Online Murder Syndicate: The Paranormal Mysteries & Adventures of Special Agent Lou Abrams (The Paranormal Mysteries & Adventure of Special Agent Lou Abrams Book 2)

by Thomas Craig

  The Blackhawk flying 200 yards in front had a handful of Special Force Commandos in it, plus Agent Redford and Agent Abbasi. Everything seemed fine until a red light came on inside our cabin.

  I was facing forward and had a good view of the lead Blackhawk taking gunfire from the forest below. Sparks flew off metal as bullets tore at the side and undercarriage. We all felt the quick decrease in our airspeed as we slowed to maneuver what awaited ahead.

  Two of the commandos in our Blackhawk spun around and moved forward into the gun positions grabbing hold of GAU 19 Gatling .50 caliber machine guns located on both sides of the helicopter behind the cockpit.

  The gunner ahead of me saw something my untrained eyes did not and swung the gun 45 degrees back and down and then squeezed the trigger. The barrels of the gun spun into action, unleashing a loud jolting buzz that sent 200 bullets to the earth below in a short 10-second burst. The vegetation and trees below erupted into splinters and chunks of dirt.

  We started to take fire from below. Our cabin exploded with bullets terrorizing the interior roof. We all tucked our heads in hopes to be spared. Without thinking, I had pushed myself over Arya’s back and caught a glimpse of Holliday doing the same to Lauren.

  The loud buzz of the .50 caliber Gatling guns were at work again. A long burst of buzzing could be heard coming from both the left and right gunner. Every time the ripping sound of the guns stopped, the tinkling of spent shells hitting the deck could be heard, and oddly merry sound amongst the chaos unleashed by the Gatlin guns. The pilot was busy with evasive maneuvering as well as trying to give the gunners a chance to cut down the attackers.

  I looked around and saw Agent Salazar pointing to the trees and talking into his headset.

  A succession of explosions came from the first Blackhawk and I could see that the helicopter was struggling, coughing dark clouds of smoke as it went into a slow circular descent. The gunners on the plummeting aircraft never let up on their barrage of bullets into the tree line.

  The lead helicopter seemed to be taking the brunt of the attack as bullets tore at the slowing machine. Fire now erupted from their main rotor and control system and the Blackhawk immediately lost its ability to create the needed lift force that kept it in the air. The spin became tighter and faster and seconds later it crashed into the jungle, carving a hole in the forest canopy where it entered.

  I was sure an explosion would follow, but only leaves, dust, and a few dozen birds scattering from the surrounding trees where the helicopter enter.

  I could feel our Blackhawk descending rapidly. All I could think was, oh shit we are crashing too! I looked between my feet and Arya’s and found Andy tucked under our seats. Smart dog.

  “Hey!” Salazar was yelling at us. “We are going in there to get those guys. Be ready!” He yelled as he pointed in the direction the Blackhawk crashed.

  “Be ready?” Arya yelled back.

  The commando from the right gun grabbed Holliday by the Kevlar shoulder strap and pulled him into position to man the side door gun. The soldier pointed to a few things and patted Holliday on the back as if he been successful trained for this gun.

  Seconds later, our helicopter skipped forward across a grassy field between the Magdalena River and the tree line close to where our lead helicopter went down.

  Being on the ground seemed to be buying us some time from the assault. The rebels must have been a few hundred yards back in the jungle, which gave us temporary cover as they advanced on us. We had an exceedingly small window.

  As soon as the Blackhawk stopped, the commando was first off and directing us to follow him into the jungle. He was in full military gear and brandished a Galil rifle, which was the Israeli made better version of the Soviet AK-47 automatic rifle.

  We were wearing jeans and carrying only our sidearms, feeling very under armed for an adventure in the jungle. Nevertheless, we followed the commando into the tree line. Based on what I saw of the crash, we had a good hike ahead of us. I estimated a 300-yard sprint in and we had to possibly carry out the injured with bad guys possibly shooting at us.

