACS controlled called.
“Dozer three,” Kowalski said. “On my signal, break right across me, and we’ll split these guys up until we get some help.”
“Roger,” the third jet’s pilot called back.
In another moment, the pair of Eagles had crossed one another and were traveling apart to split up the MiGs as much as possible. AWACS radio chatter indicated that patrolling aircraft were now headed for them to provide assistance, but it was far enough away that whatever was about to happen would already be over. The MiG pilots watched as the Eagles split, and then they continued on toward the Americans.
Mick, meanwhile, was heading directly for them, and he increased his jet’s speed, descending as the triple-A began exploding again. Fish waited for the dreaded warning that would indicate surface to air missiles firing, but it never came. A secondary explosion rocked the chemical plant below, and black smoked billowed skyward.
“No offense, Mickey, but what the FUCK are we doing?” Fish asked.
“You just sit back there and enjoy the scenery,” Mick said, and narrowed his eyes, then glanced down briefly at the radar. “I got this.”
The enemy jets were quickly approaching, and from their positions, he could tell he had already confused them. They were trying to adjust to the Eagles splitting up, and especially to the one that was about to pass under them. A warning sounded, and Fish checked his screens.
“One of them fired! Missile inbound!” Fish howled.
“Drop chaff,” Mick ordered, and the plane shuddered as the bursts of metal shot from the plane’s chaff dispensers. He turned the plane quickly to the right, just as four jets roared over the top of him, and the missile they had fired swished past, impossibly fast. Fish spun his head back to see if he could spy the missile, but then felt himself shift hard as Mick began to bring the plane around.
Bingo Fuel.
Voices and alarms were filling the ears of Mick and Fish, but Mick had almost tuned them out as he felt the extra weight of the hard turn. Fish grunted as the Eagle came about, and as he was making the turn, Mick noted that on his radar, the four jets- indeed, MiG-29 Fulcrums from Iran- had split up. But their pilots had not anticipated the airborne game of chicken, and while both were making their turns, Mick had completed his.
He had already begun to center his targeting pip over the MiG-29 that had split to the left, and he noted that he could see the entire top side of the jet. In a moment, he heard the correct tone, and he quickly regarded the other MiG. His thumb depressed the firing button on the stick.
“Fox three!” he blurted into the com.
“Get him!” Fish called, and the plane shuddered as the rocket motor fired, and the sleek missile raced away. Mick had already turned back toward the right as the AMRAAM missile continued on, and he regarded that the other MiG was coming around out of its turn, and he was almost heading nose to nose with it. It was only another instant before there was a flash, and the first of the MiGs erupted in fire, tumbling end over end as it came apart. Fish suddenly cried out.
“He’s firing guns at us!”
Indeed, from the left side of the other MiG, flashes indicated that the pilot was firing thirty millimeter rounds at them, and instinctively, Mick quickly jammed his throttles forward and began to climb. He heard one of the rounds strike his jet, and he cursed. The MiG passed under him, and Mick began to turn his jet again.
Bingo Fuel.
“Shut up, bitch!” Fish cried at the computerized voice.
The jet twisted in the air and Mick eased back on the throttles as he came around again, trying quickly to visually acquire the enemy while Fish held on and checked his screens. The MiG pilot was also attempting another turn, but Mick was quicker out of his, and soon, he was angling behind the enemy. He squinted, and felt his muscles tighten again as he forced the jet around further to keep the MiG in front of him.
Not to go down without a fight, the MiG angled sharply back to its left, and began another turn as it climbed. Mick banked right to keep behind it, working the targeting pip over it as his jet closed in.
“Contact- three-two miles- Angels ten- Six bogeys,” AWACS reported, amidst the other chaos in the cockpit. Thumbing the switch again to one of his short-range Sidewinder missiles, Mick immediately heard the growl from the missile’s seeker, now feeling himself sweat as he grunted, working the jet further to the right to position the Eagle.
“Come on… we got him...” Fish was urging.
Bingo fuel.
Afterburners came on at the rear of the MiG.
“I’ve got tone!” Mick shouted, hearing a distant “Splash!” from Kowalski, indicating that another of the MiGs had gone down. “Fox two!”
