Extinction Level Event (36 page)

McCarthy flips open his cellphone and starts punching
numbers furiously. Manjak, realizing that he doesn't have the
networks or contacts here to be of any help here, clings back while
McCarthy calls over all of the top brass in the City Hall. Within
two minutes the FEMA district administrator, the LAPD Commissioner
and the SWAT Colonel present in the City Hall are gathered for an
informal meeting. "We have a convoy ambushed in Compton. And we may
have a hostage situation", declared McCarthy to the other three.
"Hostage situation? Are you sure?", asks Tony Ramirez, the Police
Commissioner. "What happened to the cameras on the convoy trucks?"
"They're out", replies Ellis from FEMA. Ramirez looks at the SWAT
leader and McCarthy, "I could get a helicopter there in five
minutes", he replies as he gives a nod to one of two junior
lieutenants at his side. "We'll need to mobilize rapidly then.
Special Ops units, sniper units, everything", adds the SWAT
Colonel, "I'll get my teams moving. And confirm that the convoy
people are hostages and not already KIA. I need to know what my
people have to deal with".

McCarthy adds, "We need to move now." But by the time
he sentence had been uttered the SWAT commander had already gone
past the door with a "Call me on my line if you need me" goodbye.
Ramirez was talking on his phone to his field officers. Turning to
McCarthy, Ellis said, "Can they get my people back?" "I certainly
hope so." McCarthy said. At this point, Manjak was thinking what to
do. He turned to McCarthy and Ellis, stating, "I've had these
situations before. Maybe there is some way I can diffuse it,
without using force. We have militias that try to take control of
food relief convoys all the time, especially in warzones. I should
go, see if there's anything I can do." "Do?", laughs McCarthy,
"This isn't a warzone. Its a petty gang.We have plenty of them
here" "I honestly don't see that much of a difference. What, with
the amount of police you have in the streets do you have any
checking the borders at this rate? There is no shortage of illegal
smuggling during these past six months", answers Manjak. "Well, if
you're so interested in going, talk to Ramirez" retorts McCarthy
sharply. "I'm warning you not to, though. The last thing you need
is to end up like LaJoy." "I absolutely am not going to end up like
LaJoy. I know what I'm doing Mike". "Fine.", grunts McCarthy
frustrated, "ask Ramirez for a lift".

Fortunately for Trip, Ramirez catches the
conversation while looking up from his phone. "Hey, UN guy. If
you're up for a quick ride, I'm heading in the air command post".
Manjak glances at McCarthy before turning into step with Ramirez
and a police lieutenant. Walking quickly, Ramirez leads the way to
the elevator which takes them to the ground level. Heading out at a
fast clip, Ramirez walks past three dozen police officers to a
large helicopter waiting outside City Hall in what used to be a
park. Cleared of benches and trees to make space for a landing pad,
the space is now occupied by a Black Sikorsky S-76. Going through
the wind created by the blades relentless spinning, Ramirez enters
the aircraft with Manjak right alongside him. Manjak climbs into
the aircraft and the ground officer closes the door besides him. A
thunder of additional power is added to the engine as the aircraft
slowly lifts into the sky.

Inside the helicopter Ramirez talks with his ground
personnel over radio airwaves, while a Sergeant and a captain
coordinate police through video and computer interfaces. Manjak
stays in the back seat, observing the white angular tower of City
Hall fall from under his feet as the helicopter ascends to a
cruising altitude 200 meters above the ground. The grey and red
concrete slabs of jungle that make up Los Angeles' downtown slowly
peel back to smaller and more down-trodden three-story housing and
retail settlements as the helicopter ventures southward. From the
rear seat Manjak looks down to see a line of five police cruisers
racing down an avenue parallel to the helicopter. Looking up from
the ground he spots a formation of four additional police
helicopters flying in formation with the pearly peaks of the Sierra
Nevada mountains as a backdrop.
If only I had a camera- nice
picture.
Manjak brushes the thought away as Ramirez leans back
informing him, "Hey, we should be arriving at the scene in two
minutes". Manjak hears the scattered police reports buzzing in on
the intercom frequency, and suddenly realizes that it is a warzone.
In so many years of travel to underdeveloped and unstable nations,
Manjak had come to expect and always be ready for action and quick
getaways at a moments' notice. Now, he realized he was flying into
battle in America's second largest city. It was time to hang
on.

