Escape The 1st Omnibus: WTF Books 1-3

by Lundy, W. J.

  “Chief, could your team handle this? Headquarters said your men would be familiar with this gear,” Douglas said. “I would offer to help, but the captain and I really have to get the refueling done before the screamers show up.”

  Sean ran to the spot and examined the gear. “You gotta be shitting me,” he said.

  “What is it, Chief?” Brooks asked.

  “It’s a damn Fulton! We don’t use this shit anymore,” Sean said.

  Douglas looked back over his shoulder and yelled, “We do now, Chief. Could you get it set up please? The pickup will be here in under twenty minutes.”

  “I’m not following. Sean, is there another helicopter coming?” Brad asked.

  “No, the Fulton is a big ass balloon. We’re going to strap it to Aziz. An aircraft will fly overhead and catch the balloon, then reel his sorry ass on board. We trained on these but they stopped using this gear years ago,” Sean answered.

  “Well, nothing is too good for our boy Aziz,” Brooks said, gesturing back towards the helicopter. “Let’s get it done, Chief.”

  Set up was fairly straightforward. The kit bag contained a balloon, a gas bottle, a harness and about five hundred feet of heavy line. First, they tightly strapped Aziz into an orange jumpsuit that was connected to a large, heavy-duty harness. Brad stuffed a bundle of letters into the jumpsuit and tightly zipped it shut. Brooks saw him and gave Brad a knowing nod, as he forced Aziz into the harness and tightly strapped him in. Next, they attached the coiled line to the balloon. Finally, the other end of the line was secured to the harness and they waited for the signal from Douglas that it was safe to inflate.

  “Has anyone bothered to explain to Aziz what is about to happen?” Brad asked.

  “Nah, we figured a surprise would be better,” Sean said.

  Douglas called out that the aircraft was near the approach and to inflate the balloon. Sean connected the gas bottle to the balloon and turned on three IR strobes connected to a section of the line. Then he turned the valve and the balloon began to quickly fill with helium. As the balloon filled, Aziz figured out what was going on and he began to panic.

  “Don’t worry pal, you’re going to love this,” Brooks laughed while slapping a heavy pair of goggles over Aziz’s eyes.

  The balloon filled quickly and pulled off the ground, trailing the line behind it. There was no breeze, so it went almost straight up and barely drifted. The line was now taut and all the slack was gone. It was very quiet now; all they could hear was the sobbing of Aziz and the fuel pumps purring away, filling the large tanks on the Black Hawk.

  Douglas called back to them again from the fuel bladders. “The C130 says they are on approach and they have visual. You might want to step away from our guest.”

  “C130? So why didn’t they just land and pick all of us up?” Brad asked.

  “Not so easy, son. All of the airfields near here are overrun; this is the best we got,” Douglas answered.

  They heard the buzzing of the C130 coming in from the east. The moon was now covered in clouds and they could hardly see anything. Aziz increased his panic when he picked up on the sounds of the approaching aircraft. The men stepped away from Aziz and gathered near the helicopter to resume their security watch of looking for primals.

  The aircraft got louder as it got closer and lower to the ground. Soon Sean pointed and they could just barely make it out flying low and slow toward them. A large, V-shaped hook extended from its nose and it was on a direct path for the balloon. The C130 flew directly over them. At first nothing seemed to happen, then they saw the line stretch and Aziz snapped into the air and was gone.

  21.

  The flight crew was finishing up the refueling procedures. They turned heavy wheels and pulled switches to cut off the power to the large pumps. Brad watched them as they disconnected and stored the heavy fuel lines in plywood lockers. Captain Bradley and Mr. Douglas walked back to the Black Hawk, diligently inspecting every detail.

  “We are almost ready to go, Chief. If your boys could continue to pull security until she is warmed up I would appreciate it,” Douglas called.

  “We got it sir, just tell us when to mount up,” Sean called back.

