The Lazarus Moment (23 page)

He spun
back out, most of his body covered as he searched for targets. Only a few were
out in the open now, most hiding behind trees, but enough hiding on the wrong
side.

He took
a shot, one dropping, then another. Wings was squeezing off rounds to his left,
Red ignoring his arc, concentrating on his own and making sure no one tried to
escape the battle by moving forward.

That
didn’t seem to be a problem.

The
fifteen or so that remained seemed content to hide, though with accurate fire
hitting them from either side, they were beginning to panic, their backs
pressed up against tree trunks as they cowered from one side to the other, not
sure what to do.

One broke,
sprinting from his position, retreating rather than advancing.

Wings
took him out.

Another
broke, then another and Red adjusted his position as their arcs changed, the
entire force now falling back.

“Take
them all out.”

He
didn’t want to have to deal with them again in ten minutes, no matter how few,
but with the angle of attack worsening, over half a dozen managed to make it.

He
lifted his weapon, rising as the MP5s became silent.

“Regroup,”
he signaled, taking a direct line for the crash site then narrowing the gap
with the others, enough distance that a stray shot shouldn’t make it through
the trees. He paused for a moment as all four listened for any signs of
pursuit.

Nothing.

“That
should hold them for a while.”

Red
looked at Jimmy. “You get hit again?”

Jimmy
grinned. “All my original holes, no more.”

“Good.
Let’s hope they’ve learned their lesson.” He activated his comm. “Control,
Bravo Zero-Two, come in, over.”

“This is
Control Actual, go ahead Zero-Two.”

“Sir,
enemy is bugging out. Keep an eye in the sky on them for us, but I estimate
their numbers to be less than ten, over.”

“Confirmed,
Zero-Two, UAV over your area shows eight heat signatures retreating, joining
two others who held back.”

“Probably
their commanders.”

“Agreed.
The second contingent has landed and are already disembarking. They’ve got a
good climb ahead of them, but then it’s a clear shot to the survivors.”

“Roger
that, sir. We’re heading now to intercept them.”

“You’re
outnumbered fifty to one.”

“That
sounds almost fair.”

There was
a pause as the Colonel either laughed or growled. He’d never know which.
“Negative, Zero-Two. Make for the survivors. Four more guns might make the
difference, over.”

“Roger
that, Control Actual. Zero-Two, out.”

He
looked at the others, a frown on his face.

“You
heard the Colonel. Let’s get a move on.”

South of Air Force One Crash Site, Mozambique

“Stand clear!”

Dawson
looked to make sure everyone was well clear of the chopper thundering overhead,
unseen. The sun was low on the horizon now, the jungle floor dark, all
flashlights stuck in the ground, pointing upward in the hopes someone above
might catch a glimpse.

He
doubted it would help.

“Drop
One, away!”

He saw
nothing at first then there was a crashing sound overhead, tree limbs snapping,
animals protesting then suddenly he could see it, the bottom of a skid dropping
like a rock.

“Here it
comes!” he shouted, pointing just in case anyone tasked to clear it out of the
way, missed it.

It hit
the ground with a crunch, just to the right of the flashlights.

“Move!”
he shouted and a dozen able-bodied men surged forward, unhooking it then grabbing
the netting and hauling the shipment out of the drop zone. Dawson held the
radio to his mouth. “Drop zone clear, proceed with second drop, over!”

“Proceeding
with Second Drop.”

“Stand
clear!” ordered Dawson, the group already redistributing themselves around the
drop zone. To call this a clearing would be incorrect. It was merely the only
spot where there was about a ten foot radius without any tree trunks. There was
no opening in the canopy overhead, they were going merely by ear, Dawson having
guided the chopper to the exact drop zone once the GPS was no longer accurate
enough.

He and
the pilot had obviously got it right.

“Drop
Two, away!”

Again
the pause then the crashing sound. It had been decided by people smarter than
him that trying to lower anything through the trees would not only be too slow,
inviting enemy fire, but would most likely result in the cargo being hung up. But
drop a heavy enough load from high enough, its momentum should carry it through
the canopy.

