47 Echo

by Kupfer, Shawn

  Anthony nodded and followed Nick around to the side of the UAV. The tail was a good eight feet above them.

  “See the camera?” Nick yelled over the gunfire bouncing off the nearby Cougar.

  “Yep.”

  “You’re going to get on my shoulders, then rip it out any way you can.”

  “Got it.”

  As Anthony climbed onto Nick’s back, then stepped up on his shoulders, Nick radioed back to the Cougar. “How’s the truck holding up, Chris?”

  “It could take small-arms fire all day. And these cats are just in range of the big gun up top. Let’s see how they like this,” Christopher radioed back.

  Nick heard the M240 on the top of the Cougar swivel right, then start throwing rounds.

  “Got two of them,” Christopher said. “Tracking the other four, but they’re splitting up.”

  “Range?”

  “A hundred meters.”

  “Reggie! Mike! Pete! Cover behind the Cougar and start taking out some enemy fire!” Nick yelled down to his men.

  The three Mechoes took up positions to the front and rear of the vehicle and started firing.

  Anthony hopped down from Nick’s shoulders, the camera in one hand. Gabriel and Kenneth were just stuffing the last of the drives into their packs.

  “Um, Nick—hurry.” Christopher’s voice sounded tight.

  “Almost there.”

  “Get there faster. We have three CDMs inbound, and inbound fast. Forty seconds until they’re in weapons range.”

  “CDMs? What the fuck are CDMs?”

  “Chinese Death Machines. Remember that mission only I came back from? That was one CDM. We have three. I say again. Hurry the fuck up, boss.”

  Chapter 9

  Ripper

  “Load up! Now!” Nick yelled, throwing open the Cougar’s back door and jumping inside the vehicle. He stuck his arm out to Wes, one of the new convicts, and helped him into the truck. His crew quickly poured into the vehicle. In half a minute, everyone was aboard except Reggie, and Nick held his arm out to the kid. Reggie grabbed it.

  Nick barely even heard the noise, a loud high-toned rattle, before Reggie just disintegrated in front of his eyes. Nick fell back into the truck, holding the charred remains of Reggie’s forearm. Kenneth quickly slammed the door shut behind him.

  “Chris! Drive this thing!” Nick yelled, tossing the forearm to the floor and running to the command module. Trying not to think about what he’d just seen—a man ripped to nothing by gunfire—he jumped into the passenger seat as Christopher hit the gas. Nick could smell poor Reggie’s blood on his uniform. He shook his head hard and looked straight ahead out the window. Not the time to fall apart, Nick. Hold it together.

  Bullets were slamming into the Cougar so fast that it sounded like a torrential thunderstorm on corrugated tin. Christopher slammed the accelerator to the floor, and the Cougar jumped up past sixty.

  “How long do you think we can take these bullets?” Nick shouted over the deafening impacts.

  “I’d say not long. I think we’re faster than they are, though. Let’s just hope they don’t shred the tires before we can prove that,” Christopher yelled back.

  Nick toggled the Cougar’s rear cameras. He needed to see what kind of machine was trying to disintegrate the Cougar as easily as it had vaporized Reggie. The screen flickered to life, and between hits to the bulletproof glass covering the camera lens, Nick caught a glimpse of three dark green vehicles, each about half the size of the Cougar, firing from quadruple GAU-8-style gatling guns mounted to the front. Thanks to the thousands of huge rounds slamming into the back of the Cougar every second, Nick couldn’t get a very clear look, but it did appear that the chase vehicles were falling behind.

  “Boss! We got denting back here!” Anthony yelled.

  Nick turned around to look at the back of the truck, and saw that the rear door was starting to buckle. “Shit. Everyone, as close to the front of the vehicle as you can get. Chris, if you can push this motherfucker any faster, do it.”

  Nick took control of the M240 and spun it around to face the pursuing CDMs. He aimed for the center vehicle and toggled the “fire” switch. He was greeted immediately by a flashing “weapon malfunction” message.

  “Gun’s not working,” Nick told Christopher.

  “I’d be surprised if it’s still there.” Christopher shrugged.