When the chatter of gunfire is heard through glass
inside a helicopter with its blades at full power, it doesn't take
a rocket scientist to realize that it is a powerful weapon at work.
And close. And deadly. The familiar and terrifying traaat-traat of
fully automatic weapon fire is unmistakable to anyone who has
watched action movies, or for that matter, anyone that has any live
experience with them. "Team 1 is under fire, they're requesting
back-up!", calls out the Sergeant to Ramirez. "Order Teams 2,3, and
4 to cover them!" The helicopter makes a sharp right turn, banking
over a neighborhood of convenience stores, small retail outfits,
and similar row-houses. Traffic has entirely ceased on East Alondra
drive, as police cruisers have blocked over a mile in radius around
the last reported zone of Convoy 6A. As one of the other police
helicopters flies in a hundred meters off the port side, Manjak
notices a black-clad sniper take position in the aircrafts' open
side door.

"Eagle's Eye. . .taking position overhead" comes
across the radio. The portside helicopter climbs higher, while
Manjak shudders in his seat as more power is applied by the pilot.
"What's going on down there? Lieutenant, fall back to back up
positions now!", yells Ramirez over the radio to his officer, his
voice barely audible over the low roar of the helicopters' spinning
blades.

Manjak observes a swarm of police officers run
quickly behind a building. He quickly counts seven of them as
another burst of gunfire erupts. The last officer falls to the
ground in the middle of the street. His comrade in front of him
notices him fall, and runs back to get him, throwing all caution to
the wind. In seconds he falls down hard as well, a pool of blood
gathering by his head on the ground. The remaining five officers,
hiding behind the compound, open fire with their service pistols.
Shots ring out,
clanging
loudly against metal, cars, and
concrete as they spray wildly.

This is crazy
; thinks Manjak to himself. Just
then the concrete barrier in front of the cops explodes in a shower
of heavy automatic fire- and the solid concrete is pulverized in
front of Manjak's eyes. The officers dive behind several old wooden
slabs left over from construction. Manjak looks up, to see the
sniper on the adjacent helicopter squeeze the trigger. He squeezes
again, pauses for a second; squeezes it again.
Jesus. This is a
full-scale war
. The helicopter shudders violently as the pilot
banks sharply to the left. On the urban grid of streets below,
Manjak sees a group of over thirty police dug in between their
cruisers, buildings, and other obstacles, exchanging small arms
fire with unseen attackers presumably hidden throughout the
neighborhood. several hundred feet in front of the dug in police
cadre lie the trucks of convoy 6A. Manjak counts three trucks.
What? three, there were four in the convoy!?
Where's the
fourth truck?

The scene is grisly. The first truck is on fire,
blocked from any possible means of escape by the trucks behind and
a large vans blocking it in front. Three bloodied bodies are strewn
around the trucks in various twisted unnatural positions, two of
them with FEMA uniforms. No police are near the trucks, but as
Manjak observes the scene from the air two men race to the third
and last truck, opening the doors. They drag a seemingly
unconscious or possibly dead driver out, before piling into the
vehicle. They start the engine, and start backing away quickly.
They're taking our trucks!
"Hey, Ramirez, they're taking our
trucks! They're taking the food aid!", shouts Manjak. Ramirez
noticed that already. "Team 3, take the truck out. The truck is
being taken!" The helicopter swerves around, Manjak sees men in ski
masks and bandanas behind barriers and cars on the ground turn fire
at their helicopter. "Sir, we're taking fire", reports the pilot.
"Get us back!", shouts back Ramirez. "Enemy snipers!", exclaims the
Sergeant. "They've got snipers on the ground!" "Take them out!
SWAT! Where is SWAT?"

The escorting gunship comes around as the onboard
SWAT sniper takes aim at the attackers below. Suddenly an object
impacts his chest, and he falls dead 200 feet to the ground out of
the helicopter. "We have a sniper down!"yells the radio in shock
"Who the fuck cares, we're still taking fire!", replies Ramirez.
Bullets ping off the helicopter's port side as numerous small arms
and automatic rifles are aimed at the flying cruiser. The aircraft
picks up speed as the pilot flies banks right and flies away from
the mass of ground based attackers. "Sir, they've got heavy machine
guns!", yells the sergeant over the din. "What the shit!? How?",
shouts Ramirez. The helicopter lurches forward as a small air
bubble is formed behind in its wake. Manjak grabs a hold of his
seat belt and holds on for safety as the pilot navigates them out
of the battle zone.