He and
the others had thought it a crazy good idea, as long as nothing was breakable.

The
second load slammed into the ground, swarmed immediately by the retrieval crew,
the process repeated a third time. He signaled the all clear.

“Dayshift
Zero-One, Sierra Zero-One. Permission to come aboard, over?”

Dawson
grinned. “Permission granted!”

The
Special Forces community was vast in the United States Military. There were
Delta, SEALs, Rangers, Green Berets, Force Recon and more, and they all thought
they were the best. The rivalry was fierce but friendly, and when your back was
against the wall with two hundred hostiles heading your way, you didn’t care
what patch was on the shoulder, you welcomed them with open arms.

This
time there wasn’t a crash, just some cursing echoing through the trees before
the boots then legs then entire body of a Navy SEAL appeared overhead, being
lowered by a cable. He motioned for Niner and Atlas to help the new arrival and
they rushed forward, reaching up and guiding him down the last few feet. The
man unhooked himself then stepped clear of the cable.

“Sierra Zero-One
clear!” reported Dawson, the cable immediately retracting as the new arrival walked
toward him. “Agent
White
I presume?”

Dawson
laughed as the two men gave each other thumping hugs, it not the first time
they had met. Senior Chief Chuck Skerritt and his team had been instrumental in
helping stop the attempted coup months ago and they hadn’t seen each other since.
He was a top-notch soldier, one he was happy to have help them out. “Chuck,
great to see you again. What the hell are you doing here?”

“I could
ask you the same thing, BD. We were just returning from an op in Somalia and
were already en route to the Bush when we got the call. We thought you were all
dead.”

“So did
we.” He lowered his voice. “We lost over forty including Spock.”

“Shit,
BD, I’m sorry to hear that. He was a good man.”

“The
best.” Dawson watched as a second SEAL landed. “How many are you?”

“Just
four of us, I’m afraid. That’s all we could fit with the cargo. More are on
their way.” He shook his head. “We should have been here sooner.”

“You’re
here now.”

“Yeah.
The initial SAR teams were sent with orders to hike it in since everyone
thought you guys were dead. When we heard you were actually still kicking we
volunteered for a drop but Command nixed it and cooked up this new plan.”

“Well,
it seems to be working, and we can use more trained personnel.” He motioned
toward the jungle around them. “We’ve extended our perimeter but there’s just
too much area and visibility is shit, especially now that it’s getting dark.
For all we know we could be surrounded.”

“There’s
a couple of UAVs overhead now but infrared is having a hard time distinguishing
between man or beast, there’s some good sized meals wandering around in these
woods.”

Dawson
nodded, watching the third SEAL break through the trees overhead. “And a few
good sized things that would like to make meals out of us, I’m sure.”

Skerritt
laughed. “Yeah, they briefed us on the way in. Best you don’t know what’s
probably eyeing you right now. Suffice it to say shoot first, eat later.”

Dawson
grinned as the third man hit ground, the new arrivals joining them, handshakes
exchanged, Dawson recognizing both men. Suddenly gunfire erupted, civilians
screamed, and all the Special Forces members swung toward the sound, dropping
to a knee as their weapons came to the ready.

The
unmistakable swoosh of an RPG from directly ahead had them all staring up, the
whine of rotors as the pilot banked followed almost immediately by the sound of
an explosion as the rocket hit the chopper. The mayday over the radio, repeated
by the pilot, told Dawson they were still alive, but the screaming of the
engines was distinct and familiar.

“Tail
rotor’s out!” shouted Skerritt, who then pointed toward where the RPG was
fired. “Did you see the flash?”

Dawson
nodded. “Looked high.”

“Must
have climbed a damned tree to get the shot.”

A
massive crash overhead had everyone staring then running, the Seahawk
helicopter slamming into the treetops, making quick work of the branches. Smoke
and flames billowed from the tail and Dawson felt his stomach flip as he saw
someone fall from the cabin, dropping through the trees then slamming into the
ground with a sickening thud. Skerritt leapt forward but Dawson grabbed him,
the helicopter still dropping.

And then
it stopped, the spinning propeller coming to an abrupt halt as the massive
piece of hardware tilted past ninety degrees, the blade slamming into the trunk
of a substantial tree.