  The bullet impacts slowed a bit, then stopped altogether.

  “We’re out of range of their guns, anyway.” Nick sighed.

  “Yeah. Now all we have to worry about is rockets,” Christopher said.

  “This thing was designed to survive explosions. I hope it’ll still hold up with all the damage we’ve taken.”

  “We’re about to find out. Missiles inbound,” Christopher replied as warning sirens blared throughout the truck.

  “Everybody hold on to something!” Nick yelled.

  The first rocket shot by within inches of the Cougar’s passenger side. The flame from the rocket’s jets lit up the inside of the truck for a half-second as the projectile sailed harmlessly by. He felt the heat of the rocket even through the triple-thick bulletproof window.

  “They missed,” Michael breathed.

  “They’re more than a half-mile away,” Christopher told them. “Out of visual range. They’re firing on instruments.”

  “Then how are they not hitting us? They were tearing the shit out of us on instruments back at the Aero,” Anthony asked.

  “They’re shooting at where their instruments predict we’ll be. Pretty tough at sixty-four miles an hour,” Nick said.

  “So we’re okay?” Pete asked.

  Christopher shook his head. “Those CDMs aren’t short on rockets. Even if they miss with ninety-nine percent of them, we’re still getting hit a couple of times. And I doubt this thing can take even one now that those guns have softened it up.”

  “Agreed,” Nick said. “Juke this motherfucker like you’re driving drunk, Chris. Make it as hard for them as possible. The rest of you, get your gear on. We may have to bail out and do it quick.”

  “Can’t we just call the helicopter to come get us?” Gabriel asked.

  “Nope. We’ve still got more than three hours until they’re in radio range. ‘Sides, those CDMs could rip our ride straight out of the air in half a second. We’ve gotta lose ‘em somehow and get to the extraction point.”

  “Talking of, I’m not heading that way anymore. No use leading them to our way out,” Christopher said.

  “Good thinking. Where’s the nearest town? Maybe we can lose them in some buildings,” Nick said.

  “According to our maps, six miles to the east.”

  “Inhabited?”

  Christopher shook his head. “Evacuated a month ago.”

  “That’s where we’re going, then. Fast as you can manage.”

  “Roger that. Um…shit.”

  “What?”

  “We have a new problem. I’ve got incoming contacts. Ground vehicles. At least ten, coming right at us.”

  “Fuck. Looks like we go left or right, then,” Nick said.

  “These things are moving fast. We won’t be able to outrun them, too,” Christopher said.

  “Outstanding.”

  “Wait—we’re getting a message.” Christopher toggled the truck’s comm system.

  “RF friendlies, coming through. Repeat, RF friendlies, coming through,” the speakers crackled. The voice on the other end was deep and heavily accented.

  “RF friendlies? What the fuck does that mean?” Peter asked.

  “Russian Federation, I think,” Nick said, nodding to Christopher. “Put me on with them.”

  Christopher toggled the comm system and nodded back to Nick.

  “RF friendly incoming, this is Cougar 4-7 Echo.”

  “Greetings, 4-7 Echo. Looks like you have some stalkers on you. Do you need a hand?”

  “We’d appreciate it.” Nick smiled.

  “Head to our posit
ion. We’re sending a unit to deal with your problem,” the voice came back.

  “Do it, Chris.”

  Christopher headed toward the source of the transmission, and in less than a minute, the Cougar crew saw ten Russian TX-47s rumbling toward them. The lead vehicle stopped in front of the Cougar while the other nine tanks raced past it. All of them had the same words painted in Cyrillic on their olive-drab bodies in red paint.

  “What’s that say?” Michael asked.

  Owen, the last of the new convicts and who hadn’t spoken a word up to that point, piped up. “It’s in Russian. It means ‘Invaders Must Die.’“

  Nick toggled the rear cameras, and his crew crowded around to watch the monitors. The nine Russian tanks formed a line across the road, completely blocking off the Cougar from the approaching CDMs. As the three Chinese vehicles crested the hill, all nine Russian tanks opened fire, their massive front cannons lighting up the night. They kept firing as quickly as their crews could reload, spraying bullets from their front-mounted machine guns between salvos.