  “You’re going to need to make it quick, sir, I got movement,” Brooks said.

  “What do you see Brooks?” Sean called out.

  “Large mass at your three o’clock and moving fast.”

  “The birds bring them in, for some reason the screamers love helicopters,” Bradley called over his shoulder.

  Brad raised his scope and saw them, a small party out front and another larger group trailing them. Sean snatched up his long rifle and took a prone firing position; Brooks fell to the ground near him with his own scoped rifle.

  “You work the center, I’ll pick up stragglers,” Sean calmly said to Brooks. “Brad, keep an eye on our flanks, I don’t want anything sneaking up on us.”

  Brooks began firing his rifle and methodically knocked down the leaders. Sean followed his lead and started firing in a smooth motion to cut down the runners, but it was doing very little to slow the pack’s progress. Brad ran to the edge of the clearing in a high spot where he could see all the approaches to the landing site. He could see the mass closing on them from Sean’s direction. Brad continued to scan wider, checked the rest of the area, and found it clear.

  The Black Hawk started to wake up; the rotors slowly went into motion, whooping as they sped.

  “Chief, I have the mini-gun up if you and your men would like to retreat to the bird,” Douglas screamed over the increasing whine of the turbines.

  “You heard the man, bound back,” Sean ordered.

  Brad turned around and ran back to the Black Hawk, Just as he arrived from the flank, he could see Sean and Brooks board the bird. The engines were screaming now as Bradley increased the throttle. Sean took up a position behind the large M134 mini gun, flipped the switches powering it up, and readied himself to fire.

  “You’re clear to engage, Chief,” Douglas called back.

  Sean pulled the trigger and a stream of rounds cut through the night; a blinding laser light show ensued. Brad could no longer see the primal mob with his night vision off, but he followed the trail of gunfire and watched the shadows dance as rounds exploded and skipped off of the ground. Sean was decimating the crowded path as he cut left and right, sweeping through the charging primals.

  The Black Hawk slowly lifted with its nose down and began to pick up speed. It turned slightly and headed into the mob that was now far below. They reached out their arms and grappled at the beam of gunfire Sean was pouring down on them. The Black Hawk opened the distance and Sean continued to fire even though the threat was now gone. He cut a wide path through the charging mob, releasing weeks of frustration.

  “Cease fire, Chief, we may need some rounds for later,” Douglas called back.

  Sean shook his head and powered the gun down. Leaning back into the crew chief’s seat, he looked exhausted. He intentionally set down the headset before he closed his eyes.

  The Black Hawk flew smoothly through the night sky speeding south. Brad looked out of the small window but could see nothing but blackness. The desert was dark; there were no lights, no signs of life. He didn’t see a single fire, no headlights on the roads. It was desolate and dead below him. He pressed back against the hard seat and tightened the restraint belt.

  “Where are we going, Mr. Douglas?” Brad asked.

  “South to the Arabian Sea; with all of the tanks full, and if we fly conservatively, we should make it. If not, we will have some walking or possibly swimming to do,” Douglas answered.

  “Well that’s reassuring. We catching a ride on a Navy vessel then? That how we’re getting home?” Brad asked.

  “Wish I could answer your questions for you, son, and as good as a Navy meal sounds right now, unfortunately that’s not where we are headed,” Douglas said.

  “Enough with the riddles! Where the hell are we going?” Brooks asked impat
iently.

  “We are scheduled to land on a secured oil platform off the coast; the Navy and Marines have secured a number of them in this area. Land-based facilities are all closed this side of Iran,” Bradley said. “I know it’s not ideal boys. I’m not excited about it myself. But it sure beats the hell out of nesting with screamers.”

  “Then what?” Brooks asked.

  “Then we wait. We were promised a ride home when we took this job. I don’t have the details. I just have to get this crate to the platform,” Bradley said. “I have been told it has power, food, and hot showers, so let’s just take it one day at a time.”

