Apocalypse Unleashed (28 page)

Kosheib leaned over the backseat and threw a thick forefinger toward the sky. The man was Sudanese but claimed Nubian blood. His black skin bore that out. Like Allen, he was big and tall, dressed in a sleeveless khaki shirt that showed the tribal tattoos that ran up his arms. If caught in Sudan or Chad, those tattoos alone would have identified him and gotten him executed.

“There,” Kosheib rumbled. “They are there.” His language held a British inflection, but it remained guttural.

Allen saw the helos then. He watched the GPS screen. “Drive under them. Let’s see if we can identify the ping.”

Weaver did as ordered.

“Owens,” Allen called over the radio.

“Yeah.” Owens was the second-in-command of the expedition. He rode in the second Land Rover.

“I read it as the fourth helicopter back.” Allen made a circular motion with his forefinger, signaling Weaver to turn around.

“Agreed.” Owens had spent half his life in one jail or another. The only way he’d maintained his freedom was by staying out of the United States and killing everyone who came after him.

Weaver brought the Land Rover around in a tight circle that threw up a large dust cloud. Then they were headed back in pursuit of the helicopters. Even the SUV’s special suspension was hard-pressed to keep the ride level as Allen pushed the door open and took aim with the RPG-7.

“When I touch this off,” Allen warned, “they’re going to know we don’t have friendly intentions. Take evasive action and let’s find somewhere to hide, then pick up the pieces.”

The “pieces” should be the man they’d been hired by Alexander Cody to kill.

A sudden curse came from the backseat. “The Syrians just launched a SCUD offensive against Sanliurfa.”

“Cody’s price tag on this piece of work just went up.” Allen straddled the open door and held the RPG-7 as steady as he could. Getting caught in a cross fire between the United States and the Syrian armies hadn’t been part of the deal. The CIA section chief didn’t have control over that, but he wasn’t getting a freebie either. Risk cost.

When he was certain he had target acquisition, Allen squeezed the trigger. The 40mm grenade ignited and whooshed away from the launcher. Allen automatically reached back inside for another grenade, and Collins slapped one into his hand.

The grenade sliced through the air and detonated against the ESSS on the helo’s side. The Black Hawk heeled over and lost altitude for a moment. Three figures tumbled free of the cargo area.

Allen tried to ready another shot, but a SCUD hit the ground nearby, and the concussive wave knocked him back into the Land Rover. The blast caught the SUV off-balance, and the vehicle flew onto its side. For a moment, everything turned crazy.

The Land Rover skidded on its side through rocks and underbrush. The windshield shattered and fell into the vehicle. The sounds of the crash drowned out all other noise.

Black Angels Squadron
Turkish Air Space
Sanliurfa Province, Turkey
Local Time 0813 Hours

An explosion sounded just outside the cargo door hatch, temporarily deafening Danielle as she worked on an interview with one of the Black Hawk crewmen. The live feed had ended, but she wanted more material that she could edit for human interest stories later.

The helicopter viciously swung sideways. Danielle instinctively went down and grabbed Robert Johnson’s litter. It had been secured to the deck.

“What was that?” someone yelled.

“Somebody’s shooting at us from below.”

Danielle’s first thought was that some of the Bedouin spies who had sabotaged Harran’s communications link had set up an intercept point. Then she thought maybe a Syrian jet had crept up on them despite the heat-seeking missiles the Black Hawk helicopters carried.

“Where’s Goose?” someone yelled.

Danielle’s head swiveled toward the other cargo door. The last time she’d seen Goose, he’d been standing there talking to another soldier.

He wasn’t there now.

“He fell out!” someone yelled. “When the helo tilted, he and two other guys fell!”

Not believing what she was hearing, Danielle shoved through the crowd of Rangers and made her way to the cargo door. She peered down, but she didn’t see any sign of Goose. Too many trees and brush covered the ground, and they’d kept moving.

“We’ve got to go back,” Danielle said.

“Can’t,” one of the soldiers said. “Just heard from Base. The Syrians have launched SCUDs and are on their way here. We’re going to be lucky to make it ourselves.”

Danielle gazed at the ground below. “How high are we?”

“Forty, fifty feet.”

She thought about all the news stories she’d read and covered. “You can survive a fall that high. People have done it.”

No one said anything, but she got the feeling no one believed her either. She stared at the trees below, then—for the first time— saw the crater left by a SCUD that had fallen short. They were still twenty or so miles from Sanliurfa. They were going to be lucky to make it.

Local Time 0813 Hours

Goose didn’t register what had happened until his fingers were torn from the doorframe and he was in a free fall. He toppled backward from the cargo door and saw flames clinging to the helo’s skin.