Klang!
Suddenly the front window of the
helicopter breaks apart in a terrifying explosion, sending glass
fragments scattering themselves at terrific speeds across the
cockpit. A violent hailstorm of bullets ricochets over the
aircrafts interior, destroying electronics, metal, wall covering,
and leather seating. The Sergeant in front is hit three times to
the face and central body cavity, showering the area in blood and
human flesh. The pilot ducks down under the shattered cockpit,
screaming in pain, "I'm hit!" Seeing him move down away from the
controls, Manjak yells, "Shit! Don't let go of the controls!" The
chopper goes into a wild swirl. "I've already lost control, what
the fuck do you think!", yells the man. "Fuck, we're going down!"
The aircraft starts to enter a nauseating headspin as Manjak clings
to his seat for dear life.
oh Shit
.
We're going
down.

More small arms fire ricochets off the slowly falling
aircraft, prompting Manjak to keep his head low and away from the
windows. The spin is uncontrollable. The feeling in Manjak's gut
turns into an unbearable gravity well of decaying lead as the
ground moves ever closer to the window. "I'm trying to get back
control!",shouts the pilot as he wrestles violently with the
control stick. "Come on baby, here we go!" He wrenches the stick
back, pulling the vehicle's nose up slightly, "more power, baby,
more power!". Even with one arm injured and his left shoulder
covered in blood, the pilot manages to get the helicopter to level
out horizontally. "Land land land!!", shouts Ramirez "I'm trying
sir!" The aircraft lurches forward and then starts going on a
straight path. The ground seems within an arms' length away from
through Manjak's window, and approaching rapidly. Ramirez curls
himself up into a crash posture. "Brace for impact!" Manjak closes
his eyes.

The aircraft hits the ground tail first with a
massive
thud
causing a an equally massive sonic shock that
deafens all aboard for a second. Then windows cracks, electronic
equipment flies around like paper airplanes. The sides groan in
punishment and cave in slightly due to the enormous pressure
exerted upon the steel by the impact. Manjak is throw wildly left
and right, impacting his shoulders and head on the hard metal
panel. Ramirez is throw sideways, headbutting Manjak's abdomen in a
bone-crunching blow. Then the seeming quake stops, leaving pieces
of paper in the air, strewn wires, radio equipment, and broken
glass all over Manjak, Ramirez, and the pilot in the front seat.
Manjak's first though comes out as relief for still being alive.
We are still in one piece. Get up Manjak
.

Unstrapping himself from the seatbelt that barely
held him together, he shakes Ramirez's shoulder to bring the man
back into reality. Ramirez's eyes open immediately from the quick
rock. "What?! We dead, we up?", he shouts before getting a grip and
looking around. "We're down on the ground! Quick, we have to move
out of here. We're surrounded by the bandits". Completely agreeing
with the sentiment, Manjak turns in his seat and kicks open the
jammed door. The door flies open after the second attempt. Manjak
jumps of the chopper as Ramirez follows. The pilot crawls through
the fuselage and several seconds later comes out of the same
exit.

The area is a down-trodden alley of ill-maintained
two story homes, retailing strip malls and several other
nondescript buildings. Gunfire erupts nearby. "Stay low, move
fast", whispers Ramirez, ducking down. "I'll lead". He grabs the
radio in his breastpocket and turns it on. "Ramirez here, we're
down in Block D. Over. Need backup." Over the radio the receiver
picks up, "Sir. We have units converging on your position."
"Roger." To Manjak: "Stay low, follow me. No hero stunts, no rash
action". Ramirez pulls out his service pistol out of its holster
and walks in a slightly crouched position amongst the debris.
Manjak trails him closely crouched as well, followed by the
pilot.

All of a sudden two men in military khakis and chains
race up the perpendicular street a 50 meters in front of the trio.
Both sport kalashnikovs in their arms. One notices the trio,
yelling to his companion. Ramirez runs forward, shoots off three
shots from his pistol, and throws himself behind a large dumpster.
The first gangster falls to the pavement, while the second lets go
a shower of lead upon the alleyway where the helicopter's entourage
are, now trapping them. Manjak hears the air next to his head
sizzle as rounds electrify the atmosphere less than ten centimeters
from his brain. He turns to a huge pile of wood and jumps towards
it. As he crashes down, however, an unexpected and overwhelming
pain wells up in his lower abdomen. He slams into the wood pile
with his hands, receiving cuts and bruises all along his right arm.
Then he looks down at his abdomen, to see a large dark red stain
spreading across his stomach area.
Oh damn.
Intense pain
clouds his judgement and consciousness as an unrelenting darkness
settles upon his vision. "Manjak!", he hears Ramirez call out. The
sound of the commissioner's voice seems very far off.