  Brad sat back in his seat, shaking his head, his body finally giving in to the exhaustion. It’s going to be a long ride home, he thought to himself.

  Whiskey Tango Foxtrot

  Only the Dead Live Forever

  W. J. Lundy

  Whiskey Tango Foxtrot

  Only the Dead Live Forever

  © 2013 W. J. Lundy

  V10.30.13

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental. All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.

  Edited by Monique Happy Editorial Services

  http://www.moniquehappy.com

  Dedicated to my family. My wife and daughter who listen to all of my drawn out stories, do the hard work at home, and wait for me while I am away. If not for them I would have nothing worth working for, and nothing worth coming home to. And of course Mom and Dad you have always served as my biggest fans, encouraging me and providing the best advice. Thank you for setting the example.

  1.

  “Oasis, this is Talon, Oasis, this is Talon,” the pilot, Captain Bradley, said over the radio, receiving only static as a response.

  The Black Hawk flew low and fast over the dark churning waters of the Arabian Sea. There were flashes of light on the horizon from a developing storm. The helicopter’s console flashed a warning that was audible in their headsets. They had been in the air for what seemed like hours. Brad had watched the co-pilot look at the warning light and reset it several times earlier, but now he was just ignoring it.

  “You boys are going to want to keep those floatation devices handy. You may want to drop some of that body armor too, unless you’re looking to sink to the bottom like a stone,” Mr. Douglas, his co-pilot, said over the beeping of the alarm.

  “Something you’d like to tell us, Sir?” Brooks asked with a sarcastic tone.

  “We’re having a bit of trouble contacting the platform and we’re past bingo fuel; things may get wet here very soon,” Captain Bradley answered over his headset.

  Brad removed his tactical body armor and helmet and put on the inflatable flotation device. Sean and Brooks were making the same preparations. He watched the pilots scan the horizon; although they outwardly appeared very calm, he could see the worry on their faces. When Brad looked out of the window he understood why; he could barely make out the whitecaps of the sea below.

  “Oasis, this is Talon … Oasis, this is Talon,” Bradley again called over the radio, still no response.

  “There she is, at your eleven o’clock,” Mr. Douglas motioned to the pilot.

  Brad looked forward between the pilots seats. Far ahead he could begin to make out the shape of a huge object towering above the water. There was one red flashing beacon at the top of a long antenna; the rest of the platform was completely blacked out The platform columns projecting out of the sea appeared to have a number of vessels moored alongside them.

  “Oasis, this is Talon… Oasis, this is Talon,” Bradley called out again in frustration.

  “We aren’t getting any response from the platform. I’m going to make one pass around the rig and then we’re going to have to land. We don’t have much flight time left in the tanks,” Bradley called out to all of them.

  The helicopter slowed and passed a hundred yards off the starboard side of the platform, then circled around, flying counterclockwise and orbiting the rig. The platform was an impressive sight. It sat high above the water and boasted nearly three football fields of surface space on its large upper deck. Brad could see at least three levels of decks; the top one housed a number of cranes and towers. Three of the corners had distinct rust-colored steel building structures, while the open fourth corner was piled high with crates and industrial equipment. The helicopter landing pad was on piers elevated above the largest of the three building platforms.

  The antenna tower light flashed a red beacon high above the rig, allowing them to see reflections off the window glass on the structure as they flew by them. There were no signs of movement on any of the decks; the rig appeared abandoned.

  “It’s go time. We don’t have fuel to make it back to the coast, and there sure as hell won’t be any water rescue coming for us, so I’m going to set us down,” Bradley told them.

  The helicopter pad was on the southwest corner of the platform. The pilot lined the Black Hawk up for an approach, began to slow it down, and then moved into a controlled hover. Brad looked out of the window and saw the dark landing pad emblazoned with a large letter ‘H’. The landing pad was raised high above the other structures and was connected to the greater platform by a steel walkway. The floodlights on the walkway were all blacked out and the navigation lights that normally ringed the pad were off. The rig itself was silent and absent of movement.