  We pressed forward through the light jungle. Leading the way was the Colombian commando, followed by DEA agent Salazar, Arya, Lauren, and myself. At first, the running was easy, but the trek became more difficult as trees were growing closer together, roots were above ground. Depending on the tree, the roots could be several feet tall. The run became a jogging obstacle course of root systems and foliage.

  We could smell the Blackhawk wreckage before we could see it.

  “We are close. They should be right up here,” Salazar was telling us before being cut off by the sound of gunfire up ahead. It sounded like rifles and submachine guns at first.

  We were heading towards the gunfire until the unmistaken sound of a .50 caliber Gatling gun was unleashed from our left. The noise and path of its destruction stopped us in our tracks. We were heading towards the guerillas, but now course-corrected our advancement to the position of the .50 caliber.

  The commando was talking into his radio to advise our presence and position as he took us into the area where the Blackhawk grounded. The scene was not good. It appeared the helicopter tail connected with a massive 75-foot Kapok tree which separated the tail rotor system from its fuselage and airframe which in turn fell hard and fast ending up on its side.

  We could only see three of the commandos positioned and holding off advancing rebels. As we arrived at the wreckage, it was evident the two pilots had given their lives doing their best to manage the crash. There were two deceased commandos 20 meters from the crash, likely falling from the helicopter when the Blackhawk struck the Kapok 50 feet above us.

  One main rotor blade was missing, and the others were bent, broken, or dug in deep in the earth, slightly propping up the cabin.

  One commando was standing on the backrest of the seat as he operated the .50 call in a sporadic short burst to conserve on ammo.

  I could not see what he was aiming at until muzzle flashes came from the jungle a hundred yards to my right and hot metal rattled against the Kevlar panels of the cockpit’s underbelly next to Arya, Lauren, and Salazar. That got our attention, and we quickly circled to the backside of the wreckage to take cover.

  Agent Abbasi was there, pulling a commando out from the cabin. Another soldier crawled out after, turned, and pulled Agent Redford from the wreckage.

  Her face was covered in blood from a laceration on her forehead near her hairline. It looked bad, but she seemed fairly steady on her feet. Head wounds often looked worse than they actually were, but there was no doubt that if she survived, a legendary headache would ensue at some point. At the moment, it made her look like a gladiator.

  The gunner on the Gatling gun turned and jumped down to join them all. It took a second to realize that when he joined us, that was our cue to get the hell out of Dodge.

  No one was laying down cover fire from our end anymore, but we could hear plenty of bullets from advancing rebels tearing into the Blackhawk’s belly.

  “Vamanos!” The gunner yelled as he took two hand grenades off his vest, pulled the pins, and tossed one in the helicopter and one well over the wreckage.

  “Shit!” screamed Lauren as she bolted into formation behind the commandos, who were already running away. We all hightailed it as fast as we could. As we ran, an explosion went off, followed by a second, and then an enormous one that wobbled my legs as I ran. That had to have been the external fuel tank of the helicopter erupting behind us. It was a nice distraction, and it bought us some time to distance ourselves from the rebels.

  I did not realize how fast I was running until I caught up to a commando carrying one of their fallen. I stopped him for a second to transfer the soldier onto my shoulder, Agent Abbasi took note and did the same with another commando. We were better off carrying the casualties and letting the soldiers protect our rear with their automatic weapons.

  The soldier from our helicopter, Lauren and Arya helped guide us through th
e jungle, doing their best to avoid obstacles to step over. If we ran into trouble, they would be our first line of defense giving us a few seconds to prepare for returning fire on the move.

  It was troubling me that we only had 2 of the casualties. The two pilots that died in the wreck were left behind.

  “THWIT, THWIT, THWIT”. Bullets flew over my shoulder and chunks of the tree next to me erupted with splintered fragments. I blocked out thoughts of the dead and refocused on the living. My legs and lungs were burning now, but I could see the edge of the jungle up ahead.

  Arya and Lauren broke through the tree line and headed toward the Blackhawk we had arrived on moments ago. Agent Abbasi and I were struggling now, and our knees were buckling under the weight of the injured. Agent Salazar came out of nowhere and took the weight from my shoulder and gave me hope of making the trek across the field to the Blackhawk. A trailing commando did the same for Agent Abbasi seconds later, leaving a pair of commandos behind us to lay down suppressing fire while we struggled across the field.