The plane shuddered again, and the sidewinder roared away from the launch rail. But the MiG unleashed a series of flares, and the missile veered away, ineffective. Mick increased the speed, matching the enemy to stay behind him. He switched again, and increased speed even more. Fish grinned.
“Time for an old west showdown!” Fish called out.
In another instant, Mick was close enough.
“Guns! Guns! Guns!” he called, and depressed the button, causing the planes twenty millimeter cannon to buzz like some sort of demonic bee. The rounds from the weapon sprayed ahead, and into the MiG’s rear. Firing in three short bursts, the MiG-sparked, and pieces of it sailed away before it burst into a fireball, and moments later, its canopy burst off. There was a flare as the ejection seat launched out, and the chute deployed.
Mick quickly turned his heading back toward friendly skies, and shook the tension out of his hands, blinking away sweat. Fish had cried out triumphantly about the splash of the second plane, as the MiG tumbled away on fire. Voices and sounds still filled the cockpit, and Mick now began to regard them more and more as he flew to catch up to the others. The last MiG had broken off, and was headed east as fast as it could go, and before long, Kowalski’s voice could be heard.
“Dozer two, you still out there?”
“You’re damn right we are!” Fish excitedly called, then calmed himself as he realized he was speaking to someone of higher rank. “I mean, we’re okay, sir.”
“MiGs?” Kowalski asked. “I thought I caught a splash in there.”
“Splash two,” Mick reported. “I got one hell of a report to write, boss.”
Kowalski laughed.
“Yeah, you can keep those fucking wings, hot dog.”
CHAPTER TWO- THE ACE AND THE DIAMOND
The world was in the grips of what was, by all accounts, World War III. Conflict had broken out either separately or as part of a larger conflict in the Middle East, Europe, Africa, South and Central America, and in the largest of theaters, Eastern Asia. Many conflicts, disagreements, and simmering troubles had finally turned into armed conflict, with the worst of it erupting over nuclear proliferation in the Middle East, and Taiwan’s bid for independence.
Europe’s war had started when terrorist actions became plentiful, based on European nations’ leanings on the war in the Middle East. Complicating things in the worst possible way, Russia had entered the fray to defend certain nations from others, and suddenly, it was everywhere. Africa watched the war spread throughout its continent after countries in the northern tier entered the conflict in the Middle East. Warlords and thugs in other c
ountries saw this as an opportunity to do their own kind of damage, and the UN was asked for help.
Already spread thin, many countries could not afford, or did not have the military resources, to send ships, men, or aircraft to aid the countries and people of Africa crying for help. Thus, it sparked even more conflict when forces of South American countries began to steam across the Atlantic to offer some aid. The UN was in complete chaos as the divided nations of South America, and Central America, fought over whether it was right to intervene in African matters.
In the Far East, tensions finally turned into armed conflict when Taiwan announced its bid for independence. Seeing this as some sort of magnificent timing, the leader of North Korea made his own announcement, that it was time to reunite the Koreas, and drive westerners out of Asia. Diplomatic relations went on immediately as the UN Security Council and world leaders pleaded with Asian leaders to keep cool heads. It was not to be, and as the days unfolded, China began to send forces, and launch attacks to subdue Taiwan, while North Korea rolled south to invade.
A coalition of forces appeared on what were the two major sides of the war; with The United States, Britain, Australia, Germany, Canada, and Italy leading one side, while China, Russia, North Korea, and Iran being the most vocal of the other side. In the Far East, the assistance of Japan and South Korea, among others, had quickly bogged the Chinese invasion of Taiwan down, and halted the North Koreans stiffly.
In the Middle East, it had almost seemed like the war around the rest of the world had led to some nations rattling their sabers against Israel and any allies of it. There were few nations considered friendly as the shooting began, but US forces had helped to quickly establish some dominance in the area. But dominance was not victory, and the fighting had become more and more fierce as time went on.
Mick had been stationed in the Middle East from the start of the war, flying with the 335th Fighter Squadron out of Seymour Johnson Air Force Base. But while his unit had been fighting a mix of enemy nations, dropping bombs on airfields, factories, bridges, and other targets, his brother- also a fighter pilot- had but one enemy to fly against. The Chinese.
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