  “I’m bringing her in. Let’s get frosty, guys; you may want to lock and load. I’m getting a bad vibe over this whole deal,” Bradley said over the intercom.

  All of the men had a bad feeling. Brad observed Sean and Brooks ready their weapons and pull down their night vision goggles as the helicopter slowly lowered to the landing pad. The helicopter landing gear made contact heavily with the deck. The pilots ran through checklists and began to power down the aircraft. Soon the turbines were idling down and there was nothing but the whipping sounds of the slowing blades. The pilots removed their headsets and harnesses, climbed over the center console, and moved into the rear part of the now silent helicopter.

  “What are you thinking, Sir?” Sean asked in a low voice.

  “I am really stumped, Chief, bordering on the verge of being very pissed off. I was told this place was manned by a platoon of Marines,” Bradley answered. “Something is very wrong here.”

  “Hell yeah it’s wrong! I wouldn’t have taken this job if I’d known this would be what was waiting for us! I could still be in Bahrain, knee deep in cheap scotch,” Mr. Douglas grumbled.

  Sitting on the elevated landing pad and looking out the windows of the aircraft, they couldn’t make out anything on the rig. In the distance they could see the occasional flash of lightning and hear the sound of thunder, making the current situation worse. The navigational windsocks were starting to blow and whip about at the tops of their poles, and the air had cooled considerably compared to what they had left in Afghanistan hours ago.

  “Looks like we have a storm coming in,” Sean whispered as his eyes studied the horizon.

  “Chief, I’m going to need you and your men to secure the landing pad so Mr. Douglas and I can tie down the bird. We don’t want to lose this aircraft if the winds pick up,” Bradley said.

  “Aye aye, Sir, just give the word,” Sean said, obviously anxious to leave the helicopter and get to work.

  Captain Bradley checked the slide of his M9 pistol to verify its readiness before securing it in its holster. He looked to Mr. Douglas who gave him a thumbs up.

  “Okay, Chief we’ll exit the same side. Mr. Douglas and I will secure the bird with the tie downs while you and your men pull security. Once everything is complete, we can meet up with you over there by the railing,” Bradley said, pointing to a spot
near the walk way entrance.

  “Roger that, we are all over it,” Sean said as he reached down and pulled the door open, letting in the cool damp night air.

  Brooks exited first with his MP5 at the ready and turned right towards the tail of the aircraft. Brad came out next, followed by Sean. Brad moved past the nose of the aircraft and continued around it, securing the far side of the landing pad. Sean swept towards the nose and took a knee, scanning everything in his sector. When all of the men felt confident they were alone, one by one they said “clear” in low voices.

  “Deck is clear, Sir,” Sean said just above a whisper towards the Black Hawk’s door.

  The pilots stepped from the interior of the aircraft. Captain Bradley immediately placed chocks under the helicopter’s wheels, while Mr. Douglas grabbed a stack of gear from the crew chief’s position. Then the two men started applying tie downs to secure the helicopter to the deck. After they finished, Captain Bradley made a quick pass around the bird, verifying it was tied down to his satisfaction. When he felt everything was complete he moved to the rally point he had indicated earlier.

  Sean moved to the pilot’s location and took a knee. They were now overlooking the entire platform. They could see down the length of the walkway and to the landing below. The structures were all dark and there were no signs of life. The thunder was growing louder and the wind had begun to pick up. Sean looked to Bradley and whispered “What’s the call, Sir?”

  “There are fuel lines on the deck, but we will need power to use them. With that storm coming we won’t be going anywhere for a while anyhow. I think we need to find shelter and find out what the hell is going on here.”

  “Let’s move in a line down the ladder well. We’ll secure the base, then scout from there,” Sean said, then nodded at Captain Bradley as he continued. “I assume you know how to use that thing strapped to your hip, Sir?”