  When we reached the Blackhawk, the ground was littered with water canteens, Kevlar vests, an ammo drum, a few rucksacks, and miscellaneous items like our luggage. What the hell?

  Arya and Lauren helped us put the two casualties in on the floor, stacked respectively on each other to conserve room. Andy was still under the seat watching cautiously.

  “The pilot told us to get rid of all nonessential weight if we want to lift off!” Arya yelled over the sound of the main rotor system spinning the blades above us. She was already taking the vest off the soldiers and tossing them to the ground.

  The trailing commandos were already arriving at the helicopter now and Holliday was no longer on the .50 caliber Gatling gun. As soon as the soldier sat in the seat, he squeezed the trigger and never let up. Every tenth bullet had incendiary material in its base that was ignited when fired, creating a tracer effect. With 20 rounds per second being unleashed, the tracers created a laser-like effect from the gun to the tree line making it quite easy for the gunner to know where the bullets were hitting.

  We were at maximum capacity for the aircraft and take-off was slow and cautious to ensure the weight was taken. The soldier on the Gatling gun put 2,000 rounds of bullets into the tree line where the rebel soldiers were trying to emerge. The relentless barrage of bullets from the Blackhawk was not enough to keep the advancing rebels back. We would be critically exposed during takeoff.

  Fifty rebel fighters emerged to fire upon us, but instantly ten of them violently twisted as they fell, lifeless to the ground.

  Our pilot had called in for support earlier. Thankfully, a few miles upriver, two 36-foot ARC Naval River Vessels were patrolling. They had just pulled up to the riverbank near the clearing and released hell on the rebels with the boat's heavy machine guns and cannons.

  We didn’t stick around to see the carnage below, but did see the rebels retreating quickly as we got on our way. The pilot kept close to the treetops for coverage versus the exposed river basin route we were on earlier.

  I could feel my heart pounding and sweat running down my forehead and face. Lauren patted my knee to get my attention. I read her lips as she asked if I was okay. I nodded and looked out over the treetops.

  There was no avoiding it now. I was feeling sick to my stomach and was practicing some breathing methods as I closed my eyes and focused on the air rushing in as we traveled at 120 knots over the jungle.

  Something was wrong. I did not feel right. My back was in pain and I could not shake the uneasy stomach.

  With my eyes still closed my hand search around Arya’s lap until my hand founds hers. I could feel her squeezing my hand for comfort. Then she abruptly tore her hand from mine.

  I opened my eyes and saw a look of distress on Arya’s face as she slightly cradled her hand. Thankfully, her hand did not look burned or mauled. I tried to stay in the moment, but my stomach decided to release its contents. I barely had enough time to turn my head and lean out the helicopter facing the tail when I vomited a stream of black and dark red liquid.

  I instantly felt better. This feeling became awfully familiar to me. Either I just healed myself from being unknowingly shot or I just healed someone else that was seriously injured.

  Holy Shit! The dead soldiers from the 50-foot fall were leaning up against my calf.

  I swung around and looked down between my legs. I saw a pair of combat boots from one soldier and the head of the other. Sure enough, the soldier's head was leaning against my calf. His face was covered in dirt and blood and his eyes were closed. He had no pulse and was dead when we found him. He was still dead.

  Arya leaned over to see what I was so concerned about and just then the soldier’s eyes snapped open, staring widely at me.

  The soldier and I just watched each other for about 5 seconds in disbelief. Then the gawking was abruptly interrupted with him screaming at me. He was struggling to move as the other soldier was placed on top of him and there was no floor space to maneuver.

  Andy was inches from the man in distress. All the yelling made Andy bark and growl at the poor guy.

  Everyone’s attention was now on the area at my feet and we started to move like awkward puzzle pieces to uncover the soldier. It was evident he was in a great deal of pain. His arm was badly broken and still out of his shoulder socket.

  There was no way I was doing anything for that wound in this company. He would have to endure the pain another hour until we arrived in Cartagena. I must have healed something serious like a broken back and maybe, just maybe I brought him back from the dead. I didn’t know, as this was some freaky shit.