  The lead CDM took a direct hit front and center, and two of its gatlings peeled away from the frame. The other two CDMs quickly turned around and drove the other direction, and the Russian tanks concentrated their fire on the immobile lead CDM.

  It was all over in a few seconds, and the last remaining CDM was a smoking black shell.

  “I think we got him,” the voice on the radio said. “Come on out and say hello.”

  Nick nodded to Gabriel, who put his hand on the latch to the Cougar’s back door. Before he could turn the latch all the way, the back door fell off of its hinges and clanged to the road below. Nick couldn’t help chuckling as he led his men out of the Cougar. He stopped chuckling as he stepped over what was left of Reggie’s arm.

  “Hey! American friends!” Nick heard the voice from the radio outside the Cougar. It belonged to a tall, thin man in a dark green uniform. Nick didn’t know Russian ranks, but he guessed the man was at least a Colonel from the way he carried himself.

  “Nick Morrow, 47 Echo Second-in-Command,” Nick said, sticking out his hand.

  “Andrevich Petkov, Russian Federation fourteenth Armored Division Commander.” The thin man smiled, shaking Nick’s hand enthusiastically.

  “Thanks for the assist, Andrevich.”

  “Always glad to help, my American friend. Shall we go take a look at your stalker?”

  Nick nodded and followed Andrevich’s lead. As they walked past his tank unit, Nick saw that the men inside were now sitting on top of their tanks, smoking cigarettes. Nick lit one up himself as he and the Russian tank commander approached the motionless CDM.

  The smell was horrible, like rotted meat and burned hair. Andrevich put on a pair of thick gloves and opened the hatch at the back of the CDM. Nick and the Russian commander were greeted first by a huge cloud of smoke, accompanied by the smell of what Nick could only guess was burned flesh.

  He was right. As the smoke cleared, Nick could see that the inside of the vehicle was relatively undamaged, but its pilot had been cooked into his chair. He’d apparently tried to turn and let himself out of the vehicle when the shells had started hitting, but he obviously hadn’t made it—all he’d done was ensure that his charred death mask, frozen in mid-scream, was staring at Nick and Andrevich when the smoke cleared.

  “Well…that’s about the most awful thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” Nick said, resisting the urge to turn and vomit.

  If Andrevich was bothered by the corpse at all, he certainly didn’t show it. He grabbed the corpse by the shoulder with one gloved hand and pulled it from the seat, the body’s melted polyester uniform peeling away as Andrevich tossed the body out onto the road.

  “Look at the inside of this thing. My, my. So many fancy toys.” Andrevich smirked.

  Nick had to admit that Andrevich was correct, and looking at the inside of the CDM was the easiest way to avoid staring at the barbecued corpse on the asphalt behind them. There was, unfortunately, no way to ignore the smell.

  The pilot’s cabin was small, just enough room to turn the chair around, and mounted at the very back of the vehicle. Every available surface was crowded with flatscreens, buttons, and lights. An assault rifle was strapped to the cabin’s low ceiling, and Nick took it down.

  “The Chinamen, they have nice guns, eh?” Andrevich chuckled.

  “That they do.”

  “Where are you stationed, Second-in-Command Morrow?”

  “We’re out of Justice at the moment.”

  “There’s a friend of mine at Justice. A Major Harrison, used to work in Intelligence. You think he’d be able to do something with this?”

  “I’m sure he’d like to try.”

  “Then I suggest you take as much of it back as you can carry.”

  “Agreed. Anthony! Kenneth! I want you two to tear as much of the tech out of this thing as you can! You’ve got one hour, so work fast. The rest of you, we’re going over the Cougar to see how bad the damage is.”

  “We’ll stick here to help you out. Anything we can do, you just ask.” Andrevich grinned.

  “Thanks, sir. I’m sure we’ll take you up on it.”

  Christopher and the rest of the Echoes started to walk around the Cougar, inspecting the damage. With a passing nod to Andrevich, Nick joined the rest of his crew at the Cougar. He walked up to Christopher and put a hand on his shoulder.

