Apache Dawn: Book I of the Wildfire Saga (59 page)

Chad took the proffered hand and said, “Glad to see you got a sense of humor…?”

“Denoya.
 
Denoya Tecumseh.
 
You can call me Denny.”
 
Shriiiick, shriiiick, shriiiick.

Chad looked at the tomahawk and admired the impressive looking weapon.
 
“That what you used to…ah…?”

He looked up again.
 
“Yes.”
 
Shriiiick, shriiiick, shriiiick.

“Hey, you two wanna get a room?” asked Zuka.
 
His face split into a grin.
 

Captain Alston walked over to the civilians, not before flicking the back side of Zuka’s head as he passed.
 
The tall Ranger knelt beside Denny and admired the man’s sharpening skills for a moment.
 
Neither man acknowledged the other or said anything.
 
Chad stood there and watched.

“What are your intentions, Mr. Tecumseh?”

“Denny.”
 
Shriiiick, shriiiick, shriiiick.

“Pardon?”

“Call me Denny.”
 
Shriiiick, shriiiick, shriiiick.

“What are your intentions, Denny?” inquired Captain Alston again.

Denny paused his sharpening and looked up.
 
“You heard the President’s speech—the real President, Denton—that was broadcast last night.”
 
Denny held the tomahawk up and admired his work.
 
“I didn’t vote for him, but I’m going to do what he asked me to do.
 
I’m going to fight the invaders.”
 

“I’d say you’ve already started,” said Captain Alston.

Denny shrugged.
 
“I guess so.
 
It’s funny,” he said, his voice emotionless.
 
“I’ve never killed anyone before.
 
Just deer and turkey…” his voice trailed off.
 

Chad could sympathize with the man.
 
He had shot his first man a few days back during his flight from the North Koreans.
 
Then at the emergency landing zone he had shot a man trying to kill Captain Alston…
 
Since then, he’d felt that something inside him had changed.
 
Tempered.
 
Grown stronger.

“Tonight, I’m going to go down into town and kill as many Russians as I can find,” Denny said, looking absently at the tomahawk.
 
“I’m going to protect my neighbors.
 
I’m going to honor my ancestors.
 
I’m going to defend this land.”

Shhhriiiiick, shhhriiiiiiick, shhhriiiiiiick.

Captain Alston nodded.
 
He looked up at Chad.
 
“Mr. Huntley here, is my top priority.
 
I’m supposed to get him to a tier-one medical facility so the mad scientists can make his blood into a vaccine to fight the super-flu…”

Denny paused in his sharpening and regarded Chad.
 
“Was your blood used ten years ago during the Blue Flu?”

“Yeah,” said Chad.
 
He thought back to his first days during The Great Pandemic, spent in the medical checkpoint in Fort Worth.
 
He had just left his home and some doctor on the bus had been hassling him about why he hadn’t been sick and why he hadn’t told anyone.
 
Then the needles started coming at him and they didn’t stop for what seemed like weeks.
 
He shuddered inwardly at the thought of going through that blood-letting ceremony again.
 
But it had to be done.

Now it was Denny’s turn to nod.
 
“Well, that’s good.”

“Only problem,” Captain Alston said, frowning, “Is that we’re almost out of fuel for our helicopters.
 
And now, there’s at least a battalion of Russians downslope in Salmon Falls, between us and safety.”

“Why don’t you just go around Salmon Falls?”

Captain Alston looked at Denny with something along the lines of indignation on his face.
 
“Because we’re Rangers.
 
We go
through
the enemy, not
around
them.
 
We’re not in the damned Navy.
 
Besides, we don’t have the fuel.
 
They’ll pick us off as we try to get past them.”

Chad snorted, then coughed to cover himself when Captain Alston and Denny both looked at him.
 
He cleared his throat.
 
“So, what are you going to do about me?”

“Cap, we got a signal, here!” called out Deuce.
 
He pointed with a soiled cleaning cloth at the radio sitting on the map table.

Captain Alston held up a finger to Chad:
hold on
.
 
He raced over and grabbed the radio, listening to the sound of broken static before he keyed the mic: “Come in, any unit this net, this is Hammer 2, Actual, over.”

More static. He tried again.
 
Still more static.
 
Chad’s hopes fell along with the faces of everyone in the little sanctuary.

Then: “
—again, please.
 
Hammer
—” more static.
 
“—
come in!
”

Captain Alston regarded his troops with a grin.
 
“I say again, this is Hammer 2, Actual, over!”

The static cleared and a strong voice powered through across countless miles of airspace.
 
“
Damn glad to hear your voice, son. This is Watchtower, Actual.
 
How copy?
”

Captain Alston’s eyebrows went up.
 
“Five-by, Watchtower.”
 
He asked for authentication codes and was rewarded with a request for his own.

“Who’s Watchtower?” whispered Denny as Captain Alston and the mysterious voice on the radio shared their authentication codes and confirmed identifications.

“Oh, just the commanding General of the Army.
 
Nobody important…” replied Zuka with a casual wave of his hand.

"
Give me a sit-rep, son while we still have a secure comm-link
."

"Yessir," said Captain Alston.
 
The pilots all stood around the map table, grinning like kids on Christmas morning.
 

"Sir, we have what appears to be at least three companies of Russian foot-mobiles occupying the town below us…” he glanced at the map on the table before continuing.
 