  This was the same soldier I carried back to the helicopter. This is crazy. It had to be said out loud.

  “This is crazy,” I said into Arya’s ear.

  “Maybe he was still alive, right?” she replied.

  “I don’t think so. Maybe though,” I said as I looked back at the soldier.

  He was grimacing in pain and staring at me. He said something to the commando stabilizing his arm and shoulder in a sling and chest bandage.

  “What did he say? ¿Que dijo el?” I shouted.

  “He say keep you away,” the commando shouted back in broken but pretty good English.

  “Gladly. A simple thank you would have sufficed though,” I said to myself out loud. Perhaps Arya heard, but she did not react.

  The mood in the helicopter was a mixture of slight melancholy and fatigue from the absence of the adrenaline high from earlier.

  Lauren reached over to hand me a small cloth and motioned to wipe my mouth and cheek. She wrinkled her nose like a mouse and slightly shrugged. I wiped off the black stuff and shook my head in disbelief. I thought to myself, the strangest shit happens to me.

  The pilot had called in the location of the crash for the Army to come out with more resources to collect the remaining casualties. There would likely be an effort to pursue the attackers and seek justice.

  We weren’t out of danger yet, as the next 40 minutes had us over mixed rebel areas. Everyone was tense, stomachs clinched as if waiting for the next assault. Damn. I imagined what it would feel like to have to deal with these elements at home and feel this way when flying over dense or remote forests in the U.S.

  This area was well known for growers and farmers, too far from cities or towns to have any quality roads built, let alone get reliable electricity and water. This was one of the reasons farmers stopped legal agriculture, as it was too difficult to take it to market. The rebels paid more to the farmers to grow Coca plants and unlike seasonable crops, the coca plant leaves can be harvested 6 times a year. This was so much more profitable to the farmers.

  I couldn’t help but think that if funds were allocated by the government to improve roads and basic human necessities, the farmers would stay legit. This would reduce the coca production by 60% forcing rebels to rely only on their rebel growers. Then, maybe product lost in seizures, raids, Army crop burning, shipments lost at sea or swiped
by rivals would all be deeply felt. Something had to change if Colombia wanted lasting progress.

  All of this is way above my pay grade, but maybe the support should go to roads, electricity, water, and a free-market system for the legitimate products to be sold. This was too frustrating to think about. I had to clear my head and remind myself why we were here. Stay focused Lou.

  Stay focused? I’m crawling in my skin right now, not able to talk about possibly bringing someone back from the dead. I stopped thinking of me for a second and tugged at Arya’s sleeve and pointed to her hand. She leaned over and spoke in my ear.

  “It’s nothing. There was a jolt that surprised me,” Arya said to me.

  “Like electricity?” I asked.

  “No. Like healing energy pulling me into you versus you sending energy to me. It surprised me. You did not hurt me, Lou,” Arya said to reassure me, then rubbed my back for a few seconds.

  She knew these healing acts drained me and we were not in a position for me to be dealing with unexpected recovery time. Even though it was cloudy, I exposed as much of my arm as possible to the UVA light coming through.

  Some flight time passed, and the jungle started to break up under us, turning the landscape into lakes and marsh. It was hard to tell where the Magdalena River was at times running through it all.

  Even though we headed northwest out of the Andes Mountains and towards the coast, rolling hills slid back into view again with patches of forest. Before long, farmland and a few houses started to appear, followed by a school with kids playing soccer at recess. The Blackhawk slowed down as it entered the rural area of Cartagena, and soon after we found our way to the naval base.

  Cartagena had one of many Colombian naval bases. On our approach to the landing pad, I could see a few docked river patrol boats like the ones that saved our hides.

  Near the riverboats were other larger vessels on display in the port: a 265-foot OPV-80 class patrol vessel with a 40 mm anti-aircraft gun and two 12.7 mm heavy machine guns, a 400-foot frigate-class warship, and further back was a 350-foot corvette-class warship. Both warships were armed with medium and small-caliber guns, plus surface-to-surface and surface-to-air missiles.