  “Chris. The Russians. Do what you do,” Nick muttered.

  “On it, boss.” Christopher smirked.

  Peter walked up next to Nick as they checked out the passenger side of the Cougar, which looked like a dented tin can. Nick paused over the rear tire on the passenger side. It was completely shredded.

  “Hey, Nick,” Peter started.

  “Yeah?”

  “I thought we were fighting the Russians, man.”

  “Some of ‘em. When the Chinese declared war, about half of the Russian Army decided to side with them. The other half decided not to.” Nick shrugged. “So in addition to fighting the Chinese and the North Koreans, we’re in the middle of a Russian civil war.”

  “Why would the Russians want to side with the Chinks?”

  “Look at your history, kiddo. Russia was Communist for a long time, and there are still a lot of hard-liners around. They’d jump at the chance to go Commie again.”

  “So how can we be sure these Russians are on our side?”

  “I’d say the fact that they toasted that CDM puts them in our camp.” Nick lowered his voice. “But don’t worry. We’re keeping an eye on them.”

  Peter looked over at the Russian tank crews, who were laughing with Christopher over by their parked vehicles. A quick count showed that the Russians outnumbered the Echoes four to one. He shook his head. “Man, I sure hope so.”

  Chapter 10

  Seeing Red

  The Cougar limped back to the pickup zone, and from the rattling in its engine, it wouldn’t be worth salvaging. Andrevich was kind enough to provide two of his tanks as escorts, as the Cougar had lost its only weapon running from the Chinese.

  At 5:15 a.m., Nick tried to raise the Chinook. “Phantom 1-1, this is Cougar 4-7 Echo.”

  “Go for Phantom 1-1,” the response crackled back.

  “We are standing by at the pickup zone.”

  “Roger that. Your transmission is extremely weak.”

  “We’ve taken a lot of damage. Cougar’s probably a write-off.”

  “We copy. Set it to demo, and we’ll detonate from the air. Status?”

  “Mission successful. One casualty. Some extra Chinese tech stolen for good measure,” Nick said. He couldn’t help smirking.

  “Roger. We’ll be touching down in one-four minutes.”

  “Copy that. We’ll see you in one-four.”

  Nick switched off the comm system, then joined his men outside. “All right, folks. We’re to set the Cougar to blow. Grab everything and strap it on your backs—we get to ride in the helicopter this time.”<
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  “Thank Christ,” Christopher said, loading his pack with cartons of Russian cigarettes.

  “What’d you trade for those?” Michael asked.

  “Just charm, pal. Just charm. Here, have a carton.” Christopher grinned, handing one of the long boxes to Michael. Michael smiled and wedged the carton into his overstuffed pack, moving aside some salvaged Chinese hard drives to make everything fit.

  Nick slung his new Chinese assault rifle over one shoulder then his M4 over the other. He hoped they’d let him keep the Chinese rifle—he’d tested out the computer-augmented sights and had managed to knock a bottle of water off the top of the Cougar from a half-mile away. The rifle had immediately stopped firing after, but still, Nick wanted to take a look at its tech.

  As he saw the Chinook approaching in the distance, Nick’s helmet radio clicked on.

  “Nick, my American friend,” Andrevich said.

  “Hey, Andrevich. We’re just about ready to get out of here.”

  “Excellent. I need you to deliver a message to Major Harrison for me. Can you do that?”

  “Sure. I owe you one.”

  “You owe me nothing, but the message is this: tell him that Post K-13R is seeing red. Can you say that back to me?”

  “Post K-13R is seeing red.”

  “Outstanding. I hope to see you again someday.”

  “You too, Andrevich. And thanks much for the help back there.”

  “Any time, my friend. Any time.”

  Nick couldn’t help but think that Andrevich, who had sounded cheerful every time he’d spoken to him, sounded just a little sad as he signed off from the radio. The Chinook landed a few minutes later, and Nick ushered his team into the chopper. Christopher was the last one to load up, and Nick walked with him.

  “So what did you think of our Russian friends?” Nick asked as the two of them walked up the Chinook’s ramp.