“Grid Charlie-Niner, One-Kilo-Bravo-two-four.
 
They have at least two BTRs and possibly some mobile SAM sites.
 
We are bingo fuel—repeat bingo fuel, and at present time have only enough for one vehicle to get about three hundred miles.
 
We're at the end of our rope sir, as far as food and ammo.
 
I've been in worse places before, but not many."

“
You’re not going anywhere.
”
 
The gruff voice sighed.

Captain Alston looked at the assembled helicopter pilots.
 
The Black Hawk pilot looked at the others and then nodded at the Ranger.
 
Captain Alston spoke: “That about sums it up, sir.
 
We fuel the ‘Hawk and two Apaches, or all the Apaches and not the Black Hawk.
 
Or any combination you can think of, but we’re not fueling all the birds. And it doesn’t really matter, because from what we can tell, we can’t reach more than a few small airstrips from here, anyway.
 
Odds of finding enough fuel to keep going are getting slim.”

A long silence.
 
Then: "
Is the package secure?
"

"Yes, sir."

"
Good.
 
Listen, son, I may get in hot water over this—the kind that puts you before a military tribunal or firing squad....The President...he doesn't seem to have it all there anymore.
 
Something is definitely going on but I'll be damned if I know what.”

Captain Alston looked at his men with a confused look on his face.

“At any rate, I pulled every favor I had trying to get you a Skyhook.
 
You'll need to assign one man to accompany the package, if I can retask it.
 
I hear these things can be kind of hairy
.
"

Captain Alston frowned and looked at Chad.
 
"No SPIE rig, sir?"

"
Negative.
 
There's no long-range helicopters available, and you don’t want to even
try
and set up a mid-air refuel right now, if you catch my drift.
   
No, the only thing we can grab short-notice to get you out is going to be fixed wing.
 
But I did find a Horny-Herc.
 
It's a Coast Guard trainer, but it's the only thing I can do to extract the package on short notice
.
 
We should know within the hour.
 
We’ve got to coordinate with the Air Force to get fighter coverage and with comms the way they are, it’s taking longer than I’d like."

"Yes, sir."

"
Understand,
this
will be a one shot deal.
 
If this fails, we may not have time for another option.
 
Your little stunt with the Russians yesterday has them all riled up.
 
They want to storm that mountain you’re on and wipe the whole thing off the map
."

Captain Alston looked at Denny.
 
"Sir, that wasn't us, it was a civilian action.
 
We arrived after..."

"
So, it's true then?
 
There's a resistance?
 
Good.
 
At least there’s some red-blooded American’s left out there
.”
 
Another pause.
 

Chad wondered if the signal had been lost.
 
Then the general came back: “
The President assures me that he put enough pressure on Moscow to keep you out of hot water, but local authority—meaning some Russian general—is in control and who the hell knows if Ivan will listen to the Kremlin.
"

"Sir, I thought the Russians were only allowed on the coastal cities back East?
 
At least, that’s what they’re saying on all the EAS broadcasts."

There was a slight pause before the voice returned.
 
"
You're right.
 
They shouldn't be here at all, son.
 
It's a crying affront against God Himself, is what it is.
 
But, that’s out of our hands and The Russians are denying there's any forces west South Carolina, anyway.”
 
The general sighed.
 
“It's a complete Charlie-Foxtrot
."
 
Static crackled again over the radio.

“What’s a Charlie-Foxtrot?” whispered Denny.

Chad shook his head.
 
“No idea, but it sounds bad.”
 
Zuka chuckled next to them.

"Roger that, sir.
 
What are my orders?"

"
Son, get that package delivered at all costs, then handle the situation as you see fit until we can resupply, reinforce, or exfil you and your men
."

"Roger that, sir."

"
You hear me CFB, Ranger: I will
not
tolerate losses to your team over this situation.
 
Do what it takes to stay alive until we can sort things out and get your unit out of there.
 
If everything goes as planned, the Skyhook rig will be delivered to your location at 1530 Zulu, tomorrow.
 
The Horny-Herc will make the drop, circle once, and return for pickup when the balloon goes up.
 
How copy?
"

Captain Alston grinned.
 
"Hammer 2, Actual, copies all."

"Godspeed, Hammer 2.
 
Watchtower, Actual, out."

Chad watched as Captain Alston put his hands on his hips and rolled his head on his shoulders.
 
A few cracks later, the Ranger sighed.
 
“Well, how about
that,
” watching the radio.
 
After a moment, he turned to look at his men; his gaze lingered on Chad the longest.

"You all heard the General."

"Hooah," was uttered from the Rangers in unison.
 
The pilots looked on with grim faces.
 
Chad was beginning to feel like someone who didn’t know the inside joke.

"Any questions?"

Chad raised his hand.
 
"What, uh, what exactly did he mean by that Skyhook thing?"

“And what’s a Horny-Herc?” asked Denny.

Deuce laughed.
 
"You're going on the roller-coaster ride of a lifetime, pal."

"Don't worry, Mr. Huntley, one of us will be going with you," said Captain Alston.
 
"Skyhook is a...unique...method the CIA developed for getting spooks out of bad situations in a hurry. Back in the ‘50s."
 
He turned to the squad sniper.
 
“Tuck, you're the only one who's actually
done
this before in the field.
 
Want to fill in Mr. Huntley?"