Somebody shot us.
That crossed his mind just before he realized two other people were in the air with him. Icarus didn’t fly any better than his namesake, and David Miller screamed in terror, except that the wind and the noise of the helos washed it away.

Vaguely Goose remembered that Miller had staggered into him and Icarus when the explosion happened outside the helo. Goose had tried to maintain his hold on the doorframe, but he’d been precariously balanced after the blast and hadn’t been able to. Icarus had been caught in the same situation.

Turn over. Get your feet down. Forty feet. You can tuck and roll out of that.

He managed to turn over and slide his assault rifle off his shoulder so he held it by the strap in one hand. The ground came up fast.

Trees seemed to be everywhere. He hoped Miller and Icarus missed them.

Then branches whipped into his face and eyes as he plummeted.

He hit the ground and threw himself to one side, remembering all the horror stories of men who’d landed from a high jump and had their legs pushed up into their hipbones. The air rushed out of him, and he saw the tree beside his head too late to avoid it.

His forehead slammed into the tree, and everything went black.

29

United States of America
Columbus, Georgia
St. Francis Hospital Visitors’ Area
Local Time 0114 Hours

Joey’s heart hammered as he stood at the door and stared at Jenny McGrath sleeping in one of the chairs against the back wall. The room was quiet except for the low rumble of late-night television reruns. Muted lighting barely revealed the other people sitting around the room.

Jenny slept under a Windbreaker and looked like a kid. That reminded Joey of the way his little brother, Chris, would curl up and drowse whenever he was tired. Thinking about Chris hurt. There was something about having a little brother that had made him feel invincible, like not everything was all about him.

But that was gone now. So much was gone.

He hadn’t intended to end up at the hospital. It had just happened. He’d started riding his bike at seven o’clock, trying not to think about the rec hall at eight and Bones and Zero looking for him. But after finding his mom at the hospital and seeing Goose on TV, it seemed as if all Joey’s problems were crashing in on him at once.

He hadn’t gone home, just kept riding, and now here he was.

He’d known Jenny was at the hospital with her dad, and he hadn’t exactly
meant
to track her down, but somehow his bike had just sort of found its way here. And now he found he really wanted to talk to her. Goose was over in Turkey, right in the middle of the fighting, already dead for all Joey knew. His mom was focused on that and on all the kids in their house. And then there was the problem of Bones and Zero and the rest, out to kill him. That wasn’t going to go away. Joey had seen enough true crime shows and detective movies to know that. He was a witness. If he had an attack of conscience, he’d name them all.

They’d never understand that all he wanted was to go free.

If there were just some way to keep the nightmares of the shopkeeper’s death out of his head, Joey thought everything would be okay. It was an accident. That was all. Just a bad accident.

Only he knew it wasn’t. He could fool himself for a little while, but that didn’t last long.

Suddenly he felt eyes on him. When he glanced at Jenny, he saw that she was staring at him.

“Joey.”

He didn’t hear her. He watched his name form on her lips. He knew he should walk over to her, but he couldn’t invade that room with his problems. Those people were in there trying to rest, trying to stay strong enough to support someone they cared about who was going through something threatening.

You don’t belong here,
he told himself.
You need to go.
He tried to leave. He honestly did. He willed everything inside him to leave.

Instead, Jenny got up from the chair and walked over to him.

“Are you okay?” she asked in a quiet voice. She pulled her hair from the corner of her mouth and studied him.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

“What are you doing here?”

Joey shrugged and hated the reflex action immediately. Shrugging was dumb and immature. But he hadn’t learned what else he was supposed to do.

“Is your mom all right?”

“She’s fine.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I was in the neighborhood, that’s all.”

Jenny glanced at the clock on the wall. “In the neighborhood. At one in the morning?”

The way she said it, her words sounded like an accusation.

“Look,” Joey said, “if this is a bad time—”

“It’s not a bad time.”

“Good. That’s good.” He stared at her, remembering how cute she’d looked out on the dance floor the night of all the weirdness.

“That’s really good.”

She waited.

“So how’s your dad?” he asked.

“The same. Nothing’s changed.”

“He’s gonna be okay,” Joey said automatically.

“How do you know?”

Joey shrugged again before he could stop himself. “I just do.” He was afraid Jenny was going to be mad at him.

“Then you know more than the doctors,” she said.

“Doctors don’t know everything.”

Jenny looked into his eyes. “You want to talk?”

“I don’t know. You feel like talking?”

“Sure.”

“That’s good.” Joey nodded in relief. He didn’t know what he would have done if she’d said no.

“But we can’t talk here,” Jenny said. “People are trying to sleep.”

“Yeah. I see. Want to grab a coffee somewhere?”

“Cafeteria’s closed.”

“We could go out.”