The
engines cut.

“Let’s
go!” shouted Dawson as everyone surged forward, the chopper still about twenty
feet in the air, suspended between several large trees. There was no telling
how long it would last, or how long before it might erupt in a fireball. He
pointed at two Air Force personnel then the body of the fallen man. “Check
him!” He and the others came to halt under the chopper, staring up.

“Anyone
alive up there!” There was a groan, but not much more. Someone was alive. He
turned to Skerritt. “How many were left?”

“One of
my men and four crew.”

“Hey, up
here!”

They all
turned toward the shout, Dawson at first seeing nothing. “Flashlights!” All six
were quickly grabbed, the new arrivals with their own, and beams quickly cut
through the darkness with limited effect.

“Give me
a minute, I’m okay, I’m just caught up! I can get to the chopper!”

“That’s
Felix!” exclaimed one of the SEALs, jubilation in his voice and on his face.
The comrades slapped each other on the back as they tried to spot their friend
overhead. “There!”

The man
pointed and Dawson suddenly could see the SEAL, hooked on a branch above the
chopper. They had obviously been in the process of lowering him when the
chopper was hit. The bastard was lucky to be alive, let alone apparently alive
and well.

One of
the Air Force One crew walked up, shaking his head. “I’m afraid he didn’t make
it.”

Dawson
looked over at the man that had fallen from the chopper, two crew moving his
body away from the drop zone. He frowned. “Okay, we might have three alive in
the chopper,” he said. “If your man Felix can get in there and free them, it’s
only twenty feet, so we should be able to get them out safely.” He pointed at
the flames. “But if that ignites the fuel, everyone’s toast.”

“I’m
clear!” shouted Felix from overhead. Dawson watched as the man slowly climbed
down the tree, reaching the overturned cockpit. He peered through the glass
then waved. “Pilot’s dead! Copilot is breathing but out cold. I’m going to step
onto the chopper now. Get clear in case this thing drops!”

“Everyone
back!” ordered Skerritt, those gathered scattering like roaches when the light
turns on.

“Here I
go!”

The
wreck creaked, a branch snapped, but the man’s two hundred pounds with gear
seemed not to be the proverbial straw. Dawson watched, holding his breath, as
Felix slowly made his way across the side of the chopper on hands and knees.

“Okay, I
can see inside the cabin.” The voice lowered, as if he were talking to someone
inside before he called out to those below. “Okay, I’ve got another wounded
here but conscious. There’s some rope. I’m going to tie it off and try to lower
him to you!”

Felix
disappeared inside the chopper, it creaking in protest at the movement, the
trees snapping in anger as the thousands of pounds of uninvited weaponry
scarred the pristine jungle.

“Here he
comes!”

“Two men
only!” ordered Skerritt, he and one of his men stepping forward, the others all
holding back despite wanting to get in and help. The wounded man slowly became
visible from what was now the bottom of the chopper, dropping a foot or two at
a time as Felix struggled to control the nearly dead weight. The two SEALs
positioned themselves under the injured man, reaching up to get a hand on him.

Skerritt
made contact first, stepping under him. “Okay, we’ve got him!”

The rope
slackened rapidly as the man dropped the last few feet into Skerritt’s arms.
The other SEAL untied him and they quickly carried him away.

“I’m
going for the copilot now!”

The chopper
protested again then suddenly dropped several feet before catching on a thick
branch.

“Are you
okay?” shouted Skerritt, everyone holding their breath, waiting for a reply.

The
chopper dropped again.

“Yes,
I’ve almost got him!”

Another
two feet had bark and tree limbs exploding under the pressure, raining down on
those below.

The
smell of jet fuel filled Dawson’s nostrils. Usually a welcome smell, it
reminding him of the life he loved, this time it wasn’t.

“Fuel
leak!” he shouted, eyeing the flames. “You’ve gotta get out of there now!”

“I’m
unhooking him now!”

“Everyone
out of here, now!” ordered Dawson as he eyed the flames, a massive explosion
imminent as he and Skerritt watched helpless.